Film Reviews by Steve

Andrzej Wajda’s arthouse masterpiece has always been controversial in Poland for its political moderation in an era of conflict and ideology. It is most potent as a lament for a lost generation trapped between the Nazi occupation and Soviet oppression. And for its haunting, poetic imagery.

Zbigniew Cybulski became a legend in Polish cinema for his role as a survivor of the Warsaw Uprising who finds he is being exploited by the leaders of the resistance to seize power while peace is proclaimed. Rather than murder a Communist as commanded, he chooses humanity.

Which Wajda implies, is not an available option. To an outsider, the political intrigue isn’t always engaging. Yet the melancholy romance between the disillusioned partisan and a hotel worker (Ewa Krzyzewska) is heartbreaking, as their lives are ground by the gears of factional opportunism.

Cybulski looks more like a star of the ‘50s than the war, but he gave Polish cinema its James Dean. It’s Krzyzewska and he together who endure, bonded by a brief experience of love which can never be more than a moment of intimate solace within a malign national destiny. 

Horrific and daunting psychological war drama based on the last few hours of the unsuccessful 1944 Warsaw Uprising by the Polish resistance against the Nazi occupation. The opening battle against superior German forces isn’t well staged, though the newsreel footage of the ruined city is astonishing.

But when the action moves underground as the few remaining partisans attempt to escape through the sewers, this becomes a distressing and profound experience. It was controversial in ‘50s Poland as it subverted as story of national heroism and turned it into a vision of terrifying hell.

These fighters are not disciplined, they are pessimistic and poorly equipped. It’s a study of their failure as they literally pass through the waste of humanity. This makes it sound surreal and impressionistic. And it is an arthouse classic, by a celebrated director. But it also feels unbearably, viscerally real.

It loses dramatic tension in the middle period, and the individuality of the resistance fighters isn’t well defined; they are flawed and all that unites them is their cause. But there is an extremely strong conclusion in a moment of surreal absurdity. These events have been told many times, but never with such macabre credibility.

Unique collaboration between (maybe) the most celebrated director of the late silent era, and its most famous documentarian. FW Murnau and Robert Flaherty conceived a dramatic narrative which would also be an ethnological depiction of the people of the South Seas. Flaherty soon left the project because he felt there was too much drama and not enough ethnology.

So Murnau directed solo a story drawn from the indigenous population of Bora Bora. It's a silent film, but with an embedded musical soundtrack. He used local people as his cast and crew, assisted by an American cinematographer-Floyd Crosby- who won the Oscar. And he was fortunate to discover two charismatic amateurs to play the leads.

The actors are credited in their character names. Reri is a young girl chosen for the traditional role of a sacred virgin. But she is in love with Matahi. They run away to an island inhabited by the French colonialists, but are pursued by the indigenous elder (Hitu) and the foreign administrators and police who don't want a tribal war.

Many events are photographed at sea because the people survive off the ocean. And Matahi makes a living as a pearl diver when he escapes from his home. It's a tragedy which probes the iniquities of empire and explores a way of life unfamiliar to western audiences. It benefits hugely from being the (final) work of one of the greatest ever film makers.

Billy Wilder's trademark cynicism is applied to the newspaper business and the American people. No surprises then that the press reviewed this negatively and the public stayed away. But it feels modern and maybe better reflects the present time, with the media (still) making up the news and their readers easily manipulated. Plus the current idea that the truth is negotiable.

Kirk Douglas is well cast as the standard Wilder finagler; a big city reporter who washes up in a New Mexico backwater looking for a quick fix on his career slump at the Albuquerque Sun-Bulletin. When he happens on a local man trapped in a cave he spins the small scale rescue into a national event, even though it means risking the life of the injured party.

He slows down the emergency recovery. And others are willing to exploit the casualty's misfortune. Including the wife, a disenchanted concrete blonde brilliantly played by Jan Sterling. She isn't too fussed about his return and the family diner does gangbusters out of the ensuing media circus as the locality fills up with news crews, rubberneckers and bored holidaymakers.

After WWII, Wilder was engaged by encroaching corruption in American life, and the threat of fascism. His films are suspicious of capitalism and the docility of the public. This isn't the best of these; occasionally the narrative gets stuck. But it confronts the issue most unsparingly. It was felt to be unpatriotic, and didn't find an audience. Yet it never stopped being relevant. 

New York melodrama based on a Broadway success about a Korean war veteran hooked on morphine. Though it becomes clear that his addiction is as much a consequence of his insecure childhood as combat trauma. His brother is an alcoholic. And the situation comes to a crisis when his father comes to town.

This is an actors film, which is only superficially opened up from its stage origins. Though there is a neorealist feel to the big city locations. Don Murray is the junkie who can’t hold down a job and grubs around the city at night in search of a fix. Eva Marie Saint is his neglected, pregnant wife and Lloyd Nolan excellent as the insensitive parent.

Best of all is Tony Franciosa who lifts the drama (and won an Oscar) as the anguished but enduring brother. Fred Zinnemann directs with insight and intelligence though doesn’t make much of the possibilities of CinemaScope. This is dated and cleaned up, but still made by significant talents.

There were the usual battles with the production code. Two years earlier, The Man With the Golden Arm covered similar territory and drugs went on the list of prohibited subjects. As a case study intended as a revelation of unfamiliar lives this is mostly obsolete, but an affecting emotional authenticity remains. 

Striking, ultra-stylish b&w western in CinemaScope. It recycles the principal theme of 1950s cowboy pictures; the coming of law to the old frontier. But Samuel Fuller (who wrote, produced and directed) brings originality, humour and imagination to the model. And his use of widescreen is impeccable.

The innuendo and slight trace of camp takes this a long way from John Ford. But so do the ostentatious visuals, like the pop art perspectives, expressionist flourishes and especially a five minute tracking shot right through the Twentieth Century Fox western standing set.

Barbara Stanwyck is a frontier matriarch who makes the law on her cattle ranch and the nearby settlement; backed by her rowdy cowhands, the 40 guns. Because might is right. Barry Sullivan is the old time lawman now working for the government who intends to arrest one of her men.

Both she and the hired gun are obsolete within their own lifetime. Stanwyck is ideal casting, though hardly so gorgeous that ballads are written about her; the woman with the whip. Fuller creates an abundance of dramatic tension. His rather scattershot innovation makes this unique among ‘50s westerns. 

Most noir fans will know this for the once-only combination of all time genre greats, Sterling Hayden and Gloria Grahame. And they are the best part of film; he is a tough cop sacked for leaning on a murder suspect with powerful political friends, and she is a pitiful cantina chanteuse in love with the wrong guy.

Gene Barry is also interesting as the connected criminal who obsesses them both. Hayden because he is convinced the superficially upright citizen is a sociopathic cop killer. And Gloria because she wants to marry the scumbag even though he treats her so bad. And he's already married! He makes a potent villain; slippery, entitled, whiny….

In fact he seems like a model for Scorpio in Dirty Harry (1971). He gives the film most of its pull because we want to see him taken down, badly. The ex-detective goes vigilante and tracks the accused to a Mexican border town where he gets the shop soiled torch singer to switch sides.

This clearly draws on GG’s bad girl role in The Big Heat, a year earlier, but here she’s a shabby pushover who never got any breaks. The story is fine and the scuzzy, lowlife location gives the film atmosphere. It’s just a B-picture by a director who mostly did tv. But the three stars make it feel like something more.

Uneven sci-fi-horror which is mainly remembered for Ray Harryhausen’s stop motion giant amphibious octopus which takes apart San Francisco at the climax, most famously, the Golden Gate Bridge. Columbia ripped off the title from Universal’s It Came from Outer Space (1953), but this is unrelated.

It is more of a companion to another monster picture, The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms (1953), because Harryhauson was also animator, and they are both semi-aquatic atomic paranoia stories. The mega-octopus is the result of US H-bomb tests in the Pacific.

Though there isn’t really an ecological or anti-nuclear message. It’s just a creature feature which reserves all of its meagre budget for the effects of the colossal sea creature on the rampage. The first hour might as well have been made for radio, as the scientists exchange exposition in front of crude sets.

And it’s completely inert. The buff Navy Commander (Kenneth Tobey) pursues the foxy marine biologist (Faith Domergue), sometimes in beachwear. Which provokes an unexpected oration about ‘50s feminism. But the climax with the colossal radioactive beast stomping on ‘Frisco Bay is sensational, and legendary. 

Maybe the most influential thriller ever made. The look of Henri-Georges Clouzot’s seminal masterpiece- particularly the distorted surfaces which obscure a mysterious threat- was ripped off for years, most extensively by Hammer studios. But more innovative was the big twist that subverts everything that went before.

Like in The Usual Suspects (1995) and The Sixth Sense (1999). This has become the mother lode of the modern thriller. And obviously credit is due to the Boileau-Narcejac novel which invented the legendary climax, so expertly staged by Clouzot. Shot film noir style for maximum suspense.

In a decaying private school in provincial France, the wife (Véra Clouzot) and the lover (Simone Signoret) of the brutish principal (Paul Meurisse) seem to be plotting his murder. But the consequences continually confound the intention. The reveal only works once, but the whole experience is always compelling.

Typical of French films in this period, there’s a colourful support cast, led by Charles Vanel as the meddlesome detective. There is some subtext that the wife and lover are also having an affair. Its pleasures are slowly exposed, which will frustrate some. But it’s extraordinary; a cinematic landmark.

Wild western adventure set in the 19th century US gold rush but shot in the awe-inspiring Canadian Rockies. Maybe Otto Preminger wasn’t an obvious choice to direct all this boisterous, outdoorsy action and it hasn’t much of a reputation, but it’s an entertaining family film with a couple of points of interest.

It is among the early releases in Twentieth Century Fox’s widescreen CinemaScope process, plus Technicolor, which together make the big country scenery and intrepid stunts even more spectacular, as a homesteader and a showgirl chase a horse thief (her husband) downriver.

And there is the studio’s even bigger draw with Marilyn Monroe, who is magnetic while utterly incongruous in the austerity of the old west. Even during a gold rush. With Robert Mitchum as the hero, the hot combo boost the action with an overload of star charisma. Marilyn sings about half a dozen so-so ballads.

Rory Calhoun has little to do as the bad guy, though 13 year Tommy Rettig isn’t bad as Mitch’s adoring son- for a Hollywood kid. There are some life lessons learned, typical of a family adventure. Every few minutes there’s a cliffhanger. But what sticks is the magnificent Rocky mountains, and the eternal river.

Film noir makes a good calling card for a new director as they can be made on a low budget but also accommodate eye-catching artistic flourishes. And so it was for Stanley Kubrick on this short, self financed crime melodrama shot on the streets of New York.

And this is full of genre motifs like the visual expressionism, the flashbacks and the fall guy jeopardised by chance, and a beautiful woman. Jamie Smith plays an unsuccessful boxer who saves his neighbour (Irene Kane, a bit classy for a taxi dancer) from her older gangster lover (Frank Silvero).

 And there is a little gunplay at the climax, but this is mostly about the sad, metropolitan atmosphere and the ill fated citizens. The location shoot around the city may even be the main reason to see this now, as it evokes the period effectively, and the drama is more stylish than plausible.

And it feels even more artificial as the sound was dubbed on later. This isn’t classic noir. But it was directed, edited, photographed, produced and co-written by Kubrick and it got him backing the next year for The Killing. And it’s impressive for a cheap solo venture from a novice.

This lacklustre cold war propaganda is one of Sam Fuller’s few misfires, maybe because he came to the project late to help out studio boss Darryl F. Zanuck. The intention was to show how Twentieth Century Fox’s new widescreen CinemaScope process could be used to film interiors.

This is mostly set inside a submarine as a motley crew of international mercenaries is hired to take a Nobel prizewinner (and his sexy daughter) to an island controlled by China, rumoured to be the site of atomic experiments… And Fuller actually uses the interior space brilliantly.

Unfortunately Zanuck also imposed his latest other-woman on the director. And Bella Darvi lulls the film to sleep every time she speaks. Though she’s beautiful enough. I doubt Richard Widmark as the skipper looked back on this with pride either. The trivial intrigue does no one any favours.

The bulk of the running time is wasted on the crew chasing the hot female scientist. Some of the climactic action is cut out of another thriller. The anti-Red spin is dated. Aside from the still impressive technology this is a snooze. Though it’s interesting to see the A-bomb go off in ultra-widescreen Technicolor. 

Critics often associate Billy Wilder with a cynical outlook on human behaviour, and this is one of the times when this bitterness reveals a lack of taste. The fault is in the premise; that the imperious manipulation of a super-rich family towards their chauffeur’s young daughter is suitable material for a rom-com.

The outcome tries to position all this as a fairytale romance, with the commoner marrying a wealthy man. But it doesn’t compute. It may be that the Production Code wouldn’t stand for American capitalists being openly evaluated as rapacious sociopaths, and to be fair to Wilder, at a subtextual level he offers some push back.

The only positive is Audrey Hepburn, at her most winsome and adorable. And beautiful. Humphrey Bogart and William Holden are both far too old as the privileged bachelors speculating on her affections. But she is irresistible, and even a period icon in her Givenchy fashions.

Apparently the production was rancorous, which perhaps is felt. There is plenty of studio polish, but the supposition of class entitlement is too hard to endure. The driver accepts the deception of his daughter without a murmur. It’s not even funny. This is my pick as the great director’s worst film. 

Frivolous comedy-adventure which seems to imagine that Humphrey Bogart joined the gang from The Maltese Falcon and spent the last dozen years on the road working elaborate scams. Robert Morley plays the fat man and we even get Peter Lorre, now also carrying a few kilos. Obviously they all operate under new names...

Brigid O'Shaughnessy must still be inside! Or dead. Now the lies are provided by a blonde Jennifer Jones as a ditzy kook. Bogart is married to Gina Lollobrigida and the glamour is more exposed than in the early days of film noir. It's a very bright, sunny film, mostly set in a touristic Italy, which maybe would have suited Technicolor.

There are no ominous shadows; this is film blanc. And it's just great fun. Everyone is trying to get to Africa to claim uranium rights... John Huston co-writes (with Truman Capote) and directs the Anglo-Italian production supported by an amazing British crew and a wonderful cast playing a gallery of untrustworthy crooks.

The screwball comedy fizzes for an hour though goes a little flat once they leave the picturesque Amalfi Coast. It's an engaging escapade with a dry, English sense of humour. It's utterly inconsequential and the conspiracy feels like it was made up on the set. It's minor Huston but actually triggers a new genre, the comedy caper.

Serviceable if implausible murder mystery whose big selling point on release was its early use of CinemaScope which, allied to the resplendent Deluxe Color process, gives this a dazzling ’50s look, especially the occasional location footage shot around Manhattan. Though unfortunately it was mostly filmed in the studio…

It was based on a bestseller (by Patrick Quentin) but feels like a stage play. Van Heflin plays a Broadway impresario married to a big star of the theatre (Gene Tierney). When she’s out of town he spends some time with a screwball female writer (Peggy Ann Garner) who turns up pregnant and dead in his bedroom. Whodunit?

Heflin carries the action as he tries to clear his name. Ginger Rogers is top billed but misfires as the power couple’s bitchy neighbour, also an actor. There’s a lot of back stabbing and venomous dialogue and a faint impression of New York theatreland. The twists are not astonishing, but at least effective.

The moral? Don’t ask strange young women to dinner when your wife is away! Tierney- who looks unwell- brings back memories of ’40s noirs, like Laura. The ’50s technology is appealing, but maybe it would have been better if they hadn’t bothered. Viewed from the present day, this would work really well in b&w.