SIFF 2015: In Tribute to Stewart Stern, Rebel Without a Cause (1955)

I'd was already looking forward to seeing Rebel Without a Cause (1955) at SIFF 2015, particularly because screenwriter and Seattle local Stewart Stern recently died and I wanted to pay tribute, but the experience was much more touching than I'd expected. The film was presented at the Egyptian Theater this past Sunday and it was glorious to see that gorgeously colorful Cinemascope image stretch all the way across the screen.

My feelings about the film that night were strongly influenced by Brian MacDonald's introduction. A faculty member at The Film School in Seattle, he was also a close friend of Stern. In a meticulously executed speech, he shared his thoughts about this writer and teacher who was beloved in the Seattle film community. His first memory was of Stern looking out the window of his hospital room in his last days and saying, "What an amazing city. What a wonderful city."

MacDonald told stories about Stern's life demonstrating his kindness and compassion. As a child, he refused to take part in a snipe hunt at camp, because he didn't want to harm another creature, even though the whole activity was an exercise of the imagination. He killed a German soldier in World War II so that a younger American soldier wouldn't have to and have the death on his conscience. When he marched with Martin Luther King Jr. in Selma, he was ostracized by locals for his support, but never turned away from his convictions.

This string of memories was an excellent way to introduce Stern's most famous movie, which despite its rough tone, is all about the need for love and compassion. The screenwriter wanted to tell a story in which he attempted to understand teenagers, rather than demonizing them, as in the recent sensation, The Blackboard Jungle (1955). Rebel Without a Cause was a perfect counterpoint to that film.

While James Dean looked a bit long in the tooth to play 16-year-old Jim Stark, he captured the vulnerability and confusion of a teen struggling to find his place in the world. He moves into a new town, with a long history of trouble behind him, only to find that he still can't seem to stay clear of drama. By the end of his first day of school, he has been threatened, wounded and a witness to death.

In the midst of all this turmoil, he meets a pair of soulmates: Judy (Natalie Wood) a girl starved for affection and Plato (Sal Mineo) an imaginative loner who lives with his absent parents' maid. 

Both of Stark's new friends become intoxicated by his kindness to them and the comforting confidence he seems to have in himself. Though he is merely friendly to Plato, the lonely teen dreams that he might long for him the way he does. Where Judy is concerned, she initially needs to be won over, but when she realizes Jim will give her the attention her father no longer will (he is deeply unsettled that his daughter is now a woman), she clings to him.

The three deliberately form a family. Though they play at homemaking as they hide out in an abandoned mansion, you can see that the trio truly delights in the discovery of their bond. Any outside trouble: from parents, police or gangs, is forgotten until they are forced to recognize that there is still an outside world to be dealt with.

It can be a difficult film to watch, because while just about everyone feels lost and isolated, no one seems to know how to deal with it. The characters have backed themselves into a corner emotionally because they feel they must follow certain codes of behavior. 

Gang members put on a menacing act, but fear and uncertainty flicker behind their eyes (in a supporting role as one of the toughs, young Dennis Hopper is particularly vulnerable). Parents are concerned, but distant, doing what they feel is their duty, but also fearful that they are not doing enough for their children. The rules they make for themselves cause them constant turmoil. Jim, Judy and Plato reject them to build their own world.

I got a bit emotional watching Dean, Wood and Mineo standing together at the end of the infamous chickie run scene. They peer over a cliff, watching their classmate burn to death, not one of them aware that they too will also die young and in a similarly horrifying fashion. Perhaps that can give Rebel a haunted feeling, but it also makes me all the more grateful that these talented actors were able to play so harmoniously together in this exciting, but also deeply moving film.


The SIFF 2015 schedule is here.

My SIFF 2015 suggestions for classic film fans are here.

On DVD: Light-Hearted Detective Fun in Having a Wonderful Crime (1944) and Mrs. O'Malley and Mr. Malone (1950)

Mystery writer Craig Rice's (aka Georgiana Ann Randolph Rice) sleuthing attorney John J. Malone was for a time a popular character in popular culture. He was the subject of several books and short stories and a hero on radio, television and in the movies. 

Now two movies featuring Malone, Having a Wonderful Crime (1944) and Mrs. O'Malley and Mr. Malone (1950) are available on a new double feature disc from Warner Archive.

A while back I reviewed Crime on My Hands, which was ghostwritten by Rice for actor George Sanders. I loved the humor and wit of the characters so much, that I was eager to see how her work would translate to film. 

As it turns out, there actually isn't much of Rice in the films beyond her famous characters, Mrs. O'Malley was based on a story by the author and Crime used only her characters. Still, these lighthearted, fast-paced films do capture some of the spirit of this very funny writer.

In Having a Wonderful Crime, Pat O'Brien plays Mike (rather than John) Malone. He is a girl-crazy attorney whose newly-married friends Jake (George Murphy) and Helene (Carole Landis) are constantly getting him into trouble. The pair fancy themselves detectives and they are always dragging Malone into their schemes.

The trio gets mixed up with a magician, his assistants, a pair of wealthy sisters and a shifty employee at the resort where they are staying. Half the time I didn't understand who was who or what exactly was going on, but it didn't really seem to matter. It was all about the jokes.

While the movie is cute and silly, it's never laugh-out-loud funny. Many of the gags fall flat, and Murphy never seems able to keep up with O'Brien and Landis. Still, it's well-paced and there's never a dull moment.

I'm always delighted to see Landis. She doesn't quite have a knack for this kind of fast-paced, farcical comedy, but there's something exciting about her that makes comic chops almost beside the point. She had presence, and it would have been fascinating to see her develop that charm and beauty into a more well-rounded screen persona. Sadly, within a few years she would commit suicide at the age of 29.

Mrs. O'Malley and Mr. Malone is the more consistently funny movie of the two, mostly due to the chemistry between Marjorie Main, as a sharp-witted widow and James Whitmore, who plays Malone. The pair find themselves attempting to solve a murder together on a train, where someone is trying to frame Malone.

Whitmore's Malone is a total lech, contrasted with O'Brien's more playful take on the womanizing lawyer. It's actually a little creepy the way he goes after the ladies. His secretary spends more time smacking him away that actually doing any work. Still, he's got a weird sort of charm, perhaps because he keeps getting away things that he shouldn't and you can't help admiring him for his survival skills.

On of the best parts of the film is the snappy supporting cast, with welcome turns by Ann Dvorak, the beautifully chrome-domed Fred Clark and an almost unrecognizable Dorothy Malone as a platinum blonde southern belle. I also liked Phyllis Kirk in the secretary role and wished she had a larger part. Her clever, resourceful character would have been fun in a movie of her own.

Though Main and Whitmore don't even meet until the movie is half over, their partnership dominates the film. It's an unusual pairing: there's no sexual tension between them, they have very little conflict because O'Malley idolizes Malone, and they never seem overly fazed by anything, be it a dead body or being arrested for murder. The two quickly settle into an easy rhythm with each other and it's a lot of fun to watch.

Both films are easy-going and amusing. Perfect for a quick pick-me-up or rainy afternoon viewing.

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.

SIFF 2015: A Sinister Double Feature--Caught (1949) and The Dark Mirror (1946)

It was a warm, sunny day, probably the nicest weather of the year so far, and I was delighted to be standing in line for a 35mm noir double feature at SIFF 2015. 

The Dark Mirror (1946) and Caught (1949) are well known among classic film fans, but I've never felt they've gotten their proper due as film noirs. Both approach the fatalism of the genre with unusual plots and deliciously lush filmmaking.

There seemed to be plenty of noir fans who agreed with me. The theater was packed and I hope SIFF will take note and continue to program films noir for future festivals. 

Audience members with quick minds had the opportunity to win a dark chocolate bar by answering a trivia question related to each film. I couldn't possibly be quick minded after all this movie watching, but I thought it was a fun twist to the usual intro.

Every time I see the credits for director Robert Siodmak's The Dark Mirror, I'm alarmed there are only two stars: Lew Ayres and Olivia de Havilland. That is because while de Havilland plays twins in this psychological noir, I always remember the parts being played by the actress and her sister Joan Fontaine. I suppose that's not shocking; the to-the-death rift between the two is legendary, but I don't know why my mind insists on remembering it wrong every time.

In a way, my faulty memory is a tribute to de Havilland, who does a remarkable job creating two different characters. She is Ruth and Terry, a set of twins who job share at a newsstand in the lobby of a high-rise. While Ruth is sweet and unaffected, Terry has an edge, which seems to be obvious to everyone but her sister.

When one of Terry's boyfriends is murdered, and multiple witnesses place her at the scene of the crime, the sisters team up to protect each other. Ruth doesn't want to believe her sister is capable of murder, but deep down she seems to know she's guilty. When the pair begin to undergo psychoanalysis for a study conducted by psychiatrist Dr. Scott Elliott (Lew Ayres), the doctor discovers that Terry is psychotic.

To make things more complicated, Terry falls for Ayres, while he becomes fond of the very receptive Ruth. Jealousy turns into sisterly gas lighting, impersonation and threat of danger.

While the twins wear embarrassingly cheesy nameplate necklaces (which I kind of love) to help people tell them apart, there's never any need for them. In a sharp performance, de Havilland portrays the sisters with both broad and detailed strokes, sometimes going over the top, but also building her character with subtle gestures and expressions. 

As the technical aspects of making the actress look like two separate women are handled well, she is left free to focus on her dual performances. While there are some silly moments, she manages to sidestep making the film too cheesy or gimmicky.

In his first film role after being a conscientious objector in World War II, Ayres is a good fit for de Havilland and seems aware that he isn't going to get much attention in his essentially thankless role. Still, he's pleasant to see, a bit more careworn than in his prewar roles, but still attractive and capable of playing the romantic lead.

Max Ophüls' Caught is a more masterful, oppressive film than the borderline camp of The Dark Mirror. Barbara bel Geddes is Leonora Ames, a social climbing, but essentially decent department store model who marries Smith Ohlrig (Robert Ryan) a wealthy, Howard Hughes-like businessman. 

Though she has trained for her profession with the hopes of marrying into money, Leonora believes she is in love with her husband and is miserable to find he is distant and mentally unstable.

She leaves his Long Island estate and returns to the city to once again earn a meager living, this time as a receptionist for two doctors in their chaotically busy lower east side office. After a rough start, she starts to enjoy the job and falls for one of the doctors (James Mason in his first American film role.)

Before Leonora gets too close to her new beau though, Smith makes an appearance at her apartment (he has had her watched, much like Hughes would do with his lovers) and asks her to give their marriage another try. Still mesmerized by him, she is seduced back to his estate. Before long, she knows she has made the wrong decision. However, she has also become pregnant and thus finds herself trapped in an increasingly unhealthy marriage.

It is particularly important to see Ophüls' work on the big screen, because so often he uses all that space to emphasize his characters' loneliness. He had a remarkable way of using the camera to express emotion. With magnificent deep focus shots, the director makes Leonora look small and sadly distant from Smith. By keeping all those characters in one long frame, he denies her privacy and freedom, just like her cruel husband.

There's also a remarkable scene between the two doctors in their office after hours. They talk about Leonora, who has recently returned to her husband, though her true reason for leaving so abruptly is a mystery to them. The camera moves between the two doctors as they chat, occasionally sliding over Leonora's empty desk top--as if to emphasize that her absence is only physical and her influence still strong.

While it's often an unpleasant movie, Ryan, Bel Geddes and Mason are a fascinating trio, and Ophüls manages to find beauty in even the most hideous situations.

It was a good evening, dodging the last of that bright sun to spend a little time with psychotics and megalomaniacs.


The SIFF 2015 schedule is here.

My SIFF 2015 suggestions for classic film fans are here.

On DVD: Bad Men of Tombstone (1948)

Though he played both white and black hat over the course of his career, Barry Sullivan was always at his most intriguing when he portrayed men with a dark streak. He specialized in playing protagonists too corrupt to root for, but who were exciting to watch nevertheless. In a new Western release from Warner Archive, Sullivan tackles one of these complex roles with his typical dangerous charm.

Sullivan is Tom Horn, a gambler, or whatever he needs to be to get along. He holds up a claims office, and, always the opportunist, he finds his next meal ticket in jail, when he meets cellmate William Morgan (Broderick Crawford), an outlaw with a gang and a plan. Much to the irritation of the rest of his gang, Morgan makes lets Horn stay. Morgan doesn't fully trust him, but he respects a man with good ideas.

The gang tears through the west, killing and stealing until they finally hide out with their stash in the lawless Tombstone. In this wild town, Horn falls for beautiful blonde Julie (Marjorie Reynolds) who earns his trust when she recognizes him as the man who robbed her and doesn't rat him out to the sheriff. They marry, and Tom tries to leave the gang, but it isn't that easy to quit his life of crime. The defection is just one more bad decision that haunts Horn, who never has the sense to be afraid of anything.

As arrogant as Tom is though, he isn't that way with Julie. In many respects, they have a remarkably equal relationship. While she has put a lot of her fate in his hands, she doesn't hesitate to speak her mind with him, and he listens. You can see how they could have been domestic together if they only didn't feel the world owed them a living.

It's hard to have much sympathy for Horn and Julie. They want the fine things in life, but the fact that they don't want to work for them, and their lack of compassion for their victims is disheartening. They're such an attractive couple and so deeply connected that you want them to change their ways and make it work, but they seem too deeply wounded by their impoverished childhoods. When they meet a decent man and wife who do plan to work for their living, despite a little longing, it's clear that they almost pity the pair for their industry. 

Bad Men of Tombstone is framed as a morality tale, with a corny narration about "good and bad," but it doesn't lack for thrills, primarily due to Sullivan, Crawford and Reynolds. It is their charisma that elevates this outlaw tale into something especially intriguing.

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.

SIFF 2015: The Astrologer (1975)

This weekend I attended my first ever midnight move at SIFF, a rare screening of The Astrologer (1975), and I'm still trying to figure out exactly what happened.

Feeling exhausted after taking in the entire Apu trilogy in one sitting earlier in the day, I wondered if I might be seeing things when a man in a Lincoln mask took to the stage and began rapping about the very strange film we were about the see. But no, this was real, and the perfect introduction to a cinematic experience that is almost impossible to describe effectively.

In essence, Denney is Craig Alexander, a fake psychic who becomes a famous astrologer, but loses everything because of his arrogance. There's so much more to this film though, which is clearly the vision of one man. No two people could have agreed the results make any sense.

The reason it is so difficult to even cough up even an illuminating plot description for The Astrologer is that there isn't one to do it justice, unless you describe every little thing that happens. Carnies, sudden travels to random international locations, diamond smuggling, an extended sailboat montage to a Moody Blues song, long descriptions of astrological charts, long discussions about business and the pros and cons of diversification, a long fisheye shot of a men's restroom which ends by lingering on a urinal, slow motion, song-length marital clashes, detailed serving of soup, death by quicksand, and boobs--it's as if director/producer/star Craig Denney decided that diversification should apply to filmmaking as well, and not so much restraint.

It's also clear that Denney fancies himself a sex symbol. He constantly wears a self-satisfied smirk, confident in his macho cool and swagger. In several scenes he is shirtless, showing off a soft, pillowy mid-section. When he dresses, he is often garbed in the sort of striped t-shirt you might see on the neighbor kid in a 1950s sitcom. And yet, there's something touching about this man's complete confidence in himself.

Actors spit out dialogue with a weird, childish tone. It sounds a bit like it was written by a kid who doesn't quite understand the things he's seen in grown-up movies. Many scenes start and stop abruptly, shifting focus like a restless toddler. These fast-paced sequences are alternated with long musical montages where almost nothing happens and much of it in slow motion. In one such scene set in a bar, random couples who are never introduced as characters have long conversations, a pimp holds court in a booth and sells drugs and his girls' services and then there's that urinal shot. It's as if Denney switched setting the atmosphere with actually moving the plot forward, because his own silent slow-mo conversation plays only a small role in the scene.

Like I said, it's almost impossible to describe this film. Any attempt to do it justice in print will make you sound crazy. You just need to experience it.

After a limited drive-in release in the seventies, The Astrologer was only available to the consumer market via a VHS release in Australia and broadcast once on CBS in 1980. That all changed when Drafthouse Films funded a 2K restoration and started exhibiting the film in 2013. Now this unique bit of cinematic insanity has been making the rounds at film festivals. I hope it makes it to DVD some day, because I'm already dying to see it again.

The SIFF 2015 schedule is here.

My SIFF 2015 suggestions for classic film fans are here.

SIFF 2015: Classic Films and Technology in Dreams Rewired (2015)

Every age thinks it's the modern age.

I was drawn to the Austrian essay film Dreams Rewired because I'd heard that it had over 200 archival clips, some of them from classic films. I was curious to see how this material would be used to explore the phenomenon of consumer reactions to new innovations. It didn't hurt that actress Tilda Swinton was narrator.

Co-directed by Martin Reinhart Thomas Tode and Manu Luksch, I found the film an interesting, if not terribly illuminating exploration of anxiety about technology over the past 100 years. Director Martin Reinhart made an appearance at the SIFF presentation of the film this past Saturday and shared some of his thoughts about the film and technology.

Twelve years in the making, Dreams explores the technology that caused delight and debate in past generations the way social media and smart phones do today. With clips showing everything from early television and switchboards to an extremely early version of the portable phone that uses a wired umbrella to get a signal, the film is worth the watch for the archival material alone. You get a sense of not only how far we've come, but how in many ways we are continually reacting in the same way to technical innovation.

The film concentrates on various forms of communication, from the ever-evolving telephone to early recording devices, television and film. Pioneering French filmmaker Alice Guy Blaché is credited for the role she played in bringing storytelling to the medium, while Georges Méliès gets his due for investing movies with magic.

Dreams tries to imagine the way audiences felt when they saw these new innovations, even artfully restaging the how the crowd reportedly screamed and ran away when the Lumière Brothers first screened their film of a train racing toward the camera. You do get an idea of how magical these new tools must have seemed in the early days, when even the concept of technology was foreign.

The common use for new inventions was not always clear from the beginning. Film was originally used most frequently for the study of motion, by racehorse owners and doctors. Before it was considered a medium for entertaining and informing the public, television was meant to be used for surveillance.

In the end, all of this information is fascinating, but I didn't come away with a clear point of view from the film. As interesting as it was, it felt a bit like an essay with an underdeveloped thesis. Yes new technology has always caused anxiety, and will continue to do so. Is this something that must be addressed? Or is it simply a necessary growing pain to endure in the face of progress?

While I found Swinton to be a pleasant narrator, always with a bit of edge and a twinkle of humor in her delivery, I sometimes found the script to be excessively jokey. I think this is mostly because I'm a bit sensitive about modern actors adding their own voices to silent film clips, which she does in a few instances. Maybe it's all in good fun, but it always seems disrespectful to me.

A SIFF programmer and co-director Martin Reinhart

Co-director Martin Reinhart spoke to the audience and answered a couple of questions after the screening. When asked if there was a master list of all the clips used in the film available, he told the crowd that this most impressive document was available on the film's website.

Reinhart was also asked if he felt society was better off with the technology at our disposal. At first, he shrugged his shoulders--and I thought that perhaps that also reflected the overall view of the film. He then shared that he felt that that kind of progress was "two fold…it makes you almighty and you are helpless." Ultimately, he said "we have to take our own responsibility to shape the world we live in." 

Maybe that's not the most novel sentiment, and it is perhaps that same point of view that makes Dreams Rewired feel slightly underdeveloped, but it's still a fascinating ride. I'd love to watch the film again, just to get another look at those amazing clips.

The SIFF 2015 schedule is here.

My SIFF 2015 suggestions for classic film fans are here.

SIFF 2015: The Pleasure and Agony of Watching Satyajit Ray's Newly-Restored Apu Trilogy

Indian director Satyajet Ray's Apu Trilogy is an epic of loss and resurrection, focusing on the birth and maturation of a curious, intelligent boy. The characters of Pather Panchali (1955), Aparajito (1957) and Apu Sansar (1959), people who know and love Apu, suffer and love intensely, sometimes one because of the other, and always with the pressure of survival upon them.  

I spent Sunday of Memorial Day weekend at the Pacific Place theater, eating curly fries, drinking lime Coke, and sobbing my way through a box of tissue watching a newly-restored 4K print of this glorious trilogy. The experience has been the high point of SIFF 2015 for me so far.

While there were definitely diminishing numbers with each entry of the trilogy, it was heartening to see an enthusiastic, near-capacity audience for the Apu films. 

The crowd was most rapt (I don't think I heard a sound for the entire running time) for the first entry in the series, Pather Panchali (Song of the Little Road), in which Ray introduces Apu (Subir Banerjee), his independent-minded sister Durga (Uma Das Gupta), who dotes on him from his birth, his intellectual dreamer and priest father  (Kanu Bannerjee), mischievous "Auntie" Indira Thakrun (Chunibala Devi, that year the wizened character actress would die of influenza) and most importantly, his mother Sarbojaya Ray (Karuna Bannerjee), the true heart of the series, whose suffering and strength will mold and influence Apu.

Pather Panchali follows this cast of characters through poverty, heartache and enough small victories to keep them moving forward. With a pleasantly sleepy pace, and an eye for details like awkwardly rambling kittens and wind rattling through tree leaves Ray shows the majesty of the rural settings and the depressing decline of a family of noble caste that has fallen on hard times.

Apu's mother is constantly at war with Durga, humiliated by her daughter's penchant for stealing. Both of them pine for a better life--one working for it, the other thinking the effort futile and taking what she can without concern for her methods. Apu's father craves a spiritual, intellectual life and he cannot reconcile this with his wife's pleas that he make better wages.

It is these characters that drive the action in Pather Panchali. Young Apu is a bright-eyed observer, treated like a little prince by his doting mother, and trying to make sense of all he sees.

The film is the most beautiful of the trilogy. Ray captures the joyous magic of the rural setting, a place where Apu, his sister and their friends can ramble and play like happy puppies. It is also in many ways the most brutal of the three, because the family's struggle to survive is at its most intense.

In the Aparajito (Unvanquished), Apu moves with his family to Benares, in search of more opportunity. While they still face plenty of struggle, there is finally some reprieve from their poverty. The city frightens Apu's mother, and she is especially threatened by the many strange men who are now a part of her surroundings. She relishes having enough food to eat though, and there are a few blessed moments where she smiles and takes a little pleasure in life.

Happiness does not last long for her though, as misfortune finds the family again and she must also deal with her growing son and the increasing distance between the two as education fills him with ambition. Where previously Apu has said very little, he now finds his voice. The more he learns, the more he participates in life. This worries his mother, because she fears losing him, but she does not hold him back. Above all else, she wants him to be happy.

Apu Sansar (The World of Apu) has the most humor of the three films, and perhaps the most intensely-felt agony as well. Now Apu is fully  grown, and while he is well educated, he still imagines himself the prince his mother raised. He doesn't want work to get in the way of his writing ambitions. Unfortunately, those high standards stand in the way of his fortune and he struggles to pay the rent, selling off volumes of his library just to survive.

When a spontaneous trip to a wedding ends in Apu marrying the bride, he decides he finally has someone worth working for. The prospect of building a family enthralls him, and he lives for little else, which proves to be dangerous when that sense of peace is threatened.

It had been a couple of decades since I first saw the trilogy. While I had remembered all the strongest emotional moments, the more delicate details had escaped me and I found the balance between the melodrama and those observational moments intensely pleasing. The thing that struck me overall was the love in this series--the way the characters work so passionately to elevate each other. I saw this particularly in the mother, who puts all of her energy towards making life better for her family, only to feel unappreciated and lonely, if still full of pride for her son.

Ravi Shankar's score is the perfect complement to the trilogy. His yearning, hopeful main theme is rightfully one of the most beloved in world cinema. The musician's sitar is so expressive that it serves as a sort of Greek chorus, commenting on the action with emotion that matches the passion of the characters onscreen.

While there is much suffering and tragedy in the Apu Trilogy, you leave it feeling elated, because love saves Apu and gives him belief in starting anew. You can feel the support of the generations before him, those who adored him, pressing him forward to do them proud.

While all film restoration projects are remarkable just for their existence, the story of this one is particularly impressive. The original elements, which were used for the new print, were once severely damaged by fire. These reels were saved, eventually to be re-hydrated and combined with other existing reels to make the final print. The results are nearly flawless: clean, detailed and with just enough grain to give the film warmth. It was a huge privilege and delight to see these films so beautifully presented on the big screen.

The SIFF 2015 schedule is here.

My SIFF 2015 suggestions for classic film fans are here.