The Train

 

As I mentioned in my last review, for Bad Day at Black Rock, I love it when you watch a movie not expecting much and find yourself watching something amazing.  And that feeling is even better when it happens twice in a row!  

In all honesty, I made a mistake when I recorded The Train.  I thought I was recording Von Ryan's Express with Frank Sinatra, another World War 2 railroad movie from the 1960s.  I realized my error pretty quickly and was about to turn the film off, but then decided I would stick around.  I like Burt Lancaster and I had never heard of this movie, so I figured I would give it a shot.  

Directed by John Frankenheimer (The Manchurian Candidate), The Train was a genuine surprise - a gritty and tense World War 2 thriller that was a lot more resonant than I was expecting.  In the closing days of World War 2, the German army is slowly retreating through France.  One the Nazi officers is Colonel Waldheim (Paul Scofield, A Man for All Seasons), who is trying to steal all of the great French masterpieces - paintings by Monet, Cezanne, Gauguin, etc., and bring them to Germany before the allies can take Paris.  The French resistance, horrified that their cultural and artistic heritage is being looted before their very eyes, devises a plan to rescue the art - much against the objections of one of their leaders, Labiche (Burt Lancaster, From Here to Eternity), who is rather blunt about the fact that he doesn't want to risk lives for a bunch of paintings.  

The film seems to have had a troubled production in the beginning.  The original director was Arthur Penn (Bonnie and Clyde) and he was interested in putting together a more intimate film about the value of art during war.  Lancaster, however, saw the film differently.  He was coming off of The Leopard, a huge production which was well reviewed but a bit of a financial bust at the U.S. box office.  He needed a hit, and he knew the audience liked him in action roles.  The two battled as filming begun and after three days, Lancaster put on his producer's hat and fired Penn.  He reached out desperately to John Frankenheimer, who had directed Lancaster years before to an Oscar nomination in The Birdman of Alcatraz.  Frankenheimer was hesitant to take over a film that had already started production, but he also sensed opportunity.  He was a young director without the credentials of the big-time directors, but he knew he had all the bargaining power and he pushed a number of demands: he was to be given total final cut, the French co-director (a role which was required by French tax laws if they wanted to film in Paris) was banned from the set, and he wanted his name added to the title so it would read John Frankenheimer's The Train.  Oh, and he wanted a Ferrari.  Lancaster, desperate to get the movie rolling again, agreed to the terms.  

And I personally don't think a better choice could have been made.  Frankenheimer may not be a perfect director, but he is very skilled at a number of things that elevate The Train.   He is excellent at stories that involve professionals cooly going about their mission, and he is confident in his abilities to visually tell a story that he doesn't need dialogue weighing the film down with exposition.  Ronin, Frankenheimer's 1998 thriller with Robert DeNiro, is another great example of his skill telling stories about professionals.  These characters don't really explain what they do for the audience's benefit because true professionals don't talk about what they do.  Instead, they just do it.  And this attitude feeds into another strength that Frankenheimer has as a filmmaker.  He is fascinated with process, and incorporating that process into the story.  He goes to great lengths to show details about locomotive engines, railroad switches and the layouts of different train stations.  It's not random or gratuitous because this information is crucial to understanding the French resistance's plan.  But it's also not expository or obvious, therefore tipping us off about what is about to happen. Instead, he's just skillfully laying the groundwork (or I guess I could say, "laying the track" if I want to stick with a railroad motif!).  All of this elevates The Train beyond what you would normally expect in a Hollywood action film.  And guess what, before you think that the action overwhelms the art, Frankenheimer and Lancaster are still able to effectively wrestle with the theme of the value of art.  What is art worth, or rather, how many lives is art worth?

I will admit that the film starts off a bit rough.  The pacing is a little too slow for the first 20 minutes, and I was distracted by Scofield's accent, which I don't think is particularly great.  But at least he tried, because I was also distracted by Lancaster's complete lack of accent!  You can't get much more American than Lancaster, and he is completely unbelievable as a Frenchman.  But then...the trains start moving, and for the next two hours, I was riveted.  And suddenly, it becomes clear why Lancaster is the perfect actor for this part.  No one could have driven that train like him.  He is so utterly perfect in the role that I can't see any other actor in the part.  The role is so physical, and Lancaster - a former circus performer - throws himself into the role, performing all of his own stunts.  He also has to walk a fine line between determination and grit and complete exasperation over whether this mission is even worth doing, and he walks that fine line with grace and tact.  Also on hand are a superb collection of French, Croatian, German and Swiss actors who make the most of their screen time - Jeanne Moreau, Michel Simon, Wolfgang Preiss, Albert Remy, Jacque Marin and Charles Millot.  It's a great ensemble, and I don't think there is a weak link among them.  

I also have to take a moment and talk about the Nazis.  I know this is sort of a "Captain Obvious" statement, but these guys are scary.  These guys aren't cartoon characters; they are realistic and they are intimidating and brutal.  And Frankenheimer gives them with the same level of professionalism that he grants the heroes.  There are no big "moments" of telegraphed villainy.  It's swift and harsh and just matter-of-fact.  In short, it really feels real.  Which is more terrifying than most Nazis you see in Hollywood films.  And it is important that Frankenheimer shows the Nazis to be such cool professionals because it raises the stakes.  The bad guys aren't dumb.  If you make one slight mistake, Colonel Waldheim will notice and then you're all dead.  The stakes are clear, and people are going to die.  

And again, as I mentioned before, should they?  Or how many?  How many people are you willing to risk to save artwork?  If one person dies, will it have been worth it?  What if it is ten people?  And what does this all say about your national identity?  Is this artwork truly the cultural heritage of France?   Or is it really just a canvases with paint on them?  The movie doesn't give any answers, but it forces us to wrestle with the question.  

That makes the movie resonate long after you've stopped watching it.  It makes you think and debate with yourself.  You can't say that about a lot of action movies.  I'm positive I wouldn't be thinking about Von Ryan's Express that way!  

MVP:

This is a tough decision actually.  On one hand, I want to go with John Frankenheimer, who gives the film its gritty authenticity.  But you could make a strong case for Burt Lancaster. First of all, as a producer, he recognized he needed someone with Frankenheimer's touch, so he should get some credit for that.  And as an actor - as not French as he is, I just can't imagine another performer slipping into this role as perfectly.  He is completely believable working the trains.  And he adds just the right level of determination and righteous anger.  Labiche doesn't want to do this mission and is very vocal about that fact right to the end, but he still grimly refuses to give up, no many how the cards stack up against him.  In life, contradictions like this happen all the time, but for some reason in movies, they're hard to pull off.  We think of contradictions as character inconsistencies.  But Lancaster nails the balance.  He's human.  And he is always utterly compelling to watch.  

But at the end of the day, I have to go with Frankenheimer.  The authenticity, the realism, everything Frankenheimer is bringing to the table is what sets this movie apart from other films of the time period.  I really do think the movie needs both Lancaster and Frankenheimer to be as good as it is.  But in the end, I think Frankenheimer's contribution just elevates it a bit more.  It's a hard choice, but he's my MVP.  

BEST LINE:

Didont: With any luck, no one will be hurt. 

Labiche: No one's ever hurt.  Just dead.  

TRIVIA: 

Frankenheimer is a big fan of realism whenever possible, and refused to use models.  So when there is a train crash at one point in the film, he insisted on having two trains really collide at 60 miles an hour.  Knowing that only one take was possible, he had seven cameras rolling.  The bombardment sequence was even more impressive, and included over a ton of TNT, 2000 gallons of gasoline, 140 life-size explosions - and over 20 cameras to film all of the explosive chaos.  Even though the sequence is only just over minute of screen-time, the results are undeniably impressive!  

Bad Day at Black Rock

 

You know what one of my favorite things is?  

When you have a movie you have been meaning to watch, but you just can't bring yourself to do it.  Maybe you promised someone under duress that you would see it.  Maybe you just aren't in the right mood.  Or maybe it's the type of film that just seems like "homework."  

Well, I love it when you watch one of those movies and it just blows you away.  I had that experience with Bad Day at Black Rock, a film I've been meaning to see for about a decade and finally forced myself to sit down and just watch.  And I am so glad I did. 

One dusty afternoon, the train stops in the tiny town of Black Rock.  The townspeople are instantly suspicious because the train hasn't stopped at the Black Rock station for years.  And even more suspicious is the one-armed man named John J. Macreedy (Spencer Tracy) who steps off the train and immediately starts asking questions about a missing Japanese farmer named Komoko.   Confronted with a dark secret long thought buried, the townspeople all react in different ways to Macreedy's inquisitiveness - some with evasiveness, others with obstinance, and others with violence, but the one thing they all have in common is that they refuse to answer any of his questions.  And, basically, that's it.  There isn't much more to the plot.  

There is no doubt that this film is a slow burn.  There are a few tense encounters, sure, but most of the movie really is Macreedy just walking around the town, having conversations with people.  This is not a fast paced film.  I also don't think the mystery is very mysterious at all.  It really doesn't take long for the audience to figure out the town's secret, and that unfortunately makes the plot itself less interesting.    

But who cares?  Look, I know what I just wrote doesn't sound like a ringing endorsement, but Bad Day at Black Rock is a terrific film. And I think the mystery itself (or the lack of it) doesn't really matter.  In fact, I don't think the movie even really cares about it.  Bad Day at Black Rock is more interested in the behavior surrounding the mystery.  The personal dynamics.  The suspicious mentality of a small western town that is slowly rotting away.  

And the film is also a fascinating study on societal bullying.  It's not really a depiction of playground bullying; this is more of an instance of when a bully is able to get his way in a town that should know better through the sheer force of his aggressiveness.  The effect is so complete that some folks in the town don't even realize that they've been beaten into submission and actually look to that bully for leadership.  It's frustrating to see because it's real.  We've all seen that happen at one time or another.  There's a sort of synergy in the town between the community leader and the rest of its citizens.  Nobody is really happy, it seems, but it works and life goes on.  And then you add a wild card in Macreedy who just keeps walking around, amiably asking his questions, and causing cracks to form in the community's shield.  The movie almost feels like a morality play, and it's really interesting to watch.     

So back to those conversations I mentioned.  The movie has a lot of them, but they aren't boring when they are as well written and as well acted as these.  This film has a superb cast.  In addition to Spencer Tracy, you have Robert Ryan, Walter Brennan, Dean Jagger, Ernest Borgnine and Lee Marvin.   Between those actors, you have 17 Oscar animations and 9 Oscar wins.  That's quite a high caliber cast, and they all deliver.   The Oscar-nominated direction was by John Sturges, who also directed The Great Escape and The Magnificent Seven, and the script by Millard Kaufman was also nominated.  I also think the cinematography by William Mellor probably deserved a nod.  The film certainly makes the most of the widescreen cinematography, capturing the bleak desert and the mountains that frame it in the distance.  But I was more impressed with how the town was shot.  Black Rock is a dying town.  The tiny main street is aped by the surrounding barrenness, in danger of being swallowed by the dust and rock.  It's a strong visual depiction that either represents the last of the Old West being subsumed by the modern world or the rot that is seeping in and killing the town because of its dark secret, or maybe a little of both.  Either way, it works beautifully.  

Bad Day at Black Rock's producer Dory Shary was always attracted to films that had a social conscious, and I am sure he saw this film as an allegory against McCarthyism and the Red Scare.  But I was also impressed with its take on xenophobia.  World War 2 was still fresh in everyone's mind and here was a movie that was already questioning the injustice of the Japanese internment camps, and confronting those who hated Japanese-Americans because of their heritage.  Granted, it tries to tackle this subject without a single Japanese-American in the cast, but still...it's a step in the right direction.  For the 1950s, I was impressed with the mature and professional way the script weaves this thread in, without once seeming preachy.  

And at the end of the day, that is thanks to Macreedy himself, Spencer Tracy.  Tracy was always known for his very naturalistic style, and that is a huge asset to this story, which could have easily fallen into moralistic preaching.  There is not a word that comes out of his mouth that I don't believe.  And the impact of his performance resonates.  

I could keep going on, but that's probably a good place to stop.  I don't want to ruin anything!  I went in knowing very little about Bad Day at Black Rock, and maybe it's better than you do, too.  Sure, not much happens in the story, but it is a movie I wanted to immediately watch again as soon as it finished.  And that doesn't happen often.  

MVP:

Even with a cast this good, there is no doubt in my mind.  The MVP is Spencer Tracy.  He is just playing on a different level than everyone else (and everyone else is really good).  As I was watching Bad Day at Black Rock, I realized I had actually never seen a Spencer Tracy movie before.  I'm not sure how that is possible since I love classic films.  I had seen It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World, but that doesn't count because he's barely in it.  No, this was my first Spencer Tracy movie and I am bit embarrassed to say that.  Don't be surprised if you start seeing more Spencer Tracy movies pop up on this blog sometime in the next year!  :) 

BEST LINE:

Macreedy: You know, I know what your trouble is, son.  You'd like me to die quickly, wouldn't you, without wasting too much of your time; or quietly, so I won't embarrass you too much; or even thankfully, so your memory of the occasion won't be too unpleasant. 

TRIVIA:

Dore Shary knew his man.  He knew what the film needed.  Spencer Tracy was clearly Macreedy.  But for some reason, Tracy kept turning the part down.  I'm sure there were a number of reasons.  I read that he felt he was too old for the part, which to be fair, he kind of is.  But Shary knew that Tracy was the best man for this part.  He had the script rewritten so that Macreedy was a one-armed man, hoping that the acting challenge would entice Tracy.  The esteemed actor was tempted, but still refused to commit.  Finally, Shary found the trick that would win his man over.  He sent a memo to Tracy telling him not to worry about it any more.  Alan Ladd (Shane) had agreed to take the part.  Tracy reacted immediately, calling Shary to get his part back.  

Taras Bulba

 

Before we get into this, please be warned.  There are going to be a lot of SPOILERS in this review!  

I think by now, we all know that epics are my favorite genre.  Lawrence of Arabia, Gladiator, Kingdom of Heaven, Spartacus, Ten Commandments and Ben Hur are among my favorite movies, and I even make time for those lesser epics like El Cid and Cleopatra, flawed messes that are nonetheless fun for me.  I try to seek these movies out when I can.  But there was always one movie that eluded me for one reason or another - 1962's Taras Bulba.  I remember as a kid seeing that badass image of Yul Brynner, confidently mounted on his horse, the sun reflecting off his iconic bald head, his scimitar flashing in the sun, and I knew this was movie I had to see.  

As I got older, I learned more about Taras Bulba and most of what I read wasn't good.  It was a box office success, but had still underperformed and lost money.  While it wasn't considered an outright disaster, I guess you could say everyone involved walked away disappointed.  And it is a shame because there is a lot of talent on display here.  Director J. Lee Thompson was coming off two powerhouse hits with Gregory Peck, Cape Fear and the Oscar-nominated Guns of Navarone.  The script was adapted from the iconic Nikolay Gogol novel by two well regarded screenwriters, Waldo Salt, who would go on to win Oscars for Coming Home and Midnight Cowboy, and Karl Tunberg, who was one of the writers who worked on Ben Hur.  Tony Curtis was in the midst of a remarkable run of hits that included Some Like It Hot, Operation Petticoat, Spartacus and The Great Imposter.  And the title character, Taras Bulba himself, was played by Yul Brynner, the major box office star whose last big role was in the iconic western The Magnificent Seven.  

I also really appreciated that Taras Bulba focused on a time period and location in history that largely goes ignored in movies.  The story picks up in the 17th century Russian steppes.  The Cossacks, a fierce band of nomadic cavalry, ally with the Imperial Polish army to defeat the invading Ottoman Turks.  Instead of celebrating, the Polish army turns on their allies and uses the opportunity to conquer the steppe.  Taras Bulba, infuriated by the betrayal, vows to never rest until he has his revenge on the Poles.  Decades pass and some semblance of peace returns to the land.  Taras Bulba agrees to send his two sons Andrei (Tony Curtis) and Ostap (Perry Lopez, Chinatown) to be educated in Kiev - the goal being to learn more about the Polish so that information could be used in any upcoming war.  But instead of focusing on his studies, Andrei falls in love with the daughter of a local aristocrat, Natalia (Christine Kaufmann, Last Days of Pompeii).  And of course, we all know that is going to lead to all sorts of problems.  

But the biggest problem is that this movie kind of stinks.  No wonder it was considered such a disappointment, when there is this much talent behind the scenes and in front of the camera.  So what went wrong?  I think the biggest problem is the critical miscasting of Tony Curtis.  Never in a million years could I believe that the middle aged Tony Curtis could be the son of a middle aged Yul Brynner.  It makes all of their scenes together utterly ridiculous, whether it's their giddy wrestling matches or their bonding over upcoming battles.  I just can't get past it.  Whenever Curtis says, "yes, poppa" or "no, poppa" (which is often), I just roll my eyes.  But it's more than that.  I often read people criticizing Tony Curtis's performances in period films.  Though he made a lot of historical movies, critics these days really seem to prefer him in comedies or more contemporary material.  I've read reviews that joke that he has trouble hiding his New York accent or that his acting just isn't good enough compared to his co-stars.  I don't agree with that.  I found him to be very effective in both Spartacus and The Vikings.   But in Taras Bulba, all of those criticisms are completely justified.  He isn't even trying.  Everyone else seems to understand they are in a movie about Russian steppe in the 17th century, and Tony Curtis just strolls on in with his 1960s swagger and his 1960s haircut, and he tries to woo young Christine Kaufman with his 1960s charm.  He just sticks out like a sore thumb.  

It does not help that Christine Kaufman was 16 at the time, and Curtis was 37.  It also does not help that in real life, Curtis fell in love with Kaufman, shattering his marriage to Janet Leigh.  Curtis and Kaufman were married a few years later, when she turned 18.  I know it was a different time, but this really bothers me.  But this behind-the-scenes drama didn't ruin the love story in the film for me.  It ruins itself because it's just not well done.  I read about the romance after I had seen the film, and it just kind of made everything worse.  

At a certain point, the movie has to make a choice.  During post production, it became clear that the film was going to be too long.   So what to cut?  Do they can spend the time on Tony Curtis and his unbelievable love story, or should they focus more on Taras Bulba himself, who, you know, the movie is named after.  They chose Curtis, cutting many of Yul Brynner's scenes, infuriating the actor.  

Look, I don't want to lay the whole blame at Tony's Curtis' feet.  That's not fair.  And the bad decisions in this film were not his.  I put a lot of the blame on J. Lee Thompson, as well.  He was the captain of this ship and some of that oversight is just a mess.  He tried some editorial tricks to "modernize" the film, such as blurring out the sides of the frame whenever they do a closeup of Natalia, in a goofy way of representing Andrei's love for her, or the whiplash editing at a Cossack party that is more appropriate in a 1960s French sex farce.  That's not to mention the laughable special effects - some ridiculous rear projection that puts Curtis and Brynner in the center of the battles, or - spoiler alert - the rag dolls dressed as Polish soldiers that are thrown off "a cliff" at the film's climax.  You're telling me that with a budget this big, they couldn't afford more realistic looking rag dolls or an actual real cliff?

But most of all, the movie is a disappointment because this could have been something really cool.  The movie's setting is different and intriguing, Yul Brynner is amazing, and there are some moments in the movie that really are terrific - yes, even some including Tony Curtis (I really like the extended and genuinely tense sequence where he tries to infiltrate the Polish fortress).  And I have to give a special mention to the film's most famous scene - where the Cossacks are gathering their forces for battle.  Yul Brynner's Cossack band is riding in the steppes to glorious music by Franz Waxman, and at a certain point they see more Cossack horsemen in the distance; everyone yells a cheery hello and the bands join up and keep charging ahead as the music kicks it up another notch.  And then they run into another group, yell hello, join forces and the music kicks up yet another notch.  This keeps happening until thousands of horsemen are galloping through the plains to Waxman's blistering music, blinding columns of dust trailing behind them.  It. Is. So. Cool.  And gives a taste of what this movie could have and should have been.  

So is the movie really that bad?  No, to be fair, it's not.  It's a handsomely made picture and there is some good stuff in there.  This is not The Tartars.  But in some ways, it feels worse.  This is just a huge missed opportunity and a waste of a lot of talent.  Disappointment really is the best word for it.  

MVP:

The MVP for Taras Bulba is an easy choice.  I do want to give an honorable mention to Franz Waxman for the score.  Bernard Hermann, who composed Citizen Kane and Psycho said that Taras Bulba was the finest movie score ever written.  I would never say that, but that "Ride of the Cossacks" cue is easily one of the best cues ever composed.  It is just an immense and masterful piece of movie music magic.  That is not enough to put him in serious contention for MVP, but it's worth a mention. 

No, the MVP is easily Yul Brynner.  He connected deeply to the role and sank himself into it.  He loved this character and he embodies him to the point that you cannot imagine anyone else possibly playing the part.  When Brynner is on-screen, he utterly dominates the picture and everyone else pales in comparison to his forceful and at times emotional performance - which is what you want in your Taras Bulba.  This character should be a force of nature, and I still remain utterly baffled that the filmmakers muffled their greatest asset for huge portions of the movie's runtime, preferring to focus on Tony Curtis instead.  Oh, I'm sure the studio thought Tony Curtis would bring in a bigger box office.  I get it.  But they were wrong.  This should have been Yul Brynner's movie.  But even muzzled, he is still the MVP.

BEST LINE:

Taras Bulba: From the day I plunged you in the river to give you life, I loved you as I loved the Steppes.  You were my pride!  I gave you life.  It is on me to take it away from you.

TRIVIA:

Yul Brynner really did poured his heart into this character and this film.  And he was so disappointed by the result, that according to his son, Rock, he never again put himself into his film performances.  He would care about his craft on the stage, but movies were now just for the paycheck.  And you can see that in his filmography.  Before Taras Bulba, you have Ten Commandments, Anastasia, Magnificent Seven, The Brothers Karamasov, The Sound and the Fury, and his Oscar-winning performance in the King & I.   Not all of them were good, but they were all classy productions.  After Taras Bulba, it doesn't take long before he falls into material like Morituri, Invitation to a Gunfighter and Flight from Ashiya.  Sure, we have the iconic Westworld coming up in the 1973, but that was a blip on the radar that was followed by movies like The Ultimate Warrior and Death Rage.  Damn it, Taras Bulba, your greatest crime is that you broke Yul Brynner.  How many amazing performances in great movies did you cost us!?

Drums Along the Mohawk

 

There are some years in film history that have become famous, even legendary.  I've always been a big fan of 1999 because I was given The Matrix, Fight Club, Sixth Sense, Being John Malkovich, Blair Witch Project (which, whether you like it or not, was incredibly groundbreaking), Three Kings, The Insider and a personal favorite of mine, Office Space.  Or check out the stacked roster of classics in 1941: Citizen Kane, Dumbo, The Maltese Falcon, Sergeant York, Sullivan's Travels, and The Lady Eve.  But the top dog in film history will probably always be 1939, which gave us Gone with the Wind, The Wizard of Oz, Stagecoach, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, Wuthering Heights, The Women, Love Affair, Hunchback of Notre Dame, Beau Geste, Destry Rides Again, Goodbye Mr. Chips, Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex, Ninotchka and Gunga Din.  That's a really top heavy year in terms of classics.  So it is no wonder that a film like Drums Along the Mohawk would get lost in the shuffle.  The film was a success, but as the decades have rolled on, critics have tended to focus on John Ford's other classic from the same year, Stagecoach.

I do have some mixed feelings about the film.  On one hand, I want to stick up for Drums Along the Mohawk.  It is a good film, covering a time period and place we don't normally see in cinema.  But on the other hand, it's certainly not a classic, and suffers from many of the same problems that plague Ford's other films.  

During the height of the Revolutionary War, Gilbert Martin (Henry Fonda) brings his city-born bride Lana (Claudette Colbert) to his frontier farm in New York's Mohawk Valley.  Lana is unfamiliar with the wilderness life and the adjustment is hard, but she tries to make the best of it.  But the intensifying war complicates matters.  British troops led by the villainous Caldwell (John Carradine) have allied with the local Iroquois tribes and are committed to ridding the valley of the revolutionary spirit once and for all.  

The film has a lot of touches of Ford films - a deep admiration, almost idolization, of the frontier life and those hard-working men and women who toiled the land and fought to make America.  It also features the juxtaposition between the violence of the wilderness and the resilience of the tight knit community.  Ford loves the camaraderie of his characters and fills these scenes with joy and humor.  I guess the problem is that I just don't find Ford's sense of humor particularly funny, and I never have.  I suppose it comes down to personal preference, but I just don't like Ford's brand of comedy.  Halfway through the film, when Lana goes into labor, one of Gilbert's friends gets progressively more drunk to the point that he thinks that the newborn baby is actually his, which he bitterly gripes about because he already has too many children.  If that sounds funny, then John Ford is the comedian for you!  

And yet, there is so much fascinating material in this film.  When they aren't busy having community parties, Ford's characters work the land, and always under a veil of tension because they know the British and Iroquois could attack at any time (and often do).  The film expertly weaves in true historical figures and moments such as General Herkimer and the bloody battle of Oriskany, and although the siege during the climax of the film is fictional, it was genuinely tense and much more violent than I was expecting from a film made in 1939.  They were numerous moments when I thought to myself, "Damn, that just got dark."  Drums Along the Mohawk was also Ford's first color picture, and he immediately shows a comfort and expertise with the format.  There is a scene near the end when Martin is running through the wilderness at dawn and the sky was bathed in vibrant reds and oranges that look better than almost anything I've seen.  It's truly beautiful, and all the more impressive because I know it's real and not computer-enhanced.  

I should probably take a moment to discuss Ford's depiction of Native Americans.  I do have mixed feelings about it, especially since I am viewing all of this from a modern lens.  On one hand, John Ford's U.S. cavalry films cemented the "Cowboys and Indians" stereotypes that still plague us today, and that cannot be forgotten.  On the other hand, he would often actually cast Native Americans to play Native Americans, which is admirable.  He also made a film called Cheyenne Autumn that dealt with racism and the ways the Cheyenne tribes were horribly mistreated by the government and those very same pioneers he lauded so heavily earlier in his career.  So I am conflicted.  And those conflicts are reinforced in Drums Along the Mohawk.  There are Native Americans fighting on both sides of the Revolutionary War, and the primary ally of the Americans is Blue Back, played by Chief John Big Tree, who was from the Seneca Nation.  Often, Blue Back is played for uncomfortable laughs.  His behavior is just unbelievably silly (another example of Ford's fine sense of humor), but at the same time, he might also be the most skilled and impactful character in the entire film.  Throughout the whole movie, it is almost always Blue Back who shows up in the nick of time to warn or save someone.  But then, just when I am thinking that Ford is making some progress...I see the scene where two drunk Iroquois stumble into a house and burn it down in one of the most bizarre and nonsensical sequences ever.  And then later Blue Back is silly again.  But then even later, Blue Back is awesome again.  So I don't know where all this leaves me, but I feel it is something worth discussing.

At the end of the day, I do think Drums Along the Mohawk is worth watching.  I would absolutely recommend it because when the film is working, it really is a fascinating and interesting look at a moment in history we don't often see in movies.  It's just been overshadowed by all the other great films of 1939.  And while it may not live up the high standards of those films, that doesn't mean that Drums Along the Mohawk needs to be forgotten.  

MVP:  

This one is easy.  I know I didn't get into the performances in my review, but they were pretty good.  Henry Fonda and Claudette Colbert are both solid, and the character actors who pop up in most of Ford's films, like Ward Bond, are always a pleasure to see.  But one actor stands taller than the rest - Edna May Oliver as Mrs. McKlenner, a fiercely independent and strong woman who hires Gilbert and Lana to work her farm after her husband dies.  She is grumpy, bitter, sarcastic, stubborn, dominating and not a little flirty with some of the younger men in town.  She's also fiercely loyal and protective, and she will not hesitate for a moment to pick up a rifle and fight for what she has worked her whole life to build.  She's a supreme badass.  The Oscars must have agreed because she was nominated for Best Supporting Actress.  It's not a surprise.  Whenever she enters a scene, it's like a hurricane barrels into the room.  She just utterly dominates.  That is a clear MVP winner to me.  

BEST LINE: 

Okay, I will be a hypocrite here.  I may not like John Ford's sense of humor, but this line made me laugh.  Here is a moment from the reverend's Sunday sermon.  

Reverend Rosencrantz: O Almighty God, hear us, we beseech Thee, and bring succor and guidance to those we are about to bring to Your divine notice.  First, we are thinking of Mary Walaber.  She is only 16 years old, but she is keeping company with a soldier from Fort Dayton.  He's a Massachusetts man, and Thou knows no good can come of that.  

TRIVIA: 

Henry Fonda is actually descended from a family that settled the Mohawk Valley in the mid-1600s.  One of his ancestors Douw Jellis Fonda was actually killed by the Tories and Iroquois in 1780 during a raid that was similar to the ones seen in this movie.  Douw's two sons (one of whom was Henry Fonda's Great-Great-Great-Great Grandfather) were taken prisoner and held in Canada for two years.  

The Slave: Son of Spartacus

In my review for The Tartars, I explained a bit about what a "peplum" was.  With Hollywood epics such as Samson and Delilah making bank at the box office, Italian film producers wanted to get into the action and started producing their own sword and sandle pictures that were popularly known as peplum films, named after a type of tunic worn by ancient Romans and Greeks.  These movies were usually made relatively inexpensively, and weren't necessarily critical darlings, but they were a popular sub-genre, especially for teenaged boys.  Sometimes a Hollywood star was even lured to Italy to star in one of these films; for example, Kirk Douglas in Ulysses.  And while Ulysses did fairly well in the American box office, peplum films still rarely made it across the ocean.

That all changed in 1958, when American actor and bodybuilder Steve Reeves was brought to Italy to star as Hercules.  The film was a huge hit in Europe, but then American producer Joseph E. Levine bought the distribution rights and released it in the United States.  The result was a huge box office smash and the peplum genre was suddenly all the rage.  Dozens of peplum movies were released in the United States in the late 1950s and early 1960s, and lots of them proved to be really successful.

Hollywood studios even tried to get in on the act - which is how that monstrosity The Tartars was produced.  Geez, I really hate that movie.  And to be honest, I was sort of dreading watching The Slave: Son of Spartacus because of my experience with The Tartars.

Like many of the peplum films, The Slave tries to cash in on a famous Hollywood film - in this case, the classic epic Spartacus, starring Kirk Douglas and directed by Stanley Kubrick.  Spartacus is the true story of the slave revolt that almost brought Rome to its knees in 71 BCE.  The film was the biggest blockbuster hit of the year, and Italian director Sergio Corbucci quickly jumped on the bandwagon to produce his own version (and possibly even an unofficial sequel?).  I can only imagine the lawsuits that would happen today, but I guess in the 1960s, I guess you could sneak by!

The Slave picks up the story 25 years after Spartacus' defeat, and follows the adventures of Randus (Reeves), one of Julius Caesar's finest soldiers.  Caesar has just defeated the Egyptian army, but just when he should be celebrating victory, he senses betrayal among his Roman allies - namely, the wealthy Crassus who rules the Eastern portions of the Empire from Syria. Caesar sends Randus and his lieutenants Beroz (Franco Balducci) and Lumonius (Roland Bartrop) to spy on Crassus, but during a storm, Randus dives off his ship to rescue a beautiful slave girl named Saïde (Ombretta Coli) who had fallen off.  The ship sails off without them.  After swimming to shore, Randus and Saïde are captured by slave traders.  Through a series of silly coincidences that I don't want to ruin, Randus discovers he is actually the son of the legendary Spartacus.  The conflicted Randus must now struggle between his loyalty to Caesar and taking charge of the brewing slave revolt in Syria.

Okay, let's get this out of the way.  The Slave: Son of Spartacus isn't winning any awards.  Expectations need to be clear about what you are getting with this film.  This is not Kubrick and Douglas.  This is a fun, little adventure and weirdly enough, The Slave has more in common with Zorro than Spartacus.  Once Randus embraces his role as the Son of Spartacus, he puts on a disguise and attacks Crassus' men, freeing slaves, destroying supplies and generally just sowing chaos across the region.  After every raid, he even writes a giant "S" on the wall before disappearing.  After his attacks, he takes his helmet off, sneaks back into the palace and professes loyalty to the tyrannical Roman regime.  That's definitely Zorro with a Roman twist.  And it's also all pretty silly.

And yet...it is also a pretty good time.  The Slave knows exactly what it is - a swashbuckling adventure for teenagers, and from that perspective, it's actually not half bad.  Maybe the best way to review this is to directly compare it to The Tartars, the film with the bigger movies stars in Victor Mature and Orson Welles, a veteran director in Richard Thorpe, and certainly a more sizable budget.  Let's start with the acting.  Mature and Welles looked tired and uninterested.  They were there for the paycheck and you could tell.  They act like material is beneath them (and in fairness, it kind of is).  But you don't get that attitude from Reeves, Bartrop, and the other performers in The Slave.  They definitely understand the type of movie they are in, but they still give it everything they've got.  They are trying to entertain, not win Oscars, and there is a certain relish to their performances.

I would like to take a second to compare the sets and the look of the fiml.  With the exception of the exterior scenes shot in Yugoslavia, The Tartars was mostly set bound, and you can tell.  The Khan's palace was a cool set, but it still looked like a set.  And the exterior shot of the fortress was just a giant matte painting - a good matte painting, granted, but still a reminder that nothing in this film feels real.  The Slave, with a fraction of the budget, simply looks better because it is filming mostly in real places, including Egypt.  Randus' initial meeting with Caesar takes place in front of the Sphinx, and the ruined city that the slave army is hiding in is really a ruined city.  All this just adds a sense of authenticity to the film that I wasn't expecting and that I really appreciated.   

We can compare the action sequences, as well.  The Tartars' action scenes were really pretty boring, a bunch of stunt doubles waving fake weapons at each other.  But the action in The Slave is kind of fun.  It helps when the combatants look like they are actually trying to hit each other.   And then you have Steve Reeves himself.  He was cast for his muscles, and not his acting chops.  His performance is a bit stiff and stilted, and he isn't the most charismatic leading man in the world.  But then he picks up a sword and flexes those biceps - and wow, this guy looks really good fighting.  Forget the stunt man, Steve Reeves is all in!  And I was digging it.  

And I think it is important to note that Steve Reeves really was a trailblazer in many ways.  Maybe his acting wasn't the best, but he worked hard and became an action star and his physicality truly makes an impression.  He paved the way for future massive musclemen to become stars.  Without Steve Reeves, I don't think we get Arnold Schwarzenegger, and I think that's a pretty huge cultural impact.  

But back to the comparisons.  The biggest strength of The Slave is the direction.  The Tartars was dull, slowly paced and sluggish, and filmed in a style that was, well, old-fashioned.  They just plopped the camera down and let the actors run around in front of it (which isn't always a problem, necessarily, when you have good writing and good performances in front of that camera, neither of which The Tartars enjoys).   Say what you want about how cheesy these peplum films are.  A lot of them were directed by young and hungry filmmakers who were bringing creativity and energy to the proceedings.  The Slave, directed by Sergio Corbucci, features a snappier pace, quicker editing, and dynamic camera movement and angles that really make the film feel more modern.  Eventually, Corbucci and his other peplum filmmakers, including the legendary Sergio Leone, would bring what they learned to a new subgenre that would truly explode - the spaghetti Western.  The peplum films, whose popularity waned by the mid-1960s, proved to be their training grounds.  And it is a lot of fun to see this amount of creativity and energy being given to a film that many people wouldn't feel deserves it.  

I don't want to overstate my point, though.  I'm not saying The Slave is great cinema.  It's really not.  The story is goofy, the acting is very hit or miss, and there is a lot of silliness.  The history would be enough to drive classical historians bonkers.  But at the end of the day, there is a creativity to it that I really admired. Would I recommend it?  Maybe, depending on who I was talking to.  But did I personally enjoy it?  Yep.  And will I be willing to give other peplum films a chance?  I bet I will.  

MVP: 

This is surprisingly a difficult decision.  I really loved Randus' right hand man, Lumonius, played by Roland Bartrop.  He is irreverent and sarcastic, but his humor is really just a tool that hides an observant and cunning Roman officer.  He's probably the most intelligent character in the film, and Bartrop really digs his teeth into the character.  But at the end of the day, I have to give the MVP to Sergio Corbucci.  The main reason this movie works, aside from Steve Reeves' biceps, is because of Corbucci and the energy he brings.  It's my first Corbucci film, but this one makes me want to seek out The Last Days of Pompeii, The Great Silence, and his most enduring hit, the western Django.  

BEST LINE:

This time around, the best line really has to be the worst line.  This bit of dialogue, spoken by Randus to the beautiful slave girl Saïde is just wrong on so many levels that it made me laugh.  Does that make me a bad person?  Saïde is talking about how horrors of servitude and how her family was killed when the Roman armies attacked.  And this is Randus' reply: 

Randus: Look, I'm only a soldier.  I can't change the way things are.  There are masters and slaves.  Like there are pretty girls and ugly girls.  

WTF?!  And I think this is all happening when he's attempting to flirt with her?  Anyways, it's such a horrible line that it needed special attention.  

TRIVIA: 

I have no doubt that the producers considered The Slave to be their unofficial sequel to Kubrick's Spartacus.   For one thing, the movie mentions Spartacus' wife, Varinia.  She is a fictional character, invented specifically for the Howard Fast novel that the classic film is based on, and memorably played by Jean Simmons in the film.  

The Tartars

Why do I do this to myself?

I think there is something wrong with me.  There are a lot of movies I have never seen before that are considered genuine classics, iconic films like Mr. Smith Goes To Washington, Gandhi, and Stagecoach.  And there are also some films that I haven't seen in decades that I have always wanted to see again.

So how do I keep finding myself in this situation?  One day, The Tartars popped up on TCM and I immediately DVR'd it.  I am a sucker for an epic, even a bad one.  And while I didn't know a lot about The Tartars, I did know its reputation wasn't very good.  The film stars Orson Welles (Citizen Kane), who is clearly here just to collect a paycheck, Victor Mature (The Robe), an actor I've never particularly liked, and it was directed by Richard Thorpe (Ivan Hoe), a director I have also never particularly liked.  And within 2 minutes of watching the movie, I knew I was in deep trouble.

And I looked over at my movie shelf and all those good movies I had to watch.  And then I looked back at the TV and the cheap costumes and bad dubbing, and decided to settle in for the night and finish watching this train wreck.

What is wrong with me?

The Tartars is the story of Oleg (Mature), a Viking king settled in Russia.  He is allied with the Tartar khan, Togrul.  When Togrul announces his intention to invade the Slavs, Oleg refuses.  The Slavs are also allied to the Vikings and Oleg refuses to break his word.  I suppose he could have been diplomatic about the whole thing, but instead he ramps up the insults, kills the khan and kidnaps his daughter Samia (Bella Cortez), bringing her back to his fortress as a hostage.   The khan's brother Burundai (Welles) ascends to the throne of the Tartars and now must decide how to deal with these meddlesome Vikings who won't bend to his sword.  Stupid stuff proceeds to happen. 

Where to start.  Well, I think it is important to mention this is a peplum film.  Basically, this refers to low budget Italian films, usually set in the ancient or medieval world, where the Italian studios would fly in Hollywood star to headline the picture and guarantee some sort of box office return.  The rest of the actors were all Italians and were dubbed, often poorly, into English before the film was released back in the U.S.  Though there had been some earlier peplum films, the genre really exploded when bodybuilder Steve Reeves played Hercules in 1958, which was a huge box office hit.  Suddenly, horribly cheap Italian films were all the rage.  And Hollywood's studios, which were getting battered by television, were desperately trying to find ways to make oodles of cash with very little investment.  Well, MGM decided to get in on the act and sent over an over-the-hill actor in Mature who at this point in his career was more interested in playing golf, as well as one of their more reliable directors, Richard Thorpe.  To guarantee they had a good actor playing the villain, they also hired Orson Welles, who was desperately trying to raise cash for his own projects.

But I do want to make an important point about peplum films - just because they are low budget doesn't mean they all necessarily bad.  There was some really talented filmmakers working in the genre, including Sergio Leone, who directed the fun Colossus of Rhodes with Rory Calhoun.  Sadly, I don't think any of those people worked on this movie.

Almost everything about this movie is terrible.  And I think it starts with Richard Thorpe.  I know he was considered a solid filmmaker who made a lot of hits for MGM, but I have always found his style to be slow and plodding.  The story is ridiculous and the acting across the board is atrocious.

Hey, at least the Khan's palace was cool.  That was a really good set.  And the matte painting that shows the fortress in its full magnificence is kind of neat.  There is a random Viking named Sigrum, played by Furio Meniconi, who has a line or two.  I liked that guy.  Arnoldo Foá plays an advisor to the Khan and he is appropriately wise and stoic.

And yeah, that's about it?  So how about everything else?

This film is so miscast.  Victor Mature might be the worst cast Viking I have ever seen, and his character is a relatively inept and ineffective ruler.  I think he was chosen to rule the Vikings because he is the only one brave enough to never wear pants.

He looks old and tired, and there is so much grease in his hair that I got nervous whenever he walked near a torch.  He certainly didn't make any effort to participate in the action scenes and they found the world's worst stunt double to take his place when he is fighting, swimming, riding a horse, and sometimes, you know, walking.

Orson Welles isn't cast much better.  He at least delivers his lines with appropriate menace, but he is never believable as a warrior chieftain.  And his stunt double is even worse.  It's just a short guy that they stuffed into a costume which looks like it was then inflated with helium.  The final fight between the antagonists is almost sad, as the two try to swing cheap swords at each other, one desperately trying to keep his wig on as the other tries to swing his arms from inside his balloon.  I stared at the screen in disbelief.

Oh, something else.  Spoiler alert for those who have made it this far!  This film seemingly takes place over a week or two.  Oleg has a brother named Eric (Luciano Marin) who falls in love with the imprisoned Samia.  Even though Eric is the one who killed her father, she quickly succumbs to his advances and they decide to get married.  The very next time we see the lovebirds, seemingly the next day, Samia asks if the Vikings will let her stay now that she is pregnant.  I'll admit, I don't know a lot about the Tartars.  Maybe their pregnancy tests really were that good.  Seems awful quick to me, though.

I can keep going, but I won't.  I need to put this behind me.  I need to calm myself, reset and breathe, and re-evaluate my life.  Why do I feel the need to torture myself this way?  How can I stop myself?

But then I glance up at my DVR...and I see Steve Reeves' Son of Spartacus is about to start on TCM...and I feel myself reaching for the record button...


MVP:

I really think I am going to Furio Meniconi, who plays one of the Vikings named Segrum.  He just appears occasionally in the background and even has a line of dialogue every once in awhile.  At first, I just thought he was a cool looking dude with a cool hair and a cool beard.  He actually looked like he knew what he was doing when he swung a sword.  So, points for him.

Then later in the movie, maybe about 30-minutes from the end, you realize he is Oleg's right hand man.  I hadn't realized that, but that would have been good to know.  And then 15-minutes from the end, he has a short speech where he says that he helped raise Oleg and Eric and he wished the brothers would stop arguing.  And again, I thought, well, that would have been interesting to know earlier.  Never mind the fact that he looks the same age as Victor Mature.

Anyways, he still looks cool.  So he gets my MVP.

BEST LINE:

This dialogue isn't that great, but like I mentioned, Orson Welles provides the right amount of menace in his performance.  It helps when you have one of the coolest voices in all of Hollywood history!

Burundia: Why should I spare you, then?  You give me no choice.  I, who stand on the threshold of glory...What does your little life mean to me?

Ciu Lang:   Less than nothing.  It means no more to me.  We have no choice in the matter of death.  It comes for us all. 

Burundai: You seem to desire your own.

Ciu Lang: No, I have no desire. I follow the way. 

Burundai:  The way.  Your way is mystic humbug.  It leads nowhere.  Mine is forward...into greatness. 

TRIVIA:

We had a wasted opportunity with this film.  Victor Mature and Orson Welles had hated each other since the 1940s when they were both competing for the affections of Rita Hayworth.  They really could have used that antagonism to their benefit and played up the tension between the two.  But sadly, I think that would have required better actors, a better director and a better script.  Or perhaps a different movie, altogether.