Three Monkeys (2008)

☆ ☆ ☆

Three Monkeys (2008) – N. B. Ceylan

Nuri Bilge Ceylan, the Turkish master, directs movies that contain images of stunning widescreen beauty, often of the Anatolian foothills but sometimes, as in this film, just in a grungy apartment building.  The slow plots of these films can burn with a mysterious intensity that makes it hard to look away.  However, Three Monkeys is a lesser work and although noir-ish in its focus on the poor choices and inescapable fates of a chauffeur, his wife, and his son, it drags rather than grips.  Perhaps this is because Ceylan uses tectonic slabs of storyline that drift and then fit together too easily compared to the expected twists and turns of the usual noir (a late surprise offers nothing but resolution, satisfyingly apt though it may be). The acting by the four leads, particularly Hatice Aslan as the wife, is strong.  But for choice Ceylan, I would recommend Once Upon a Time In Anatolia (2011), Winter Sleep (2014), or Distant (2002) ahead of this one.  And I’ll be anticipating whatever comes next from this auteur!

The Devil Thumbs a Ride (1947)

☆ ☆ ☆

The Devil Thumbs a Ride (1947) – F. Feist

This noir-ish B-movie quickie (only 62 minutes) coasts along on the personality of Lawrence Tierney – he’s a tough guy and presumably the devil incarnate of the title.  When a tipsy travelling salesman picks him up, Tierney is all smooth-talking (as the devil is wont to be) and convinces the hapless slub to do all manner of things to aid and abet Tierney’s flight from the law.  You see, he’s on the lam after a hold-up turned murder.  They pick up two gals also needing a ride (in the stretch between San Diego and L. A.) and wind up at the beach house of the salesman’s colleague (out of town).  All the while, the cops are closing in, assisted by a smart gas station attendant.  Tierney alternates between smooth and merciless, trying hard not to show his true colours too often but soon everyone knows and the cops show up for the final showdown.  It holds up pretty well for what it is but Born to Kill (also 1947) is the stronger Tierney vehicle.  He never became a star (purportedly because of drink and off-screen punch-outs) but Tarantino did give him a final heyday in Reservoir Dogs.

  

Innocents with Dirty Hands (1975)

☆ ☆ ☆

Innocents with Dirty Hands (1975) – C. Chabrol

I’ve only recently delved into Chabrol’s thrillers (after dipping my toe in the water with his first nouvelle vague films (Le Beau Serge, Les Cousins) – and there are some excellent suspenseful movies from which to choose (basically any of the six films between Les Biches in 1968 and Just Before Nightfall in 1971).  As with Hitchcock before him (and Chabrol wrote a famous book about the Master of Suspense along with Eric Rohmer), Chabrol deals with issues of guilt and moral complicity with a wry sense of humor.  However, I found this international production (starring Romy Schneider and Rod Steiger) left me a bit cold.  They are married but she takes a younger lover and they plot to kill him.  But things don’t go right and both of the men end up dead with Schneider then the prime suspect for the police (who are played rather comically).  As the plot unravels there are a few twists and turns but somehow I never quite cared about Schneider or Steiger enough to feel suspense about their fates.  I’m not sure whether this is the fault of the acting, the English-dubbed version I watched, the script, or Chabrol.  Start somewhere else with his oeuvre.

Branded to Kill (1967)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Branded to Kill (1967) – S. Suzuki

Not sure if Seijun Suzuki was on acid or insane when he made this film.  Branded to Kill is less a coherent narrative and more an opportunity for weird and audacious stylistic choices.  Sure, it’s about a hit-man and a bungled job but there is barely enough plot to hold onto here (don’t even try!).  Instead, it’s best to let the cinemascope images wash over you – or arrest you.  There isn’t really a consistent style – pop art is what the critics say – but instead a variety of different choices:  POV shots, shots from above, truly odd angles, experiments with light and darkness, odd patterns laid over the shot, large close ups, distant wide-shots, basically the whole gamut with an emphasis on weird.  Obtuse sex and violence figure prominently.  The problem with all this, even though it can be exhilarating, is that it is just all piled on with no attention to plot or characterization.  It feels…abstract and distancing.  So, in that respect, the film simply falls apart.  Suzuki lost his job because of this one.

The Savage Innocents (1960)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Savage Innocents (1960) – N. Ray

It is impossible not to cringe when you see Anthony Quinn playing an Eskimo (now referred to as Inuit or with specific tribal affiliations) and the assorted supporting actors come from a range of Asian cultures (with Yoko Tani excellent as Quinn/Inuk’s wife).  Setting this aside – and also setting aside the condescending view of indigenous people as less civilized – is difficult, but persisting with the movie does allow for some rewards.  In fact, contact with the white men reveals them to be decadent, foul, and unwilling to understand the (stereotypically noble) “savages” who eat raw meat, wife-swap, and only occasionally kill each other.  Director Nick Ray heightens the emotional interpersonal drama between the two main characters and their surrounding sparse social network and uses (probably stock footage of) arctic animals along with trained seals and a polar bear for counterpoint.  The whole thing is so strange – and the characters speak in a kind of pidgin English that heightens this strangeness – that the viewer is quickly absorbed into an entirely different world.  It is just too unfortunate that the rampant stereotyping of the time infects everything.   

The Leopard Man (1943)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Leopard Man (1943) – J. Tourneur

Val Lewton’s productions use minimal means to create scares out of shadows and The Leopard Man is no exception.  A young girl walks alone to buy corn meal in the New Mexico night.  The soundtrack is silent except for her footsteps and the wind rustling the trees.  Suddenly tumbleweed rushes by out of nowhere.  We are afraid for her because a dangerous leopard is on the loose after escaping from a nightclub publicity stunt gone wrong.  The young girl does die and this event initiates a series of murders.  But is the cat really the culprit? Although there are a number of suspects, under Jacques Tourneur’s direction, this never really turns into a B-picture mystery where a detective sorts through the clues to build up to an announced solution but instead the film remains spookier and more existential.  There is a heavy coldness here where the chilly fingers of death could be just around the next corner, stalking their prey and taking the soul away offscreen, leaving only remains.

Blonde Venus (1932)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Blonde Venus (1932) – J. von Sternberg

Marlene Dietrich is bad again, as she often was for Josef von Sternberg.  This time, however, we see that she starts out good -- in a pre-code skinny-dipping scene where she meets future husband Herbert Marshall.  When Marshall grows ill with radiation poisoning (he is a chemist), she goes back to the stage from whence she came to raise money for his treatment in Europe.  But instead the money comes from millionaire Cary Grant who “occupies” her when Marshall is overseas.  And helps to take care of her son, Jonny, too.  Because yes, not only is Dietrich bad, but she is a bad mother, dragging Jonny all over the USA after Marshall returns early and finds her with Grant (who quickly departs for Europe).  With the police after her, and presumed prostitution the only way to raise any cash during the Depression, Dietrich is soon at the end of the road.  And then she is the jaded emotionless Dietrich dressed in white tails and top hat back in Paris crooning as we knew she would.  Until the ending which rings false (yes, Marshall takes her back).  Sternberg keeps things moving at a good clip but can’t help a bit of a jarring clash between the scenes with young Dickie Moore and the decadence and degradation found elsewhere (including the notorious “Hot Voodoo” number).