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twittercomfrnklin2001-blog · 1 year

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The Unsuspected

Michael Curtiz’s THE UNSUSPECTED (1947, TCM) starts with a bang. A secretary in a posh mansion is murdered and strung up from the chandelier to appear to be a suicide. In one brief shot, we see the killer (Claude Rains, in a role originally intended for Orson Welles and then Humphrey Bogart). A week later, Rains is presenting his radio show, in which he describes famous murders. As he speaks of an unsolved case, the camera catches shadowy glimpses of various men looking guilty, including one in a cheap hotel room lit by a neon sign outside, with only the letters “K-I-L-L” visible. A week later we see a party at Rains’ home, which contains enough scandalous stories to keep a prime-time soap going for years. And then it all fizzles out. Even with two more murders and great camera work by Woody Bredell, there’s no real excitement. Part of the problem is that the film is too long. The other is the top-billed star, Joan Caulfield, an actress with all the charisma of stewed prunes who was briefly a top-ten box-office star on the strength of a few films in which she teamed with Bing Crosby (some have suggested they were involved; kissy, kissy). She’s Rains’ ward, whose fortune he’s living on. At the start, she’s presumed dead in a shipwreck. Unfortunately, she turns up, having been rescued by a fisherman with no taste in acting. Her scenes are a total downer. Rains has a niece (Audrey Totter) with an alcoholic husband (Hurt Hatfield) who was supposed to marry Caulfield (see what I mean about those prime-time soaps). They burn up the screen, only for Caulfield to turn up and throw a wet blanket over everything. The only person who can get anything out of her is Rains, who’s so good he seems to be dragging a performance of her. There’s also an amateur detective (Michael North), who’s almost as bland as Caulfield and a homicide detective (Fred Clark) who says, “Find the killer and you’ll find the motive.” Only we never really find out what the motive was, so I guess he was wrong. Constance Bennett is also on hand, in a role originally announced for Eve Arden, as Rains’ wisecracking producer. She’s stylish, witty and energetic, and, as with Arden in most of her films, there’s not nearly enough of her.

#film noir #michael curtiz #claude rains #audrey totter #constance bennett #hurd hatfield

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nitrateglow · 2 years

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Halloween 2022 marathon: 19-25

The Picture of Dorian Gray (dir. Albert Lewin, 1945)

I think most people know the basic premise: through ambiguously supernatural means, a young man gains eternal youth while a portrait of him grows old and corrupt, mirroring his sins.

I saw this adaptation of Oscar Wilde’s novel on TCM years ago, but remembered little of it beyond "cinematography pretty." Having read the book for the first time, I figured a revisit was in order.

This movie is a great example of what I often call "Old Hollywood gothic"-- those classy but eerie black-and-white thrillers Hollywood churned out in the 1940s-- Gaslight, The Lodger, Rebecca, The Spiral Staircase, and Dragonwyck are probably the best of the lot. This lavish and literate take on The Picture of Dorian Gray fits the bill well, creating a sinister atmosphere from its chilly cinematography and the coldness of the lead character.

Now, I know Hurd Hatfield's take on Dorian is controversial. A good portion of viewers find him too remote to be effective. Personally, I liked him-- he's blandly handsome, but as his character becomes corrupt, his eyes take on this cold, dead look that's incredibly creepy. We're dealing with a guy who's shallow to the core, emphasizing temporary pleasure over lasting value, and physical beauty over true substance. Those qualities also enhance the callousness he displays towards his victims.

It certainly helps that the most sympathetic of his victims is played by a young Angela Lansbury (RIP), who gives a truly touching performance as the ingenue songstress Sibyl Vane (changed from the Shakespearean prodigy she was in the novel). Eking out a living in a tavern, she idealizes Dorian as a knight-in-shining-armor who can rescue her from her squalid life. Unfortunately, Dorian ends up subjecting her to a cruel and misleading "test" to prove whether or not she's "pure" enough for him. When she ends up failing, Lansbury's quiet depiction of despair proves more haunting and effective than any histrionics would be.

Of course, as an adaptation of Wilde's novel, the movie isn't wholly successful. That the book's gay subtext is almost entirely scrubbed out to suit the restrictions of the Production Code is something everyone knows about (Basil Holwood's implied romantic affections for Dorian is about all that remains on that front), but the book's cynical take on morality is also absent. The movie adopts a more traditional "good versus evil" stance, whereas the book is much more complicated, with Dorian's attempts at good deeds being more a sign of his ego rather than any genuine remorse for the people he's hurt. To be honest, I feel like this movie wants to be Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde more than a substantial take on Wilde.

That being said, this is still an entertaining horror movie, even if it isn't the best adaptation.

Frankenstein (dir. J. Searle Dawley, 1910)

College student Frankenstein wants to create life from nothing. Mixing ingredients in a saucepan and then baking the mix, the result is a funky-looking monster who may or may not be the symbolic embodiment of Frankenstein's dark side... or something. I don't know. only the power of love can stop it-- that and a well-placed mirror.

Yeah, this first movie version of Mary Shelley's book is a trip. I wrote about this one more in-depth under my Short of the Month feature on my Wordpress blog. It's a weird little artifact from the nickelodeon era, but it's definitely a good bit of spooky fun. I really like Charles Ogle's monster make-up too: he's very shaggy and Victorian, the complete opposite of the more modernist approach taken by Jack Pierce for the famous 1931 version.

The Old Dark House (dir. James Whale, 1932)

A severe thunderstorm sends a group of mismatched travelers into the safety of a remote Welsh manor owned by the eccentric Femm family. At first, the Femms seem mostly harmless: Rebecca is a selectively deaf religious fanatic, her atheist brother Horace a witty coward, the 102-year-old patriarch Sir Roderick a cackling eccentric, and the butler Morgan a mute, lumbering presence. But the Femm house harbors a dark secret, one that might prove fatal to the stranded travelers. And when Morgan gets violently drunk, that secret just might be unleashed. The Old Dark House is an absolute favorite of mine, but it took two viewings to click. Film historian William K. Everson once said the movie inevitably disappoints on a first watch and I think that is very true. Considering the film is directed by James Whale and stars Boris Karloff, one expects something eerier, not unlike Frankenstein. However, this is as much a comedy of manners as it is a horror film, and Karloff is only one part of a fantastic ensemble cast.

A lot of the comedy comes from the clash between all the characters. The travelers come from different social backgrounds: the upper class Wavertons (Raymond Massey and Gloria Stuart-- the latter is best remembered as old Rose in James Cameron's Titanic, and yes, she really was a dish!), the disillusioned WWI veteran Penderel (Melvyn Douglas), the chorus girl Gladys (Lillian Bond), and the wealthy businessman Sir William Porterhouse (Charles Laughton), who came from the working class and had to buy his title. There's a low-burning tension between all of these characters, with some class resentment as well, but everyone ultimately has to work together to survive the night.

There's a lot of comedy in this film too, most of it very droll and odd. Horace's delivery of the line, "Have a potato" cracks me up everytime I see the movie, but it's impossible to explain exactly why it makes me laugh. If you don't go for that sort of thing, the movie will probably not appeal to you as much. However, this is still a horror movie at the end of the day, with fantastic stretches of suspense. The physical threat of Morgan and then later of the Femm's big secret locked away in the attic are presented as potently dangerous-- no winking there.

I've seen this film many times over the years and always lamented that the old Kino DVD was so murky-looking. This year, I finally upgraded to the recent bluray release and WOW-- it was like I was seeing a different film. It's so much easier to appreciate the expressionistic lighting and the spooky atmosphere of the cavernous dining hall or Rebecca's suffocating Victorian bedroom decor. In fact, if you love this film and you don't have the newest restoration, let me tell you the upgrade is worth every penny. It really enhances the experience.

The Phantom of the Mall: Eric's Revenge (dir. Richard Friedman, 1989)

Eric is a high schooler disfigured in a fire when unscrupulous developers burn down his family home to make way for a mall. Donning a mask made from a mannequin's head and driven crazy by revenge, Eric makes himself a new home beneath the mall, all the while looking out for his grieving girlfriend Melody, who now works there.

So back in high school, my big obsession was The Phantom of the Opera. I read and wrote phic, I watched every version I could find, I read and reread the original novel, I regularly listened to the original Broadway cast recording of the ALW version. I also regularly watched a channel called Phantom Reviews on YouTube, where the host made it his mission to sniff out and evaluate every single adaptation of the story.

It was on this channel that I first heard of this glorious 80s take on Phantom. Watching the movie, it's an awkward cross between a sleazy slasher and a teen romance, combining the inherent cheesiness of both genres. It has everything: corny love scenes lit by candlelight, Pauly Shore monologuing about subliminal messaging, the Phantom spamming spin kicks during every fight scene, snakes biting the privates off piano-playing parking lot creepers, ridiculously gory kills-- POETIC CINEMA.

The Shining (dir. Stanley Kubrick, 1980)

For me, this is one of the most perfect horror movies ever. Kubrick had no prior experience in the genre, but he totally got what makes a “haunted house” movie work: slow-simmering suspense, a strong sense of ambiguity, and a heavy dose of the unknown. And that last part is why I love this movie so much: it never overexplains itself-- to explain something is to make it less frightening. It never really explains itself at all, which is why The Shining means a thousand different things to different viewers.

On a related note, I tried reading the novel recently, just to better appreciate the differences between the source material and the Kubrick version. But I couldn't do it-- I got about 47 pages in and gave up. I really disliked the writing style and found myself a bit bored, though I can't put my finger on just what doesn't work for me. I liked King's later novel The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon, so maybe it's just early King I don't like? Who knows? Maybe I’m just not in the mood and should try again some other time.

Vampires (dir. John Carpenter, 1998)

Vampires is basically a horror/western mash-up. It's set in remote, dusty regions of the southwestern United States and the vampire hunter protagonist Jack Crow feels like your classic gunslinger type transposed to the 90s. The fight scenes are delightfully over the top (the main method of vampire slaying is hooking the undead up to a Jeep winch and then dragging them kicking and screaming into the sunlight), and the dynamic between the foul-mouthed, off-color Crow and his nerdy priest cohort Fr. Guiteau is endlessly entertaining.

However, despite these strengths, the movie itself is mostly a mixed bag-- when it's the Jack Crow and Fr. Guiteau Show, everything is campy and fun, but everything else tends to drag when they aren't onscreen. I particularly did not care for Crow's partner Anthony and his weird, uncomfortable relationship with Katrina, a vampire bite victim whose psychic link with the bloodsucking villain helps the hunters track him down. To be blunt, I found Anthony unpleasant and Katrina extremely underwritten, so their scenes tended to either annoy or bore me.

From reviews, people either tend to think this is an unjustly overlooked gem or the nadir of Carpenter's career. To me, it's nowhere near his best work, but it's hardly unwatchable, even if I have no real desire to ever revisit it.

#halloween 2022 marathon #thoughts

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