Film Reviews by Steve

With America now at war, George Stevens would soon be shooting documentaries in Europe and the Pacific right up until '45. Screwball comedy began to fade out in Hollywood. This is a comedy drama with a serious theme appropriate to a global population threatened by fascism; the state of law and justice.

Ronald Colman plays a pompous, unbending- Kantian- academic who visits New England to write a book before his appointment to the Supreme Court. Cary Grant has a more utilitarian view of the law, and is a fugitive from justice, having been fitted up for arson to stop him opposing local graft.

And Jean Arthur is the slightly screwy landlady who mediates and influences Colman to defend the accused. This is styled as a romance and a farce but the love triangle doesn't come to life. The slamming doors are a distraction. Grant plays a more serious role than was customary; essentially a Communist.

Which must have been noticed by HUAC once fighting was over. The screenwriter (Sidney Buchman) was blacklisted. The drama turns on Colman realising that he has to take a side in the fight for civil liberties. It would be a theme of many Hollywood films in peacetime. This articulates the conflict well and the stars make it one of the better comedies of the war years.

This is Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy's first post Hal Roach film, at which point they are reputed to go into decline. And while most of the jokes feel like repeats (and it is in part a remake of their '31 two reeler Beau Hunks) this is an interesting film because it is so mythic. It's about two friends who are fated to squabble and endure eternally for the sake of companionship.

The tale even touches on death and the possibility they will be together beyond their lives. There's a scene where they are literally tied to each other, planning to both die simultaneously, dismissing the possibility that one of them might go on alone. There are routines that could be cut from Waiting for Godot, not yet written.

 Stan doesn't look well and has put on weight. As has Ollie... They are older men. Ollie joins the French foreign legion (with his pal of course) to forget about a girl (Jean Parker). When  he gets over his heartbreak, the duo decide they may as well go back to civilian life, only to discover it ain't that easy and they will face the firing squad at dawn.

Before the fadeout, Ollie dies, and actually comes back from the other side to be with Stan, though unfortunately as a horse! This is full of moments that can be dismissed just as gags but maybe, are an attempt to capture what is legendary about their alliance. And of course, through their films, they (sort of) really did achieve immortality.

Somewhere in these two hours is the moment when Frank Capra's films stop being comedies at all, and the humour gets swallowed up in the moral darkness.  It opens with a traditional comic premise. James Stewart plays a fish out of water who is, out of his depth... a scout leader promoted to be a US Senator. He discovers that the whole barrel is rotten, and he must fight for the soul of his nation.

 With the world at war between fascism and the free world, the Italian born Capra sounds a grim warning to home audiences. He shows us politics is owned by graft. An industry magnate (Edward Arnold) runs a corrupt Senator (Claude Rains) who has abandoned his ideals. And they take the quixotic newcomer down when he opposes the crooked misuse of public money.

 In support, Jean Arthur is excellent as the tough spad insider who cynically attaches herself to Stewart. She changes sides. But as so often with Capra, it's the threat which represents the real world, and the resolution is just the illusion of hope we all need to carry on. In an unlikely turn of fortune, the conscience of the dishonest Senator finds its voice.

 This was a big breakout role for Stewart and establishes his persona as the conscience of the American silent majority, which is a presumed integrity. It's a beautiful looking film, with the then-novelty of deep focus photography. But mainly it is a warning to all that democracy and freedom are precarious and have to be fought for, or they will be lost.

There's an irony in Preston Sturges directing such a preachy and didactic story to protest that comedies had become... too preachy and didactic. Joel McCrea plays Sullivan, a director of light entertainment who goes off the map to research social realism set among the victims of the depression. He is a tourist who travels through the despair of the poor.

His conclusion is that the destitute need more laughs. Which is facile and patronising. We are encouraged to sympathise with the human cost of this vast wave of hardship, but then the super-rich Sullivan cracks a joke lamenting his income tax. We are asked to recognise the dignity in poverty of black communities, but then Sturges writes in an abhorrent racist character.

Some of the problem is McCrea and Veronica Lake- as a failed actor- aren't great comedy actors, and she is too glamorous for a never-was. But, this does work as insider's account of the real Hollywood. While there are the director's usual abundance of  pratfalls there is a dusting of decent verbal comedy, though plenty of editorialising too.

Screwball comedy was over by '41, for the reasons Sullivan gives: war in Europe; the rise of fascism; global economic decline. And because its motifs were worn out. Sullivan/Sturges' theory that people need to laugh in the shadow of crisis wasn't true. Over the next decade, comedy got darker, more diverse, and (arguably) less funny. The golden age was over. 

Italian farce from Woody Allen, set in Rome. It intercuts between four sketches, which is surely intended to be a homage to the comedy anthologies Sophia Loren and Marcello Mastroianni made in the '50s and '60s. There are some proper laughs, a little romantic fantasy and some opera.

The best episode features Woody as a retired music agent who promotes the father in law of his soon to be wed daughter, who sings opera magnificently, but only in the shower. The least is a skit with Roberto Benigni as an office drone who suddenly and mysteriously becomes famous for being famous.  

Arguably the best of the cast is Woody himself who spars enjoyably with Judy Davis as his psychoanalyst wife. There is some of the repetition typical of later Allen films. Lines are repeated from Anything Else and Ellen Page basically reprises Christina Ricci's role in that film.

 It was financed by Italian producers and delivers a gorgeously touristic vision of the historic city of Rome. At the end, we are encouraged to visit! The photography- by Allen's frequent cinematographer Darius Khondji is so beautiful. It's amusing froth. Few will be bored, or have their life changed. 

This is Woody Allen's homage to the Eugene O'Neill influenced realist cinema of the mid 20th century. It's Clifford Odets, but without the politics. While the bright, warm primary colours of the photography are magnificent, it might have been more appropriate to be shot in black and white as those films were.

Woody's screenplay gives the impression of a stage drama minimally opened up for the screen. It reflects on the traumas and infidelities of a family trapped in Coney Island in the '50s, who work in the funfair. Like the big wheel of the title, they all keep on moving but never actually get anywhere.

There is a nostalgic but expressionistic interpretation of Coney Island in decline. Woody's rather theatrical dialogue feels appropriate to the historical setting. Kate Winslet delivers the customary strong female lead performance which the director seems ceaselessly able to draw upon.

It's a very exposing role and she dominates the screen. The story begins slowly as we get to understand her, but builds to an effective climax. It's well plotted and ends on a clever, dramatic sleight of hand. This is far from the disaster the critics claimed and deserves to be re-evaluated. Maybe on the stage.

This is a remake of Jean Renoir's La Chienne, a classic French melodrama made in 1931. It's a grotesque love triangle between Joan Bennett's slovenly sex worker, her stupid, swaggering pimp- Dan Duryea, naturally- and Edward G. Robinson as a middle aged downtrodden husband regrettably infatuated with Bennett.

The older man is a weekend painter who discovers he is a genius only when his paintings are stolen and sold by the other two. But fate is cruel and resolves he should not receive any of the reward or recognition, which leads him deep down into murder and madness.

Robinson is startlingly submissive as the humiliated dupe, tormented and mocked by Bennett. He kneels to paint her toenails ('make them masterpieces'), wears his wife's frilly apron in the kitchen and is constantly harangued to carry out menial tasks after a long day at the bank. There is a potent theme of sexual fetishism.    

Bennett is exceptional as the uncouth slattern. This is a powerfully pessimistic experience and its touch of the absurd just makes it more desolate. It's a key noir from the first classic wave, which has the schematic narrative of a parable as it relentlessly punishes Robinson for straying from his designated path.

*note, this fell out of copyright years ago and prints are often terrible.

Curious film noir which steals narrative riffs from many other genre classics (I Married a Dead Man, Suspicion, etc) but contains quite a startlingly original premise for the period about the ongoing ordeal of a distressed woman (Valentina Cortese) rescued by American forces from Belsen.

She steals the identity of her deceased friend from the camp in order to get to America where the the dead woman's son stands to inherit from the wealthy family who took him in. The survivor marries the family lawyer (Richard Basehart). But does he plan to kill her to seize the money for himself?

 The luxurious house of shadows on Telegraph Hill has ominous presence and a classic noir look. The secret old playroom with a hole blasted through a wall reveals a cliff edge overlooking San Francisco, suggestive of the guilt and fear of discovery that hides in the imposter's heart.

This is presented in a semi documentary style (incorporating newsreel of the camp) through flashback. Cortese is sympathetic in a role that puts her on screen for the whole running time and is convincing as a woman who has suffered profoundly. It's a lesser known Robert Wise film, but very suspenseful.

Film noir moves to the sunny suburbs of Los Angeles. Joan Bennett plays a harassed mother of two feisty kids who covers up the accidental death of her teenage daughter's older, mercenary lover and is blackmailed. When the extortionist (James Mason) falls in love with his mark, he must protect her from his brutal, less principled accomplice.

That's a crazy story, but we are expected to accept its emotional truth even though the narrative realism is stretched. For anyone able to make that allowance, this is a thrilling and compelling melodrama. The relationship between the two leads is extraordinarily moving, especially as production code convention means their feelings remain unspoken. 

The chiaroscuro photography of the house of shadows is exceptionally beautiful. The dark interiors contrast satisfyingly with the sunlit, prestigious, lakeside locations. Max Ophüls directs with impressive panache. And the stars are heartbreaking; both lonely in very different ways. For me, it's Mason's greatest performance.

His mute emotional pain is overwhelming. In the noir tradition, he suffers for a woman who may well be manipulating him for selfish reasons. At the end, she's free to just walk away... but surely devastated by his sacrifice? Or is Ophüls saying the poor must suffer and be morally compromised so the rich can live in righteous comfort? Don't miss this one.

The same year as Robert Wise's The Set-Up, his old associate at RKO, Mark Robson, also made a boxing picture which operates as a scathing critique of American individualism. This is about how much humanity a poor man must divest in order to succeed; the sociopathic exploitation of others it takes for him to achieve personal wealth and status.

It is a dystopic analysis of the mythology of the American dream. In the role that made him a star , Kirk Douglas plays a penniless nobody who lives with the indignity of poverty. When at absolute rock bottom, he is taken on by Paul Stewart's cynical boxing manager. In his quest to become champion, the contender betrays everyone he encounters.

The excellent support cast is led by Arthur Kennedy as the boxer's brother who has a manifest physical injury where the fighter has a hidden moral affliction. Kennedy loses out painfully to Douglas' unrestrained egotism. He is extremely affecting in the noirish shadows of this moral tale.

The boxing scenes are superb. It won an Oscar for the ringside editing and Franz Planer's photography is as gorgeous as ever. But it mainly scores as a vehicle for Douglas who is exceptional in a physical role unusual for melodrama in that period. His implicit and explicit aura of violent threat is very potent.

Classic farce with Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy as employed men of reasonable means, with wives who are not as aggressive as usual. In fact, Ollie calls his wife Mama, and Stan's wife calls her husband lover! What next, kids? This is the least idiotic Stan and Ollie ever got, and are almost functional, even if a trial for their spouses. Things have never been better.

The pals discover they each have a twin who... are also eternally bound together. Bert and Alf are sailors who have docked in Stan and Ollie's hometown. And they are as clueless as our heroes usually are. Which leads to inevitable complications of mistaken identity related to Stan and Ollie's wives and a couple of good-time popsies with their hooks in Bert and Alf.

 This is a wonderfully entertaining film, dense with gags. OK, some of them aren't all that original, like the three men trapped in a phone box, and the cake fight. But in the hands of the masters, they are funny all over again. All it takes is a long suffering sideways glance into the camera from Ollie.

Great to see James Finlayson, and there's quality in the support cast. Daphne Pollard and Betty Brown are fun as the wives. It's a slick comedy, which ends memorably with Stan and Ollie teetering on the side of the dock with their feet stuck in cement. Laurel and Hardy were lasting the '30s better their vaudeville contemporaries.

It's not obvious why anyone would trust Laurel and Hardy with delivering the valuable deed to one of the world's most profitable goldmines, and true to form they mistakenly leave it in the hands of a crooked saloon keeper (James Finlayson) and his mercenary moll rather than the exploited sweetheart (Rosina Lawrence) it was intended for.

Soon Stan and Ollie are breaking into the premises, trying to get it back. With only our heroes to protect the rights of the bullied youngster against the finagling Finlayson makes the audience really root for them. Which is awful, given how hopeless they are.

 The standout scene is the duo forcing entry into the upper room of the saloon using a pulley, with a donkey at one end and Mr. Hardy at the other. The donkey ends up on the balcony. There's some fine comedy arising from Stan trying to get a locket over Ollie's head without opening the clasp.

Laurel and Hardy are at the peak of their craft. Every visual gag and character reveal is perfectly honed. There's some singing and dancing but this adds a little warmth rather than unwelcome diversion. There's a meagre budget and a minor director, but as always, the stars transcend the production.

Mitchell Leisen's screwball comedy reflects on the economic realities of the depression. A Wall Street banker (Edward Arnold) is so enraged by his family's profligacy that he throws his wife's new mink coat over the balcony of his Manhattan penthouse. It lands on working girl (Jean Arthur) on her way to the office, knocking her out of the orbit of her ordinary struggles.

 She is sacked for the moral improprieties she is presumed guilty of to get the coat. But because she is judged to be the mistress of the third richest man in America, luxury traders lavish her with valuables when they draw the same conclusion. By chance (!) Arthur ends up giving a roof to the slumming son of the banker. (Ray Milland) in her penthouse suite.

Arthur is really very good as a bewildered working stiff carried far away by the tide of fate. Her hunger in the early scenes is palpable. She never feels fake and eclipses the faintly drawn support characters. Preston Sturges' script allows her to experience both sides of the depression.

There's a remarkable scene in an automated restaurant. The unemployed protagonist can't afford even these prices. A man washes in a glass of water. And we wonder how such extremes of wealth can co-exist. The banker treats everyone in his kingdom with contempt. The politics is woven into a charming and entertaining farce. But in Hollywood terms, this is quite subversive.

This is Cary Grant's breakout role in Hollywood. And co-star Irene Dunne establishes herself as a screwball star too. Together they are dynamite as a married couple who divorce and seek new partners but never re-find that elusive chemistry. They drift back together, at first over the custody of the dog, but really for the elegance and wit, and then, for the sex.

Director Leo McCarey gets this superficial set-up to sparkle. Some of the situations and plot complications are inspired. Apparently he wrote most of the final script and gets wonderful performances too, largely through improvisation. And the innuendo is pretty risqué. It is amazing it got past the Hays Office... Maybe because it is so good!

Grant and Dunne are one of the great screwball partnerships. And Ralph Bellamy as Irene's rich, unsophisticated suitor, is outstanding too. The sparring cosmopolitans are so aloof they look down on anyone who isn't a New York sophisticate. But the film gets away with it because of the charm of the stars.

 Grant rousting the blundering Bellamy to the mortification his ex-wife is hilarious, which Dunne matches in a scene where she pretends to be Cary's dipso sister to discredit him before his wealthy would-be in-laws. It never falters. Thanks to the all time great triangle of leads, this remains a consistent and compelling joy.

This second match-up of Barbara Stanwyck and Henry Fonda- after The Mad Miss Manton in '38- is usually included among the great screwball comedies. Towards the end of the classic cycle, Preston Sturges began to write and direct just at the moment the comedy climate darkened around him. America was drifting into war...

His best films feel like pastiches. This owes much to Bringing Up Baby (1938) and Libelled Lady (1936). But Sturges steps up the slapstick. Fonda takes as many pratfalls in this as anyone in a Blake Edwards film. There isn't much verbal wit. This is more of a sitcom.

Fonda is a dull rich klutz ('snakes are my life') who is the mark for a con-girl (Stanwyck). She starts out to fleece him at cards but falls in love. After he catches on, the wealthy clot cuts her off. So she re-appears as an English aristocrat, and seduces him all over again...  just so she can jilt him.

Fonda handles the physical comedy surprisingly well. Stanwyck is appealing in a dual role and supplies the sassy romance the cute plot demands. Eric Blore stands out in the strong support cast as a con man posing as an an English Lord. It's a slight film, but entertaining with lots of star power.