Village of the Damned (1960)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Village of the Damned (1960) – W. Rilla

The film starts mysteriously with all of the residents of the tiny British town of Midwich falling asleep, instantly, mid-sentence as it were.  The British military investigates and finds an invisible line encircling the village where to cross it means falling unconscious (even in a low-flying plane).  Months later, all of the women of child-bearing age fall pregnant, eventually giving birth to platinum blond children with piercing eyes. As they grow up, these children prove exceptionally intelligent and, as a group, possessed of a “hive mind”. The “son” of Professor Zellaby (George Sanders) and his wife Anthea (Barbara Shelley) is played by Martin Stephens, who subsequently used a similarly evil tone to play Miles in The Innocents (1961), an adaptation of The Turn of the Screw by Henry James. (I knew I recognised him, even with the blond wig).  This film is an adaptation of the John Wyndham novel, "The Midwich Cuckoos", drawing from the bird’s strategy of laying its eggs in the nests of other species who then raise the offspring as their own. Prof. Zellaby hopes to harness the children’s intelligence for the betterment of the world -- but alas, they are just too evil (with supernatural powers, of course). The bizarre plot is held in place by a script which has characters act realistically, responding logically and sometimes emotionally, in reaction to the strange presence in their lives and village. Suitably creepy.

 

Shoot the Piano Player (1960)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Shoot the Piano Player (1960) – F. Truffaut

A long time ago when I first explored the Nouvelle Vague, I thought this, Truffaut’s second feature, was pretty great, with its mix of old-timey silent film techniques, gangster plot, and French sensibility.  Revisiting it now (possibly for only my second viewing), I’m less confident that it is as great as I thought.  Not that it is bad or even average, it’s just been eclipsed by other more interesting films (perhaps).  French singing legend Charles Aznavour is a funny choice for lead, an introverted character whose thoughts we read more than hear him speak (as someone who has fled his previous fame as a concert pianist, although his thoughts do not explain this); his love life dominates the plot as much as the kidnapping of his younger brother by gangsters.  It’s bittersweet – possibly an influence on Wes Anderson – and graced with a melancholy ending that changes how the film is perceived. Writing this a week later and, acknowledging the film’s lack of predictability and its new wave features, I conclude it may be more enjoyable to reflect on than to watch. Or perhaps I just need to watch it again.

 

Blood and Roses (1960)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Blood and Roses (1960) – R. Vadim

Roger Vadim’s take on Sheridan Le Fanu’s (lesbian) vampire tale, Carmilla, is a haunting widescreen fantasy, slower and more dreamy than most Hammer productions (although obviously there are similarities – Christopher Lee was considered for the male lead role that went to Mel Ferrer).  The vampire here, Carmilla, is played by Vadim’s then wife (and Bardot substitute) Annette Stroyberg – she is jealous that her cousin Leopoldo (Ferrer) is about to marry Georgia (Elsa Martinelli) and begins to fantasise about the family history that involves a vengeful vampire, Millarca, who kills the young fiancées of the cousin _she_ was in love with.  After a fireworks accident reveals a hidden tomb (Millarca’s, of course), Carmilla seems to become possessed by the ancient spirit, although we never quite know whether this is real or all in the mind of the jealous girl.  She does prowl around at night in a white dress amongst ruins – the cinematography by Claude Renoir (nephew of Jean) is quite sumptuous and worth the price of admission.  I watched the French version which is longer than the US cut and contains a woozy dream sequence (Georgia’s dream) as well as extra footage with peasant girls observing the action of the decadent nobles.  In the end, this is more style than anything else and proceeds at an arthouse pace, but at only 79 minutes, how can you go wrong?

The Criminal (1960)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Criminal (1960) – J. Losey

From the start of the picture, Stanley Baker (playing Johnny Bannion) is so sullen and brutish that it was hard to even recognise that he’s the star of the film.  He’s about to be set free from prison but first manages to orchestrate the beating of another prisoner recently returned from the outside (some foreshadowing here).  Clearly, the guards are on his side at this point (with Patrick Magee excellent as the crooked senior guard) but it’s a fragile alliance.  Once on the outside, Baker immediately gets involved in another caper (at a racetrack) set up by his accomplice Mike Carter (Sam Wanamaker).  After the score, with the money hidden, things are not so easy for Johnny Bannion – the powerplays and doublecrosses are beyond his thuggish mentality.  As directed by Joseph Losey (an American who fled to the UK as a result of HUAC persecution), the film is part prison dynamics and part swinging jazz and decadence.  Baker’s characterisation while at first seemingly roughhewn, later feels apt as a portrayal of a man who can’t manage a changing situation/society.  Beautiful cinematography by Robert Krasker (The Third Man).

Mania (The Flesh and the Fiends) (1960)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Mania (The Flesh and the Fiends) (1960) – J. Gilling

Not produced by Hammer Studios but featuring their star, Peter Cushing, as the rather diabolical (or at least unethical) Dr Knox, who pays “resurrectionists” for corpses to use in anatomy and surgery classes in Edinburgh in 1828.  He pays more for fresher corpses and soon an enterprising pair of louts, Burke (George Rose) and Hare (Donald Pleasance), go into business, the murder business, to keep Dr Knox and his students fully stocked.  Of course, this is a true story (which also inspired a short story by Robert Louis Stephenson and the corresponding Boris Karloff film, The Body Snatcher, 1945).  Cushing plays Knox with one eye shut, signifying the blind eye he turns to the source of his cadavers.  Pleasance is especially good in this early role.  The DVD I watched seemed to be made from an umpteenth generation copy but I could still enjoy the creepy mise-en-scene and eccentric supporting characters that inhabit it (although my US version of the film excludes all the naughty bits that made this film a scandal in its day). Worth a look if you can find a decent copy.   

Horror Hotel (1960)

☆ ☆ ☆

Horror Hotel (1960) – J. L. Moxey

The first film from the production team that later turned into Amicus Productions, a rival for Hammer, the primary producers of horror films in England in the ‘60s and ‘70s.  It is rather quaint and clearly low budget but it manages to create an air of foreboding on a par with what Bava accomplished in (the far superior) Black Sunday (also 1960).  The plot similarly sees a collision between a reincarnated witch (previously burned at the stake) and the modern folks who run across her and suffer for it.  In this case, uni student Nan Barlow (Venetia Stevenson) is writing a term paper about witchcraft (for Professor Christopher Lee!) and travels to an out-of-the-way New England town to do some research (upon Lee’s recommendation). She stays in the local inn which is full of shadowy guests and run by, you guessed it, the reincarnated witch herself. When Nan disappears, her brother and her boyfriend travel to the town to find her. (As some point out, the plot is reminiscent of Hitchcock’s Psycho, also 1960, in this way).  They get help from Patricia and her grandfather, the local clergyman who is blind and running on empty after his long battles with the forces of evil.  The mise-en-scene, although bare bones, is suitably creepy (fog everywhere helps) and the awkward acting from the undead adds to the effects. And the final showdown has to be seen to be believed. At only 76 minutes (in this US cut, which is missing 2 minutes of material that offended religious censors), Horror Hotel is short and scary/sweet and a recommended contribution to your horror film education. 

  

Zazie dans le Métro (1960)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Zazie dans le Métro (1960) – L. Malle

Manic, nearly anarchic, comedy from Louis Malle (only his third feature) that sees a cute and precocious 10-year-old running around Paris being chased by various adults.  She’s been left with her uncle (Philippe Noiret) who seems to be a drag queen at a nightclub (although married to lovely Albertine, played by Carla Marlier).  Zazie’s main pursuer is Trouscaillon (Vittorio Caprioli) who takes on various roles but is probably a cop.  She primarily wants to ride on the Métro but is prevented because the workers are on strike (causing massive traffic jams that create even more chaos).  Instead, Zazie takes in some scenic locales such as the Eiffel Tower where the principals seem to be engaged in some dangerous stunts (with great views of the city).  Ultimately, this may be a film that loses a lot in translation (through both space and time) with some jokes that work best in French (a lot of wordplay, judging by the forced misspellings in the subtitles) and in 1960 (Jonathan Rosenbaum suggests that there are references to 1950s films here, probably French ones, that I didn’t catch).  However, the main influences are worn on the sleeve (Tati and the Marx Bros. primarily), so if you like them, this may be your thing.  Yet, after all this running around, the film does feel a bit pointless -- but it’s worth watching for its crazy energy and Malle’s willingness to experiment with his camera and the mise en scène (sped up shots, cartoonish slapstick, destruction of the set at the end).

Mill of the Stone Women (1960)

☆ ☆ ☆

Mill of the Stone Women (1960) – G. Ferroni

One thing this film has going for it is an extremely creepy mise-en-scene—it’s set primarily in a windmill in Holland where a famous professor has set up a macabre museum featuring a carousel of wax figures (depicting women who died gruesomely throughout history; e.g., Joan of Arc, Anne Boleyn). When a student comes to stay to help the professor document his work, he discovers the professor’s ill daughter who seems to be locked away hidden from everyone else. After an illicit tryst, the student spurns the daughter in favour of another girl but soon finds the daughter dead and the guilt overwhelms him.  Then things become more confusing – the daughter is suddenly back alive and we learn that her father and a deregistered doctor are using blood transfusions to bring her back to life (time and again). Echoing “Eyes Without A Face” (also 1960, but a better film), young women are kidnapped to donate their blood (and lives) and, yes, they end up in the museum.  Perhaps it was the dubbing (a mainstay of Italian films), the wooden acting, or the dream-like quality of the plot and images, but I kept nodding off. A step removed from the production values of Hammer Horror but with a different kind of weirdness that feels more decadent and depraved. 

  

The Sun’s Burial (1960)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Sun’s Burial (1960) – N. Oshima

The title refers to the Rising Sun’s funeral – in other words, the demise of Japan as a place of dignity.  In his third film (after the success of Cruel Story of Youth, also 1960), director Nagisa Oshima shows us the degradation and depravity of Osaka’s post-war slums, the epitome of the fallen nation.  We first become acquainted with Hanako who is collecting blood and selling it at a profit by day and prostituting herself by night.  She works with the two local gangs, the main one led by Ohama and an up-and-coming new gang led by Shin that has to keep on the move to prevent being wiped out by Ohama.  She runs the blood business on the side but is soon joined by an older homeless man known only as “The Agitator” who constantly voices his concerns about the fall of the Japanese Empire (but later buys ID cards to sell to incoming illegal immigrants). Two young kids join Shin’s gang only to find themselves increasingly in trouble; the quiet and naïve one, Takeshi, eventually falls in with Hanako.  Violence, and sexual violence, are part of the way of life here and Oshima doesn’t shy away from depicting this everyday brutality (verbal or physical).  It must have been very shocking at the time. However, there are far too many characters to keep track of and their sad fates barely register in the midst of the squalor and despair. Oshima may have wanted us to take in the forest without caring too much for the individual trees.  Even so, his stylish cinematographic eye makes itself known through ugly but perfectly composed shots, good use of colour (that blood!), and an unflinching willingness to show us the underbelly.

La Verité (1960)

☆ ☆ ☆

La Verité (1960) – H. G. Clouzot

Strongly reminiscent of the decadent Parisian milieu of Claude Chabrol’s Les Cousins (1959) which also sees a young person from the country come to the big smoke to get involved in the decadent life on the Left Banke.  However, this time we follow Brigitte Bardot and it is sometimes difficult to know whether the film is meant to be provocative cheesecake or something deeper.  Bardot’s story is framed by a courtroom drama, since she is accused of murdering her ex-lover, a young classical conductor, recently engaged to her sister.  There is no doubt that she is the killer, only whether she deserves the death penalty or something lighter (the French system of jurisprudence seems rather different than the US version, with the judge posing questions and more than one lawyer pitted against her and her team).  Most of the movie is composed of flashbacks detailing Bardot’s version of events, describing how she toyed with the young conductor who eventually became tired of her endless cheating.  Bardot certainly commands attention and runs the gamut of emotions, both in the flashbacks and in the courtroom – but she isn’t likeable.  The “truth” being pointed out is that society is wrong to judge young people seeking a different life for themselves, those who don’t want to conform to past or current norms.  The lawyers present both sides, for and against the new freedom; Bardot is caught in the middle.  The director, H. G. Clouzot, known for Les Diaboliques, The Wages of Fear, and Le Corbeau, doesn’t really distinguish himself, although the film does capture its time and place.

  

The Warped Ones (1960)

☆ ☆ ☆

The Warped Ones (1960) – K. Kurahara

Although it may have been luridly eye-opening to the Japanese society of 1960, Koreyoshi Kurahara’s delirious new wave drama leaves a bad taste in your mouth.  After getting caught stealing, Akira, a psychopath, spends time in a juvenile detention centre.  Upon his release, he picks up where he left off, stealing a car with his buddy and a prostitute friend, and then he relentlessly targets and harasses the journalist who caused his earlier arrest and his artist girlfriend.  Akira loves jazz (Chico Hamilton style) and the movie is edited to a hep feverish rhythm but its stylishness can’t overcome the brutal content.  With no moral sense, perhaps not even an understanding of what is right and wrong, Akira moves from one situation to another, always doing the wrong thing, the wicked thing – but yet he grins all the way through.  The central action involves rape and its consequences and the film ends without punishment for Akira nor any real commentary on his actions or even a comment about the society (or world) that could produce such a person.  Everything is laid out to shock viewers but I wouldn’t recommend this except for its historical value; a better take on the same ideas is Oshima’s Cruel Story of Youth (also 1960).   

  

The League of Gentlemen (1960)

☆ ☆ ☆

The League of Gentlemen (1960) – B. Dearden

Droll, very British heist film that adopts a similar plot to Stanley Kubrick’s The Killing (1956).  A varied group of ex-military men with different skills (communications, explosives, quartermaster) are recruited by Jack Hawkins to participate in a bank robbery planned according to an American pulp novel (“The Golden Fleece”).  Director Basil Dearden builds things slowly as we are introduced to each character (and a very light amount of social commentary about their status/situations post-war).  But mostly this is a well-executed adventure film that doesn’t really rise to the peaks of the genre (Rififi, The Killing, Big Deal on Madonna Street – all from the years immediately preceding this film) but is enjoyable nevertheless and so very British.  The final scene with the drunk interloper is excruciating.  Of course, the Brits need their heist films too, of course, but, for my money, The Lavender Hill Mob (1951) wins out over this one too. Still, it was a big hit at the time.

  

Autumn Has Already Started (1960)

☆ ☆ ☆

Autumn Has Already Started (1960) – M. Naruse

Mikio Naruse turns his depressive’s eye toward kids, showing how they must cope when buffeted by events beyond their control.  12-year old Hideo and his mother move to Tokyo from rural Nagano prefecture when his father dies of TB.  She leaves him with her brother’s family and begins work at a nearby inn.  Hideo gets teased by other boys but meets a young girl, Junko, a couple of years younger who befriends him.  It turns out that her mother is his mother’s employer.  This might be fine but Hideo’s mother suddenly disappears, apparently running off with a customer from the ryokan.  As it turns out, Junko’s father is only vaguely in the picture, he’s a married businessman from another city and only visits occasionally.  When he shows up with his other older kids, there is tension.  Neither Hideo nor Junko fully comprehend their circumstances but they have their friendship.  When Junko suddenly moves away, Hideo is alone again – and the film ends.  Sad, but rings true.  

  

Wild River (1960)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Wild River (1960) – E. Kazan

Post-accident Montgomery Clift (a little less sure of himself) is a government man working for the Tennessee Valley Authority in the 1930s and charged with buying up properties that will be underwater when the new dam is built.  One old matriarch on an island (played by Jo Van Fleet in old age make-up) refuses to move (along with her family and the black folks that work their land).  Clift has a devil of a time but finds support from Lee Remick the widowed granddaughter who has two small kids and seeks an exit from her grief and the island.  Her fiancé isn’t so keen on Clift stepping in, but he is basically decent whereas the rest of the town is full of racist lugheads who don’t like outsiders.  All this method acting, directed by Elia Kazan, usually involves some huffing and puffing but Clift keeps it low key (and mainly internalized).  Well-realized period piece where the “period” feels natural and not affected.

The Magnificent Seven (1960)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Magnificent Seven (1960) – J. Sturges

Watching this (for the first time) so soon after rewatching Seven Samurai (for the nth time) probably cast it in a poorer light than otherwise might be the case.  The swords become guns, the farmers Mexican, the bandits bandidos, but even with a more-or-less direct mapping of the personalities of the seven from samurais to gunslingers, something is lost in the translation from Kurosawa to Sturges.  Perhaps it is the elegiac tone (that would appear a decade later as Westerns wound down) or the dappled light (that disappears in the hot Mexican sun) that Kurosawa captures so brilliantly.  Still, the action here is well choreographed, the greater profile of the bandit leader (Eli Wallach)  lends the plot a different sort of balance, and the jostling of the many recognizable stars (Yul Brynner, Steve McQueen, James Coburn, Charles Bronson, Robert Vaughn) creates tension not in the original. However, the result still pales in comparsion to Shichinin no Samurai.  

The Brides of Dracula (1960)

☆ ☆ ☆

The Brides of Dracula (1960) – T. Fisher

Although Christopher Lee is sadly absent, Hammer still manages to put on a pretty good show.  Dracula has been vanquished (in an earlier film) but his minions still infest Transylvania.  With excellent gothic sets and costumes, this rather minimal tale of a young teacher in training almost falling prey to one of Dracula’s heirs (whose mother procures for him) has enough new angles to keep even the most jaded vampire watcher interested.  But it is still just what you’d expect and nothing much more – Van Helsing (Peter Cushing) saves the day (just barely).  Worth a look if you are trawling for this sort of thing (that is, on the right side of the line for Hammer).

  

Inherit the Wind (1960)

☆ ☆ ☆

Inherit the Wind (1960) – S. Kramer

It is disconcerting to say the least to watch this 55 year old movie presenting a fictionalized version of the 1925 Snopes Monkey Trial and to realize that in 2015 the same controversy over evolutionary theory still exists in America.  Check this recent poll:  http://www.theguardian.com/science/2015/jan/29/evolution-gm-food-climate-change-us-survey?CMP=ema_632   Unfortunately, the movie is rather ham-fisted, painting the fundamentalist Christians in a particularly unsubtle light – although there are certainly continuing examples of true stupidity among their ranks (I’m thinking Westboro Baptist Church, for example).  So, perhaps the target is too easy and Frederic March makes things worse by playing the zealous prosecuting attorney as a buffoon who seeks to scapegoat the young man (Dick York from Bewitched) who teaches evolution when it has been declared illegal perhaps to enhance his own image as well as his god’s.  Spencer Tracy is fine as the defense attorney, even charming in his gruff way, but his courtroom tactics seem weak.  The script and much of the acting (for example, Gene Kelly as a cynical reporter) are subpar.  However, I’ll admit that it is rousing to see science championed publicly like this and I’m glad to think that this film has achieved classic status for some, even if it isn’t a stellar film.

  

The Devil’s Eye (1960)

☆ ☆ ☆

The Devil’s Eye (1960) – I. Bergman

Bergman’s follow-up to The Virgin Spring had all the makings of a really wicked comedy:  the Devil sends Don Juan up from Hell to seduce a virgin before her wedding day in order to cure a sty in his eye (virgins apparently cause this condition).  But something has gone wrong. If you are thinking that the concept is dated and sexist, well, yes there is that -- although Bergman’s noted sensitivity to women’s perspectives does show through in Bibi Andersson’s character (she plays the virgin as open-minded and modern).  However, the real problem is with Don Juan – too stilted, too uninteresting – and with Bergman’s screenplay – too unfocused.  Nevertheless, there are some excellent bits – an old demon gets locked in the cupboard after being tricked into looking for booze; and Don Juan’s sidekick (an elfish Tom Waits/Walter Huston as Ol’ Scratch creation) does well putting the moves on the preacher’s wife. A bit more bite might have helped but Bergman may have had other aims in addition to comedy (at the expense of comedy, perhaps).  

Addendum 16 August 2020:  Rewatched in the context of the Bergman Blu-ray boxset, the film seems to capture Bergman's preoccupation with love as a justification for existence (also seen in Through a Glass Darkly, 1961, the next year).  Andersson's character defeats Don Juan by encouraging him to love her rather than coldly exploit her for his own (or the Devil's) purpose. Bergman seems also to be proposing a deeper understanding of love and relationships that his characters have achieved by the end of the picture, beyond the pettiness of jealousy and selfishness perhaps? Does it matter that the actor playing Don Juan bears a physical resemblance to Bergman himself, given the director's many marriages and infidelities?