The Mummy (1959)

 ☆ ☆ ☆

The Mummy (1959) – T. Fisher

I agree with those who have noted that the 1932 Boris Karloff version of The Mummy is superior to this Hammer remake. The plot has been varied a bit, giving Christopher Lee as Kharis, the guardian of Princess Ananka’s tomb (aka The Mummy), less to do, as he only appears in flashback or in muddy bandages rather than in modern dress as Karloff did. Instead, George Pastell plays the worshipper who organises for the Mummy to attack and kill the three members of the archaeologist team that desecrated the tomb, including Peter Cushing. Yvonne Furneaux plays Cushing’s wife, who resembles Ananka (though there is no suggestion that she her reincarnated form). As per usual, Hammer does a nice job with the sets and costumes but there is no sense that the original film has been advanced upon here. Still, it’s fun for an escape.

The Hound of the Baskervilles (1959)

 ☆ ☆ ☆

The Hound of the Baskervilles (1959) – T. Fisher

Although Peter Cushing makes a fine Holmes and Andre Morell is solid as Watson, it is impossible not to compare this version of Arthur Conan Doyle’s novella to the 1939 version starring Basil Rathbone and Nigel Bruce. Intriguingly, the 50s version has some different aspects to the plot (most obviously, Stapleton has a daughter who attracts Sir Henry’s romantic interest rather than a sister) – a quick look at my Complete Sherlock Holmes suggests it is the 30s version that is more faithful. The story is simple: Sir Henry’s father, Sir Charles, has died, potentially killed by a “hound from hell” in line with a curse that was placed on his family due to a very evil ancestor, Sir Hugo (his evil acts shown in detail and colour in this Hammer Studios version). Of course, Holmes will have none of this line of deduction and sets out to solve the mystery on the Moors and to save Sir Henry from suffering the same fate. Cue some red herrings. Too bad Hammer did not pursue further Holmes films but this one is certainly solid enough, if not exactly horror nor as fun as the more famous film.   

Our Man in Havana (1959)

☆ ☆ ☆

Our Man in Havana (1959) – C. Reed

Given the presence of Sir Alec Guinness, I had hoped for the charm of his classic Ealing comedies here – but somehow the pace is just a little too relaxed.  You can sort of see what Michael Balcon’s crew might have made of the comic turns in Graham Greene’s screenplay but they feel underplayed as directed by Carol Reed (which is not to reduce my appreciation of Guinness, Burl Ives, or Ernie Kovacs and their work here).  Even more tantalising is the fact that Alfred Hitchcock also competed for the rights to make this film – which might have made this more like North by Northwest (also 1959) and its tale of the accidental spy.  Here, Guinness signs up for the British Secret Service after being recruited (by Noel Coward) in his vacuum cleaner store in Havana but solely for the money – as he dreams of sending his teen daughter to finishing school in Switzerland. He never intends to actually work as a spy and instead (with Burl Ives’ urging) makes up fantastical reports to send back to London.  Naturally, the Home Office (with Ralph Richardson in charge) is soon interested.  Subsequently, Guinness finds himself the target of enemy agents!  It could have been more madcap (with Ealing) or it could have been more suspenseful (with Hitchcock).  With Carol Reed, Cuba looks beautiful in widescreen B&W but this was a missed opportunity.     

  

Warlock (1959)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Warlock (1959) – E. Dmytryk

Fifties Western in Technicolor with more unusual character relationships than in the prototypic version (although truly the Western was a genre that explored unusual themes).  Warlock is a town that has not been around long enough to have a sheriff of its own; it is subject to marauding attacks from a local gang of cattle rustlers who get drunk and shoot up the place.  So, the citizens’ committee hire Clay Blaisdell (Henry Fonda), an infamous gun for hire, as local marshal to rout them out – he brings with him his partner, a casino boss (and secret gunslinger), Tom Morgan (Anthony Quinn). While this is happening, we see Johnny Gannon (Richard Widmark) hanging around the edge of the crowd – his younger brother is in the outlaw gang but Johnny belongs neither with them nor with the citizen’s committee.  He’s a weak character but when the opportunity presents itself, he’s the only one to step up to take on the role of deputy sheriff, representing law and order in Warlock.  The plot then unfolds as a test of wills between Blaisdell, Morgan, and Gannon with the fate of the outlaw gang and the town of Warlock hanging in the balance.  Will the community back the rule of law or the “might makes right” code of the gunslingers?  Dorothy Malone adds another twist to the plot, as a love interest for Gannon, previously Morgan’s gal – except he only has eyes for Blaisdell perhaps? After a nearly too pat ending, there’s a coda that ends things on a more satisfying note.  Worth a look, if this is your genre.    

Look Back in Anger (1959)

☆ ☆ ☆

Look Back in Anger (1959) – T. Richardson

The first of the British “Kitchen Sink” Realism pictures (from director Tony Richardson) aims to take an unvarnished look at contemporary working class life. Richard Burton plays Jimmy Porter, an angry young man with a strong animosity toward the middle class bourgeoisie who is nevertheless married to a young woman from that class. We learn that he has a university education but he isn’t using it – instead he is working at the local market selling sweets from a stall.  Jimmy is hard to understand – he is nasty to everyone, particularly his wife Alison (Mary Ure) and her friend Helena (Claire Bloom).  He is chummy with his friend Cliff (Gary Raymond) who lives with the couple and he adores his former landlady “Ma” Tanner (Dame Edith Evans) who is earthy and working class.  But I can’t understand the man and his resentments – he just comes across like a prick.  Some have argued that Burton (at age 34) was too old for the part and perhaps he lacks the immaturity that is necessary to convince an audience that his generalised hostility is borne from youthful wilfulness and resistance rather than just dickishness.  If he wants to fight “the man” and fight for the working class, he isn’t going about it the right way. I guess we are meant to see him as frustrated. But then the plot has him inexplicably have an affair with the once hated friend and then eventually return to his wife (but why she returns to him is hard to fathom).  He’s mixed up, I’m mixed up.  (The original play may make more sense).  If you are looking for kitchen sink films, I’d recommend Saturday Night and Sunday Morning (1960), A Taste of Honey (1961), or The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner (1962; also by Richardson), all better than this one (which nevertheless looks pretty good in moody B&W and has some nice jazz interludes).

Ben-Hur (1959)

☆ ☆ ☆

Ben-Hur (1959) – W. Wyler

I thought I should finally watch this epic from director William Wyler just because of its record-winning Oscar haul (11 awards) – but I was always daunted by its 3 ½ hour running time.  Usually, I break these long films into two nights of viewing but not this time – and it was a bit of a hard slog.  I haven’t really gone in for these religious sword and sandals epics and I’ll probably continue to stay away (although Spartacus, 1960, was certainly watchable).  Charlton Heston (emoting wildly, as usual) plays Judah Ben-Hur who, during the time of Jesus, is a Jew who rebels against the Roman Empire.  Well, it’s not that simple.  He isn’t really the leader of the rebellion (that’s Jesus, who is only seen from behind if he makes it on camera at all) but he does have a privileged position due to his childhood friendship (or bromance) with Messala (Stephen Boyd), now one of the leaders of the occupying army in Judea.  Of course, Messala leans on him to turn in traitors but Ben-Hur refuses and is ultimately made a scapegoat and forced to be a slave rowing the Emperor’s galleons.  His mother and sister are thrown into jail.  Over the course of the next several hours, Ben-Hur experiences a reversal of fortune, due to serendipity and his own persistence/character.  This sets him up to return to Judea to challenge Messala; cue the famous chariot race, which is a classic piece of cinema (a spectacle within a grandly mounted and expensive film filled with extras), though not as exciting as I would have hoped.  Indeed, I have to conclude that it is possible that the film won all its Oscars (against the stiff competition of Anatomy of a Murder and Some Like It Hot!) mostly because of its religious theme.  Those may have been different times or perhaps epics just aren’t my thing. 

  

The Crimson Kimono (1959)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Crimson Kimono (1959) – S. Fuller

The Sam Fuller Picture isn’t like your average film.  Somehow his scripts bluntly foreground societal issues that remain implicit or are completely ignored in other films.  As a case in point, the Crimson Kimono zooms in on the Japanese-American experience by including James Shigeta as a homicide detective investigating the murder of a stripper who was recently painted wearing the titular kimono.  Investigations take him and his white partner (and ex-war buddy) to the Little Tokyo section of Los Angeles.  When Shigeta’s character, Joe Kojaku, falls in love with a white witness (and vice versa), Fuller gets to tackle one of his favourite topics, racism, with a special look at how it feels to be an outsider. Things get complicated because the partner also loves the witness -- hence, tension is produced between the two men because of this love triangle.  Fuller leaves the actual detective story aside (although it is finally resolved) to focus on the psychological experience of Kojaku and his relationships with his partner and the witness. Through it all, Kojaku is treated humanistically as a person, not as a symbol of his race or an object for scrutiny – his different culture is accepted by all of the characters and, in the end, he is the only one who perceives himself as different.  All of the others treat him as an ordinary Joe. Fuller, too, is totally supportive of Japanese-Americans and particularly emphasizes their contribution to the war effort in the Forties.  At the same time, he gives us a look at Japanese culture: a Kendo match, a Buddhist memorial ceremony, a festival (with parade), the artistry of dollmakers, and more.  Kojaku even discusses the differences between the Nisei (first generation born in America) and Kibei (born in America but returned to Japan for their schooling before resettling in America) and the problems in dating between them!  So, the merits of the Sam Fuller Picture are many, but don’t choose his films because of their generic frameworks (i.e., the detective story), instead come for the two-fisted didactic discussion.