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.

Star Trek the Motion Picture

I had a lot of fun reviewing the James Bond series, and I've been thinking about tackling another franchise for awhile.  I just wasn't sure which one.  And then I had a chance to see the 40th anniversary of Star Trek: The Motion Picture on the big screen and I thought, why not Star Trek?  It would be fun to watch all these movies again, especially the original cast films that I grew up with. But then I thought more about it and I realized I would have to suffer through Star Trek V: The Final Frontier and Star Trek: Nemesis again, and I really started to have second thoughts.   I know that makes me hypocritical. I've been talking a lot lately about giving movies a second chance - especially films in beloved franchises, where there are often certain expectations going in that will effect your enjoyment, and that's not really fair.  I am older and hopefully wiser now, and maybe it would be worth watching these films with fresh eyes.

But then again, well, Star Trek V: The Final Fronter and Star Trek: Nemesis.

So that's to say that I am skipping reviewing the whole franchise for now.  Someday I may muster up the courage, but I don't think I have it in me at the moment.  But I do want to spend the time on Star Trek: The Motion Picture.  

First, let's just do a quick summary of the plot.  There is an alien presence called V'Ger which is rapidly moving towards Earth, leaving a wake of destruction in its path.  There is only one available starship in between V'Ger and its target, and that is the Enterprise, which is under the command of a new captain, William Decker.  But this mission is too critical to be left in the hands of a rookie, and Starfleet sends Admiral James T. Kirk to assume command and find a way to stop V'Ger's relentless advance.

So that's the plot.  Now, let's go back to where this film came from.

In 1977, the world changed.  A little movie called Star Wars came out and changed the landscape of cinema forever.  Suddenly, every studio wanted to have its own space adventure - including Paramount.  Paramount was in a lucky position.  It already had its own popular science fiction property and one with a built-in fanbase.  Weirdly enough, Star Trek had not been particularly successful when it was broadcast in the 1960s.  Ratings were always a challenge and the show was canceled after three seasons.  Fans who watched the show were extremely vocal, even launching a letter writing campaign to save the series, but to no avail.  Star Trek was gone...until syndication saved it.  Throughout the 1970s, the show became more and more popular, and its fanbase grew larger and louder, and even started organizing conventions.  Paramount started thinking of ways to cash in and revive the series.  There was a short-lived animated series and then some failed attempts to get a movie off the ground in the 1970s.  This project would have included work from Philip Kaufman (The Right Stuff) and Ken Adams (the brilliant James Bond production designer), so that's a tantalizing what if!  Sadly, these efforts came to nothing.  Finally the studio began working on a new show called Star Trek: Phase II, featuring Stephen Collins (7th Heaven) as new captain William Decker and Persis Khambatta (Megaforce) as his love interest Ilia.

And then Star Wars was released and was a huge hit.  When Close Encounters of the Third Kind was released, that sealed the deal.  Audiences wanted science fiction, and Paramount was going to deliver.    Immediately, Star Trek: Phase II the series was canceled and the story of its pilot episode was expanded to become the plot of Star Trek: The Motion Picture.  William Decker and Ilia were still featured characters in the film, but the studio knew there would be a fan revolt if they didn't bring back the beloved original crew from the series.  There was some resistance, but they eventually got Kirk and Company back in the saddle.  For a director, while they considered young hot shots like Francis Ford Coppola, the studio decided on the reliable and Oscar-winning Robert Wise (The Sound of Music, The Day the Earth Stood Still).  The production was not an easy one.  The script wasn't finished when filming started and was constantly changing throughout production.  The writer Robert Livingstone and Star Trek's creator Gene Roddenerry continuously argued, with both working on script pages hours before scenes were to be shot.  The editing was rushed, and the day of the premiere, Robert Wise had to run the film straight from the edit studio to the movie theater.  When the film ended, many in the audience felt deflated.  Reviews were mixed.  The film's pacing was so sluggish that critics jokingly called the film Star Trek: The Motionless Picture.  There is no denying that the movie was a big hit, making over $80 million.  But the film cost  $46 million to produce (making it the most expensive film ever made at that time) and the studio probably spent just as much on marketing, so the film was considered a disappointment.  Even today, it seems most people write off the film as boring and kind of silly, and definitely inferior to its immediate sequel, Wrath of Khan.

Well, that's not necessarily fair.  Wrath of Khan is the best that Star Trek has to offer.  It's a science fiction classic that every subsequent film in the franchise has aspired (and failed) to equal.

So does Star Trek: The Motion Picture deserve the hate?  Look, I am not going to lie.  It is not a great movie.  There are some major problems with it.  The movie is indeed sluggish and incredibly slow.  There are endless minutes of the crew just staring out into space.  And while the superb special effects by Douglas Trumbull and the tremendous musical score from Jerry Goldsmith help alleviate the problem, there is only so much they can do.  We don't need 6 whole minutes of Admiral Kirk staring at the Enterprise lovingly before he boards.  I'll talk more about that scene later, but 6 minutes is lot of screen time of him just staring at a ship.  The film does its best to integrate Decker and Ilia, but their presence is still...well, I don't want to say they are pointless because both are absolutely integral to the plot.  But we don't care about them.  We care about the original crew.  And every minute we spend with Decker and Ilia is another minute we wish we were with Kirk and Spock, making the film feel even longer.

Conceptually, it is a bit of an odd duck.  The studio wanted to have their own Star Wars, but instead seemed looked to 2001: A Space Odyssey for inspiration.  Which in of itself is not a bad thing.  Star Trek is best when it is about ideas.  But you better know what you are doing, because not every filmmaker is Stanley Kubrick.  And you better give your director time to properly tell that story because its not something you can rush.  There are parts of the film that just seem kind of sloppy.  It feels incomplete, with scattershot pacing and an anticlimactic ending.  It feels like a rough cut in many places, and I know Robert Wise always felt he didn't have the time to really finish the film the way he wanted.  In fact, in the 1990s, when director's cuts were all the rage, he was given a big bag of money to go back and finish the film the way he originally intended.  I will say this director's cut is an improvement. The pacing is better and everything is much more polished and complete, but it isn't a game changer.  Many of the problems still exist and this new version wasn't going to change anyone's opinion of the film.

And can I take a second to complain about the costumes?  From the ghastly brown onesies to whatever the hell William Shatner is wearing in this picture, the costumes are just a nightmare.

I don't want to come down too hard on costume designer Bob Fletcher.  He was a great designer who is also responsible for the incredibly cool red costumes that the original crew wore in their other films.  But for Star Trek: The Motion Picture, it is almost as if Robert Wise told him, "This movie is going to be monotonous and dull.  Can you make costumes to match that?"  In which case, Fletcher succeeded spectacularly!

So that is a lot to not like about Star Trek: The Motion Picture.  I completely understand why people don't like this film.  But at the end of the day, I DO like it.  That might be a bit surprising after everything I just wrote, but I genuinely think Star Trek: The Motion Picture deserves the rewatch. It's not great, but it is far from the worst of the franchise.  In fact, I would say it's actually probably better than half of them.

The film is stunning to look at.  As I mentioned before, the film features some beautiful special effects work by Douglas Trumbull (2001: A Space Odyssey, Bladerunner).  Some of the model work is truly amazing, especially when the Enterprise is exploring V'Ger.  And the score by Jerry Goldsmith is truly fantastic.  This is easily one of his most brilliant and complex scores.  With Trumbull and Goldsmith firing on all cylinders, its no wonder that Robert Wise thought audiences would sit still during the endless space watching sequences.  As I mentioned before, near the beginning of the film, Kirk takes a small shuttle to the Enterprise in dry dock.  We see the ship as Kirk sees it - little by little, getting larger and larger as the shuttle gets closer, until finally the full iconic ship fills the frame, accompanied by the booming orchestra.  The music is lush and beautiful like a love theme.  And honestly, it is a love theme.  This is James Kirk returning to the love of his life, The Enterprise.  And it is a great sequence...for about 4 minutes.  Unfortunately, the scene is 6 minutes long. But Goldsmith and Trumbull really do come close to pulling it off!

I also like the fact that the film is not just a space adventure.  As I said, Star Trek is best when it is about ideas.  And I really admire a film whose villain just wants to know what its next stage of evolution is supposed to be.  It is asking questions about existence and humanity.  That's interesting and worthy of discussion.

And when it comes down to it, it's just hard to not like that original crew.  Shatner, Nimoy, Nichols, Kelley, Koenig, Takei, Doohan...this group has such an easy and terrific chemistry that I just like watching them go on adventures together.  They are innately watchable.  Yes, nostalgia might be playing a part in me saying that, but not as much as you might think.  Take the reboot Star Trek, for example.  That is a better film and that cast of actors is really great, but their chemistry pales in comparison to the original crew.  They had already been working together for years, and that familiarity is what makes this original crew the best.

So that is my defense of Star Trek: The Motion Picture.  I know I said I lot of negative things about the movie.  And I stand by my opinion of those flaws.  But what I am trying to say is that while I acknowledge all of those problems, I still kind of dig this movie.  I think Star Trek: The Motion Picture deserves to be reconsidered.  It's smarter, deeper and more beautiful than you might be giving it credit for.


MVP:

There are only two real contenders for the MVP.  The first is Douglas Trumbull, the special effects mastermind, whose work here is really astonishing in places.  The second is Jerry Goldsmith, whose iconic music has gone down in history.  For long stretches of music, the movie abandons dialogue and completely leans on the work of these two to carry the film - especially in the lengthy V'Ger flyover sequence, which is about 412 minutes long.  But I was never bored, though I should have been, and that is a testament to the work of Trumbull and Goldsmith.  As a film score buff, I'm going to give the MVP to Goldsmith.  I think without him, the film falls flat.  It would still be pretty looking, but it would also truly be the "Motionless Picture" that the critics joked about.  He gives the film its life, he gives Starfleet its heroism, Kirk his one true love and V'Ger the sound of the unknowable "other."  With the exception of Star Wars, this is probably the greatest science fiction score ever written.  And the fact that it did not win the Academy Award (losing to a charming, but slight A Little Romance) is one of the craziest Oscar snubs of all time.

BEST LINE:

Spock: "V'Ger must evolve.  Its knowledge has reached the limits of this universe and it must evolve. What it requires of its god, doctor, is an answer to its question, "Is there nothing more?" 

TRIVIA: 

Star Trek: The Motion Picture has a number of fascinating tidbits of trivia.  As I mentioned, the film was such a mad dash to the finish line that a number of crazy things happened on the set.  One rumor is that the V'Ger model was so big that they were filming one side of the structure while the effects team was frantically trying to finish building the other side!  But I think my trivia is going to focus on the languages spoken in the film, especially Klingon.  The Klingon language was created by linguist Mark Okrand, who even released a dictionary in the 1980s, a bestseller that contributed to Klingon becoming the most widely fictional language spoke around the world.  But Okrand wasn't starting completely from scratch.  The first time audiences heard the guttural, menacing language of the villainous Klingons was Star Trek: The Motion Picture.  It was just a few words ("Wly cha! HaSta! cha ylghuS! 'eH...baH!" meaning "Tactical!  Visual!  Stand by on the torpedoes!  Ready...Fire!"), but it was enough to set the tone and the feel of the language, and provided fertile ground for Okrand to build the language from.  And those first words were written by none other than Scotty himself, James Doohan!  To top it off, he also wrote the Vulcan dialogue that was used when Spock was talking to the priests.  That is a fun bit of trivia!

Maltese Falcon

I have had a lot of fun revisiting old classics lately.  In my most recent review of Double Indemnity, I talked a lot about not apologizing if you don't like a "classic" film.  I know a lot of people who don't like Citizen Kane, for example, but they always feel the need to apologize for that.  I've been guilty of doing this myself - with Double Indemnity, in fact.  I would say things like, "I respect it, but I don't like it."  But there was another important point in that review.  Sometimes you have to give something a second chance. I saw Double Indemnity again and loved it. And in a weird sort of way, the world opened up to me.  What other classic movies did I not like?  What other iconic films should I give another chance to?  Which films did I feel most "guilty" about not liking?

The Maltese Falcon is a beloved film, and an incredibly important movie in cinema history.  In high school, I enthusiastically watched it and remembered being bored to tears.  But this film is so highly and universally accepted that I almost felt bad for not liking it.  The film was a great success, earning three Academy Award nominations in a very competitive year (including Best Picture), and has an 8.0 on IMDB, a 96% on Metacritic, and a 100% on Rotten Tomatoes. These are some strong stats.  If there was a ever a film I would change my mind about, odds were this was going to be the one!

And my opinion did change.  Just not as much as I had hoped.  But I'm getting ahead of myself here.

Private detective Sam Spade (Humphrey Bogart, Casablanca) and his partner Miles Archer (Jerome Cowan, Miracle on 34th Street) are hired by a new client named Ruth Wonderly (Mary Astor, The Great Lie) to find her missing sister.  The only clue is that the sister has thrown in with a violent man named Floyd Thursby.  The duo take the case, and Archer agrees to tail Thursby that night to see if he might lead them to Wonderly's sister.  Before the night is over, Archer and Thursby are both murdered, Wonderly has disappeared, and Sam Spade is looking like the most likely suspect.  But things get even more complicated real quick.  A trio of mysterious and dangerous men show up, Joel Cairo (Peter Lorre, Casablanca), Kasper Gutman (Sidney Greenstreet, also Casablanca) and Wilmer (Elisha Cook, Jr., not Casablanca, but The Big Sleep).  These three are looking for a priceless relic called The Maltese Falcon and are willing to do anything to get it.  They think Sam Spade might have a clue to its whereabouts.  At the same time, Ruth Wonderly reappears and also reintroduces herself as Brigid O'Shaughnessy.  She admits to using a fake name and had been hoping to use Spade and Archer to help find the falcon for herself.  She still wants it, but is afraid for her life after Archer and Thursby's murders.

Without a doubt, I can say I liked the film much more than I used to.  That's a fact.  There is a lot of great stuff in here.  First of all, the acting is terrific across the board.  You can see why this film turned Sydney Greenstreet into a star and Humphrey Bogart into a superstar.  You have strong support from Elisha Cook, Jr. and especially a brilliant Peter Lorre, and Mary Astor, who was arguably the biggest star of the group when the film was made, and an Oscar winner that same year for The Great Lie, is also excellent as the mysterious O'Shaughnessy.  I should also say this is the directorial debut for John Huston, whose legendary career spanned four decades and included classics such as The Treasure of Sierra Madre and The African Queen.  His direction here is assured and confident and its clear that this is a filmmaker who is about to launch into some great things.

The character of Sam Spade is also interesting and, surprisingly for a 1940s film, a bit morally ambiguous. He's definitely not a hero.  Other than being slightly annoyed by having to deal with the police, he doesn't seem to care that his partner was murdered.  He only really seems to be interested in watching his own back, and is he demanding that O'Shaughnessy exchange sex for his protection?  The movie doesn't outright say so, but I'm pretty sure he is. Especially for the time period, I found that to be fascinating.

This film has become the archetype for the detective film and is basically the granddaddy of the film noir genre (though I personally don't quite think its noir.), and Bogart's Sam Spade has been burned into the public consciousness as the quintessential private eye.  The film, quite simply, has become iconic.

But at the same time, I think The Maltese Falcon is far from perfect.  And I don’t think it is me being picky or judging the film with "modern eyes," so to speak.  I think there are some fundamental problems that I’m surprised other people haven’t mentioned, including critics back in 1941.  One big problem is that for significant stretches, the movie can be sort of, well, dull.  Personally, I think the primary flaw is that the film breaks the “show don’t tell” rule.  There are some long sequences where characters are just telling each other stuff.  They keep talking at each other, instead of with each other, and it all just begins to grow wearisome.  For example, a huge problem with the film is that we never see Sam Spade solve the mystery.  He just tells people he did.  And he doesn’t even explain how he figured it out.  He just has a long speech saying that he did.  I’m not sure why this bothers me so much, but I think it’s a major flaw. 

And I think it’s a shame because generally the dialogue is well written.  And when there are dialogue exchanges, the film crackles with wit and brilliance.  I like the scenes with Sam Spade antagonizing Wilmer.  And any scene where Bogart and Peter Lorre bounce off each other is priceless.  Wow, that sequence where Joel Cairo tries to search Spade’s office might be one of the funniest scenes Bogart and Lorre ever got to play. Unfortunately, as the movie goes on, we start to get less and less lines of dialogue and more and more paragraphs.  And the result is that, just as the movie should be getting more exciting, I start to get less interested because I'm being talked at.  I don't want to listen to a bunch of people lecturing each other.  And I don’t want them to tell me everything. As a viewer, I want to witness it.  I want to experience it.  Show, don't tell, damn it!  

I also want to single out one scene that confused me, so some SPOILERS here.  So Gutman asks Spade over for a drink and then monologues about the history of the Falcon.  Spade realizes the drink has been drugged and passes out.  Wilmer comes in and kicks Spade in the face, just for spite.  Oh, yeah, I thought to myself, some drama.  How's Spade going to get out of this one?  But then...Wilmer and Gutman just leave.  Hours later, Spade wakes up, and shrugs it all off like it was nothing.  And nothing is ever mentioned about it again - even when Spade confronts Gutman and Wilmer just a few scenes later.  What was the point of that?  Some would say they drugged Spade to get him out of the way.  The bad guys had discovered where the falcon was, so they didn't need Spade any more.  So why not just kill him then?  They certainly killed other people.  Or if you don't want to kill him, why not at least tie him up so he doesn't just walk out of the building when he wakes up?  Or wait - I have an even better question, if they didn't need him, then why invite him over for a drink to begin with?  Why did they even have the conversation and waste my time?  What was the point?  Ugh, this scene was frustrating. 

So at the end of the day, where does that leave me?  I do like Maltese Falcon more than I used to. There is no doubt about that. I understand why it is an iconic classic that deserves to be on any list of the most important and influential films ever.  But a Best Movie list?  I’m not so sure.  Those movies need to stand the test of time and be just as entertaining now as they were when they were first released.  Casablanca has that magic.  As unpopular an opinion that this may be, I just don’t think The Maltese Falcon measures up. 

BEST LINE:

It's the most famous line of the movie and justifiably so.  And I think it's made even better when you know that it wasn't in the original script.  The line, inspired by Shakespeare's The Tempest, was a suggestion from Bogart himself.

Detective (holding the Falcon): It's heavy.  What is it? 

Sam Spade: The, uh, stuff dreams are made of.


TRIVIA:

Wow, this one is tough.  The Maltese Falcon has so many fun facts!

How about this film being a remake?  This was actually the third attempt in less than a decade to film Dashiell Hammett's book.  The second attempt, Satan Met a Lady, was a comedy starring Bette Davis!  Those other two versions had flopped, but Huston had the sense that he could do it right.  

How about that ship captain who staggers into Spade's office and dies?  That's Walter Huston, John Huston's dad!  And apparently, John had his father do an absurd number of takes of this tiny cameo, just as a practical joke. 

How about the fact that the film was supposed to star George Raft, who turned it down because he didn't want to work with a first time director.  It's not the only time Bogart benefitted from Raft's short sightedness.  Raft also turned down High Sierra, All Through the Night, and according to some film historians, Casablanca.

There's also the term that slipped by the censors.  Spade keeps calling Wilmer "gunsel," which most people think is a reference to Wilmer's being Gutman's enforcer or gunman.  That's not the case.  It's actually a Yiddish word, literally meaning "little goose," and is a derogatory term for a young gay man in a relationship with a much older man.  This explains why Wilmer keeps getting angry whenever Spade calls him that. 


MVP:

This one is actually really difficult.  I want to say Humphrey Bogart and I really should.  He is truly electric, and it is easy to see why this film made him such a big star.  But my personal MVP has to be Peter Lorre as Joel Cairo.  He is hilarious and pathetic, and he has terrific chemistry with Bogart, Astor, Greenstreet - heck, pretty much everyone.  He's just terrific and lights up the screen whenever he appears.  I know this is Bogart's movie, but Lorre is my MVP.