|
|
Post by Fading Fast on Jan 22, 2023 9:54:18 GMT
⇧ I can't believe I haven't seen this one (it sounds faintly familiar, so maybe I did a long time ago) as I love all those B&W 1950s Alec Guinness movies.
|
|
|
|
Post by topbilled on Jan 22, 2023 16:25:08 GMT
⇧ I can't believe I haven't seen this one (it sounds faintly familiar, so maybe I did a long time ago) as I love all those B&W 1950s Alec Guinness movies. |
|
|
|
Post by topbilled on Jan 28, 2023 2:29:44 GMT
This neglected film is from 1940.
Levels of light in her home
Gaslighting is where a victim’s mind is manipulated into believing things that are not true. In Patrick Hamilton’s play, the heroine’s sanity is related to the levels of light in her home– which can be looked at literally and figuratively. Hamilton’s story resonated with audiences, and he had a hit on the London stage in the late 1930s. It was even more popular on Broadway in the 1940s with several long-running productions.
In the summer of 1940, British National Films released the first screen adaptation, starring Austrian actor Anton Walbrook and English actress Diana Wynyard. Both performers already had strong reputations, and they give memorable performances. MGM remade it several years later, with French actor Charles Boyer and Swedish actress Ingrid Bergman taking over the main roles. But I think the earlier production with Walbrook and Wynyard is superior for reasons I will cover below.
What makes the 1940 version of GASLIGHT so extraordinary is the intensity with which Walbrook approaches his character. There’s an unrelenting hardness in his portrayal of a bigamist-murderer; and at the risk of comparing him to Boyer, he brings a much fiercer interpretation to the screen. His passion is a form of brutality that can only be unleashed violently. He doesn’t seem to despise his bride like Boyer does in the remake; instead, she is an object– a strange fetish in his desire to gain power and get off on that power.
But Walbrook’s work is only half of it. Wynyard perfectly balances his brutal behavior with her own soft, exquisite suffering. Anyone who watches both versions will see that Ingrid Bergman is mimicking Diana Wynyard’s best scenes. However, Bergman lacks the softness and delicate quality that Wynyard displays. She is oddly valiant, because she believes her suffering is noble and believes it will ultimately bring dignity to her husband. If she fails to elevate him through her own pain, then she fails herself. It isn’t until she finally realizes all the destructively heinous things he’s done that she reluctantly agrees to aid in his arrest.
The cruelty she experiences at his hands is almost nothing compared to the heartbreak that comes when she must face the failure of the relationship as a whole. This is something Bergman really doesn’t seem to tap into at all. The second film is about her liberation. But the first film is about her failure, and I think it is more thought provoking.
|
|
|
|
Post by topbilled on Feb 1, 2023 14:44:20 GMT
This neglected film is from 1959.
Consequences and justice
The opening sequence is quite memorable. A college-aged female is found dead in a park on Hampstead Heath. We learn her death may have been the result of a hate crime. A respectable London detective (Nigel Patrick) is put in charge of the case. He is joined by his assistant (Michael Craig). As their investigation gets underway, the audience sees that these men are immersed in a situation that involves class division, racial bigotry and scandal.
Despite Basil Dearden’s production having been shot in handsome Technicolor, I felt the film should really have been presented in black and white. Mainly because this underscores the central theme about black-white relations. But also because when we see the victim’s corpse at the beginning she would look less “colored”…as in any color.
It is obvious they’re using a Caucasian actress to play the murder victim, because her neck is a creamy white, and her face is peach complected. With black and white cinematography, we wouldn’t be able to tell her race so easily. Her being a black woman who passes as white is what the whole story is predicated upon, and we are not supposed to know right away what her true race is.
The best performer in this picture is Yvonne Mitchell, who plays the killer. She has been assigned the most difficult role. We are not supposed to like her character but Miss Mitchell elicits sympathy from us with her anguished portrayal. This makes it harder to reconcile her part in Sapphire’s death at the end.
I don’t want to see a mother of two torn away from her kids and her husband, going off to prison. But of course that is what will happen, since she must face a consequence and justice must be served.
We’re supposed to view the white boyfriend’s family as a bunch of narrow-minded bigots, or at least people who do not handle race relations well. However, Sapphire’s boyfriend did love her and did plan to marry her.
I didn’t feel Sapphire’s pregnancy added anything to the story and question its inclusion. Even though the white boyfriend acted like it would have been his child, there was no certainty of it. And he seemed to be more at a loss over Sapphire’s death than he was over an unborn child’s death. It felt like the filmmakers were trying to give us more dimensions to Sapphire and thought revealing her as a mother-to-be increased the tragedy.
This story, if made today, would probably be reworked as a plot about a transgender character. Where the conservative family couldn’t accept their son/brother being involved with a transgender male who had passed as female.
What I like most about the story is how one person’s death affects so many people. This event ripples across the landscape and causes many of these characters to re-examine their lives. You do wonder how they can all go forward now.
|
|
|
|
Post by topbilled on Feb 7, 2023 16:16:15 GMT
This neglected film is from 1950.
Who can exonerate his pal?
For years I’d wondered about this film and if I’d ever have a chance to see it. Fortunately, someone posted a copy online. My fear that it might be terrible, to explain why it never turns up on cable channels or streaming platforms, was totally unfounded. It’s an excellent picture, competently made.
What we have is a mostly British story (financed by a Hollywood studio) that features an American star. This would be Robert Montgomery’s last major acting role, and he also serves as the director. He concentrated on television production and public speaking after the film was completed.
Mr. Montgomery plays a legal fish out of water, a New York-based defense attorney who is summoned to England when an old war buddy faces a murder charge. The buddy (Michael Ripper) contends that he fired two fatal shots in self-defense. Furthermore, there was a witness hiding in the other room. Trouble is that the individual fled out a window into the night without being seen.
The British court doesn’t really believe his story, since all police inquiry on the matter failed to produce such an eyewitness. Because Montgomery cannot practice law outside his own country, he helps the defendant’s team strategize. Then he turns detective to locate the mystery person. Most of this is handled rather adeptly. The situation emphasizes the main differences between American and British cultures as well as their inherent similarities.
![Screen Shot 2022-05-15 at 7.46.20 PM 2]](https://oforinvolvingmotionpictures.files.wordpress.com/2020/04/screenshot-2023-02-07-at-9.12.31-am.png?w=300&h=279)
While attempting to track down the person who can exonerate his pal, Montgomery spends time in the picturesque countryside where he becomes acquainted with a well-to-do family. This includes an authority on British law (Leslie Banks), his sister-in-law (Patricia Wayne), and his teenaged daughter (Ann Stephens).
The sister-in-law is a war widow living at the manor who assists in raising the younger girl. She and Montgomery hit it off, and there’s a lovely scene during a church service where she realizes she’s falling for him. Meanwhile, Montgomery continues to turn up at court with the wife of the accused (Jenny Laird), but he isn’t any closer to clearing his friend.
The story shifts gears when it starts to look like Miss Wayne’s character was having an affair with the murder victim. Was she the witness who ran off that fateful night? Montgomery tries to ferret the “truth” out of her, but she is innocent. There’s a neat twist which I didn’t see coming, but should have, where we learn the teen girl had an unhealthy crush on the victim. She used to sneak into the killed man’s quarters to be close to him. She’s the mystery person.
The moment where the girl appears in court to confess everything comes at considerable embarrassment to her and her upstanding family. As a result of the testimony, Montgomery’s pal is released. Before Montgomery heads back to America he is able to tell Miss Wayne he has romantic feelings for her.
YOUR WITNESS evokes memories of battle, a war that united the allied forces against a common enemy. The script was co-written by Hugo Butler who was summoned to appear before the House Committee on Un-American Activities. Mr. Butler fled the U.S. and worked abroad. He refused to be a friendly witness that would aid Senator Joseph McCarthy’s smear campaign, choosing instead to remain loyal to his old comrades.
|
|
|
|
Post by Fading Fast on Feb 7, 2023 16:25:26 GMT
⇧ I want to see both of today's "neglected films," but I can say that on most days.
These are really enjoyable posts, thank you for doing them.
|
|
|
|
Post by topbilled on Feb 8, 2023 2:24:27 GMT
⇧ I want to see both of today's "neglected films," but I can say that on most days.
These are really enjoyable posts, thank you for doing them. |
|
|
|
Post by topbilled on Feb 13, 2023 15:54:23 GMT
This neglected film is from 1946.
To feel sorrow for someone else's misfortune
Before you watch this film you have to know what pity is. You need to have experienced it, been on the receiving end of it, in order to fully empathize with Lilli Palmer’s character. The person who is pitied is never envied, but made to feel sorry for, because they suffer some disadvantage in life. Their differentness is perceived as a disability or handicap.
The film is based on Stefan Zweig’s novel Ungeduld des Herzens. Miss Palmer plays the daughter of an influential baron (Ernest Thesinger). Years earlier she had been severely crippled in a horse riding accident on her father’s estate. While dealing with the pain of her injuries, as well as the emotional scars of becoming a woman dependent on others for help, she has withdrawn from life and become reclusive.
The family’s castle sits high atop a hill, and behind it is a steep drop off the side of a cliff. One night the baron decides to entertain some military officials, and a lieutenant (Albert Lieven) is among the guests. He seems taken with Palmer, studying her from across the room. A short time later, he approaches to ask her for a dance. She is eager to join him for a waltz, then she remembers she’s crippled.
It’s an interesting way for two people to meet, since it’s a mixture of sincerity, social awkwardness and yes, pity. Sometimes the film quickly slips into overwrought melodrama, but I guess we need to see how conflicted she is. She’s like a bird without wings that thinks she can still fly.
Lilli Palmer is wonderful in the role, though I do think she might have been too old. The filmmakers try to present her as a naive virgin, but Miss Palmer is a bit mature and all-knowing here. I wonder what it would have been like if a less sophisticated, more innocent type actress had been cast. Of course, it’s a difficult role to play and Palmer is more than capable of plumbing the emotional depths required of her.
One thing that works for me– there are points in the narrative where the main character plays a supporting role to the others. Sometimes the story shifts so that we see how the others are coping. There is a faithful friend (Linden Travers) and a mayor (Gerhard Kempinski) as well as the baron who are all affected by Palmer’s tragic condition.
Besides these characters we have a dedicated doctor (Cedric Hardwicke) who makes regular visits to the castle. Because Lieven’s character claims he has heard of a new experimental treatment, the doctor is asked whether there might be any hope for Palmer to have an operation which would restore her ability to walk.
Hardwicke is cautious and needs time to research the matter. Palmer quickly clings to the idea she can regain mobility. She not only dreams of dancing with the young lieutenant but marrying him. She has become hopelessly infatuated with him and declares her love.
A lesser film would become all saccharine and make it about the two lovebirds overcoming all odds. But this is not that type of motion picture.
After Hardwicke makes inquiries, he learns the surgery will probably not help Palmer and she will remain paralyzed. Since Lieven has been leading Palmer on, he tries to back out of the relationship insisting he is her friend and that he doesn’t love her in the same way she loves him.
I don’t think Lieven’s character is necessarily a cad, but he’s very flawed. He becomes guilty of doling out pity, though at the same time he does have genuine feelings for Palmer. It’s an extraordinary performance, and we get the sense that he may be in just as much anguish as the girl.
The two ultimately become engaged, but it is a promise of marriage built on false hope. Palmer is still determined to try the operation, and Lieven is unwilling to give her the home truths she needs. She is being coddled and to some extent, deluded.
In a memorable scene in town, Lieven’s fellow officers have learned about the engagement which he vehemently denies. He acts ashamed of being promised (and compromised) this way. He goes to visit Hardwicke but learns the doctor is away, so he speaks to the man’s wife (Gladys Cooper).
In my opinion Miss Cooper plays the best character in the movie. She is blind, and we are told Hardwicke had once attempted to operate on her and this resulted in her permanent loss of vision. Obviously, the disability of Cooper’s character mirrors what Palmer’s been experiencing. There is some very good dialogue where Cooper describes having been pitied, but marrying Hardwicke because the pity turned into compassion which turned into real love.
Unfortunately, Lieven is not as unselfish or as kind as Hardwicke. He accepts a transfer to another post and plans to leave without seeing Palmer. Cooper agrees to go to the castle to give Palmer the heartbreaking news. In one of the final scenes, the two handicapped women talk about what’s happened. Palmer is unable to cope with the devastating turn of events…it sends her over the edge. Literally.
|
|
|
|
Post by topbilled on Feb 18, 2023 12:02:15 GMT
This neglected film is from 1959.
Looking back
At times it seemed as if the anger in the film was too technically polished, without any real heart or underlying emotion. Yes, Richard Burton as the angry young man at the center of this sordid drama is a fine actor. But I wasn’t gripped by his performance. I didn’t get the impression his character was struggling, just that he was in an ugly place.
His ugly surroundings are brightened by a lovely middle class wife (Mary Ure) who has married down. She is often his emotional punching bag, straddling the fence to keep the marriage going and to prove her parents wrong. Eventually she can only take so much berating and vile behavior from Burton, before she packs up and returns home to mummy and daddy.
The wife’s abrupt departure involves a few dramatic shifts. First, she’s pregnant…but later loses the baby. And second, before she leaves, she has invited an actress friend (Claire Bloom) to stay in one of the spare rooms for awhile. Of course, this leads to Bloom getting it on with Burton, despite their initial disdain for one another.
I thought Burton’s character would end up sexually assaulting Bloom, since he was so hateful. I was surprised that he actually falls in love with Bloom and for a time, they enjoy a passionate and even tender relationship. Ultimately, I started to root for them, and I liked how she subtly started doing the things around the flat that Ure did.
Eventually, Ure returns to give the marriage another try. So Bloom must selflessly step aside to facilitate the reconciliation.
Meanwhile, there’s a bloke (Gary Raymond) who also lives in the building with them, a fellow companion of Burton’s who helps with the market stall and is platonic with the women. If this story had been done in the late 1960s or 1970s, he probably would be overtly gay.
And speaking of gay, in some respects I found the abusive and toxic relationship of the main characters in this film a lot like the homosexual couple that is played by Burton and Rex Harrison in STAIRCASE. In both films, we have couples stuck together where Burton is a complete misery guts.
The film contains several notable qualities. These include the use of social realism and the absence of glamour. Many scenes are shot outdoors at a London area marketplace, train station and cemetery. We also witness the struggle of Indian immigrants dealing with the harsh injustice of the socio-economic system.
Another highlight is Edith Evans in her rather brief role as Burton’s working class mother. There’s a poignant scene where they visit his father’s grave. When she dies later, he deals with loss again. All of this comes full circle with the death of the baby and the wife’s return. Some of it is rather bleak to watch, and the acting is so polished, it is often devoid of spontaneity. But this is still a profound motion picture that has much to say about worthwhile relationships in life.
|
|
|
|
Post by Fading Fast on Feb 18, 2023 12:31:31 GMT
This neglected film is from 1959.
Looking back
At times it seemed as if the anger in the film was too technically polished, without any real heart or underlying emotion. Yes, Richard Burton as the angry young man at the center of this sordid drama is a fine actor. But I wasn’t gripped by his performance. I didn’t get the impression his character was struggling, just that he was in an ugly place.
His ugly surroundings are brightened by a lovely middle class wife (Mary Ure) who has married down. She is often his emotional punching bag, straddling the fence to keep the marriage going and to prove her parents wrong. Eventually she can only take so much berating and vile behavior from Burton, before she packs up and returns home to mummy and daddy.
The wife’s abrupt departure involves a few dramatic shifts. First, she’s pregnant…but later loses the baby. And second, before she leaves, she has invited an actress friend (Claire Bloom) to stay in one of the spare rooms for awhile. Of course, this leads to Bloom getting it on with Burton, despite their initial disdain for one another.
I thought Burton’s character would end up sexually assaulting Bloom, since he was so hateful. I was surprised that he actually falls in love with Bloom and for a time, they enjoy a passionate and even tender relationship. Ultimately, I started to root for them, and I liked how she subtly started doing the things around the flat that Ure did.
Eventually, Ure returns to give the marriage another try. So Bloom must selflessly step aside to facilitate the reconciliation.
Meanwhile, there’s a bloke (Gary Raymond) who also lives in the building with them, a fellow companion of Burton’s who helps with the market stall and is platonic with the women. If this story had been done in the late 1960s or 1970s, he probably would be overtly gay.
And speaking of gay, in some respects I found the abusive and toxic relationship of the main characters in this film a lot like the homosexual couple that is played by Burton and Rex Harrison in STAIRCASE. In both films, we have couples stuck together where Burton is a complete misery guts.
The film contains several notable qualities. These include the use of social realism and the absence of glamour. Many scenes are shot outdoors at a London area marketplace, train station and cemetery. We also witness the struggle of Indian immigrants dealing with the harsh injustice of the socio-economic system.
Another highlight is Edith Evans in her rather brief role as Burton’s working class mother. There’s a poignant scene where they visit his father’s grave. When she dies later, he deals with loss again. All of this comes full circle with the death of the baby and the wife’s return. Some of it is rather bleak to watch, and the acting is so polished, it is often devoid of spontaneity. But this is still a profound motion picture that has much to say about worthwhile relationships in life.
|
|
|
|
Post by topbilled on Feb 18, 2023 12:37:49 GMT
This neglected film is from 1959.
Looking back
At times it seemed as if the anger in the film was too technically polished, without any real heart or underlying emotion. Yes, Richard Burton as the angry young man at the center of this sordid drama is a fine actor. But I wasn’t gripped by his performance. I didn’t get the impression his character was struggling, just that he was in an ugly place.
His ugly surroundings are brightened by a lovely middle class wife (Mary Ure) who has married down. She is often his emotional punching bag, straddling the fence to keep the marriage going and to prove her parents wrong. Eventually she can only take so much berating and vile behavior from Burton, before she packs up and returns home to mummy and daddy.
The wife’s abrupt departure involves a few dramatic shifts. First, she’s pregnant…but later loses the baby. And second, before she leaves, she has invited an actress friend (Claire Bloom) to stay in one of the spare rooms for awhile. Of course, this leads to Bloom getting it on with Burton, despite their initial disdain for one another.
I thought Burton’s character would end up sexually assaulting Bloom, since he was so hateful. I was surprised that he actually falls in love with Bloom and for a time, they enjoy a passionate and even tender relationship. Ultimately, I started to root for them, and I liked how she subtly started doing the things around the flat that Ure did.
Eventually, Ure returns to give the marriage another try. So Bloom must selflessly step aside to facilitate the reconciliation.
Meanwhile, there’s a bloke (Gary Raymond) who also lives in the building with them, a fellow companion of Burton’s who helps with the market stall and is platonic with the women. If this story had been done in the late 1960s or 1970s, he probably would be overtly gay.
And speaking of gay, in some respects I found the abusive and toxic relationship of the main characters in this film a lot like the homosexual couple that is played by Burton and Rex Harrison in STAIRCASE. In both films, we have couples stuck together where Burton is a complete misery guts.
The film contains several notable qualities. These include the use of social realism and the absence of glamour. Many scenes are shot outdoors at a London area marketplace, train station and cemetery. We also witness the struggle of Indian immigrants dealing with the harsh injustice of the socio-economic system.
Another highlight is Edith Evans in her rather brief role as Burton’s working class mother. There’s a poignant scene where they visit his father’s grave. When she dies later, he deals with loss again. All of this comes full circle with the death of the baby and the wife’s return. Some of it is rather bleak to watch, and the acting is so polished, it is often devoid of spontaneity. But this is still a profound motion picture that has much to say about worthwhile relationships in life.
The bleakest kitchen sink drama I've ever seen is THE CARETAKER (1963), something that was so depressing I could only sit through it once, despite it being very well acted. Burton and his then-wife Elizabeth Taylor helped finance THE CARETAKER which had trouble getting financial backing due to its subject matter. Not surprisingly it failed to make money at the box office, yet it has since become heralded as a classic.
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Caretaker_(film) |
|
|
|
Post by topbilled on Feb 25, 2023 2:44:36 GMT
This neglected film is from 1950.
A marriage on trial
Rex Harrison is a married British man in the wrong place at the wrong time, when he goes to visit his girlfriend (Patricia Wayne) and discovers that someone has knifed her. Of course we know he didn’t do it, but the landlady (Brenda de Banzie) and the police don’t know that…and they are all quick to pin the blame on him.
It doesn’t help that his photo has been found at the scene. Police suspect that he killed the lovely lass in a moment of blinding rage, because he wouldn’t leave his wife (Lilli Palmer) for her and she had started to see someone else. It’s a theory that seems to have merit, and soon Harrison is arrested, despite his protestations that he is in fact innocent of the crime.
In real life, Lilli Palmer and Rex Harrison were married at this time. It was a marriage that lasted from 1943 to 1957. They had spent the previous few years at a home they owned in Italy, because he had become persona non grata in Hollywood.
Harrison was not blackballed because of his political affiliations, but because he had been having an affair with actress Carole Landis when they both worked at 20th Century Fox. Miss Landis committed suicide in the summer of 1948, because she was heartbroken that Harrison would not leave Palmer for her.
There were also rumors that Landis was pregnant and Harrison demanded she get an abortion. Harrison already had children…a young son with Palmer, as well as an older son from a previous marriage. Interestingly, Harrison and Palmer attended Landis’ funeral. But he was shut out of Hollywood circles after her death, and as a result he and Palmer, who remained by his side, retreated to Italy.
By 1950, they were ready to return to movies and lined up a deal at British Lion to make THE LONG DARK HALL. It was based on a bestselling crime novel by Edgar Lustgarten, with a script by Nunnally Johnson. In some ways this choice of material plays as if Harrison is atoning for Landis’ sad demise, since the situation in the film mirrors his own recent situation off screen.
The key difference is that the girlfriend has not killed herself, but instead has been killed by another person. Harrison has blood on himself, because he touched the girlfriend’s lifeless body back in her flat. He burns the blood-stained clothing. When the coppers come round with questions, Harrison lies about his connection to the victim. He is arrested anyway.
There’s a good scene where Palmer reads a confession that Harrison writes at the precinct, after he has decided to come clean and admit he had an obsessive relationship with the dead girl.
However, he still maintains he did not kill her. Palmer will continue to be supportive as the case goes to trial. The couple’s real-life fondness for each other comes through in spades…and to some extent, this is an ongoing love story.
Palmer recites dialogue about why she is willing to forgive her husband and stay married to him, which seems like it comes from the heart. (Unfortunately, the Harrisons would divorce several years later but they never stopped being friends…and a portion of his ashes were scattered over her grave.)
The middle section of the film involves courtroom testimony. There are amusing asides from the judge (Henry B. Longhurst), and we look on as a parade of witnesses come forward and share their own recollections about what happened the night the murder occurred. The best courtroom scenes are probably those where Miss de Banzie is on the stand, as the landlady. She nearly perjures herself because she doesn’t want to admit she often left the front door of her home open, allowing strangers to come in at all hours.
There is an interesting subplot where the actual culprit, known only as The Man (Anthony Dawson), befriends Palmer during the trial. While he is rather evasive about his interest in the outcome, he manages to become a sympathetic ear for Palmer who at one point takes him home with her for tea. Big mistake.
The Man’s a Jack-the-Ripper type who considers it proper “justice” killing immoral girls that perform in music halls and lead men astray. He intends to take credit for the murder, but only after Harrison is convicted and hanged.
There’s a neat little twist at the end, in which our murderer miscalculates and sends his confession note too soon…just before Harrison is to be taken off to the gallows. This means Harrison is set free. And the only punishment to be served will be Palmer’s, who as the long-suffering wife, will have to deal with Harrison when he cheats again.
|
|
|
|
Post by Fading Fast on Feb 25, 2023 8:35:53 GMT
⇧ That's great color on how Harrison and Palmers' real life paralleled the movie. That, oddly, has happened more frequently than one would expect with other actors' lives as well.
Carol Landis' death was a tragedy. If remembered at all today, she is known as the actress who played the hottie in 1940's "One Million B.C.," the, effectively, earlier version of "One Million Years B.C.," the movie that shot Raquel Welch to fame in the 1960s. Landis ceded nothing to Ms. Welch in rocking-body points.
|
|
|
|
Post by topbilled on Mar 7, 2023 15:11:41 GMT
This neglected film is from 1935.
First this and then what
I had recorded this one when it aired on TCM in 2014 (they have not broadcast it since then). I put VICTOR VICTORIA, a loose Hollywood remake, on the same disc. Interestingly, this sharp British production was itself a remake of a German title, VIKTOR UND VIKTORIA (1933).
I think you have to be a fan of exuberant musical numbers. You also have to be a fan of Jessie Matthews and her husband Sonnie Hale in order to enjoy this film. The duo’s eccentric over the top stage performances are often manic, and to be honest, are probably an acquired taste. But they also know how to skillfully play the story’s more tender dramatic moments.
They are at their best in the early segment where their impoverished characters meet and come up with the idea for a very original act. He has lost his singing voice due to a bad cold bordering on laryngitis, so she fills in for him. His routine usually consists of him appearing before a music hall crowd as a bawdy impersonator. So when she substitutes during his illness, she becomes a woman pretending to be a man pretending to be a woman. A short-cropped haircut helps fools people.
The clever ruse works and their act is a large success. The travel from England across the European continent.
Several times they bump into a glamorous princess (Anna Lee, who does some fine supporting work) and a self-absorbed prince (Griffith Jones). Of course, this leads to a quadrangle with outrageous mishaps occurring. They’re all decidedly heterosexual here which means they have a morally correct ending at the film’s conclusion, after Matthews’ masquerade is exposed.
Favorite bit is a swimming scene along the Riviera. Jones needs to determine if the object of his desire has male or female anatomy. When he realizes she’s actually a she and not a he, then he is able to pursue her. But the first thing he does upon learning her true gender is to apologize!
The 1982 remake by Blake Edwards features dialogue using the words ‘gay’ and ‘homosexual.’ It allows the male part of the act (Robert Preston) to be openly gay. So maybe that later version gets a few extra points for being a bit more daring, but this 1935 British production is also quite risqué. And a whole lot of fun to watch.
|
|
|
|
Post by topbilled on Mar 20, 2023 15:13:27 GMT
This neglected film is from 1947.
Life and death and everything in-between
This is a James Mason movie, made in Britain, in which he plays a villain. But unlike his roles in THE SEVENTH VEIL, ODD MAN OUT or 20,000 LEAGUES UNDER THE SEA, he is a much more conflicted and daresay sympathetic bad guy. Mason plays a distinguished doctor who teaches a criminal psychology course, and during his lectures, he goes over a case with students. These pupils do not know that he himself is the actual subject of the case study.
During the lecture series, we begin a series of flashbacks which detail how the good doctor got involved in a situation that will lead to murder. What’s interesting is that the students, and we the viewers, do not know the murder has not been committed yet. Mason is using the lectures to formulate a plan, because he intends to get revenge on a woman (Pamela Kellino) who recently killed his upperclass girlfriend (Rosamund John).
I should provide a few notes about casting. Rosamund John, who only appears in the first 20 minutes and then has another brief scene later (a flashback within the main flashback), was one of Leslie Howard’s favorite actresses. Miss John made three films with Mr. Howard, and she was known for playing dignified women. In this story, she is a married woman who falls for a married doctor (Mason) but of course, has to do the right thing and remain with her husband for the sake of her child (Ann Stephens).
As for Pamela Kellino, she is Mr. Mason’s real-life wife and the cowriter of the screenplay for this film. She has third billing, though much more screen time than John and Stephens, giving herself one of the story’s juiciest roles. Miss Kellino is playing a shrewish society woman who kills her sister-in-law (John) and makes it seem like suicide.
Because Mason’s character was deeply in love with the victim, he makes it his mission to confirm his suspicions about Kellino, and once those suspicions are confirmed, he proceeds to carry out a ‘sane’ plan to kill her, making her death also seem like a suicide.
There’s an intriguing scene in the lecture hall, where Mason tells his students that the man in the case had met the other woman, took her to the house in the country where she killed the girlfriend, then proceeded to kill her in the same way. As the lecture ends, we learn he’s leaving the academy to go off for a long weekend to commit that very murder. So we actually see Kellino get bumped off twice in this movie– the scene in the lecture hall, where Mason tells the students how it happened before it actually happens; then the part shortly afterward where he really does kill her.
Of course the real murder is extremely grisly and it’s on par with anything that Hitchcock ever did. We see Mason take Kellino up to a bedroom inside the country house, lock the door, drop the key and start to choke the life out of her. It’s a bit surreal seeing Mason the actor throttle the living daylights out of his real-life wife on screen. Kellino is suitably horrified.
Her character grabs the key, and as Mason is strangling her over an open window where John was previously killed, Kellino drops the key. Mason tries to get the key before it falls out the window, and he lets go of Kellino. So her death, while premeditated, is an accident.
The story doesn’t end here. Mason manages to get out of the locked room, then retrieves Kellino’s body and stuffs her into the back of his car. He drives for a while in heavy fog and ends up on a winding road along a seacliff. He stops to pick up another traveler, who turns out to be another doctor. He takes the doctor to the site of an accident where a girl has a fractured skull and needs surgery. We see him assist the other physician with the surgery. Meaning he has just gone from taking one life to saving one life.
The film’s title is explained in an interesting way. When the other medic returns to Mason’s car to find some surgical instruments, he discovers Kellino’s body hidden in the back of the vehicle. He comes back to finish helping Mason save the accident victim’s life, but he won’t rat on him to the cops. Instead, he tells Mason he’s insane, a paranoid killer, like a cracked glass upturned on a shelf that should be thrown away.
After Mason leaves the accident victim, who is now expected to make a full recovery, he drives off in his car to the top of a cliff where he thinks about the justice he doled out to Kellino…before he jumps off the edge, taking his own life. We are left to ponder what he’s been through. All three of the main characters are dead by the end of the story. It’s a rather grim noir with psychological and medical elements…and a lot to consider about how life, death and everything in between is connected.
|
|
