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Post by Andrea Doria on Dec 13, 2022 17:24:20 GMT
Now you've made me crave a cigarette -- and Burt Lancaster!
I'm dying to see this now.
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Post by sepiatone on Dec 13, 2022 18:39:22 GMT
Silver Screen Oasis, another site some TCM forum refugees have joined. Seems to be a site created several years ago by a band of former TCM members that had become somewhat inactive when most posters seemed to have migrated to its Facebook portal. Some activity there now. At this point in time, I'm there mostly because of some refugees that have not joined here and just plain curiosity. Know there's a few others here that are also members of both places. I've yet to get the SSO "experience" since after registering my attempt to login was met with a message telling me that I specified an "incorrect" username. It also provided a link to a board administrator to contact if I had any issues and after two attempts to login with the same result I wound up sending that administrator two e-mails about the problem with no word back yet. And it's getting near a week now. Is it my breath? Sepiatone |
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Post by Fading Fast on Dec 20, 2022 11:03:31 GMT
Billy Liar from 1963 with Tom Courtenay and Julie Christie
Julie Christie, hold that thought, more in a moment.
Being an adult is hard; taking on responsibilities is hard; mainly doing the right thing every single day is hard, but the large majority of people do it.
Many also escape into daydreams now and then - on an elevator, in a particularly boring and pointless meeting, during a commute - to relieve the pressures of real life with no harm done.
Ostensibly, Billy Liar is about a young man whose daydreams, whose fantasy life overtakes and undermines his real life, but that's garbage as it gets cause and effect backwards.
He's a young man who doesn't want to grow up and take on responsibilities, so he created an extensive fantasy world that he escapes into. The cause is his immaturity and stalled life; the effect is his highly developed fantasy world and not the other way around.
Tim Courtenay plays the character Billy Fisher, the titular Billy Liar, as a young man who feels put upon by his job, his family and his girlfriends, so he believes he is justified in lying to everyone when it suits his needs.
He lies to get out of work, avoid family responsibility, miss a date or not pay a bill. He also lies because he is engaged to two women and doesn't want to marry either - yup.
While he's avoiding being a decent human being in the real world, we see that in his fantasy world he is the strong and beloved leader of the made-up country of Ambrosia. In his fantasy world, he also machine guns down people in the real world who annoy him (we've all had that fantasy).
In truth, he's an average guy, with average middle-class English parents, an average clerking job and average girlfriends. Yet he wants to be more - a script writer - but doesn't want to do the hard work necessary to get there.
So instead, he escapes into his fantasy world for fun, while back in the real world, he lies to everyone about everything to cover up his laziness, selfishness, deceitfulness and petty thievery.
The "disaffected young man" was a big thing in English cinema at the time, but the characters in most of the other movies often had genuine grievances and were trying to push ahead faster than staid British norms allowed.
Courtenay, though, is just a lazy, sniveling young man who wants his wishes to become reality by magic and is mad that they don't. He's not an antihero like many of his film cognates of the era.
He does have a fair complaint when he tells his father he's tired of being told he should be grateful for everything he's had - a home, schooling and job - as if he asked to be born. Yet your parents laying on the "you should be grateful" speech too thick isn't justification for you becoming angry at the world.
Enter Julie Christie playing a girl also looking to break out of her humdrum life and town. Not knowing all his faults, she sees a kindred spirit in Courtenay and asks him to escape to London with her.
Christie is young, beautiful, lit from within and has a smile that says the world can't be an all-bad place, yet Courtenay treats her like just another person to be lied to.
The climax (no spoilers follow) comes down to whether or not dreamer Courtenay will take this chance to maybe realize one of his fantasies in the real world.
Billy Liar is a dreary version of a Walter Mitty story (did the sun ever break out in 1960s England?) with a thoroughly unlikable lead character. If not for the too-late appearance of Julie Christie, on the brink of 1960s movie mega stardom, the picture would have been drudgery from beginning to end.
Director John Schlesinger was openly gay back then, a time when that was not easy, so it's been argued Billy Liar is realy a palliated tale of a gay man unable to fit into straight British society. That's a serious topic and maybe something Schlesinger buried layers deep, but no normal viewer is going to say "oh, I get it, Billy is really gay."
Billy Liar is aptly named because, stripped of all the daydreaming excuses, that is what Courtenay's character is and nobody, in real life or in a movie, likes a habitual liar. The movie, though, shot in beautiful black and white, does provide a time capsule look at early 1960s England. But the real reason to watch Billy Liar is to see ethereally lovely Julie Christie light up the screen.
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Post by cineclassics on Dec 24, 2022 0:12:40 GMT
 Portrait of Jennie (1948) A haunting and exquisite existential masterpiece, William Dieterle’s 1948 fantasy drama, Portrait of Jennie stands as a uniquely distinct film from Classic Hollywood. Portrait of Jennie tells the story of a struggling artist named Eben Adams (Joseph Cotten) who meets a mysterious young girl named Jennie Appleton (Jennifer Jones) and becomes increasingly infatuated with her. Inexplicably, whenever they happen to meet, Jennie seems to have rapidly aged several years. A myriad of films have focused on the obsession of the artist, but in Portrait of Jennie, the focus instead turns to the artist’s desperation when failure and loneliness pervade one’s life. When we are introduced to Eben Adams, the audience can’t help but sense the world-weariness of a man who’s been beaten lifeless by the very society he looks to for approval. Ethel Barrymore’s character, Miss Spinney, is the only person in the world who seems to possess an intuition that Eben has true potential, yet it will take some unknown catalyst to manifest it into a reality. There is a simple poeticism that emanates from the shots in this film. The moody cinematography, much of which was shot on location in New York City, as well as the set-pieces, most notably a violent sea storm in the third act, provide visually stunning and unforgettable imagery. During the climatic third act, the viewer will notice two incredibly unique effects: first, the film’s aspect ratio suddenly expands. When the film was released in 1948, special equipment called “Magnascope,” was installed by Selznick at select theatres across the country specifically for this film. Magnascope expanded the screen temporarily, essentially a pre-IMAX format. And secondly, the film shifts from black and white cinematography to an unearthly green tint, and then back to black and white, before finishing on the final Technicolor scene. If it all seems disorienting, that was certainly the intent, yet it is done masterfully. Selznick was obsessed with the film; a starring vehicle for his soon to be wife, Jennifer Jones, tolling away for years in post production attempting to tinker and edit the film to his liking. The result: a film that went wildly over budget, the studio unable to accurately advertise the film’s themes, and the film finishing in the red. All in all, Portrait of Jennie was as much an obsession for Selznick as his magnum opus a decade earlier, Gone With the Wind. Incredibly, Portrait of Jennie’s budget actually exceeded that of Gone With the Wind. Yet the outcome couldn’t have been more different. Whereas Gone with the Wind propelled Selznick as the preeminent independent producer in Hollywood, and Hitchcock’s Rebecca winning the Best Picture Oscar the following year further cementing Selznick’s genius, the commercial failure of Portrait of Jennie was the beginning of the end of Selznick’s dominance in Tinseltown. Nonetheless, Portrait of Jennie is an essential film. A flawed masterpiece, it remains one of the most misunderstood and unique melodramas from Classical Hollywood. A remarkable film that deserves reconsideration, even if the great David O. Selznick’s reach exceeded his grasp. |
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Post by Grumpytoad on Dec 24, 2022 4:53:56 GMT
The Underworld Story(1950)
Not a great movie, but decent.
A plot that should have been better-as I watched, I repeatedly asked myself why didn't they expand on this idea, or on that characters reaction etc. Maybe because of a low budget? Or did someone somewhere just miss the boat. I'll never know.
Dan Duryea did a nice job as a rough around the edges newspaperman, but I prefer his bad guy performances in other movies.
Gale Storm was o.k., but I couldn't shake the feeling that she was not given a decent opportunity to shine because her character was under written.
The reason for casting Mary Anderson as the murder suspect was
BS!
But please watch this movie anyway. Howard Da Silva is BRILLIANT as a mobster with so much charm it would be worth your while to just skip everything else and watch only his scenes.
Seriously.
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Post by Fading Fast on Dec 24, 2022 9:30:47 GMT
View AttachmentPortrait of Jennie (1948) A haunting and exquisite existential masterpiece, William Dieterle’s 1948 fantasy drama, Portrait of Jennie stands as a uniquely distinct film from Classic Hollywood. Portrait of Jennie tells the story of a struggling artist named Eben Adams (Joseph Cotten) who meets a mysterious young girl named Jennie Appleton (Jennifer Jones) and becomes increasingly infatuated with her. Inexplicably, whenever they happen to meet, Jennie seems to have rapidly aged several years. A myriad of films have focused on the obsession of the artist, but in Portrait of Jennie, the focus instead turns to the artist’s desperation when failure and loneliness pervade one’s life. When we are introduced to Eben Adams, the audience can’t help but sense the world-weariness of a man who’s been beaten lifeless by the very society he looks to for approval. Ethel Barrymore’s character, Miss Spinney, is the only person in the world who seems to possess an intuition that Eben has true potential, yet it will take some unknown catalyst to manifest it into a reality. There is a simple poeticism that emanates from the shots in this film. The moody cinematography, much of which was shot on location in New York City, as well as the set-pieces, most notably a violent sea storm in the third act, provide visually stunning and unforgettable imagery. During the climatic third act, the viewer will notice two incredibly unique effects: first, the film’s aspect ratio suddenly expands. When the film was released in 1948, special equipment called “Magnascope,” was installed by Selznick at select theatres across the country specifically for this film. Magnascope expanded the screen temporarily, essentially a pre-IMAX format. And secondly, the film shifts from black and white cinematography to an unearthly green tint, and then back to black and white, before finishing on the final Technicolor scene. If it all seems disorienting, that was certainly the intent, yet it is done masterfully. Selznick was obsessed with the film; a starring vehicle for his soon to be wife, Jennifer Jones, tolling away for years in post production attempting to tinker and edit the film to his liking. The result: a film that went wildly over budget, the studio unable to accurately advertise the film’s themes, and the film finishing in the red. All in all, Portrait of Jennie was as much an obsession for Selznick as his magnum opus a decade earlier, Gone With the Wind. Incredibly, Portrait of Jennie’s budget actually exceeded that of Gone With the Wind. Yet the outcome couldn’t have been more different. Whereas Gone with the Wind propelled Selznick as the preeminent independent producer in Hollywood, and Hitchcock’s Rebecca winning the Best Picture Oscar the following year further cementing Selznick’s genius, the commercial failure of Portrait of Jennie was the beginning of the end of Selznick’s dominance in Tinseltown. Nonetheless, Portrait of Jennie is an essential film. A flawed masterpiece, it remains one of the most misunderstood and unique melodramas from Classical Hollywood. A remarkable film that deserves reconsideration, even if the great David O. Selznick’s reach exceeded his grasp.
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Post by Fading Fast on Dec 24, 2022 9:33:12 GMT
The Underworld Story(1950) Not a great movie, but decent. A plot that should have been better-as I watched, I repeatedly asked myself why didn't they expand on this idea, or on that characters reaction etc. Maybe because of a low budget? Or did someone somewhere just miss the boat. I'll never know. Dan Duryea did a nice job as a rough around the edges newspaperman, but I prefer his bad guy performances in other movies. Gale Storm was o.k., but I couldn't shake the feeling that she was not given a decent opportunity to shine because her character was under written. The reason for casting Mary Anderson as the murder suspect was BS! But please watch this movie anyway. Howard Da Silva is BRILLIANT as a mobster with so much charm it would be worth your while to just skip everything else and watch only his scenes. Seriously. |
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Post by cineclassics on Dec 24, 2022 14:33:23 GMT
View AttachmentPortrait of Jennie (1948) A haunting and exquisite existential masterpiece, William Dieterle’s 1948 fantasy drama, Portrait of Jennie stands as a uniquely distinct film from Classic Hollywood. Portrait of Jennie tells the story of a struggling artist named Eben Adams (Joseph Cotten) who meets a mysterious young girl named Jennie Appleton (Jennifer Jones) and becomes increasingly infatuated with her. Inexplicably, whenever they happen to meet, Jennie seems to have rapidly aged several years. A myriad of films have focused on the obsession of the artist, but in Portrait of Jennie, the focus instead turns to the artist’s desperation when failure and loneliness pervade one’s life. When we are introduced to Eben Adams, the audience can’t help but sense the world-weariness of a man who’s been beaten lifeless by the very society he looks to for approval. Ethel Barrymore’s character, Miss Spinney, is the only person in the world who seems to possess an intuition that Eben has true potential, yet it will take some unknown catalyst to manifest it into a reality. There is a simple poeticism that emanates from the shots in this film. The moody cinematography, much of which was shot on location in New York City, as well as the set-pieces, most notably a violent sea storm in the third act, provide visually stunning and unforgettable imagery. During the climatic third act, the viewer will notice two incredibly unique effects: first, the film’s aspect ratio suddenly expands. When the film was released in 1948, special equipment called “Magnascope,” was installed by Selznick at select theatres across the country specifically for this film. Magnascope expanded the screen temporarily, essentially a pre-IMAX format. And secondly, the film shifts from black and white cinematography to an unearthly green tint, and then back to black and white, before finishing on the final Technicolor scene. If it all seems disorienting, that was certainly the intent, yet it is done masterfully. Selznick was obsessed with the film; a starring vehicle for his soon to be wife, Jennifer Jones, tolling away for years in post production attempting to tinker and edit the film to his liking. The result: a film that went wildly over budget, the studio unable to accurately advertise the film’s themes, and the film finishing in the red. All in all, Portrait of Jennie was as much an obsession for Selznick as his magnum opus a decade earlier, Gone With the Wind. Incredibly, Portrait of Jennie’s budget actually exceeded that of Gone With the Wind. Yet the outcome couldn’t have been more different. Whereas Gone with the Wind propelled Selznick as the preeminent independent producer in Hollywood, and Hitchcock’s Rebecca winning the Best Picture Oscar the following year further cementing Selznick’s genius, the commercial failure of Portrait of Jennie was the beginning of the end of Selznick’s dominance in Tinseltown. Nonetheless, Portrait of Jennie is an essential film. A flawed masterpiece, it remains one of the most misunderstood and unique melodramas from Classical Hollywood. A remarkable film that deserves reconsideration, even if the great David O. Selznick’s reach exceeded his grasp.
Unfortunately, there doesn't seem to be a very good print of the movie available. It isn't available on any streaming service (that I'm aware of). I had to watch an awful transfer on Youtube. Kino Lorber has an out of print blu-ray that you can purchase for a reasonable price on eBay, which is what I did. It isn't a good print, but it's the best currently available. |
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Post by topbilled on Dec 27, 2022 3:19:55 GMT
Watching an RKO crime drama called WE'RE ONLY HUMAN (1935). This is a great one. Love the banter between Preston Foster and Jane Wyatt.
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Post by Andrea Doria on Dec 27, 2022 23:16:16 GMT
I just watched "Waterloo Bridge" (1931) on YouTube after TopBilled and Fading Fast recommended it.
IMBD describes it this way "A prostitute's self-loathing makes her reluctant to marry an idealistic soldier during World War I." Whaaat? I wouldn't call it self-loathing at all. She may have felt uncomfortable and a little inferior, but mainly it seemed like a fear that he wouldn't still want her if he knew the truth about her recent past. That was just realistic at that time.
TCM describes her as a "dance hall girl." Not at any time. Don't they watch these movies?
I liked it very much. Mae Clarke was the film and she was very good playing every emotion with sincerity, from happy, vivacious, chorus girl, to tragic, nearly suicidal woman in love with someone she thinks she shouldn't be with. One of the best parts was Myra (Mae) going to the country to meet her soldier's aristocratic family. I expected the stereotypical group of snobs, but the grandfather was hilarious, the mother was wise and kind, and his sister, played by Bette Davis, was friendly and generous.
I don't want to spoil anything, but just say the filming of the ending was breath taking.
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Post by Fading Fast on Dec 28, 2022 0:22:40 GMT
I just watched "Waterloo Bridge" (1931) on YouTube after TopBilled and Fading Fast recommended it.
IMBD describes it this way "A prostitute's self-loathing makes her reluctant to marry an idealistic soldier during World War I." Whaaat? I wouldn't call it self-loathing at all. She may have felt uncomfortable and a little inferior, but mainly it seemed like a fear that he wouldn't still want her if he knew the truth about her recent past. That was just realistic at that time.
TCM describes her as a "dance hall girl." Not at any time. Don't they watch these movies?
I liked it very much. Mae Clarke was the film and she was very good playing every emotion with sincerity, from happy, vivacious, chorus girl, to tragic, nearly suicidal woman in love with someone she thinks she shouldn't be with. One of the best parts was Myra (Mae) going to the country to meet her soldier's aristocratic family. I expected the stereotypical group of snobs, but the grandfather was hilarious, the mother was wise and kind, and his sister, played by Bette Davis, was friendly and generous.
I don't want to spoil anything, but just say the filming of the ending was breath taking.
As good as the '40 version is, this earlier one is more real as it hits you on a visceral level.
Separately, I watched "The Holly and the Ivy" again this year and thought, I bet Andrea would like this movie. Next year, we should do it as a "Sunday Live" at Christmas. |
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Post by galacticgirrrl on Dec 29, 2022 5:38:01 GMT
I just watched two pre-Code movies. Child of Manhattan (1933) is the better film in terms of acting and writing but I can't stop thinking of Too Much Harmony (1933). Too Much Harmony (1933) Directed by A. Edward Sutherland Written by Paul Jones(uncredited), Joseph L. Mankiewicz(story), Harry Ruskin (dialogue)  Too Much Harmony is a pre-Code musical starring Bing Crosby, Jack Oakie, Richard "Skeets" Gallagher, Harry Green, and Judith Allen. It was one of Paramount's biggest hits of the year. It is a sequel to the 1929 film Close Harmony, Paramount's first musical.  A backstage musical about a Broadway star, Eddie Bronson, who is stranded with his plane in Ohio where he discovers a small-time variety act, Dixon and Day and their assistant Ruth who is also Ben Day's fiancée. When he returns to New York following a try-out of a new show, Bronson arranges for the irascible producer, Max Merlin, to put them in the show and the story develops around the mutual interest which grows between Eddie and Ruth. I went in expecting nothing more than a fun romp based on a 6/10 review saying it was lightweight but fun little musical with Bing in his prime and a great supporting cast.
The reviews of the day were pretty mixed and match those on the imdb currently but I of course loved it. For me Judith Allen was sub par, but this just let others like Grace Bradley, Kitty Kelly and Lona Andre shine more brightly and catch my eye whereas they might have been eclipsed under a greater star. TCM has a note that might explain my reaction to Allen: According to a news item in Hollywood Reporter on June 7, 1933, failure to find an ingenue who could sing delayed the start of production; director Eddie Sutherland reportedly haunted nightclubs and radio stations the first week of Jun, with "disappointing results."
The plot, writing and acting may be a bit thin, and yes it is yet another musical about the kids putting on a show, but my standards can sometimes be a bit low. I can spend hours rewinding to go over sets, costumes, furniture and items on shelves in a diner. Following all the 22 skidoo type flip-talk of the day was a bit tough so I probably need a few more viewings to absorb all the humour. There were a few gorgeous camera shots that most likely are derivative of the times or other people's work, but they struck me as very lux and innovative. And of course the main reason for watching - several of the musical numbers are fabulous. I suppose Bing Crosby must be the big draw for many to take a chance on this one but I was knocked to the ground by "Black Moonlight". "Black Moonlight" Written by Arthur Johnston and Sam Coslow Sung by Kitty Kelly (dubbed by Barbara Van Brunt) I can find next to nothing with a quick google on this one so if anyone can tell me what on earth my eyes and ears experienced, please tell me. I don't have any frame by frame capability so if you know how the colour changes were done I would appreciate any details. I couldn't see any edits in regular play mode. Film tinting? LeRoy Prinz may be pedestrian to some but if this number is static and stage-bound that works for me. Prinz reinforced the perspective of a stage performance that the audience could not forget. Prinz's style featured a stationary camera and included features of the stage, such as the orchestra pit, in the dance number. The camera, in effect, became a member of the audience.
Another stand out number for me was: "Cradle Me with a Hotcha Lullaby" Written by Arthur Johnston and Sam Coslow Sung and danced by Grace Bradley Overall, not a great movie but I'll never forget it.  |
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Post by Fading Fast on Dec 30, 2022 11:32:45 GMT
I just watched two pre-Code movies. Child of Manhattan (1933) is the better film in terms of acting and writing but I can't stop thinking of Too Much Harmony (1933). Too Much Harmony (1933) Directed by A. Edward Sutherland Written by Paul Jones(uncredited), Joseph L. Mankiewicz(story), Harry Ruskin (dialogue) Too Much Harmony is a pre-Code musical starring Bing Crosby, Jack Oakie, Richard "Skeets" Gallagher, Harry Green, and Judith Allen. It was one of Paramount's biggest hits of the year. It is a sequel to the 1929 film Close Harmony, Paramount's first musical. A backstage musical about a Broadway star, Eddie Bronson, who is stranded with his plane in Ohio where he discovers a small-time variety act, Dixon and Day and their assistant Ruth who is also Ben Day's fiancée. When he returns to New York following a try-out of a new show, Bronson arranges for the irascible producer, Max Merlin, to put them in the show and the story develops around the mutual interest which grows between Eddie and Ruth. I went in expecting nothing more than a fun romp based on a 6/10 review saying it was lightweight but fun little musical with Bing in his prime and a great supporting cast.
The reviews of the day were pretty mixed and match those on the imdb currently but I of course loved it. For me Judith Allen was sub par, but this just let others like Grace Bradley, Kitty Kelly and Lona Andre shine more brightly and catch my eye whereas they might have been eclipsed under a greater star. TCM has a note that might explain my reaction to Allen: According to a news item in Hollywood Reporter on June 7, 1933, failure to find an ingenue who could sing delayed the start of production; director Eddie Sutherland reportedly haunted nightclubs and radio stations the first week of Jun, with "disappointing results."
The plot, writing and acting may be a bit thin, and yes it is yet another musical about the kids putting on a show, but my standards can sometimes be a bit low. I can spend hours rewinding to go over sets, costumes, furniture and items on shelves in a diner. Following all the 22 skidoo type flip-talk of the day was a bit tough so I probably need a few more viewings to absorb all the humour. There were a few gorgeous camera shots that most likely are derivative of the times or other people's work, but they struck me as very lux and innovative. And of course the main reason for watching - several of the musical numbers are fabulous. I suppose Bing Crosby must be the big draw for many to take a chance on this one but I was knocked to the ground by "Black Moonlight". "Black Moonlight" Written by Arthur Johnston and Sam Coslow Sung by Kitty Kelly (dubbed by Barbara Van Brunt) I can find next to nothing with a quick google on this one so if anyone can tell me what on earth my eyes and ears experienced, please tell me. I don't have any frame by frame capability so if you know how the colour changes were done I would appreciate any details. I couldn't see any edits in regular play mode. Film tinting? LeRoy Prinz may be pedestrian to some but if this number is static and stage-bound that works for me. Prinz reinforced the perspective of a stage performance that the audience could not forget. Prinz's style featured a stationary camera and included features of the stage, such as the orchestra pit, in the dance number. The camera, in effect, became a member of the audience.
Another stand out number for me was: "Cradle Me with a Hotcha Lullaby" Written by Arthur Johnston and Sam Coslow Sung and danced by Grace Bradley Overall, not a great movie but I'll never forget it. |
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Post by Fading Fast on Dec 30, 2022 11:42:59 GMT
Roadblock from 1951 with Charles McGraw and Joan Dixon
Diane (Joan Dixon): Someday you're going to want something nice and expensive that you can't afford on a detective's salary.
Joe Peters (Charles McGraw): Like what?
Diane (Joan Dixon): Like me.
Roadblock is a work-a-day noir in the best sense of the phrase. It's not groundbreaking or original and it has several plot flaws and a low-budget obviousness, but at just over an hour, it delivers a solid punch of noir including a few particularly good blows like the quote at the top.
Charles McGraw plays an honest insurance detective (noirland was chockablock with interesting insurance detectives in the 1940s and 1950s) who meets a gold-digging grifter, played by Joan Dixon, at an airport.
She, unbeknownst to him, uses him to get a reduced fare for herself by tricking the ticket agent into believing McGraw is her husband. (Scamming airlines over their "rules" clearly goes back at least as far as the 1940s.)
It's a cute-meet, film-noir style, as he's a bit miffed at first, but these two quickly take to each other. Yet Dixon immediately kiboshes any affair because - and a big kudos to Dixon's character for brutal honesty - she tells him she has no interest in a $350-a-month insurance detective (again, see the quote at the top).
McGraw and Dixon have good on-screen chemistry and well-written dialogue as her dismissive nickname for him "Honest Joe" and a coin-flipping game they play to make small joint decisions captures the silly fun that happens during the flirting stage of new relationships.
But he's poor by her standards of a champagne and limousine life, so they go their separate ways. They meet up again later, though, when he's investigating a fur robbery of a company his firm insures because her new "boyfriend," a big-time gangster, is the chief suspect.
Being around Dixon this time is just too much for "Honest Joe," so "Honest Joe" hatches a dishonest plan to get "big" money in order to get Dixon. The twist is that just as he makes this decision, Dixon begins to see the downside of being a kept woman and devoting her life to money. Now, she even seems willing to take McGraw on his terms and salary.
But these two never get on the same page, so the rest of the movie is a pretty good "inside job" heist movie - a payroll truck, money "buried" while it's "hot," a police and insurance investigation (McGraw tries to squirrel that effort) - and a star-crossed-lovers tale.
You know a noir movie is doing something right when you are kind of - and you don't like to admit this, even to yourself - rooting for the bad guys to get away with their crime because you empathize with them and don't really care about some big anonymous company that had its payroll robbed.
McGraw and Dixon are good as a B noir team, so much so, you wish they had done a few more movies together. He has the right square-jawed look to be "Honest Joe," but also a vulnerability that makes you almost understand why he turned.
Dixon, cursed by being a Howard Hughes discovery, didn't have much of a Hollywood career, but in Roadblock, she shows an ability to play a young gold-digger who never really goes full femme fatale when love and life's realities hit her. It's a challenging bit of acting that she pulls off reasonably well. Plus, oddly for a Hughes "protege," you don't immediately notice her bustline.
Roadblock, with its small budget, is a daytime noir, as its action - investigators questioning suspects, car chases, crooks stuffing suitcases with stolen money and plenty of body heat - mainly takes place in the sunshine and not on noir's usually playground of nighttime, neon-lit shadowy-and-wet streets and alleyways. To be fair, though, a sunshine look worked for the set-in-Mexico noir classic The Big Steal.
There are better noirs than Roadblock, but one of the things that makes film noir such an incredible genre is the large number of small-budget films that swam in the wake of the genre's big-budget classics.
At seventy-three minutes and with a basic story told and acted well, Roadblock is a enjoyable "quick hit" of noir that does its job and then, like a good noir antihero, gets off the screen. |
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Post by cineclassics on Dec 30, 2022 14:56:54 GMT
Roadblock from 1951 with Charles McGraw and Joan Dixon
Diane (Joan Dixon): Someday you're going to want something nice and expensive that you can't afford on a detective's salary.
Joe Peters (Charles McGraw): Like what?
Diane (Joan Dixon): Like me.
Roadblock is a work-a-day noir in the best sense of the phrase. It's not groundbreaking or original and it has several plot flaws and a low-budget obviousness, but at just over an hour, it delivers a solid punch of noir including a few particularly good blows like the quote at the top.
Charles McGraw plays an honest insurance detective (noirland was chockablock with interesting insurance detectives in the 1940s and 1950s) who meets a gold-digging grifter, played by Joan Dixon, at an airport.
She, unbeknownst to him, uses him to get a reduced fare for herself by tricking the ticket agent into believing McGraw is her husband. (Scamming airlines over their "rules" clearly goes back at least as far as the 1940s.)
It's a cute-meet, film-noir style, as he's a bit miffed at first, but these two quickly take to each other. Yet Dixon immediately kiboshes any affair because - and a big kudos to Dixon's character for brutal honesty - she tells him she has no interest in a $350-a-month insurance detective (again, see the quote at the top).
McGraw and Dixon have good on-screen chemistry and well-written dialogue as her dismissive nickname for him "Honest Joe" and a coin-flipping game they play to make small joint decisions captures the silly fun that happens during the flirting stage of new relationships.
But he's poor by her standards of a champagne and limousine life, so they go their separate ways. They meet up again later, though, when he's investigating a fur robbery of a company his firm insures because her new "boyfriend," a big-time gangster, is the chief suspect.
Being around Dixon this time is just too much for "Honest Joe," so "Honest Joe" hatches a dishonest plan to get "big" money in order to get Dixon. The twist is that just as he makes this decision, Dixon begins to see the downside of being a kept woman and devoting her life to money. Now, she even seems willing to take McGraw on his terms and salary.
But these two never get on the same page, so the rest of the movie is a pretty good "inside job" heist movie - a payroll truck, money "buried" while it's "hot," a police and insurance investigation (McGraw tries to squirrel that effort) - and a star-crossed-lovers tale.
You know a noir movie is doing something right when you are kind of - and you don't like to admit this, even to yourself - rooting for the bad guys to get away with their crime because you empathize with them and don't really care about some big anonymous company that had its payroll robbed.
McGraw and Dixon are good as a B noir team, so much so, you wish they had done a few more movies together. He has the right square-jawed look to be "Honest Joe," but also a vulnerability that makes you almost understand why he turned.
Dixon, cursed by being a Howard Hughes discovery, didn't have much of a Hollywood career, but in Roadblock, she shows an ability to play a young gold-digger who never really goes full femme fatale when love and life's realities hit her. It's a challenging bit of acting that she pulls off reasonably well. Plus, oddly for a Hughes "protege," you don't immediately notice her bustline.
Roadblock, with its small budget, is a daytime noir, as its action - investigators questioning suspects, car chases, crooks stuffing suitcases with stolen money and plenty of body heat - mainly takes place in the sunshine and not on noir's usually playground of nighttime, neon-lit shadowy-and-wet streets and alleyways. To be fair, though, a sunshine look worked for the set-in-Mexico noir classic The Big Steal.
There are better noirs than Roadblock, but one of the things that makes film noir such an incredible genre is the large number of small-budget films that swam in the wake of the genre's big-budget classics.
At seventy-three minutes and with a basic story told and acted well, Roadblock is a enjoyable "quick hit" of noir that does its job and then, like a good noir antihero, gets off the screen. I'll have to put Roadblock on my watchlist. Just one year later, McGraw would star as the lead in one of my personal favorite film noirs, The Narrow Margin. |
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