Author: Keith Humphreys

Categories
Comedy

A Christmas Story

Some mediocre films earn a reputation as “American Classics” entirely because the producers and marketers (or the critics and other members of the chattering class) have so declared them, and the rest of us are cowed into submission. But sometimes a movie attains this status honestly by slowly and steadily building a following because it really deserves one. A Christmas Story very much belongs in the latter, authentic set of American classics. When it was released in 1983, it was shown in less than a thousand theaters and was outgrossed by such unmemorable cinematic products as Porky’s II: The Next Day, Two of a Kind, and High Road to China. But it became more and more popular each year on television (Thank you, Ted Turner) such that you can hardly find anyone today who doesn’t smile at the memory of this warm and funny film.

The great talent behind this movie about a boy’s overwhelming craving for a particular Christmas present is Jean Shepherd, who wrote the script based on his novel “In God we trust. All others pay cash”. He narrates the film while never being seen, apart from a cameo as a grouchy Christmas shopper. Shepherd recollects events as an adult while 12-year old Peter Billingsley, as his younger self (“Ralphie”), gives one of the best comic performances by a child actor in cinema history. Billingsley’s gestures and expressions coupled with Shepherd’s wry narration make a superb comic one-two punch. Daren McGavin and Melinda Dillon are perfect as Ralphie’s very human parents because they are solid actors who also happen to look like real parents (in Hollywood today, the parts would likely have gone to a rap star and a supermodel).

What Ever Happened to the Kids from A Christmas Story?

The film charms both because it pokes fun at the silliness of which children are capable (e.g., Ralphie’s rich fantasy life) while also respecting the earnestness of which they are capable (e.g., It *is* a breach of etiquette to go straight to a triple dog dare without an intervening triple dare). A Christmas Story is sweetly nostalgic about childhood without overly romanticizing it. And it holds up very well under repeat viewings, as the countless people who will watch it again this holiday season will attest.

And remember: “You’ll shoot your eye out, kid”.

Categories
Mystery/Noir

Ride the Pink Horse

Ride the Pink Horse' Hits Criterion: Edges of the Frame

I have recommended Dorothy Hughes’ dark novel In a Lonely Place and its classic film adaptation. Almost as good is a 1947 adaptation of a crime thriller she set in her home town of Santa Fe, New Mexico: Ride the Pink Horse. Ben Hecht and Charles Lederer, two of Hollywood’s finest screenwriters, adapted her book, contributing their trademark biting noir dialogue along the way.

The story opens with a man named Gagin (Robert Montgomery) arriving in a town near the U.S.-Mexico border. The disillusioned, rootless, ex-GI is the ultimate film noir protagonist (though the cynical, hard drinking ,private eye vies for the distinction) and Gagin is the apotheosis of the type. Gagin’s come to town to find the mobster Frank Hugo (Fred Clark), who killed his army buddy. But Gagin’s not there to murder Hugo, or even to turn him over to the federal agent (Art Smith) who’s been on Hugo’s trail for years. Rather, the cynical Gagin just wants a payoff for some incriminating information he possesses. Intrigue and brutality follow.

The story unfolds a bit too slowly, but atmosphere fills in nicely for plot development, including what for the period was an unusually positive portrayal of Mexican culture and Mexican people. Gagin is dismissive of the locals at first, but in addition to helping him survive, they prove to be almost the only decent people in a town populated with violent gringos like Gagin and Hugo. Thomas Gomez is particularly compelling as the operator of a merry go round (hence the film’s name). For his performance, he became the first Hispanic actor in history to be nominated for an Oscar.

Thomas Gomez in Ride the Pink Horse (1947)

The key creative force behind the film is Robert Montgomery (father of Elizabeth of Bewitched fame), who had just left MGM because they didn’t want to let him direct the films in which he starred (Even if profitable, his famously gimmicky Lady in the Lake may have been why). Producer Joan Harrison was open to Montgomery working on both sides of the camera and got Universal on board. He fares well as a director here, giving the talented supporting cast a chance to shine (indeed they outshine him, his acting is only okay).

Montgomery also continues his penchant for unusual visuals. The opening tracking shot, which runs for several minutes, is extremely well done and one wonders if this was a rehearsal for cinematographer Russell Metty, who later created with Orson Welles probably the most famous opening extended take in history (in Touch Of Evil). I also liked how in Montgomery’s first meeting with femme fatale Andrea King, he puts the camera behind his character, looking over his shoulder at her as they size each other up. We can see her face, but we can’t see his, which is unnerving in a way that works. There’s also a creative if brutal shot from a camera on a merry go round, repeatedly giving the audience a glimpse of an ongoing beating.

Ride the Pink Horse was hard to find for many years, but you can probably track it down on line or on a classic films channel. It’s worth the extra effort to view this sturdy and unusual entry in the noir genre.

Categories
Blogs on Film

What Do American Audiences Consider Obscene?

I caught Coppola’s classic at a U.S. hotel not long ago, and the way it was edited for television audiences reveals something fascinating about American sensibilities. The scene in which Sonny Corleone is executed was presented uncut.

Played by James Caan, Sonny is trapped in his car at a toll booth by another vehicle full of gunmen, who riddle him with machine gun bullets, as do other assassins who had been hiding in the booth. Gasping and covered in blood, he staggers out of his car to be hit with a sustained volley of machine gun fire that makes his body convulse repeatedly. He then falls dead in a bloody heap, at which point one of the killers walks up to his body and unloads the rest of his ammo into him point blank. The killer then kicks Sonny’s corpse in the head for good measure. Wholesome all-American fun; wish my kids could’ve seen it.

In contrast, another scene was edited for television. Michael and Apollonia Corleone’s wedding night in Sicily is extraordinarily sweet as played sensitively and without dialogue by Al Pacino and Simonetta Stefanelli. Michael and his young bride are alone in the bedroom. She is clearly a virgin, both excited and at the same time frightened. Michael doesn’t rush her. He waits for her to step toward him, and then cradles her face and kisses her gently on the forehead and then — the censors get out their scissors. In the original movie, but not on television, Apollonia’s breasts are briefly visible before the couple embrace and passionately kiss. Sure they just got married in a Catholic Church, sure they love each other, sure the woman is portrayed as a human being and not an object but hey, the sight of breasts might scar the innocent so out it goes.

I have seen the Godfather on television in Spain and in Sweden and in both countries the wedding night scene was uncut, whereas the scene of Sonny’s execution was edited to be shorter and less graphically violent. Apparently people in those countries have a different sense than Americans about what is shocking and obscene and what is not.

The other comparison point that comes to mind is what I have learned in my career from combat veterans. Sadly enough, many psychiatric hospitals have former soldiers in them who saw something like what happened to Sonny Corleone and never got over it. In contrast, I have never had a never heard of VA patient who had to be hospitalized for PTSD because he once saw a pair of breasts and never got over it.

 

Categories
Blogs on Film

Sidney Lumet’s Many Contributions

Sidney Lumet | Biography, Movies, & Facts | Britannica

In the wake of his passing, tributes to Hollywood legend Sindey Lumet focused mainly on 12 Angry Men, The Verdict, and Dog Day Afternoon, all worthy pieces of cinema (Serpico is less so, in my opinion). He deserves credit for at least two other things.

First, he largely rescued Sean Connery from Bondage by casting him in meaty dramatic parts as Connery’s interest in Bond was waning. The Hill, The Offence, and The Anderson Tapes remain highly watchable today, and they showed the film world that Connery had a lot more talent than his role as 007 let him exercise.

Second, Lumet made one of the best Holocaust films ever, The Pawnbroker. From slump-shouldered Rod Steiger, Lumet coaxed a performance that is the actor’s best — better even than his more heralded role as Sheriff Gillespie in In the Heat of the Night. And the classic Lumet claustrophobic New York sets work perfectly to help us feel Sol Nazerman’s agony and his inability to escape the horrors of the war and memory.  Sadly, the film isn’t watched as often as Lumet’s other great movies, probably because it’s simply emotionally harder to experience (The Verdict is also a portrait of overwhelming loneliness but it ultimately treads more gently on the viewer’s spirit because it has an uplifting ending). But it remains one of the high points of Lumet’s distinguished career.

p.s. The 2015 documentary By Sidney Lumet is well-made and a must for the director’s many admirers.

Categories
Comedy Musical

The Music Man

The Music Man is a joyous, funny and romantic musical that has been lifting hearts for decades. Iowa native Meredith Willson laboured for years to fashion the tale of a fast-talking huckster who comes to fleece the small town rubes of River City and finds more than he bargained for, including romance with the lovely local librarian. The role of the would-be con man, Professor Harold Hill, made Robert Preston a huge Broadway star. Cary Grant saw the play many times, and Hollywood legend holds that when he was asked to essay the part of Hill in the 1962 movie adaptation, he responded “Not only will I not accept the role, but if you don’t get Preston to do it I will not even watch the movie”.

Since at least the time of Clara Bow, Hollywood casting directors have debated whether particular actors have “it”. Well, whatever “it” is, Preston’s got “it” in abundance. Hill is not a nice person. He wants to mulct the town into investing in a boys’ band it doesn’t need and he hopes to seduce and abandon the goodly Marian the Librarian along the way. But the second Preston comes on screen, everyone is cheering for him to pull it off. He is not, truth be told, a great singer at the level of Gordon MacRae, but he is a great actor and an irresistible charmer on screen.

If asked to think of a fresh-faced musical film actress with great pipes and screen appeal, most Americans of a certain generation would come up with Julie Andrews, perhaps remembering Shirley Jones only as the mom on a TV show that their kids watched. But Jones, who plays Marian, was a very big star in her day, and deservedly so. And she wasn’t just effective at playing wholesome All-American innocents as in this film and Oklahoma!: She after all won an Oscar for playing a vengeful prostitute in Elmer Gantry. Of the principals of the Music Man, she is far and away the best singer, and she also conveys warmth, fire and depth as Marian, the unmarried small town lass with a much-gossiped about past.

Preston and Jones are the hubs of the show stopping numbers, including “Ya Got Trouble” and “76 Trombones”. Except for Shipoopi, with singing and dancing by Buddy Hackett (Ack! – but at least he makes a good comic sidekick for Preston), there isn’t a less than good song in the film, and the music grows on you with repeated listenings.

It is worth mentioning also, given that so many child stars came to bad ends, that little Ronny Howard has a nice part in the film. He went on as we all know to become one of the great movie directors of his generation, which based on the little singing he does here was a wise decision.

Some NYC and LA-based film critics have read this film as a condemnation of the ignorance and small-mindedness of Iowans, which to me seems like coastal snobbery not borne out by facts. Yes, the people in the town are sometimes petty and are easily taken in by the conniving Professor Hill, but Wilson also shows us that River City is a place of simple decency, youthful idealism and of course honest, redeeming love in the person of Marian. The movie thus stands as one of the three best statements of everything that is good about Iowa (The other two of course being Field of Dreams and the nearly all-white 2008 democratic caucus nominating Barack Obama).

Here is one of the lesser known but still marvelous numbers from the movie, showing off Preston’s smooth con artist ways and the mellifluous voices of the Buffalo Bills.

p.s. Lovers of the Simpsons will appreciate that this film is the source material for the famous Marge vs. The Monorail episode.