A blog formerly known as Bookishness / By Charles Matthews

"Dazzled by so many and such marvelous inventions, the people of Macondo ... became indignant over the living images that the prosperous merchant Bruno Crespi projected in the theater with the lion-head ticket windows, for a character who had died and was buried in one film and for whose misfortune tears had been shed would reappear alive and transformed into an Arab in the next one. The audience, who had paid two cents apiece to share the difficulties of the actors, would not tolerate that outlandish fraud and they broke up the seats. The mayor, at the urging of Bruno Crespi, explained in a proclamation that the cinema was a machine of illusions that did not merit the emotional outbursts of the audience. With that discouraging explanation many ... decided not to return to the movies, considering that they already had too many troubles of their own to weep over the acted-out misfortunes of imaginary beings."
--Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

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Showing posts with label Martha Vickers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Martha Vickers. Show all posts

Tuesday, April 14, 2020

The Burglar (Paul Wendkos, 1957)

Jayne Mansfield and Dan Duryea in The Burglar
Cast: Dan Duryea, Jayne Mansfield, Martha Vickers, Peter Capell, Mickey Shaughnessy, Wendell K. Phillips, Phoebe Mackay, Stewart Bradley, John Facenda, Sam Elber. Screenplay: David Goodis, based on his novel. Cinematography: Dan Malkames. Art direction: Jim Leonard. Film editing: Herta Horn, Paul Wendkos. Music: Sol Kaplan.

The Burglar is a low-budget crime movie that doesn't always get its rhythms right, but nevertheless holds one's attention better than lots of slicker and more sophisticated movies. It was the first feature for director Paul Wendkos, who went on to a long career mostly in television, and though he doesn't show a lot of skill in directing actors, he knows where to put the camera, using close-ups effectively, and making the most of the Philadelphia and Atlantic City locations where The Burglar was shot. The story centers on Nat Harbin, the titular burglar, and the aftermath of the heist he and his cronies pull off, drilling into the safe where a wealthy "spiritualist" has stashed a priceless emerald necklace. The burglary is interrupted when a police car, which has spotted Harbin's car parked outside the mansion, pulls up, but Harbin persuades the cops that he had engine trouble and plans to spend the night in the car until he can find a mechanic in the morning. Harbin's fellow thieves include a pair of jittery low-lifes, Baylock (Peter Capell) and Dohmer (Mickey Shaughnessy), as well as a young woman, Gladden (Jayne Mansfield), who cases the mansion before the burglars break into it. Gladden, whose peculiar name is questioned but never explained in the film, grew up with Harbin after he ran away from home as a boy and was picked up while hitchhiking by a kind of Fagin figure named Gerald (Sam Elber), who taught him the tricks of the burgling trade. When Gerald dies, Harbin honors his request to look after Gladden. The two of them have maintained a kind of brother-sister relationship. After completing the burglary, Harbin insists on a cooling-off period before they make an attempt to fence the stolen necklace, but Baylock and Dohmer impatiently resist him. Dealing with his loose-cannon colleagues is only one of Harbin's problems after the police use a sketch artist to develop an image of him, based on the descriptions by the cops who had spotted him with his car. Moreover, one of the cops turns out to be a bad guy, working in cahoots with a young woman named Della (Martha Vickers), who picks Harbin up in a bar to try to get a fix on where he has stashed the loot. And so it goes, getting bloodier by the minute, until the climax in a house of horrors attraction at the Atlantic City Steel Pier. Duryea gives a solid performance, and it's good to see Vickers, best known as the thumb-sucking Carmen Sternwood in Howard Hawks's The Big Sleep (1946). Capell and Shaughnessy are a bit too hyper as Harbin's cronies, and Mansfield, never valued for her acting skill, was probably chosen for the scene in which she lies on the beach in a two-piece bathing suit.

Friday, November 11, 2016

The Big Sleep (Howard Hawks, 1946)

Humphrey Bogart and Martha Vickers in The Big Sleep
Philip Marlowe: Humphrey Bogart
Vivian Rutledge: Lauren Bacall
Eddie Mars: John Ridgely
Carmen Sternwood: Martha Vickers
Book Shop Owner: Dorothy Malone
Mona Mars: Peggy Knudsen
Bernie Ohls: Regis Toomey
Gen. Sternwood: Charles Waldron
Norris: Charles D. Brown
Lash Canino: Bob Steele
Harry Jones: Elisha Cook Jr.
Joe Brody: Louis Jean Heydt

Director: Howard Hawks
Screenplay: William Faulkner, Leigh Brackett, Jules Furthman
Based on a story by Raymond Chandler
Cinematography: Sidney Hickox
Art direction: Carl Jules Weyl
Film editing: Christian Nyby
Music: Max Steiner

I've cited Keats's "negative capability" before in warning about getting too involved with the literal details of a movie at the expense of missing the total effect, and it still seems appropriate here when it comes to figuring out exactly who did what to whom in Howard Hawks's The Big Sleep. Screenwriters William Faulkner, Leigh Brackett, and Jules Furthman are said to have consulted Raymond Chandler, the author of the novel they were adapting, about certain obscurities of the plot, and Chandler admitted that he didn't know either, which is as fine an example of being "in uncertainties, mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact and reason" as even Keats could come up with. So ask not who killed the Sternwoods' chauffeur, or even who really killed Shawn Regan -- if, in fact, Regan is dead. This is one of the most enjoyable of films noir, if a movie that has so many sheerly pleasurable moments can really be called noir. It's also one of the most deliciously absurd -- or maybe absurdist -- movies ever made, including its persistent presentation of Humphrey Bogart's Philip Marlowe as an irresistible hunk, who has bookstore clerks, hat check girls, waitresses, and female taxi drivers swooning at his presence. The only thing that makes this remotely credible is that Lauren Bacall, and not just Vivian Sternwood Rutledge, actually did. In his review for the New York Times, Bosley Crowther, one of the most obtuse critics who ever took up space in a newspaper, called it a "poisonous picture" and commented that Bacall "still hasn't learned to act" -- an incredible remark to anyone who has just watched her exchange with Bogart ostensibly about horse racing. This is, of course, one of Howard Hawks's greatest movies, and of course it received not a single Oscar nomination -- not even for Martha Vickers's delirious Carmen Sternwood. Vickers was so good in her role that her part had to be trimmed to put more focus on Bacall, who was being groomed for stardom. Sadly, Vickers never found another role as good as Carmen. Dorothy Malone, who did go on to stardom and an Oscar, steals her scene as the bookstore owner amused and aroused by Marlowe's charisma. And then there's Elisha Cook Jr. as a small-time hapless hood not far removed from the Wilmer who stirred Sam Spade's homophobia in The Maltese Falcon (John Huston, 1946). Except this time his demise elicits something Marlowe would seem otherwise incapable of: pity.