The Ex-Mrs. Bradford (1936)

☆ ☆ ☆

The Ex-Mrs. Bradford (1936) – S. Roberts

William Powell was so enjoyable in the role of the suave, comical private detective that he played more than one during his career. Most famous, of course, is Nick Charles (husband of Nora, played by Myrna Loy) in the Thin Man series (which began in 1934, based on characters created by Dashiell Hammett).  Prior to that, he was Philo Vance (1929-1933) from the books by S. S. Van Dine.  So, it comes as no surprise that he turns up here as a doctor who is encouraged into sleuthing by his ex-wife, played by Jean Arthur, who is apparently a mystery writer.  The case focuses on the death of a jockey, presumably by heart attack, but later thought to be something more sinister.  There is the usual array of minor characters and red herrings who all wind up in a room at the end, so that Powell can identify the murderer (a set-up which must have been cliché even by 1936).  The chemistry between Powell and Arthur is pretty good, but no patch on the remarkable pairing of Powell and Loy. She holds her own but has more meaty roles in other films that show off her comic technique better. Eric Blore has a funny bit part as Powell’s butler.  All told, this is somewhat less than the sum of its parts but fine for fans of the period.

  

Somewhere in the Night (1946)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Somewhere in the Night (1946) – J. L. Mankiewicz

One of the better early noirs, with John Hodiak playing an amnesiac World War II vet who doesn’t reveal his condition after finding a note that suggests that he wasn’t such a nice guy. So, he struggles to piece together the puzzle of his life, starting with his last known address in Los Angeles.  A few clues lead him to a bank where a mysterious “Larry Cravat” has deposited $5000 into an account for him.  Although Hodiak (playing “George Taylor”) flees when the bank staff become too curious, this event starts him on a search for Larry Cravat that takes up the rest of the film.  Along the way, he gets himself into trouble for being too nosey, gets help from a local club owner (Richard Conte) who knows a friendly police detective (Lloyd Nolan) and falls in with a torch singer from the club (Nancy Guild).  Director Joseph L. Mankiewicz (in only his second outing) manages to visit many of the noir settings (mental hospital, wharf at night, fortune teller’s, Turkish bath, nightclub) and keeps the audience as confused as Taylor, with an assortment of interested parties (femme fatale/tramp, thug/mobster, infirm eyewitness) also pursuing Cravat (and/or the MacGuffin).  Although things wrap up rather conventionally, there is enough real desperation and dread here to sink your teeth into (even if Hodiak underplays everything).  Recommended.   

Hacksaw Ridge (2016)

☆ ☆ ☆

Hacksaw Ridge (2016) – M. Gibson

Over-the-top and excessive in every aspect (some might say indulgent, but others seem to love over-dramatized films like this), from the stereotypic love story to the unrelenting battle scenes.  Mel Gibson directed and having not seen any other films by him, I can only suspect that the mix of hard-core religion and ultra-violence is his own personal signature.  Andrew Garfield plays Desmond Doss, a conscientious objector who nevertheless signs up for combat duty in WWII (in the Pacific theatre) to serve as a medic.  He gets hard done by during boot camp, pilloried for his religious beliefs and nearly court-martialled and drummed out of the service for refusing to carry a weapon.  But, of course, he prevails and ends up with the medal of honour.  The true story upon which the film is based is undoubtedly moving and inspiring but the syrupy ode to the man is pretty tough to take at times.  The centrepiece of the film is more than an hour of gory battle scenes, with corpses everywhere, men dying in horrific fashion, and a genuine hell-on-earth mise-en-scene.  Perhaps this is how battle really feels – but do you really need to see it?  I’m sure the technical wizardry required is impressive but again, the sweeping music and dramatic crescendos nearly capsize things.  A bunch of Australians take roles here (alongside an always charismatic Vince Vaughan) but few are able to define their characters above the fray.  Watch if you must but there are better war films (e.g., The Steel Helmet, 1951 or The Big Red One, 1980, both by Sam Fuller).

  

Dressed to Kill (1946)

☆ ☆ ☆

Dressed to Kill (1946) – R. W. Neill

The last film in the long-running Sherlock Holmes series starring Basil Rathbone-Nigel Bruce, the best and most classic Holmes films.  Of course, Bruce plays Watson as something of a buffoon, but he is always lovable, even if his actions threaten the success of the case.  Here, he lets the villain steal the last of three music boxes that together provide the code that reveals the whereabouts of the hidden Bank of England plates.  But Holmes always forgives him, tut tutting fondly, although this usually happens after he has managed to solve the case anyway.  Dressed to Kill is likely not based on any actual story by Arthur Conan Doyle and it is transposed to “modern day” England rather than the literary Holmes’ time but it still captures the flair and air of mystery that the stories held (and still hold), even if it isn’t every really possible to solve the case yourself (and here there is really no mystery but rather some suspense instead).  The nostalgia that comes with these films is always a salve for the weary brain.

  

The Brothers and Sisters of the Toda Family (1941)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Brothers and Sisters of the Toda Family (1941) – Y. Ozu

The surprising thing about “Toda Family” is just how much it foreshadows Ozu’s later themes and his greatest masterpieces.  For example, the plot here depicts how a grandmother and her youngest daughter are passed from the various households of her adult children when the patriarch/grandfather has died.  None of them treat their own mother/mother-in-law with respect and she ends up living in the family’s dilapidated villa near the seaside.  Shades of Tokyo Story, right?  But although the plot feels so Ozu-like, his style has not fully congealed into what we are familiar with in his classic films of the late forties and fifties.  Yes, the camera is often seated on the tatami mat with us and people speak directly into the camera in shot-countershot patterns.  Also, Ozu’s still life shots that punctuate scenes showing nearby vistas or that show a room or hallway before or after a character enters/departs are already here (and often beautiful).  But the settings and the milieu are the dwellings of the rich (not Ozu’s usual middle class group) and the camera occasionally presents things in un-Ozu-like fashion (it is hard to explain but you will know, if you know Ozu).  Moreover, as David Bordwell has pointed out, Ozu seems to have more patriotic fervour (this is 1941) than we expect of him – the “good son” (who first seems like a neglectful rogue), played by Shin Saburi, moves to China and declares how good it is and how you can do whatever you want.  He also scolds his bourgeois brothers and sisters for their failure to work and contribute to society.  Bordwell suggests that Ozu was just trying to get along in a film industry and society dominated by censorship at the time (much as Mizoguchi did with his jidai-geki films) but it feels a little unsettling.  Ozu would find his groove after the war and reach the highest echelons of film-making.

The Beguiled (2017)

☆ ☆ ½

The Beguiled (2017) – S. Coppola

I’m making it a habit of being underwhelmed by Sofia Coppola.  I mean, I want to like her films, so I keep giving her a chance.  And then the result is boring or lacklustre or irrelevant.  I don’t think I have really enjoyed one of her films since Lost in Translation, 2003 (and I liked The Virgin Suicides, 1999, which I saw much later, even more).  But this remake of the Don Siegel – Clint Eastwood pic from 1971 (which I only vaguely remember) seems pointless.  There is a suggestion that this version of the original novel is seen from the women’s point of view and that may be so, but it isn’t particularly overt as a statement.  Nicole Kidman runs the girls’ boarding school that has only a few remaining students since the Civil War is raging and Kirsten Dunst is her assistant.  When one of the girls stumbles upon an injured Union soldier (Colin Farrell), they take him in to nurture him even though they should be turning him over to the Confederate troops (this is Virginia).  His presence arouses sexual tension and competition among the women, although very reserved it is because this is the 1860s.  Nevertheless, the tensions rise to a crescendo and the film makes a play for the “thriller” label.  However, it seems to me that Coppola’s interest in that genre is half-hearted at best and she is really all about the atmosphere, the period recreation, and the acting.  She won Best Director at Cannes for this film, but I don’t see it.  Once again, this feels like all surface, no depth.    

Almost Famous (2000)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Almost Famous (2000) – C. Crowe

First things first, I accidentally watched the Director’s Cut of the film which is 162 minutes long (40 minutes longer than the released film, which I haven’t seen).  I’m not certain whether the extra time benefits the film or reduces its quality.  There were a few places where things felt long or indulgent.  But, of course, the whole premise is pretty indulgent – this is the story of Cameron Crowe’s experience as a teen journalist for Rolling Stone touring with The Allman Brothers (here replaced by a fictional band, Stillwater, starring Billy Crudup and Jason Lee).  Crowe wrote and directed the film and gives himself a pretty glorified part.  Moreover, taking place in the early 1970s, the action onscreen is also indulgent, in that there is lots of drinking and drug use (although this is mostly implied because the film seems somehow to be aiming for family friendly, despite the debauchery).  Which brings me to the question of whether this film feels “right” in the era of #MeToo.  In fact, it doesn’t.  Kate Hudson is the groupie with the heart of gold and, although the film acknowledges that she is treated badly by the band, it doesn’t really make any effort to condemn that treatment, at least not strenuously.  Instead, it is nostalgic good times all the way and the rockin’ soundtrack doesn’t hurt that sentiment one bit.  Crowe spends his time trying to depict the emotional journey of the hero (himself, played wide-eyed by Patrick Fugit) and he does manage to capture wistful naivete pretty well (a la your typical coming-of-age story), including a delayed coda that makes it all right.  A few scenes do suggest that the film could have verged into Spinal Tap territory, but it doesn’t (too bad).  However, this may be the only fiction film to ever have someone play Lester Bangs (Philip Seymour Hoffman) and that’s worth the price of admission on its own.