Showing posts with label Ricardo Montalban. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ricardo Montalban. Show all posts
Mar 17, 2017
On Blu-ray: A Cast of Sympathetic Characters in Battleground (1949)
We must be smart enough and tough enough in the beginning. To put out the fire before it starts spreading.
Battleground (1949) performs a balancing act of great precision. It plunges you into the devastation of war, but it also shows flickers of light. Though it can often be difficult to watch, this is an entertaining, engrossing film that succeeds because of and despite its bleak message. Now it is available on Blu-ray from Warner Archive.
The setting is Belgium in 1944. A platoon of American soldiers struggle with homesickness, discomfort, loss and the horrors of war as they fight the Battle of Bastogne in a final, horrific counteroffensive against Hitler. With an Oscar-winning screenplay written by Robert Pirosh, a veteran of the stand-off, this is a tense film because the details feel true-to-life.
It opens with a shot of a Christmas tree, decorated with the naked leg of a female mannequin. Soldiers in formation sing about the home they left, the baby they left. Though they constantly make jokes and lightly jibe at each other, you can feel how homesickness continually plagues them. A piece of bread or the prospect of getting real food, like a plate of eggs, symbolizes not only comfort, but the homes to which they wish to return.
To make it all the more touching, director William Wellman's cast is packed with some of the most likeable actors in Hollywood. Most famous for lighter musical and comedy fare, it is almost disorienting to see stars like Van Johnson, Ricardo Montalban and George Murphy in such a bleak milieu. The actors who are more strongly associated with dramas, like James Whitmore and John Hodiak, serve as a sort of comfort, because you know how the characters they play have triumphed over darkness.
It's an interesting cast, diverse in character, but simpatico. They play off of each other with such lightness that when they can no longer shut out or gloss over the tragedy surrounding them, there is a feeling of profound loss. One moment they attempt to casually chat during a bombing, the next, they face death.
For all the forced gaiety among the soldiers, the atmosphere is one of pure horror. A haunting fog envelopes most of the action, and is a constant reminder of their vulnerability to sneak attacks and starvation due to the lack of supply drops. The battlefield covered in snow hints at the discomfort of the men and the fear of muffled steps in the snow masking a deadly approach. Half the time the soldiers can't see their target, the rest they are unsure if they are speaking to Americans or German soldiers succeeding at a brilliant masquerade.
Audiences must have still felt raw from the wounds of World War II as they watched this upon its first release. This is the fear that they either felt themselves or saw their loved ones experience. That terror is stripped down to the basics, where a makeshift shelter under a jeep can be a tomb or a pair of empty boots can cause a man to choke in helpless grief.
A harrowing experience, Battleground is nevertheless a deeply satisfying film that rewards multiple viewings. It elicits empathy by drawing you into the battle, the boots and helmets of these brave, but ultimately vulnerable men.
The black and white imagery on the disc is especially striking, with a soft, velvety look that enhances the feeling of a disconnect from reality on the fog-shrouded battlefield. Special features include a trailer for the film, a vintage featurette and the cartoon, Little Red Riding Hood.
Many thanks to Warner Archive for providing a copy of the film for review. To order, visit The Warner Archive Collection.
May 21, 2015
On DVD: Montalban and Charisse in Sombrero (1953)
Sombrero imagines Mexico as a Technicolor dream land. Its story of three love affairs is sprinkled throughout with authentic details, from songs and dances to costumes and locations, but this is life south-of-the-border Hollywood style, which is just what you'd expect from a lavish MGM production. Now this enjoyable, if jumbled, romantic melodrama is available on DVD from Warner Archive.
Ricardo Montalban stars as Pepe, a mischievous, but good-hearted cheesemaker who is determined to end a feud between two villages, one of them his home. He is equally set on winning the heart of Eufemia (Pier Angeli) the daughter of the mayor in the village opposing his own.
Angeli and Montalban |
Pepe's friend, the wealthy Alejandro (Vittorio Gassman), is also similarly obsessed with a forbidden love, the poor Maria (Yvonne de Carlo), whom his father feels is not worthy of his son's position. He instead wants his son to marry the more prominent Elena (Nina Foch).
In yet another forbidden affair, are Ruben the candy peddler (Rick Jason) and Lola (Cyd Charisse), the gypsy sister of a superstitious and possessive bull fighter (Jose Greco). Everybody in this movie seems to be star-crossed.
Gassman and de Carlo |
In the midst of the pining lovers and feuding villagers, there are songs, dances, festivals and an amusing chase sequence. Montalban sings a charming tune; Greco dances a bracing flamenco and Charisse is unusually primal in a passionate solo number.
It all feels thrown together, the marvelous, the dull and the baffling. I found I had to rewind a few times to get my bearings with the plot. There are also so many characters suffering in various ways that the melodrama can seem to heave a bit too heavily at times.
Charisse and Jason |
Still, Sombrero is a fascinating oddity. The Mexican location shooting provides a fascinating glimpse of the country in the 1950s (particularly of Mexico City) and the unusual presentation of the songs and dances makes it feel less like a musical and more like a drama/romance with artistic interludes.
I enjoyed the movie for its novelty and oddball, but somehow cohesive cast. Mexican Montalban is supported by an amusingly international group of players. In 1950s Hollywood, an olive complexion, and dark hair and eyes made an actor Latin enough. Among the Italian, American, Canadian, Dutch and Austrian stars, only Foch seems not even "Hollywood Mexican."
A must-see for devotees of its stars. An enjoyable excursion for fans of big MGM productions and musicals that go off the beaten path.
Many thanks to Warner Archive for providing a copy of the film for review. This is a Manufacture on Demand (MOD) DVD. To order, visit The Warner Archive Collection.
Sep 18, 2009
Four with Ricardo Montalban
It is appropriate that Ricardo Montalban will always be best known as elegant Mr. Rourke from Fantasy Island and as the sophisticated gentleman he portrayed in a series of Chrysler commercials. These two upbeat, confident personas showcase the best elements of his charisma. However, there is much more to Montalban. He was a versatile actor, comfortable performing in anything from dark film noir to colorful musicals. Montalban is one of many great actors we have lost this year. I wanted to celebrate him on this day, when he will be honored with a special tribute at the Alma awards.
Here are four movies that demonstrate Montalban’s ability to charm in any genre:
Mystery Street (1950)
This clever, low-key noir was the first to star a Latino lead. Montalban plays a small town policeman who attempts to solve the mystery of a dead party girl. The detailed forensics scenes could have become tedious, but with his jaunty, intelligent manner Montalban brings life to this procedural.
Border Incident (1949)
Montalban is riveting in this dark, tense drama set in the Southern California farmlands. He plays a Mexican agent collaborating with his American counterparts in a high-risk undercover operation in order to expose the exploitation of illegal workers. There are moments in this movie that are so brutal that they retain their shock value today. Montalban’s brave and decent character elevates the sordid proceedings.
On an Island with You (1948) and Neptune’s Daughter (1949)
In his two Esther Williams musicals, Montalban is a suave, romantic delight. Richard Thorpe, the dour director for both productions, was perpetually irritated by his cheerful costars. It didn’t help that Williams and Montalban were also morning people. This exuberance shows up on the screen. In Island Montalban has his somber moments, but he also gets a chance to show off his elegant dance style with Cyd Charisse. He is more consistently upbeat in Neptune’s Daughter, where he debuts Baby It’s Cold Outside in a playful scene with Williams.
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