The Best Years of Our Lives

 

Last year, in my review for The Vikings, I talked about how fascinating it was that some movies disappear from history.  It's just strange that films that were hits in their day and featured major Hollywood stars just seem to vanish once the next generation comes along.  What cultural forces allow some movies to weather this test of time and stay in our collective memories forever, while others just fade away?  I suppose, at the end of the day, I can understood why The Vikings has been sort of forgotten.  It's a good movie, but not a brilliant one.  And while it was a hit, it was not a phenomenon.  I lamented the fact that films like this are being forgotten, but I understand it.  

But what if that forgotten film truly is a classic?  What if it really is one of the best movies ever made?   

What the hell happened to The Best Years of Our Lives?  Let me set the credentials first, because this movie was BIG.  The Best Years of Our Lives won 7 Oscars, including Best Picture.  It was also the first film to win Best Picture at the Oscars, Golden Globes and the BAFTAs.  It was a massive hit, and was the most watched film since Gone with the Wind.  The film is listed as the 37th best American film on the AFI List.  When the Library of Congress started selecting the most culturally significant films for preservation in the National Registry, The Best Years of Our Lives was one of among the first selected.  This film actually was a phenomenon.  But have you seen it? 

Have you even heard of it?  

Probably not.  Because it seems like most of us haven't.  

I listen to a few other podcasts about the Oscars and classic films, and when this film came up in their list, there was a sense of confusion.  "What is that movie?"  "I have never heard of this!"  "Oh, wait, I think I know it.  Is that the movie that beat It's a Wonderful Life for Best Picture?"  How did this happen? Why don't more people know this movie?   

Now, obviously, I'm not saying no one has see the film.  If it had completely vanished, then it wouldn't be on the AFI list, or in all those "1000 Movies You Need to See Before You Die" books.  But that doesn't change the fact that to the general public, this movie kind of doesn't exist.  

And wow, are they missing something.  Because The Best Years of Our Lives is just glorious.  I was staggered how amazing it was, heartfelt without being manipulative or sappy, complex without being indecisive, and beautifully acted and directed without showing off.  

The Best Years of Our Lives tells the story of three soldiers returning from World War 2, and the struggles they face trying to re-adjust to civilian life.  Al Stephenson (Fredric March, Inherit the Wind) tries to re-connect with his family, including the children whose formative years he missed while he was off fighting in the Pacific.  Fred Derry (Dana Andrews, Laura) was an officer in a bomber squadron during the war, but finds himself struggling to find a job in a society that seems to no longer have a use for him.  And Homer Parrish (Harold Russell), who lost both his hands in the war, is trying to find a way to live his life without feeling like everyone pities him, especially his fiancé, Wilma (Cathy O'Donnell, Ben Hur).  Their experiences were a microcosm of what a lot of veterans went through when they returned from the war, feeling like their peaceful home town was now a foreign world.  

I think the most impressive thing about the film is that it truly feels authentic.  There are a number of reasons for this.  The film was based on a novella Glory for Me, which was written by a war correspondent who had interviewed scores of veterans.  This was adapted into a screenplay by Robert E. Sherwood, a four-time Pulitzer Prize winning playwright who served as the director of the Office of War Information during the war.  The director William Wyler (Ben Hur) spent four years as part of the Signal Corps and had flown in combat missions over Europe while filming Memphis Belle, a wartime documentary for the U.S. Army.  Once production started, Wyler was committed to hiring as many veterans to work in the crew as possible, from audio technicians to grips.  And then you have the character of Homer, played by Harold Russell, who had joined the army following Pearl Harbor and lost his hands in a demolition accident in 1944.  Russell is not an actor, and you can tell.  He is a bit rough around the edges.  But he feels real.  Supposedly, producer Samuel Goldwyn tried to sign Russell up for acting lessons and Wyler intervened.  He didn't want the authenticity spoiled by technique and method.  Instead, he encouraged Russell to play what he knew.  I think it works beautifully.  What potentially could have, and maybe should have, come across as amateurish only adds to the insecurity that Homer feels at home, a place he isn't sure he belongs in, and engaged to a woman he feels he no longer deserves.  The sincerity and credibility he brings to the role is irreplaceable.  It's no wonder he won not one, but two Oscars for the performance - one for Best Supporting Actor and a special award for "bringing inspiration and hope to war veterans."

I'm rambling, but the point is that the movie tries really hard to be authentic, and it pays off.  But I also admire it because of its complexity.  This isn't a straight forward film.  These characters are human, not movie cliches, and they have flaws.  Al Stephenson is a nice man who loves his family and truly cares about helping other veterans re-adjust, but he is also teetering dangerously close to alcoholism.  Does the movie overstate the point?  No.  But it's there.  And we feel every nervous side-eye his wife gives him when he pours himself a drink.  That's just one example.  There are no "good guys" or "bad guys" in this movie. Everyone is three dimensional, with good and bad qualities.  They're just regular people trying to discover their new normals.  I have to restrain myself because I'm going to start getting into spoiler territory, and there are a number of surprises in the movie, so maybe it's best I just move on!  

Basically, everyone is firing on all cylinders in this movie.  The acting is all great.  In addition to the actors I already mentioned, you also have Myrna Loy, Virginia Mayo, and Teresa Wright.  I also need to give some props to Gregg Toland, the director of photography who also shot Citizen Kane.  Toland wasn't even nominated for his remarkable work, which I think is criminal.  His deep focus work throughout the movie is superb, and he and Wyler have conceived a handful of scenes featuring two different story threads playing out simultaneously - one in the foreground and one in the background, commenting on but not distracting from each other.  That's not something you see in many movies today, much less 1946.  

So why has Best Years of Our Lives seemingly disappeared from the public consciousness?  Could it be the title of the film?  It makes it sound like a sappy soap opera.  Maybe.  Admittedly, the title doesn't really tell me much about the movie.  I think the actors also have something to do with it.  March, Loy, Andrews, Mayo and Wright were all big stars in the 1940s, but for whatever reason they haven't become legendary, multi-generational beloved super stars like Humphrey Bogart, Audrey Hepburn or Jimmy Stewart.  And maybe there was a sense that this movie belonged to a very specific time, that it only made sense right after the horror that was World War 2 and that the further we got from that singular moment in history, the less relevant the film became.  

I call bullshit on all that last one, though.  The issues explored in the film don't rest solely in the 1940s, and many of the themes are just as relevant today as they were then - PTSD, depression and mental health, the complexities of marriage, issues of class, big banking, corporations and chains taking over small town family businesses, even fake news - these are topics that are still argued about today.  Plus, the fact that as long as there are wars, there will always be veterans, and there will always be difficulties re-adjusting to peacetime after conflict.  

Sadly, I think the main reason The Best Years of Our Lives remains more obscure was just because of the roll of the movie dice.  There were copyright issues with It's a Wonderful Life, which meant that television stations could broadcast it for free.  That film, which had underperformed when it came out, was found by a whole new generation of families who started watching it every year at Christmas.  Those kids grew up, and then introduced to the film to their kids, and so on, and therefore, the movie passed into legend.  Would the same thing have happened if the copyright had expired for The Best Years of Our Lives?  Maybe.  I'm always searching for reasons.  It's just frustrating when I can't really find a compelling one. But I guess I have to accept that sometimes that's just not the fate of a film.  

But that can change.  Movies can be re-discovered.  I hope that happens to The Best Years of Our Lives.  This film deserves to be remembered.  

MVP: 

I'm so tempted to say Gregg Toland for his excellent cinematography.  This is some of the best deep focus work I've ever seen because it's not being used as a gimmick or just a technique to keep more of the image in focus.  He's using the depth of the frame to tell a visual story within the film's plot, and it's pretty amazing.  But some of that influence may have also come from Wyler, who ultimately I have to give the MVP to.  Wyler was a great filmmaker, who consistently directed his actors to Oscar wins or nominations.  His sense of pacing is what makes a three hour movie feel much shorter than its runtime.  And most of all, Wyler gets the MVP due to his adamant insistence, I would say obsession, to make this movie feel authentic because he felt he owed it to the veterans who fought for this country and put everything on the line for our freedom.  In large part, that's why the film still stands up today.    

BEST LINE:

After seeing his children again for the first time in four years.  

Milly: What do you think of the children?

Al: Children?  I don't recognize 'em.  They've grown so old.

Milly: I tried to stop them, to keep them just the way they were when you left, but they got away from me. 

TRIVIA:

When getting ready for bed, Homer comments that once his artificial hands are removed, he's as helpless as a baby.  But this was definitely not true in real life.  Harold Russell was very capable of putting the hooks back on without anyone helping.  That was just something they added to the movie to make the character more sympathetic.  

But I also need to add one other bit of trivia, because it's too funny not to!  It's not about the film, but about Teresa Wright, who plays Al's daughter Peggy.  First of all, has anyone made as much of a Hollywood entrance as she did?  She explodes onto the scene with Little Foxes, which was nominated for Best Picture and netted her an Oscar nomination for Best Supporting Actress.  She follows that up with Mrs. Miniver, which won Best Picture and also for which she won Best Supporting Actress.  Her third film was yet another Best Picture nominee, Pride of the Yankees, for which she was nominated for Best Actress.  She follows that up with Alfred Hitchcock's classic Shadow of a Doubt, which was that director's personal favorite film and a big hit.  That is already one helluva stretch.  Her first four films are all major classics.  She admittedly had a little drip with her next movie, Casanova Brown, but then her sixth film was The Best Years of Our Lives.  So that is still a remarkable run.  She was also a strong woman and a serious actress, and didn't have much use for the ridiculousness of the Hollywood press machine.  When she signed her first contract, she was bold enough to insist on the following additions to the agreement: 

"Teresa Wright shall not be required to pose for photographs in a bathing suit unless she is in the water.  Neither may she be photographed running on the beach with her hair flying in the wind.  Nor may she pose in any of the following situations: in shorts; playing with a cocker spaniel; digging in a garden; whipping up a meal; attired in firecrackers and holding skyrockets for the Fourth of July; looking insinuatingly at a turkey for Thanksgiving; wearing a bunny cap with long ears for Easter; twinkling on prop snow in a skiing outfit while a fan blows her scarf; or assuming an athletic stance while pretending to hit something with a bow and arrow."  

That was in the contract!  And insisted upon by someone who had never made a movie before.  I would think most Hollywood moguls, especially back then, would have refused.  But Goldwyn was impressed by her seriousness and her talent, and agreed.  

I just think that is pretty awesome and badass that she insisted on all of that, and had to include it with my trivia for the film!  

The Matrix

I'd like to approach this review from two different directions.  First, I'd like to talk about memory for a second.  We all know The Matrix.  Most of us have seen it.   We all know it's great, though many of us were let down by those sequels.  It was groundbreaking, influential and thrilling science fiction.  I saw the movie several times in those first few years after it came out.  I knew the movie so well I didn't really feel I had to watch it again any time soon.  And the quality of the film began to fade into memory.   Yes, yes, when people would talk about The Matrix, I would always say, "yeah, that movie is great.  Super influential science fiction/action film."  My brain knew it.  I bet yours does, too.  But when is the last time you actually saw it?   Because if you sit down and start watching the movie now - especially if it has been a long time since you've last seen it - you won't just know it's great.  You're gonna feel it.  You see, my senses had forgotten.  And I know that is a weird thing to say, but when I watched The Matrix again for the first time probably in a decade, all of my senses were assaulted with its awesomeness.  

For those of you who haven't seen it...maybe this review isn't for you.  I don't want to write a plot synopsis because the less you know the better.  Just go buy it and watch it, and then come back to this review later.  But for everyone else, have you seen the movie lately?  Is your brain telling you, "no, you saw that movie a bunch of times already.  You don't need to see it again."  Screw that.  Go see it again.  

Okay, I want to shift gears here.  1999 was actually a great year for movies.  Check out this lineup: Fight Club, American Beauty, The Insider, Magnolia, Office Space, The Cider House Rules, Election, Boys Don't Cry, Sixth Sense, Blair Witch Project, Being John Malkovich, The Green Mile, and a whole bunch of others.   That's a diverse and influential grouping of films, and The Matrix definitely stacks up well alongside them.  The movie was a hit, and actually won four Oscars - Film Editing, Sound, Sound Effects Editing and Visual Effects.  But watching the film again now, I have to ask...why wasn't it nominated for more?  Because looking back on it, I think The Matrix might have been the best film of 1999.  

Not just the most fun.  Not just the most entertaining.  But actually the best.  

At a certain point, the Academy Awards decided they were going to be about "Oscar movies" and it is very hard for a non-prestige film to break through.  Especially since the 1990s.  In 1977, it wasn't crazy that a movie like Star Wars could get a Best Picture nomination.  But since the 1990s?  No way. And I think all of us instinctively contribute to the problem.  We've all been conditioned to think of movies in different categories.  Action movies, comedies, and science fiction make the money.  Dramas win the awards.  Of course, science fiction films have always dominated the technical awards, but I'm talking about the top dogs - Best Picture, and awards for acting and scripting that almost always go to serious, dramatic films.  

I know I felt that way for a long time.  I had the idea of what an "Oscar movie" stuck in my head.  If it wasn't pure drama, then it had to be an epic like Gladiator.  The Oscars love epics.  But something like The Matrix?  I never would have even considered it.  The Matrix was a super fun movie and one of my favorite films of the year, but I don't think I gave it any serious thought at the Oscars beyond those technical categories.  But watching it now, I am really changing my mind.  The Matrix isn't just good sci fi.  The Matrix should have been considered the superbly written and directed film that it is.  It should have broken through.

Let's look at a few of the categories.  

Okay, I'm not going going to go crazy.  The Matrix shouldn't be cleaning up in all the categories.  The film is perfectly cast, but I'm not going to be pitching Keanu Reeves and Carrie-Ann Moss for Oscar nominations, as much as I liked them in their roles.  But what about Laurence Fishburne or Hugo Weaving?  Fishburne's performance is even better than I remembered - I really like how different he is inside the Matrix - calm, collected, always in control - to how he acts in the real world, which is someone who is trying to be calm, collected and always in control for the sake of his crew and because he feels the weight of the world is on his shoulders.  It's subtle, but I sensed the desperation lurking under his calm demeanor in the real world.  And how about Hugo Weaving, whose awkward line delivery turned Agent Smith into one of the most iconic villains in science fiction.  His repressed anger, the way he disdainfully talks about everything and everyone, the calm but horrifying menace he brings to the role, I just think Weaving knocked it out of the park.  In his first scene, all it took was Weaving's disappointed "hmmm" when Neo flips him the middle finger for me to think, "damn, why wasn't he nominated?"  That year, the nominees were Michael Caine for The Cider House Rules, Haley Joel Osment for Sixth Sense, Jude Law for The Talented Mr. Ripley, Michael Clarke Duncan for The Green Mile and Tom Cruise for Magnolia.  These are all good performances, but I could lose Michael Caine if it meant I could get Fishburne or Weaving in there.  Caine gave a memorable performance, but I'd make that trade.  I know Caine was the winner in this category, but he had already won and I think he's been better (and honestly, he probably should have won the very next year for The Quiet American).

What about screenplay?  Yep, I am going there!  The script, by Lana and Lilly Wachowski, is so expertly constructed, and does such a good job of staggering information to you.  It's a smart script - philosophical without becoming heavy handed (unlike the unfortunate Matrix sequels).  Fishburne's simple, "do you think that's air you're breathing?" is more impactful than any of the philosophical ponderings in Reloaded and Revolutions.  The script is so creative and the twists and turns are so well thought out, that I would definitely pitch this for a Best Screenplay nomination.  So what would I knock out?  This is easy.  I would probably keep the eventual winner, American Beauty, Magnolia, The Sixth Sense for that twist ending alone, which is one of the most influential and copied moments in recent cinema history, and Being John Malkovich because it's so crazy that it just needs to be in the lineup - in fact, I probably would have voted for Malkovich to win.  But Topsy Turvy?  Nothing against that movie, which I really did like, but that's a no brainer for me.  Get it out of there, and put the Wachowski script in.

I know people might think this is crazy, but I've really thought about this.  And it's going to get crazier. Because the Wachowski's directed the hell out of The Matrix.  And I look at the list of nominees for Best Picture and Best Director, and I think the Wachowski's and The Matrix are better than all of them.  

Again, I want to stress that 1999 was a great year and I am not saying anything bad about these movies.  But as the decades have passed and we look back at what was nominated, it becomes clear what films have stood the test of time.  American Beauty, The Cider House Rules, The Green Mile, The Insider and The Sixth Sense are all great films.  I admire them all.  But which one would I get rid of to put in The Matrix?  Honestly, any of them.  Other than the last five minutes of The Sixth Sense, have any of these five films influenced filmmaking or our culture in any way that even comes close to what The Matrix has done?  The Matrix has reached iconic status - and not just because it's "cool" with its leather trench coats and sunglasses - no, if that were the case, I'd be pushing The Blade movies for Oscars.  And it's not because of the terrific fight choreography.  Nope, because then I'd be pushing John Wick movies for Oscars.  Those elements are absolutely crucial parts of what makes The Matrix what it is, but it is the way they are used, it's the way these elements are written, shot and edited that has made The Matrix iconic.  To put it simply, I think The Matrix should have nominated, and in a perfect world, it should have won.  

Also, as a quick tangent, Fight Club should have been nominated, too.  Again, I'm not sure which film I would have knocked out of the nomination list because I think Fight Club is better than all of them.  Ultimately, I think my five would have been The Matrix, Fight Club, American Beauty, The Insider and Being John Malkovich.  But again, it's not an easy category, because 1999 was such a great year.  

There are two other categories that I want to mention.  Best Cinematography is just stacked.  But I still want to give Bill Pope, the director of photography, some props.  The Matrix, with its tinted blues for the real world and tinted greens for sequences inside the Matrix, certainly presaged the way color has since been used in movies - especially with the advent of digital color grading, which just changed the entire field.  The nominations that year were American Beauty, Sleepy Hollow, Snow Falling on Cedars, The End of the Affair, and The Insider.  That's a tough category, and I am not confidant about who I could kick out.  Though again, I see a bias towards dramas - with the exception of Sleepy Hollow, these are all dramas and shot in a fairly conventional way - even if they are all expertly crafted.  Actually, I am pretty impressed that Sleepy Hollow slipped in here, now that I'm looking at it.   So am I upset that Pope wasn't nominated?  No, this is a tight category.  But either way, I think Bill Pope's achievement was pretty remarkable and should have been recognized.  

I also want to give Don Davis some love for his original score.  It may have been a bit heavy for Oscar voters, but it's become iconic music - those bendings horns are instantly recognizable.  But I am not sure who I would knock off the list.  American Beauty, The Cider House Rules and The Talented Mr. Ripley are all terrific scores, but I have not seen the other two: Angela's Ashes and the eventual winner The Red Violin.  But again, I'd like to point out something.  These are all dramas, with subtle and beautiful work.  But loud and powerful music - the type that grabs you by the collar and blasts those horns in your face, just isn't favored by the Academy unless you're one of the Lord of the Rings movies, and I think Don Davis' work should have been considered.

Anyways, I know this is rambling, and I'm not sure if anyone cares about me breaking down the categories this way.  But I was so enamored by The Matrix when I watched it again, and then so surprised by the 1999 Oscar nominations when I went back to look at them, that I just wanted to get into it.  

And to be fair, the movie isn't perfect.  It does have some problems.  Some nitpicks.  To this day, I get frustrated when Neo, Morpheus and Trinity get to the phone in the subway station and are finally about to escape.  And even though they are being chased by these super powerful agents, Trinity basically stops Neo and says, "hey, hold up, I want to talk to you about something."  No no no.  Pick up the damn phone, escape, and then talk about it later!  The love story, in general, doesn't quite work for me.  I know Trinity is destined to fall in love with Neo, and they do a good job of establishing the idea of destiny earlier, but I think the two of them needed another scene or two together to really sell the fact that they are falling in love.  And I've always found something goofy about the way Cypher dies.  Not sure if it is the editing in that one spot, or the fact that Tank has to talk to him before pulling the trigger.  Can't put my finger on it, but that moment has always been strange.  

See what I mean?  These are nitpicks.  Trifles!  But if you ask me to find something I don't like about a movie, I almost always can oblige.  

At the end of the day, even though the sequels damaged its reputation, The Matrix is a brilliant film, and should have dominated 1999 not just at the box office, but during awards season, as well.  Our brains have conditioned us to think otherwise, but that's just an "Academy Awards Matrix" that we're all trapped in.  Let's break free and see this film as the classic it is.  And hopefully let's give future action films and science fiction films the chance they deserve to compete with dramas at the Oscars!  

MVP:

I have to go with the Wachowski's.  Though veteran producer Joel Silver helped steer the ship, this is the Wachowski's vision through and through.  It's a remarkable achievement.  The film is so meticulously conceived and crafted, I just couldn't give the award to any one else.  

I also have to give them props for insisting that fight choreographer Woo-Ping Yuen (who would later choreograph the fights in Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon) work on the movie.  Yuen tried to get out of it by demanding too much money and also requiring the actors to train with him for four months prior to filming.  Most studios would have balked at that request. But the Wachowski's insisted.  They had a vision, and that was to bring fights to American mainstream audiences the likes of which they had never seen before.  And they knew their man.  They needed Yuen, and they were right.  The fight scenes are dynamic and thrilling, and certainly helped change the way fight scenes have been choreographed ever since.

They also had a vision with the special effects.  Bullet time has been imitated for so long now that it is hard to remember how unique and thrilling it was the first time we saw Neo bend backwards in slow motion as bullets flew over his body, leaving trails of distorted air in their wake.  So innovative.  So cool.  Still copied today.  All part of the Wachowski vision for this film.  

Yeah, this is an easy MVP.   

BEST LINE: 

Part of me wants to just say "whoa" or "I know kung fu" because they are priceless and certainly career defining moments for Keanu Reeves.  But I have always loved Morpheus' lectures to Neo, especially during the training dojo sequence.  So I am going to go with the line I mentioned earlier.  

Morpheus: How did I beat you? 

Neo: You're too fast. 

Morpheus: Do you believe that my being stronger or faster has anything to do with my muscles in this place?  Do you think that's air you're breathing now?

TRIVIA: 

I love casting what ifs.  The Matrix has a couple of big ones.  Sandra Bullock was offered the role of Trinity, but turned it down.  Will Smith was offered the role of Neo, but also turned it down.  I've heard descriptions of the pitch meeting the Wachowski's gave him,  which was more about the bullet time and crazy effects than it was the story, and Smith decided to make Wild, Wild West instead (ouch).   But Smith has no regrets because he thinks he would have messed the role up and no one could have been a better Neo than Keanu Reeves.  And he's right!  And then Sean Connery was offered the role of Morpheus and he turned it down because the script made no sense to him.  I love Connery and this would have been fascinating to see.  But I can't imagine anyone other than Fishburne in that role.  

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.