There are heaps of stories about feisty single girls struggling to save the ranch or the farm or the corner store… but a sanatorium? And this film treats it seriously – despite being a Marx Bros film. Maureen O’Sullivan owns a sanatorium and employs Chico; Margaret Dumont is a hypochondriac rich woman (a delightful fresh variation on her normal character formula) who insists on being treated only by Groucho.
This film is often bracketed with Night at the Opera but it’s not as good. The pacing is slower, the running time is too long, there is too much music, the setting less magical, the rough edges of the brothers smoothed down far too much (Groucho for instance, normally always so up-front about his unscrupulousness, here plays a character who has a secret, i.e. that he’s not a real doctor – there’s this awful scene near the beginning where he admits to O’Sullivan he’s not who he says he is and seems glum).
Also the central story isn’t interesting: who cares if O’Sullivan keeps the sanatorium? Besides there’s something a bit yuck about O’Sullivan wanting to make money out of it – and she only inherited it, it’s not as though she’s a doctor or anything. In Night at the Opera the motivations of the brothers and Allan Jones were clear – Groucho wanted to keep his cruisy job, Harpo wanted revenge, Chico was Jones’ agent and Jones wanted to be a star. But here they all just want to help out O’Sullivan… because. Jones is the boyfriend, I get that, but couldn’t they have come up with a mercenary motive for the brothers, to make things believable?
However, there is still a lot of fun to be had, especially when the brothers are allowed to cut loose. There are three great scenes: one with Groucho dancing with Dumont and trying to pick up another woman at the same time; Groucho and said woman back at his place while Harpo and Chico try to distract him; and Groucho performing diagnosis on Margaret Dumont (which ends with a horse and sprinklers). Dumont is in top form.
There are lots of big musical problem numbers done with massive dollops of MGM gloss (one big one has people in boats watching a ballet number). Too many numbers, actually, particularly as they are so poorly integrated into the action (at least, compared with Night at the Opera). The big set piece number takes place towards the end involves a lot of African Americans – a spectacular sequence packed full of talented performers, but perhaps a bit unfortunate, particularly the bit at the end where Groucho and Harpo black themselves up in order to escape some gangsters.
Sunday, August 03, 2008
Movie review – Errol #52 - “The Roots of Heaven” (1958) **
An odd sort of movie, populated by mavericks: directed by John Huston, produced by Darryl F Zanuck, co-written by Patrick Leigh Fremor, starring Errol Flynn (top billed) and Orson Welles. You can almost smell the cigars, whiskey and women that must have been consumed during its making. The topic is not the most obviously commercial and very ahead of its time: Trevor Howard is a staunch elephant conservationist, to such a degree that after a period looking silly trying to get people to sign petitions he takes up arms. This makes it fascinating: the first film about an eco terrorist? It also doesn’t hurt that the film is set in a French African colony as opposed to the usual British ones. Unfortunately, there’s not much else to recommend about the movie.
Howard isn’t quite right in the lead role – but could anyone make it work? Maybe the problem is he’s a bit too glum, brusque and no-nonsense British rather than messianic. (I did get used to him after a while). Juliet Greco is better as the shady waitress who falls under his spell (she’s often changing clothes). The film is part of a sub-genre known as “Zanuck’s girlfriend” – a series of films made by the legendary producer where his woman of the moment was shunted into a role: The Racers, The Egyptian, this one, Crack in the Mirror, The Big Gamble, The Longest Day, Hello Goodbye. But Greco pulls her weight in this one.
Even better than Greco is Errol Flynn, who plays a drunk, the second in his “drunk trilogy” – I can’t imagine it was a hard role for him to play, but he’s very effective regardless. His battered, sad face tells a lifetime of regret and lost opportunity – you wish his part was bigger (despite top billing he’s not on screen for very long and dies 30 minutes before the end). Maybe if Errol had played the lead this would have been a better film.
Structurally the film would have been better of starting with Howard as an eco terrorist rather than having him try to get people sign a petition for the first 25 minutes – it just makes him look silly. And once Howard takes to the hills and is joined by Greco and Flynn the action gets bogged down. Howard doesn’t seem to have much of an idea about what to do. He does a bit of dour Robin Hood stuff – he busts into a ritzy colonial dance (trusty Herbert Lom is on hand as a colonial official) and has a female hunter spanked (bit of misogyny coming through there)… but after that seems to just trudge around the scrub. The Colonial government want to stop him but they don’t want him dead, which makes it unexciting. Then he has a falling out with a black African nationalist who is part o the group – the nationalist and his men then capture and kill some of Howard’s group – then lets him go. Then Greco gets sick so Howard goes to hand her in – and the government accept her, then Howard takes off into the desert. Big deal! They needed to have people wanting Howard dead.
Some effective bits such as Eddie Albert’s initial appearance (his plane crashes, he hops out and starts taking photos) and Errol’s jumping beans, and the location African photography is fascinating. But it’s a damp squib.
Sometimes it’s false too – I didn’t believe Albert flinging away his camera at the end, and the depiction of the African nationalist isn’t very nice – he ends up betraying Howard, he’s always shown in scenes being browbeaten by whites (some guy with a moustache, Albert), his followers are morons.
A beautifully shot mess.
Friday, August 01, 2008
Movie review –A&C #35 - “Abbott and Costello Meet the Mummy” (1955) **
Abbott and Costello are in Cairo and get involved in mummies. The basic plot is the standard mummy one – devotees of the mummy try to protect it through murder. Abbott and Costello are actually the only sympathetic characters in this – everyone else is trying to kill them, whether they’re defending the mummy’s tomb or trying to grave rob it (Meet the Keystone Cops at least had a sympathetic studio head).
This is a so-so work, not very strong but peppered with good moments: the exciting opening acrobatic dance number, the lounge singer who “doesn’t want to be asked out”, a routine involving pitches, three mummies running around at the end, Abbott and Costello trying to get rid of a medallion. John Grant again gets sole screenplay credit (based on a story by others) – he was clearly better writing routines rather than stories. He died just before this film was released.
Abbott has a little more to do in this one than he did in most of their later films: not only is it he not Costello who is falsely accused of a crime (usually it’s poor old Costello), but he gets to dress up as a mummy. Marie Windsor is fun as a treasure hunter. This was the last film Abbott and Costello made for Universal, whom they saved from bankruptcy many times.
This is a so-so work, not very strong but peppered with good moments: the exciting opening acrobatic dance number, the lounge singer who “doesn’t want to be asked out”, a routine involving pitches, three mummies running around at the end, Abbott and Costello trying to get rid of a medallion. John Grant again gets sole screenplay credit (based on a story by others) – he was clearly better writing routines rather than stories. He died just before this film was released.
Abbott has a little more to do in this one than he did in most of their later films: not only is it he not Costello who is falsely accused of a crime (usually it’s poor old Costello), but he gets to dress up as a mummy. Marie Windsor is fun as a treasure hunter. This was the last film Abbott and Costello made for Universal, whom they saved from bankruptcy many times.
Movie review – A&C #34 - “Abbott and Costello Meet the Keystone Cops” (1954) **
Abbott and Costello are swindled by Fred Clark into buying a non-existent studio; they wind up in early Hollywood, where unbeknownst to them Clark is working as a foreign director (not a very convincing coincidence), and become movie stars. This could have been really good, if it had gone in one of two directions (a) a film about the duo becoming movie stars (b) a spoof on the world of silent film making. What’s left is a poor quality entry, with a poor story not very logically worked out and Abbott especially looking too old; also the music, underlying gags with “wah-wah-wahhh” noises is really irritating.
It is nice to see Clark, who normally played harassed army officers and bank managers, as an unrepentant conman (he even wears a toupee for a bit), and also there are some interesting autobiographical touches, such as Costello working as a Hollywood stuntman, and the two of them becoming comedy stars (something just raised and thrown away here). There’s also an interesting scene where Abbott yells at Costello then a stranger comes to Costello’s defence; Abbott tries to prove he can get sympathy too but no one comes to his defence – as neat a summation as any of their character’s relationship to the audience.
The chase involving the Keystone Cops at the end is fun – but why not use more of them? Or more silent routines? (Ditto Mack Sennett, who has a cameo). This was one of the few times that the boy’s regular writer, John Grant, was given a sole screenplay credit, and you can’t help thinking that he did better in collaboration.
It is nice to see Clark, who normally played harassed army officers and bank managers, as an unrepentant conman (he even wears a toupee for a bit), and also there are some interesting autobiographical touches, such as Costello working as a Hollywood stuntman, and the two of them becoming comedy stars (something just raised and thrown away here). There’s also an interesting scene where Abbott yells at Costello then a stranger comes to Costello’s defence; Abbott tries to prove he can get sympathy too but no one comes to his defence – as neat a summation as any of their character’s relationship to the audience.
The chase involving the Keystone Cops at the end is fun – but why not use more of them? Or more silent routines? (Ditto Mack Sennett, who has a cameo). This was one of the few times that the boy’s regular writer, John Grant, was given a sole screenplay credit, and you can’t help thinking that he did better in collaboration.
Book review - "West Wing Scripts - 3rd and 4th Season" by Aaron Sorkin
Several brilliant scripts from one of my fave shows of all time. It includes the finale for season three, which I was never that into: an agent gets shot and they kill an Arab - zzzz, well zzz by West Wing standards which included the amazing assassination in season one, the unravelling of the MS in season two, and the brilliant season four finale (I've watched this several times and always got a kick out of it). After that season five's finish was a bit of a snooze (Leo has a heart attack - big deal), but season six's was brilliant. Come to think of it season seven was a bit of a damp squib but they'd earned it by then. I'm disgressing... anyway, the scripts are excellent and enjoyable to read (not always the case with me and screenplays).
Sorkin's introductions and essays are illuminating, and in hindsight can be seen to explain why Studio 60 on Sunset turned out the way it did, i.e. so serious about a tv show... because that's how Sorkin saw himself on West Wing, a cental character in a serious drama about a tv show ("it's going to hit the news about my drug arrest", "I have to make a response to Sept 11", "we're having a labour dispute", "it's going to hit the news that we're leaving the show", tales of a dedicated band of people who work insane hours). Now I enjoyed "Studio 60", but it seemed to have a certain, er, lack of perspective about the role of a television show in the world, and you can certainly see that in these essays.
Sorkin's introductions and essays are illuminating, and in hindsight can be seen to explain why Studio 60 on Sunset turned out the way it did, i.e. so serious about a tv show... because that's how Sorkin saw himself on West Wing, a cental character in a serious drama about a tv show ("it's going to hit the news about my drug arrest", "I have to make a response to Sept 11", "we're having a labour dispute", "it's going to hit the news that we're leaving the show", tales of a dedicated band of people who work insane hours). Now I enjoyed "Studio 60", but it seemed to have a certain, er, lack of perspective about the role of a television show in the world, and you can certainly see that in these essays.
Book review – “Television Plays” by Rod Serling
I’m surprised by the number of collection of television plays that were published in the mids 50s – Serling, Paddy Chayefsky, Reginald Rose and Gore Vidal all published their best known work. Such was the reputation of writers on television at the time (I remember reading “Variety” from these years – the writers were extremely well known in their medium, far more than screenwriters for movies, more like playwrights in the theatre). Serling is best known for The Twilight Zone but he became famous first for Patterns, a tv play included in this collection.
Patterns was this sensation at the time, but it’s fame has not lingered; another Serling play, Requiem for a Heavyweight is better known. (Just like Chayefsky’s Marty is better known than Holiday Song. One reason: both Requiem and Marty became high profile movies. I also think they are better quality.)
Even through a sympathetic eye it’s hard to see what was so amazing about Patterns – it must just have struck that chord. I mean, it’s a good script, about an interesting issue, but it seems a little familiar. There were a lot of dramas about anxious executives in the 50s – Executive Suite, The Man in the Grey Flannel Suit, Woman’s World, From the Terrace, The Raider. (What prompted it? Presumably someone has done a Phd on this. Growth of US economy? Lots of war veterans being dissatisfied with office jobs?) Like a lot of them it’s about competition – the ruthless company head has brought in a young exec to take the place of an old fogey, who is dying. But now – I mean my sympathy is with the company head. He wants to make money. Presumably the old fogey is drawing this big salary (he’s in his sixties and he’s got kids in college? How come he’s not been able to hang on to his money?) Ah, heck I’m being mean. I’m sure it would read better if they just changed a few things – and the theme of corporate bullying is as fresh as ever, and the ending is at least believable.
Requiem is a lot better – powerful and moving tale about a boxer struggling to figure out what he wants to do with his life. Also interesting is The Rack, about a POW who betrayed his country during the Korean War – though to enjoy it more, you should read Serling’s essay on it first (even though it’s situated after the play in the collection), as it points out that public sympathy was overwhelmingly for the POWs after Korea, which surprised (and touched) me and makes the drama a lot more interesting. Though you still wonder why MGM thought this would make a successful film – I mean, who wants to see a movie where he hero is a collaborator? (If the collaborator’s lawyer was a hero, maybe – but not the prisoner himself).
Serling also throws in a comedy about a sixty-something baseball pitcher, which totally threw me… I had no idea he was into comedy. And the result is charming – you could imagine this being made into a film today with Clint Eastwood or something. On the debit side, Serling doesn’t seem too excited about female characters: the main females in all four are the same – loving, supportive, bland types.
Patterns was this sensation at the time, but it’s fame has not lingered; another Serling play, Requiem for a Heavyweight is better known. (Just like Chayefsky’s Marty is better known than Holiday Song. One reason: both Requiem and Marty became high profile movies. I also think they are better quality.)
Even through a sympathetic eye it’s hard to see what was so amazing about Patterns – it must just have struck that chord. I mean, it’s a good script, about an interesting issue, but it seems a little familiar. There were a lot of dramas about anxious executives in the 50s – Executive Suite, The Man in the Grey Flannel Suit, Woman’s World, From the Terrace, The Raider. (What prompted it? Presumably someone has done a Phd on this. Growth of US economy? Lots of war veterans being dissatisfied with office jobs?) Like a lot of them it’s about competition – the ruthless company head has brought in a young exec to take the place of an old fogey, who is dying. But now – I mean my sympathy is with the company head. He wants to make money. Presumably the old fogey is drawing this big salary (he’s in his sixties and he’s got kids in college? How come he’s not been able to hang on to his money?) Ah, heck I’m being mean. I’m sure it would read better if they just changed a few things – and the theme of corporate bullying is as fresh as ever, and the ending is at least believable.
Requiem is a lot better – powerful and moving tale about a boxer struggling to figure out what he wants to do with his life. Also interesting is The Rack, about a POW who betrayed his country during the Korean War – though to enjoy it more, you should read Serling’s essay on it first (even though it’s situated after the play in the collection), as it points out that public sympathy was overwhelmingly for the POWs after Korea, which surprised (and touched) me and makes the drama a lot more interesting. Though you still wonder why MGM thought this would make a successful film – I mean, who wants to see a movie where he hero is a collaborator? (If the collaborator’s lawyer was a hero, maybe – but not the prisoner himself).
Serling also throws in a comedy about a sixty-something baseball pitcher, which totally threw me… I had no idea he was into comedy. And the result is charming – you could imagine this being made into a film today with Clint Eastwood or something. On the debit side, Serling doesn’t seem too excited about female characters: the main females in all four are the same – loving, supportive, bland types.
TV review – “Dexter” (2006) ****
The modern television era has given us loveable hookers, vampires and corrupt cops, so why not a loveable serial killer? For when all is said and done that’s what Dexter is – a good looking killer who only kills people who deserve it (i.e. other serial killers), a brilliant police officer (he’s really into blood), a devoted boyfriend, a reliable brother. Every now and then there’s a glimpse of a less pleasant character – he tortures his victims, when a guy re-possesses his girlfriend’s car he doesn’t really care – but they don’t push it: understandably, otherwise I’m sure audiences would be reluctant to tune in.
This is a smart, well made show with a nice line in black humour and some excellent acting. Michael C Hall’s weird presence is ideal for the title role and I especially loved Jennifer Carpenter as his sister, a sort of leggy foul-mouthed Bridget Jones, unlucky in love and full of enthusiasm (she gives the show real life) and James Remar as Dexter’s dad (he’s been having a bit of a later career renaissance, has Remar – it’s been obvious since his old Walter Hill films that he had presence and it’s great to see him getting big gigs these days).
Julie Benz is sweet as Dexter’s girlfriend and I also liked the Latin cop and the highly political Cuban lieutenant (who looked a lot like a friend of mine) but the angry black cop got irritating after a while; he also has a particularly silly sub-plot involving Haiti. The show seems to have a gay subtext, being about a man unable to control his cravings, hiding from society, not interested in sex with women (when Benz first goes for him, she gives him a blow job).
This is a smart, well made show with a nice line in black humour and some excellent acting. Michael C Hall’s weird presence is ideal for the title role and I especially loved Jennifer Carpenter as his sister, a sort of leggy foul-mouthed Bridget Jones, unlucky in love and full of enthusiasm (she gives the show real life) and James Remar as Dexter’s dad (he’s been having a bit of a later career renaissance, has Remar – it’s been obvious since his old Walter Hill films that he had presence and it’s great to see him getting big gigs these days).
Julie Benz is sweet as Dexter’s girlfriend and I also liked the Latin cop and the highly political Cuban lieutenant (who looked a lot like a friend of mine) but the angry black cop got irritating after a while; he also has a particularly silly sub-plot involving Haiti. The show seems to have a gay subtext, being about a man unable to control his cravings, hiding from society, not interested in sex with women (when Benz first goes for him, she gives him a blow job).
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