Public Enemies

With the exception of “The Last of the Mohicans” (1992), I’ve never had a desire to see any Michael Mann film more than once. That record continues with “Public Enemies”, one of the biggest disappointments of the year.

Probably the biggest irritation is Mann’s insistence of shooting on high definition video with hand held cameras. I found it very annoying and it really took me out of the movie. I was always aware I was watching a movie - and not even a movie, but a cheap-looking video.

The “Public Enemies” book by Bryan Burroughs was a stunning read, detailing the crime spree that racked Middle America in the early 1930s. For a short period of about 15 months or so, every day saw newspapers accounts and radio reports relating the exploits of John Dillinger, Bonnie and Clyde, Baby Face Nelson, Pretty Boy Floyd, Alvin Karpis and the Barker Gang to a Depression-weary audience. In those early days FBI agents were not allowed to carry guns and it was the easiest thing in the world to rob a bank in Indiana and hightail it to Illinois, where the chase would end at the state line. What was needed was a national police force that would not be put off by state boundary lines.

The book was impossible to put down, describing shoot outs in downtown Chicago and Kansas City that read like something out of the Wild West (only with Tommy guns).

Such sprawling material meant much had to be left out, so Mann focuses on John Dillinger (Johnny Depp, too low key), pursued by G-Man Melvin Purvis (Christian Bale at his dullest) on direct orders from J. Edgar Hoover (Billy Crudup).

I was disappointed at how lackadaisical Mann treats the material. For a film with such colorful characters it’s curiously uninvolving. The film meanders from one bank robbery to another, with time spent in between of Dillinger romancing coat check girl Billie Frechette (Marion Cotillard).

Mann also believes the audience already knows details of the Dillinger saga, so no need to repeat them. When Dillinger breaks out of the jail in Crown Point, Indiana, the audience assumes he was able to smuggle a gun into the jail. He didn’t of course, but used a gun carved out of wood. We’re never told this, and I’m sure there are people watching the movie that do know about the wooden gun story.

More Mann sloppiness occurs when the FBI tracks Dillinger’s gang to the Little Bohemia lodge in Wisconsin. The raid is a disaster, with much ammunition discharged, several civilians accidentally killed and Dillinger and most of his gang escaping.

We see the civilians killed but it doesn’t register for a while that they aren’t gangsters, but innocents. Surely it wouldn’t have hurt to have a quick establishing shot or two showing them as civilians. When they’re killed, we don’t feel anything due to Mann’s incoherent staging.

And I’m sure Mann and his acolytes feel that the hand held camera work makes us feel part of the action. For me, it had the opposite effect. Like I said earlier, the swaying camera and irritating close ups took me out of that sequence the entire time. I was always aware of watching a movie. It didn’t envelop me, but pushed me away.

That Little Bohemia shootout was the inspiration for a similar sequence in the James Cagney film “G-Men” (1935) with FBI agent Cagney on the trail of a vicious hood (Barton MacLane at his nastiest). This is a stunning set piece, with bullets flying all over, sets being destroyed by ricocheting gunfire and a genuine sense of excitement. What does it say about current movies that two action scenes – similar in situation – where the 1935 offering has it all over the 2009 one?

One of the film’s affecting sequences is the montage of close ups of Myrna Loy as Dillinger watches “Manhattan Melodrama” (1934) at the Biograph Theater, the night he is killed. It’s obvious Dillinger is thinking of Billie as he watches Myrna. There’s more emotion in that short scene than in the preceding two hours. It’s not enough to salvage this mess. Mann has made the dullest Dillinger film to date.

The Exile

After waiting (literally) decades to see “The Exile” (1947), I finally got to see it last night, thanks to the fine folk at the Gene Siskel Film Center in Chicago, who screened it as part of its ongoing Max Ophuls retrospective.

I had a great interest in seeing this as I once asked the star of the movie, Douglas Fairbanks, Jr., how come it was never shown anywhere.

Almost 20 years ago Fairbanks was touring the country promoting the first volume of his autobiography “The Salad Days” (a marvelous read, by the way) and he was appearing on the “Extension 720” show on WGN-AM. There was much discussion about his career, his father, step mom (Mary Pickford) and famous movies such as “Gunga Din.”

It was a good show but I was chomping at the bit to find out about “The Exile”, a swashbuckler he not only starred in, but also produced and wrote. I have no memory of it being on television in all the years growing up. (If it was on I missed it.)

I’ve always liked Fairbanks, especially in his swashbucklers, like “The Corsican Brothers” (1941), “Sinbad the Sailor” (1948) and my personal favorite “The Fighting O’Flynn” (1949). “Gunga Din” (1939) is one of the greatest adventure movies ever made, as is the 1937 version of “The Prisoner of Zenda.” Fairbanks played the villain Rupert of Hentzau in that and he’s absolutely sensational, one of the cheekiest rogues in the swashbuckling canon. Despite his nefarious activities throughout he’s so engaging that when he escapes at the end we feel like cheering.

I’ve enjoyed the above titles many times over the years, but never an appearance of “The Exile” anywhere. Why?

I decided to call in to see if I could get on and ask about why “The Exile” was never shown anywhere.

So I dialed up the station and told the producer who screened the calls my question. I added, “And he produced it too, so I was wondering if there some sorts of rights issues involved that were keeping it unseen.”

The producer said it was a good question and to hold the line, I would be on the air shortly.

A few minutes later I was talking to Mr. Fairbanks himself. I was nervous, but got through my question OK.

He seemed surprised by the question and said something like, “I honestly don’t know. I’m unaware of any rights problems. Some friends of mine saw it on TV in New York a few months ago and called me about it.”

I thanked him, he thanked me and I hung up. So as long as there no rights problems, surely it would show up someplace. Nope, not on TV, VHS or DVD. I’ve waited and waited and never saw it until last night.

Was the wait worth it? Yes it was. There’s not as much action as I would have liked, but there was plenty more to keep one’s eyes happily occupied, namely Ophuls’s graceful camera movements and the stunning production design.

“The Exile” is set in 1660. Charles II, King of England, is in exile in Holland after being chased out of the country by Oliver Cromwell and his Roundheads. The Roundheads have agents scattered throughout Europe looking for the king so they can kill him. In Holland, Charles falls for a pretty Dutch farm girl (Paule Croset, previously Rita Corday, later Paula Corday) and settles on her farm/inn as a worker. He is kept advised of the situation in England by a group of loyal followers, including Sir Edward Hyde (a non-bumbling Nigel Bruce).

One particularly dangerous Roundhead agent (Henry Daniell) finds his way to Holland and tracks down Charles. Daniell is one of my favorite character actors and if you’re going to cast someone as a Roundhead, Henry Daniell should be your first choice. The man could bring a polar ice cap to the Equator just be standing there and glowering. Unfortunately Daniell is not in the movie as much as I would like.

Fairbanks wrote “The Exile” and the screenplay structure is very odd. There’s very little physical action until the final quarter of its 97-minute running time. It’s structured almost like a play, with long scenes taking place in one or two locations.

One long sequence has a bemused Charles playing host to an actor (Robert Coote) who claims he is the exiled king.

Another sequence has a French countess (Maria Montez) flirting with Charles and giving him messages and gifts from the French king.

Still producer Fairbanks knew what he was doing when he hired Max Ophuls to direct. This is a stunning film to look at in every way. Ophuls favored long tracking shots with a minimum of cutting. A long opening scene on a Holland dock between Charles and Katie is done in a series of long, fluid takes. In a lot of historical movies, the sets are lavish but they seem like sets. Here the camera tracks characters as they move from location to location, or in the inn, from room to room with nary a cut.

The construction of these sets must have really taxed the Universal Studios production design department, but they likely welcomed the challenge. By the late 1940s, Universal was one of the most factory-like of the major studios, and the production department no doubt relished the chance to construct sets with real depth and breadth.

Most of the action occurs at the end, with the final duel between Charles and his Roundhead opponent in a windmill (another spectacular set). Fairbanks and Daniell exchange dialogue in between sword parries and thrusts. At one point Charles asks quite sensibly, “England will still go on even if we both die.”

I was excited to see the name of David Sharpe in the credits as the action scenes choreographer. Sharpe was one of the best stuntmen in the business, responsible for so many of the memorable stunts that fill Republic serials and B-westerns. Seeing his name I was expecting him to bring some of that Republic magic to “The Exile.” It’s there, just not in the doses I wanted. Still, Fairbanks’s Charles II is probably the most athletic king in movie history, jumping through windows and riding windmill blades while evading his Roundhead enemies.

In a 1988 interview with The New York Times, Fairbanks names “The Exile” as one of his favorite films even though “we were forced to hire Maria Montez for that.”

Not very gallant, I say, and how would he feel that much interest in “The Exile” today rests on Montez’s 10-minute cameo?

Back to that phone call. It was the oddest sensation to talk to someone famous with a very distinctive voice and hear that voice come back to you over the phone. A few years later I talked to Charlton Heston on the same radio show and had the same reaction. These aren’t just actors, these are larger than life personalities with highly identifiable speaking voices.

I mean if I called into a radio show to talk to, say, Brad Pitt, Matt Damon, Ben Affleck or George Clooney would the sensation be the same? I don’t think so. I probably wouldn’t expend the energy to talk to any of those gentlemen, but if I was blindfold and they each said something could I identify who was talking? Not in a million years.

But Fairbanks and Heston! Those are voices, larger than life, unique and individual. Those are famous voices and to hear them talking through your telephone is a weird sensation. But I’m glad I had the opportunity to do so.

Buster Keaton Night at the Local Movie Palace

I don’t know if time travel is possible, but on Monday night I experienced the closest thing to it when my local movie house, The Tivoli in Downers Grove, IL, ran a silent Buster Keaton program with live organ accompaniment. The program consisted of the short “One Week” (1920) and the feature length “College” (1927) with organist Dennis Scott working his magic on the mighty Wurlitzer organ.

The Tivoli is one of the jewels of the Chicago area. Lovingly restored by the fine folks at Classic Cinemas, a Chicago-area chain, the Tivoli is one of the longest running continually operating movie theaters in the Chicago area.

Designed by the Chicago architecture firm of Van Gunten and Van Gunten, it was one of the first theaters in the country to be constructed with sound equipment in mind. Early newspaper ads trumpeted its Vitaphone equipment and local newspapers called it “the wonder theater of suburban Chicago.”

It opened its doors for the first time on Christmas Day in 1928. The first attraction was Howard Hawks’ “Fazil” (1928) starring Charles Farrell, Greta Nyssen, John Boles and Mae Busch. More than 4,000 people turned up on Christmas to attend that first show, a neat trick since the theater only sat 1,390. It’s been running ever since. In addition to movies, the theater also presents live stage shows and concerts.

The theater’s interior is beautiful French Renaissance and remarkably little has changed over the years. Oh, there’s been repainting and touch ups. There’s a new marquee and a new candy counter. They made the spaces between the rows wider, necessitating removing some of the seats. (Current seating now stands 1,012 seats, a few hundred less than there was originally).

But the rest is still the same. Stepping into that beautiful auditorium is like being transported into a 1928 movie palace, and when vintage films are shown there the results are breathtaking.

I always feel the time travel tingle when crisp, beautiful black and white images are shown there, but last night’s was especially potent.

Organist Dennis Scott performed the “College” score written by John Muri, a well-known organist in the Midwest. According to Scott’s comments before the movie, Muri played the Wurlitzer organ at the Indiana Theatre in East Chicago, Indiana in the 1920s for silent movies. That very same organ now resides at the Tivoli. If “College” did play more than 80 years ago at the Indiana, it’s likely Muri was playing that same organ we heard last night.

In the 1960s Muri became friends with famed film preservationist David Shepard, and provided scores for many silent films in the Blackhawk catalog. I believe it is Muri’s score that accompanies the DVD of “College” on the Kino label.

There was a pretty good turn out to see Buster, and I was pleased to see the variety of attendees. Pretty much all ages were represented and I would guess the theater was more than half filled, which means about 500-600 people showed up on a beautiful summer evening to enjoy Buster.

The short “One Week” is great, with Buster and his new bride given a new house as a wedding present. Of course, they get to the lot and find they need to construct the house themselves, with the house parts sitting in boxes on the lot. Buster’s inventiveness is on big display here, especially the sequence where a wind storm revolves the house like a merry go round. Twenty minutes long and containing a laugh in almost all of them, “One Week” gave me more laughs than anything else I’ve seen at the theater all year.

“College” is one of Buster’s weaker features. It came right after his classic Civil War adventure “The General” (1926) and no doubt Buster was exhausted after its making and disappointed at its lackluster reception. “College” is not as inventive as some of his other films, and is more episodic, but there’s much to enjoy.

Brainy Buster goes to college and tries to impress Mary (Anne Cornwall) with his athletic prowess. Too bad he doesn’t have any, as he proves during a baseball game (Buster acts as if he’s never even seen a baseball game, and has no idea what to do) and trying his hand at track and field events.

He also gets a job at a soda jerk with disastrous results. The usually dexterous Buster has no skill juggling ice cream containers.

There were a few audible sighs of discomfort when a scene is introduced with a sign outside a restaurant saying “Colored waiter wanted.” Yep, its Buster in blackface. I think a lot of people in the theater were relieved when that sequence was over.

Part of the fun of watching Buster Keaton movies is his ability to seemingly defy the laws of gravity. The Great Stone Face is usually able to overcome all obstacles. Here he’s pretty earthbound, until Mary calls him to come rescue her from the guy who has bullied Buster since high school. Love turns Buster into Superman as he races across campus performing feat after amazing feat to get to Mary in time. The audience was cheering and applauding throughout this entire sequence, much like Fredric March’s preacher character seeing his first movie, a William S. Hart western, in “One Foot in Heaven” (1941).

The audience had its full share of older people and members of the Fox Valley chapter of the AGO (American Guild of Organists) and I’m sure they were leading the cheers, but the two young guys in their 20s in the row ahead of me were applauding just as loudly.

A marvelous night at the movies, indeed the stuff of movie magic. I hope the Tivoli shows more vintage movies. I need my big screen time travel fix.

Taste the Blood of Angels & Demons; Other Weekend Viewing

A much too late recap of movie viewing over the Memorial Day weekend.

Taste the Blood of Dracula

It’s Hammer Time.

Another Dracula flick, this one the gloriously titled “Taste the Blood of Dracula” (1970) again with Christopher Lee baring his fangs at some of Victorian England’s loveliest ladies, including the delectable Linda Hayden.

Hayden plays Alice, whose father (Geoffrey Keen, a familiar face from several of the Roger Moore 007 movies) is symbolic of Victorian hypocrisy. Along with two friends, these three men enjoy the highest respectable standing in their communities when not visiting a brothel to taste the darker side of life. They meet Lord Courtney (a wonderfully cast Ralph Bates), the black sheep of an aristocratic family, one whom all sorts of unearthly rumors are spoken about. He promises the three pleasures of the flesh that will extend into infinity if they will only front the money to buy some supplies for a ceremony to resurrect you know who.

The movie is as much a look at hypocrisy as it is a Dracula flick. Keen also has an unhealthy interest in his daughter, staring down the front of her dress and muttering in a drunken state, “I haven’t beaten you since you were a little girl.”

For the first 45 minutes or so out of its 90-minute running time, Dracula barely makes an appearance. The first half of the movie is really quite good, and it seems a shame that Dracula needs to show up at all.

The resurrection scene is nicely staged by director Peter Sasdy, but when the three chicken out at the last minute and kill Lord Courtney in a rage during the rite, Dracula comes back to avenge the death of his disciple.

Since he has limited screen time, and hardly any dialogue, Lee drags out his dialogue into as many syllables as he can.

After the first killing, he intones, “The f…i….r….s….ttttt.”

A little later on, we get, “The s….e….c…o…n….dddddd.”

Finally, “The t….h…i…r….ddddd.”

For such short words, Lee sure does drag them out for maximum effect. It sounds like I’m knocking it and I’m not. I revel in juicy line readings like these. I wish we had more of them in today’s movies.

But as I’ve said before, I fully understand why Lee doesn’t want to be remembered as Dracula. There’s not much for him to do in these movies, except lend his considerable physical presence, stare a lot and snarl.

He’s easily dispatched too, in what is probably the lamest in the Hammer series. Dracula has been using an abandoned church as his base of operations, but when it is re-consecrated again, it’s too much for him and he makes noises and falls on an altar. The basic idea is good, but director Sasdy’s handing is pretty bad. Who does this re-consecrating of the church but Paul (Anthony Corlan), the wispy boyfriend of Alice. Paul knows nothing about vampires save for what his father wrote down in a book.

This is Dracula, the King of the Vampires, done in by a kid who barely knows anything? The nerve. Being dispatched so easily, it’s a miracle Dracula has any reputation at all.

On the plus side, we get one of James Bernard’s best scores, with the love theme being one of his loveliest melodies. There’s a scene where Alice sneaks out of the house to attend a dance with Paul (against the wishes of her father), and climbs out a second-story window and down a tree into Paul’s arms, supported by a lovely treatment of Bernard’s gorgeous theme. The music, set design and lighting put one to mind of a fairy tale. Hammer Films excelled at being fairy tales for adults, and this sequence is one of the best examples I know of in showcasing the Hammer magic.

It’s a terrific film, and I’m very fond of it. But there’s more than a nagging suspicion that it would have been better without Dracula in it.

Angels and Demons

The less said about the humorless and overlong “Angels and Demons” the better. It’s more watchable than “The DaVinci Code” (2006) but that’s not saying much. It’s as contrived as all get out, which is now the norm for thrillers like this.

I do like the fact that its central hero Robert Langdon (Tom Hanks) is an educated man. In a culture that celebrates stupidity and crassness, it’s refreshing to see an intelligent person not be made the butt of a joke. His exchanges of historical lore with Vittoria (Ayelet Zurer) generate some sparks between them, sparks more potent than kisses and foreplay for this highly educated duo.

As a practicing Catholic, I didn’t even object to the film’s central thesis of dark and mysterious conspiracies emanating from the Vatican. After all, I think there’s a rousing movie waiting to be made detailing the sex lives of medieval popes. But I will firmly admit to finding little entertainment in not one but two scenes of priests set on fire while still alive.

Director Ron Howard’s hand is too leisurely for this type of material. Like so many thrillers today, there’s about three climaxes too many. Each time I thought it was going to end, whoosh, off to another climax.

“The DaVinci Code” was one of the murkiest-looking big budget Hollywood movies I can remember seeing, so I was glad that returning cinematographer Salvatore Totino spent money to buy some high-quality bulbs for his lighting equipment. You can actually see what is happening this time.

Alas, we are still subjected to muddy sound recording, with too many actors delivering lines in a hushed excited manner that often makes it hard to understand what they are saying (especially true in the case of Ms. Zurer).

Also returning, unfortunately, is composer Hans Zimmer. I hated the way his scoring of the ending helicopter sequence at the end took away whatever tension the scene had. The scene goes on forever and Zimmer’s faux-inspirational scoring makes the scene appear twice as long as it already is. Rarely in the history of movies has a composer communicated so little using so many notes.

On the plus side, like the book, the movie did make me want to make a trip one day to see Italy and the Vatican. And Ewan McGregor’s Irish accent was good for a few laughs.

Operation Crossbow

Another thriller, but one with real thrills. This is more like it. Based on a true story, “Operation Crossbow” (1965) details Great Britain’s attempts to stop Germany’s rocket experiments during World War II. Germany actually launched V-1 rockets from Germany into London, causing considerable damage. Though Germany was losing the war, the successful rocket program could have gone badly for the Allies. Using engineers smuggled into the missile facility at Peenemunde, British intelligence learned of the imminent launch of a more powerful rocket, the V-2, that could have decimated London. The saboteurs are able to call in an air strike to destroy the underground rocket base.

The fiery conclusion puts one to mind of a World War II version of a James Bond movie. The underground rocket base is manned by many extras, and has the clean, shiny look of a SPECTRE facility. There’s some pretty impressive explosions on display here.

Before that, we get a taut story starring George Peppard as a German-speaking American Army engineer who joins a squad of soldiers with engineering experience in infiltrating the Peenemunde facility using the identities of dead German engineers. All is well and good until Sophia Loren shows up as the wife of Peppard’s character. Peppard pretends to be her husband’s friend and is only traveling with him, but how long can that ruse continue? Loren is top billed but is only featured in the central portion of the film. Top billing came about no doubt to the film’s producer, her husband Carlo Ponti.

Listening to the actors here was pure joy after suffering through the breathy whispers of “Angels and Demons.” Just a quick look at the supporting cast of old pros and one knows one will be reveling in crisp line readings: Trevor Howard, John Mills, Richard Johnson, Tom Courteney, Jeremy Kemp, Anthony Quayle (as a Nazi!), Lilli Palmer, Paul Henreid, Helmut Dantine, Richard Todd, John Fraser, Maurice Denham and Patrick Wymark. Every young actor in Hollywood today should watch this movie for lessons in dictation. Please, do it right now. Please?

That’s Entertainment III

“That’s Entertainment III” (1994) was the third look back at M-G-M musicals and if it doesn’t attain the glories of the first film, it’s certainly better than the second one. The third film touches on some of the less noteworthy aspects of the studio and American Society, especially in the Lena Horne-narrated segment. She notes how many of her appearances in M-G-M musicals were specialty numbers, so could be easily snipped by theater owners in the South. A number from “Cabin in the Sky” (1943) was excised from the final print as it was considered too shocking to show Horne, a black woman, enjoying a bubble bath!

The film showcases other cut numbers, mainly due to length. A splendid movie.

Equally enjoyable was the fourth disc in the DVD box set, containing all sorts of terrific extras. One shows the famous lunch in 1949 celebrating the studio’s 25th anniversary, which gathered as many M-G-M stars as possible for the event. Footage from the lunch appears in the first “That’s Entertainment” film, but here we get extra footage. Some stars look up and smile as the camera passes by, while others could barely be bothered. There’s priceless footage of host George Murphy introducing the stars as they come into the room. Right before Kathryn Grayson is introduced, in comes Errol Flynn, on loan to M-G-M from Warner Bros. to make “That Forsythe Woman” (1949), who cuts through the line, and nods to Murphy, who seems flustered that the carefully planned event has been temporarily derailed. Did bad boy Flynn sabotage the introductions on purpose, or was it an accident? I don’t know, but I was delighted to see it.

Even better is an ABC special promoting the opening of the first “That’s Entertainment” back in 1974. This was a big, old school event celebrating the Golden Age of Hollywood. Dozens of stars attended the premiere and lined up for a picture. I’ve seen the picture reproduced before, but never the gathering for the picture. Amazing stuff. Astaire, Kelly, Ginger Rogers, Glenn Ford, Elizabeth Taylor, etc. Roddy McDowall comes out with Lassie. Jimmy Durante shows up in a wheelchair and gets a huge ovation. Ava Gardner and Charlton Heston stand next to each other. Did they come right from the set of “Earthquake?” There was no love lost between the two, but they seem to be making the best of it. My favorite moment comes when Marjorie Main is introduced. She was no spring chicken when she starred as Ma Kettle, and gets one of the biggest ovations of the night. Great, great, historic footage. I was sorry to see it over.

Ivanhoe (1952)

When adapting Sir Walter Scott’s famous novel, “Ivanhoe” (1952), what did M-G-M do first, consult the novel or “The Adventures of Robin Hood” (1938) starring Errol Flynn? Likely both, though I think there’s little doubt the strong influence the Flynn film has on “Ivanhoe.”

Not only had Robin Hood been a huge audience favorite since its release in 1938, but it was a perennial favorite as a re-issue. Warner Brothers were surprised at the high grosses a double feature of Robin Hood and Flynn’s other great swashbuckler, “The Sea Hawk” (1940) earned in a 1948 re-issue. Robin Hood was sent forth to theaters once again in the early 1950s before being sold to television. So the success of Flynn’s Robin Hood was no doubt in the minds of the “Ivanhoe” creators.

In an odd coincidence, both movies earned Best Picture nominations, an honor rarely afforded to traditional swashbucklers.

And “Ivanhoe” should be justly regarded as one of the screen’s great swashbucklers, even if it doesn’t reach the heights of the Flynn film. True, it doesn’t have the high spirits and zest of the 1938 film, and “Ivanhoe” journeyman director Richard Thorpe doesn’t have the visual flair of Michael Curtiz.

But there is much to enjoy, thanks to a literate script, a grand Miklos Rozsa score, terrific swordplay, beautiful vistas of the English countryside and arguably the best castle siege ever put on film.

It’s no secret that “Robin Hood” screenwriters Norman Reilly Raine and Seton I. Miller used the novel “Ivanhoe” as a basis for their script. If memory serves, Norman and Saxon rivalry during the reign of Richard the Lionheart was mainly an invention of Scott, and later added to existing Robin Hood legends. In fact Robin Hood and his Merry Men have fairly substantial supporting roles in “Ivanhoe.”

Both movies deal with brave Saxon oppressors against Norman injustice during the time King Richard the Lionheart is away at the Crusades. Sir Wilfred of Ivanhoe (Robert Taylor) tries to raise a ransom for Richard after the king is taken hostage by Leopold of Austria on his way home from the Crusades. While trying to save Richard, Ivanhoe upsets the plans of Richard’s brother Prince John and company, who have been ruling in Richard’s place.

Prince John (a magnificently sneering Guy Rolfe) and his Norman allies are in no hurry to have Richard home as they are plucking the kingdom dry left and right. Guy Rolfe is one of my favorite character actors, and he’s especially good here. His Prince John carries an expression throughout of a man who just stepped in something unpleasant.

Besides the main plot, what other Robin Hood influences are there? Well, the Saxon Princess Rowena is played by Joan Fontaine, Olivia deHavilland’s sister. She is certainly lovely in the part, but Fontaine was not under contract to M-G-M at the time. Why her? Was she chosen for the DeHavilland connection, and hence a subconscious Robin Hood link, or because of her availability?

Like the Flynn film, “Ivanhoe” is ideally cast with a roster of superb character actors, including George Sanders, Robert Douglas, Felix Aylmer, Finlay Currie, Guy Rolfe, Francis De Wolff. And what voices! I wish we had actors today with such distinctive voices. One just closes the eyes and revels in their dictation.

Low brow comedy relief is provided by the squire Wamba (Emlyn Williams), whose appearance, haircut and manner bring one to mind of Much the Miller (Herbert Mundin) in the Flynn film. Wamba’s puppy dog loyalty to Ivanhoe is very similar to the role Much had for Robin Hood.

Robin Hood (Harold Warrender) and his Merry Men (one of whom is Sebastian Cabot) join with Ivanhoe to keep England safe until Richard returns, and that includes taking part in the film’s action highlight, the storming of Torquilstone Castle. For almost 15 minutes of furious action we get thousands of arrows shooting through the air, wooden ladders flung against castle walls, sword fighting through fire- and smoke-filled corridors and one particularly amazing stunt where we see, from overhead, a stuntman fall from the castle’s ramparts and into the moat below.

Warrender was an unfamiliar face and name to me, so I looked him up on IMDB. I was saddened to see he died just the following year at age 50. I wonder what happened to him?

A radiant Elizabeth Taylor is on hand as Rebecca, daughter of Isaac of York (Felix Aylmer), a Jew whose role as treasurer of his tribe is key to raising Richard’s ransom.

Ivanhoe is lucky to have the attentions of such fetching beauties as Rebecca and Rowena, but Rebecca’s beauty has caught the eye of Ivanhoe’s main foe, the Norman knight de Boise Guilbert (George Sanders). This is the weakest part of the film.

As much as I love watching (and listening) to George Sanders, his lovesick knight here is not well written. There’s very little interaction between de Boise Guilbert and Rebecca, so we’re somewhat surprised when towards the end he says he will sacrifice his title and lands if she will love him. Where scenes cut establishing their relationship? I wish there had been at least one good scene between Sanders and Taylor to set this up.

When we think of Sanders, we think of the superior, aloof, and yes, caddish zest he brought to his roles. Sanders is always great fun to watch. But here he tries for sensitive, but comes off dull, a sin in the Sanders canon.

Back to another Robin Hood connection. Rebecca is put on trial with witchcraft and stands in a shimmering white gown facing her accusers, very similar to the gown Maid Marian (Olivia deHavilland) wore in facing her tribunal in the Flynn film. It could be an obvious choice of the costume designers, dressing their heroine in pure white, symbolic of her standing against the corruption flooding the kingdom. The dresses aren’t identical, but they sure do look a lot alike.

Both films also end with Richard returning to England and promising to rule justly and to mend the Norman and Saxon rivalry.

It’s somewhat churlish to go all this way without mentioning Robert Taylor (no relation to Elizabeth). He’s fine in the role, and has the chivalrous (if humorless) behavior down pat, but he’s not the best fencer in the world. Some of his sword fighting scenes are clunky, and make one appreciate the seemingly effortless flair the likes of Flynn and Tyrone Power brought to their fight scenes. Taylor was still a big favorite with audiences, especially the ladies, and no doubt his name brought a lot of people into the theater.

Like Korngold’s score for “The Adventures of Robin Hood”, “Ivanhoe” boasts a majestic score, courtesy of Miklos Rozsa. Rozsa became something of a music historian when researching Roman music as a basis for his score for “Quo Vadis” (1951) and greatly enjoyed the process. He embarked on a similar role in preparing his “Ivanhoe” score, visiting museums in Europe to study 12th century music. I can do no better than to quote the great composer himself:

“I wanted again to create a score that would sound stylistically authentic. I found a somewhat similar situation in musical matters between twelfth century England and first century Rome. As Roman music was largely influenced by the Greeks, so came the Saxons under the influence of the Normans, who were much more cultured. The sources of Saxon music are extremely few, but there is a large amount of music of that century of the French troubadours, who brought their music with the invading Normans to England.”

Under the film’s opening narration Rozsa introduces a theme from a ballad actually written by Richard the Lionheart. The tender love theme for Ivanhoe and Rowena is adapted from an old popular song from the north of France. Rozsa said, “It’s a lovely melody, breathing the innocently amorous atmosphere of the Middle Ages, and I gave it modal harmonizations.”

While I rail about the running time of many movies, I wish “Ivanhoe” was fleshed out a little more. At 106 minutes “Ivanhoe” could have used some additional scenes, especially establishing more groundwork in the Rebecca and de Boise Guilbert storyline.

But “Ivanhoe” still stands as magnificent entertainment, one sure to please young and old alike. The DVD release is a splendid transfer, beautifully showcasing the Technicolor photography.

Dracula A.D. 1972

It’s Hammer Time.

I watched “Dracula A.D. 1972” (1972, naturally) the other night and, while recognizing its faults, thoroughly enjoyed myself. When I first saw it 20-some years ago I didn’t care for it at all, and hated the “mod” aspects that Hammer brought to their Dracula films.

Now it’s almost like a period film, with the 1970s music, fashions and slang seeming almost as antiquated as the Victorian-era costumes and manners of Hammer’s earlier Dracula films.

“Dracula A.D. 1972” opens with a poorly staged and photographed prologue showing a runaway coach and fight scene between Dracula (Christopher Lee) and his nemesis Van Helsing (Peter Cushing). Dracula is impaled by a broken coach wheel and disintegrates into dust.

One hundred years later Dracula is revived by a disciple Johnny Alucard (dig that groovy spelling kids) during a black mass at an unconsecrated church. The resurrection scene here is very effective. Director Alan Gibson doesn’t skimp on the chills here. While not possessing large budgets, Hammer always made their films look good, and the abandoned church and fog-drenched graveyard adjacent to it is a marvelously atmospheric set.

At this point, the film picks up here to its credit and detriment.

Credit: Dracula starts biting members of the group that resurrected him. Scotland Yard calls in Professor Van Helsing (Cushing again) because he has helped them before on a case involving the occult, and Van Helsing’s granddaughter Jessica (Stephanie Beacham) knew the victims. Unknown to her grandfather, Jessica had been at the ceremony but fled in terror.

Detriment: Unfortunately Hammer wanted to keep the Gothic continuity of its previous films, so kept Dracula confined to the church and graveyard. Hammer was happy to bring him to 1972 but only so far. He may as well be stuck in the 1870s for all that he interacts here with modern London. This was a fatal mistake on the part of the film makers. Producer Michael Carreras takes the blame here.

Credit: Dracula’s first victim is Laura (Caroline Munro, in her first large role) and I was sorry to see her go so soon. Like many guys my age, Caroline Munro was a particular favorite growing up. She’s quite good here, and her reactions to Dracula approaching her in the church are very effective. No bimbo acting style her, her tears and cries for help seem very real. It’s too bad she didn’t stick around longer through the movie, it would have been better for it. (If Hammer knew how popular she would become, she probably would have.)

I’ve met Caroline Munro twice at conventions and a nicer celebrity I’ve never met. She’s a welcome presence in any film and I only wish she had more scenes in “Dracula A.D. 1972.”

Detriment: Christopher Lee didn’t care for the Dracula films that Hammer forced him to make and watching them, one completely understands where he’s coming from. Here he’s given hardly anything to do, sporting little dialogue, snarling his lines and being easily dispatched. By staying confined to one set, he’s hardly the Vampire King.

Credit: Peter Cushing is, as always, remarkable. He likely knows what a piece of junk he’s in, but you’d never know it from his performance here. Never condescending to the material, he gives it all he has. It’s a pleasure to hear him detail the vampire lore he possesses. Always a very physical actor, Cushing engages in fight and chase scenes with the energy of a man several decades younger.

The film’s biggest detriment is the opening society party scene, crashed by Johnny Alucard and his friends who dance to the music of Stoneground. This party scene is interminable, and goes on for what seems like days.

One year later, Warner Bros. would release “The Exorcist” and forever change the face of horror films. Entertaining romps like “Dracula A.D. 1972” to enjoy on a Saturday night out would soon be history.

There’s a lot wrong with “Dracula A.D. 1972” but a lot to like, especially the Cushing performance and the pulp-like narrative. I’ll probably watch it again sooner than more lauded classics. It’s that kind of movie.

Re-Discovering "Thriller"

No movie write-up this time, but rather impressions of “Thriller” a 45+-year-old TV anthology show that I’m new to.

Many thanks to the Me-Too television station in Chicago for running “Thriller” on Sunday nights. Many consider “Thriller” to be the finest horror anthology show of all time, and based on a couple of recent viewings, they may be right. Having Boris Karloff as your host is just icing on the cake.

Last night’s episode “The Incredible Doktor Markesan” (first aired on February 26, 1962) starred Mr. Karloff himself, and his portrayal of the title character deserves to be enshrined in the Horror Hall of Fame along side his more famous movie portrayals. Karloff doesn’t slum for a minute here. It’s a great performance. I tried to find a picture of him from this episode but didn’t have any luck. This is the best I could come up with.

Based on a story by August Derleth (a Lovecraft disciple) and Mark Schorer, “The Incredible Doktor Markesan” tells the story of…well, I don’t want to give too much away of the plot. But a thumbnail sketch should suffice.

A young penniless couple, Fred and Molly Bancroft (Dick York and Carolyn Kearney) arrive at the house of Fred’s uncle, Dr. Conrad Markesan, an instructor at the local college. Fred and Molly hope to stay with Uncle Conrad just long enough for them to find jobs at the college while pursuing their graduate work. Conrad’s house looks like every haunted house nightmare you’ve ever had, thick with cobwebs, dust and decay. Markesan is not happy to have them, but says they can stay in the upstairs guest room on the condition they stay in their room from dusk to dawn and not venture forth into the house at all during those hours. We later find out why.

The whole episode had me guessing as to what was happening in that house, so to say more would spoil it. All I’ll say is that Karloff has one of the great close-ups of his acting career when he tells Fred and Molly that he is no longer employed at the university “because of some experiments I was involved in.” After saying that Karloff looks at the camera and gives the ghastliest grin imaginable. I was laughing and shuddering at the same time.

This episode is beautiful to look at, with Benjamin Kline’s cinematography capturing to maximum effect every shadow in the cellar and the fog-drenched cemetery just outside the house.

It was directed by Robert Florey, best known today for directing “The Beast with Five Fingers” (1946) with Peter Lorre, “Murders in the Rue Morgue” (1932) with Bela Lugosi and almost directing Karloff in “Frankenstein” (1931). So the man knows Gothic horror and he’s ably assisted by some hideous make-up designs courtesy of Jack Barron, a nerve-wracking score by Morton Stevens and some incredible art direction in that house. I believe Barron was the main make-up man on “Thriller” and he deserves to be better known. He makes Karloff look as decayed as the house he lives in.

This is horror pulp – in the best sense - at its finest. And that last shot! Talk about the stuff of nightmares.

Two weeks ago, Me-Too gave us the “Thriller” episode titled “La Strega” (first aired January 15, 1962), which was also incredibly creepy and unsettling.

Again filmed in glorious black and white, this time by director Ida Lupino, “La Strega” was set in the 19th century Italy, where a young artist named Tonio (Alejandro Rey) finds a beautiful woman named Luana (Ursula Andress) half-drowned in a stream. He brings her home and falls in love with her. (Hey, it’s Ursula Andress. Who wouldn’t?). No pussyfooting around with this episode, Luana quickly tells Tonio she’s got to get away. Her grandmother (Jeanette Nolan) is a powerful witch who does not take kindly to her granddaughter running away from her. La Strega always finds Luana wherever she goes. Tonio scoffs at this, and tells her she can stay with him as long as she wants.

One night Tonio awakens from his sleep and hears a noise in the street outside. It’s an old woman with the ugliest, most malevolently evil face you’ve ever seen, who comes right to his building, into his room, demanding the return of Luana. He refuses, and boy, does he live to regret it.

The moral of the story is if you fall in love with some babe and her grandmother is a witch, don’t play the hero. Even if she looks like Ursula Andress, really, just give her back.

There was one great scene where Tonio paints Luana and the next morning he goes back to resume his painting, but the picture is of the haggard old witch. He screams, rips up the canvas, and throws it into a potbellied stove. The camera moves away from him and slowly tracks toward the stove. Suddenly flames burst out of the stove and the grate opens and there’s the snarling visage of the witch’s familiar, a black cat. Luana starts screaming and the artist looks at the stove in terror. Great stuff.

This was a tremendous episode, with another incredible make-up job done on Nolan. She gives us one of the scariest witch portrayals I’ve ever seen.

The only drawback to the episode was a rather silly black mass sequence, presided over by La Strega, with the extras running around in leotards and hoisting each other in the air. I know there were censorship requirements back then, but if an eighth grade class at a fundamentalist Christian school was asked to stage a black mass, it would look something like this. But the rest of the episode is so strong, it doesn’t detract from the rest of the episode.

“Thriller” only lasted two seasons, and from what I understand, the first episode was heavy on crime and mystery stories, while the second season was more horror-oriented. Me-Too is now running the horror episodes, which means Sunday night is Must-See on Me-Too. I can’t wait to see what’s up next week.