The Best Man (1964)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Best Man (1964) – F. Schaffner

Gore Vidal’s Tony-nominated play focused on the battle for a party’s presidential nomination is brought to the screen by Franklin J. Schaffner (with Vidal’s own screenplay).  It’s a behind-the-scenes look at the tactics used by ruthless conservative populist Joe Cantwell (Cliff Robertson) and intellectual but indecisive liberal William Russell (Henry Fonda) who are vying to get the most votes at the (unnamed) party’s convention in Los Angeles.  Cantwell has dirt on Russell (a prior nervous breakdown) and plans to use it to swing things his way; Russell’s people also find dirt on Cantwell but will the candidate use it or stand by his principles?  We’ve seen these candidates in the US before (and I fear that the tide has turned to Cantwell’s brand of politics of late) and contemporary audiences would have been thinking of Adlai Stevenson and Richard Nixon.  But fifty plus years later nothing here can shock or even surprise the modern viewer.  Still, there is some suspense built and Lee Tracy has a great turn as the folksy ex-president with advice for both candidates. Frank and authentic or cynical as hell – you be the judge.      

Dreams (1955)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Dreams (1955) – I. Bergman

But whose dreams are these?  Ingmar Bergman invites us to dream along with Eva Dahlbeck’s fashion designer, Suzanne, and with Harriet Andersson’s fashion model, Doris – both dream of relationships (with a past married lover, Ulf Palme, and a new older sugar daddy, Gunnar Björnstrand, respectively), that are ultimately not to be.  These men may also be dreaming, or fantasizing, about these women – inappropriately so.  So, this is a film about mistakes and regrets, poor choices and their consequences.  Dahlbeck and Andersson may be paired, such that Doris is an earlier version of Suzanne who may yet have the opportunity to choose a better path.  Perhaps she will – and perhaps Suzanne has come to her senses by the end of the film (or perhaps not?). The men who tempt them are clearly escaping their own dreary existences to chase dreams (that can never be) – but Bergman’s interest seems to be focused on the more complicated situations of the women.  Indeed, the film ends with a shot of Dahlbeck wearing a very complex expression (that may be ambivalent, ambiguous, or both).  I had high hopes for the film from the start, when Hilding Bladh’s camera work merged with Bergman’s direction and ear-popping synchronised sound to create a wordless opening scene (a fashion shoot) with heightened sensory power (and another impressive scene on a train suggests that Dahlbeck is thinking of suicide, with expressionistic flair). But once the protagonists move to Göteborg, the arthouse moves are toned down and the film loses some zing. Yet, this is still clearly a film by a masterful director, even if less persuasive overall.  

The Muppet Christmas Carol (1992)

☆ ☆ ☆

The Muppet Christmas Carol (1992) – B. Henson

Surprisingly, it stays very faithful to the book, quoting many passages and having many scenes introduced by Charles Dickens himself (Gonzo).  I felt that the staging, settings, and characterisations also seem modelled on my favourite film version of the story (with Alastair Sim in 1951).  It was fun to remember the various muppets from The Muppet Show (those from Sesame Street are absent here), playing bit parts.  The major roles are taken by Michael Caine (Scrooge) and Kermit (Bob Cratchit).  Paul Williams wrote the songs –which are pretty bland and not up to the level of 1970’s Scrooge (with Albert Finney).  In places the story seems abbreviated, particularly when showing Scrooge as a youth in love, but this was probably for the best as attentions of the under 9 crowd were wavering at that point.  There is a lot of comic relief, mostly from Rizzo the Rat and Gonzo (as narrators) but the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come might be scary for some.  Caine does fine but nothing spectacular. This is the first project for the muppets after Jim Henson’s death and it is dedicated to him.

A Quiet Place (2018)

☆ ☆ ☆

A Quiet Place (2018) – J. Krasinski

I didn’t know what this was about, nor did I immediately recognise actor/director Jon Krasinski (or know that he is married to star Emily Blunt) – so I guess I came to it absolutely cold, knowing only that it was a horror film, of some sort. If that’s your preference too, then don’t read on.  From the start, we are only introduced to what appears to be a post-apocalyptic American setting with the strange requirement that everyone has to be as quiet as possible (we figure this out, we aren’t told).  Only a few minutes later are we shocked into realising that this is a monster movie and the monsters (distant relatives of Alien’s alien, I think) hone in on sounds, since they are blind.  Well, the “shock” was fairly clearly telegraphed – and in fact, nearly every suspenseful moment here is bleedingly obvious (monster enters room, everyone freezes), but that doesn’t mean you aren’t still on the edge of your seat the whole time.  This has strong ties to the Cloverfield franchise, I think (and I read that the writers fought to keep their screenplay from being repurposed as part of those films) – and if I knew that, perhaps I wouldn’t have rented this.  There is something to slick about these CGI monsters that I can’t get into.  But why?  The old Ray Harryhausen monsters were a treat and certainly there were plenty of creature double features in my youth.  Perhaps those too could never earn a rating above 3 stars.  But if you are in the mood for a thrill ride and don’t need to or want to think, here you go!

To Joy (1950)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

To Joy (1950) – I. Bergman

Ingmar Bergman wrote and directed this tale of two violinists who fall in love, get married, and have children, all while working for grumbly (but lovable) conductor Sonderby (played by Victor Sjöström, the silent film director/mentor who later starred in Bergman’s Wild Strawberries).  Stig Eriksson (played by Stig Olin) is rather melancholic and pessimistic but still falls for sweet and gentle Marta Olsson (played by Maj-Britt Nilsson).  He doesn’t deserve her. However, she will not remain his forever: we learn at the very start of the film that Marta is unfortunately later killed in a tragic accident – and the movie swiftly returns seven years earlier, in flashback, to bring us up to this final fatal moment.  Erikkson is apparently a veiled version of Bergman himself, an unreliable and self-centered cad who expresses dismay when he finds out his wife is pregnant (arguing that it is wrong to bring children into this horrible world) and subsequently cheats on her with a sultry married neighbour.  Apparently, Bergman was going through a divorce at the time (he eventually had five wives) and this screenplay may reflect his guilt and shame.  Eventually, Marta leaves with the children.  However, absence makes the heart grow fonder and eventually the couple reconciles.  So, we see the ups and downs that are natural to any relationship – but it is hard to feel sympathy for Eriksson, at least until that final terrible moment when he learns of his wife’s death.  Later, the orchestra plays Beethoven’s Ninth – based on von Schiller’s “Ode to Joy” and we see Eriksson’s sadness.  Reading now the poem itself, which includes the words “Whoever has created/An abiding friendship, Or has won/A true and loving wife, All who can call at least one soul theirs, Join our song of praise;”.  The relevance is obvious and we see that Bergman is imploring us/himself to feel grateful for the love he has received (despite his many flaws).  Not a masterpiece but an unpredictable melodrama that contains Bergman’s obvious stamp of authorship. 

The House of the Devil (2009)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The House of the Devil (2009) – T. West

I’m sure the production team had a lot of fun with this feature, a pitch perfect recreation of a late 70s/early 80s “teenager in peril” horror film.  Right from the opening credits, with bad font and freeze frame and the spooky synth soundtrack, those who remember the genre from when it was new will be tickled.  There is a really really slow build as we meet Samantha (Jocelin Donahue), the babysitter hired by a weird older couple (Tom Noonan and Mary Woronov), and her rebellious friend, Megan (Greta Gerwig), with feathered Farrah hair, who drives her out to the upstate New York house.  It turns out that Sam is meant to babysit Woronov’s elderly mother rather than any actual baby – on the night of a lunar eclipse that turns out to be significant (the opening credits tip us off that Satanism is somehow involved).  Of course, Sam is soon alone in the dark and quiet old house and suspense builds and builds.  In fact, this is probably the point of the film – how long can the director (Ti West, who also wrote the screenplay) toy with us by offering false alarms, just bumps in the night?  And then suddenly there is a burst of horror and the film rushes to its conclusion.  Perhaps there is ultimately less than meets the eye but I personally felt satisfied – I don’t need any drawn out gory horror but rather some indicative supernatural flourishes will fulfil me plenty.  (We get a bit more than that).  In the end, this is a showcase for directorial fetishism, I suppose, and it seems that Ti West’s career in horror has been assured.  If all of his work is “old school”, I might be tempted to check more of it out (despite the low IMDb ratings).

The Death of Stalin (2017)

☆ ☆ ☆

The Death of Stalin (2017) – A. Iannucci

It’s an unusual experiment for a film to treat the totalitarian days of the Soviet Union as broad comedy – and more unusual still because the details of the plot (if not the screenplay full of jokes) are drawn straight from the real facts of the historical record about bad actors, torture, murder.  This satirical portrayal of a bunch of bumblers (the Central Committee) who need to manage the country after their leader has died – and who vie to determine its political direction and methods – was, inevitably, banned in Russia.  It doesn’t paint a pretty picture.  But strangely, the slickness of the film and the deftness of the comedic actors and their witty repartee means that the brutality of the proceedings (implied and explicit) seems unreal – when in fact it all was horribly real.  Even the decision to allow the actors to use their natural accents (a full range of British classes are represented plus Steve Buscemi and Jeffrey Tambor from America), which could have been a Brechtian device to lead us to view the characters and their actions from a more distanced critical perspective, doesn’t quite have that intended effect (although perhaps there is a different goal; for example, portraying Stalin as the rural type from Georgia he was by using a cockney accent).   At any rate, it is a pitch black comedy, very probably in completely bad taste, and without a clearly identifiable modern target (only a desire to recreate and satirize the chaos of the period).