On DVD: The Birth of Film Noir in Stranger on the Third Floor (1940)

Today Stranger on the Third Floor (1940) is most famous for being one of the first to fully embody classic film noir style. It easy to see why; its bleak fatalism and dark shadowy look do scream noir. Now available in a remastered edition on DVD from Warner Archive, a wider audience can admire the interesting stylistic choices of this unusual film.

Before going too far into the film, it is important to make a distinction about Peter Lorre's involvement. Though the actor is the title character, given top billing, and featured prominently in the advertising, he doesn't play the lead role. While his quietly unstrung performance is the best of the ensemble, and his character is of great importance, he only appears in two scenes.

Lorre had two days remaining on his RKO contract, and taking a small role enabled him to fulfill his obligations without committing to another major production. However, he was too big a star by then to play second fiddle to lesser-known names, and so he was top billed.

The actual star of Stranger on the Third Floor is John McGuire, in one of his most prominent roles. He is Mike Ward, a reporter who gets his big break, and a front page byline when he comes upon a murder scene and serves as a key witness in the trial. His testimony leads to the conviction of hapless Joe Briggs (Elisha Cook Jr.) who passionately swears he didn't do it. When Mike's neighbor is killed in a similar way to the previous victim, he realizes that he has made a mistake and the murderer is still on the loose.

One of the great drawbacks of the film is that Lorre, in his bit as a psychopathic killer, and Cook in a gut-churning court scene are more compelling to watch than McGuire. As the short-tempered, morally uneven Ward, he doesn't have the charisma to compensate for the unpleasant aspects of his character's personality. That said, he does have an interesting physical style of acting, sometimes taking on the stylized, dramatic poses of a performer in a German silent. The intensity of that posturing works well with his character's increasing sense of dread.

Margaret "Talli" Tallichet, who is best known for her long marriage to director William Wyler, is pleasant as Mike's fiancée Jane, and serves well as the brave and determined moral anchor of the film. Her wide-set eyes and dark hair remind me of Karen Carpenter, and at times she exudes a similar fragility when she becomes dismayed by the corruption around her. This was the actress' most prominent role and one of few she played in Hollywood before retiring from the screen upon her second pregnancy to focus on parenting (with a total of five kids, she seems to have done well in her second career).

In addition to its bleak thematic elements, the film also has the distinctive look of a film noir, with its long shadows and dark hallways. It draws heavily from the tense, moody visuals of German Expressionism, but with a grittier, more realistic feel than was common with earlier cinematic experiments with the style. Here you can see how noir and horror are deeply connected genres; stylistically they both inspire the same feeling of dread.

All these elements are used to their best effect in a stylized dream sequence that is rightfully the most famous passage in the film. With echoing, cavernous spaces made oppressive by long shadows and sharply intimidating camera angles, it is a perfect expression of the cold, incomprehensible world as envisioned by Ward.

A film with such compelling visuals as Stranger on the Third Floor could greatly benefit from a full restoration, but the DVD image is clean enough that its remarkable imagery can be adequately appreciated.

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.

Seattle International Film Festival 2016: Dreamy Argentinean Noir in The Bitter Stems/Los Tallos Amargos (1956)

One of my greatest disappointments of TCM Classic Film Festival this year was that I could not get into the opening night screening of the Argentinean film noir The Bitter Stems/Los Tallos Amargos (1956). I was thrilled to have another chance to see this rescued film at a SIFF screening this afternoon.

Eddie Muller of the Film Noir Foundation introduced the film, and while I hear he can drive schedule-driven festival organizers mad with his long introductions, they're only lengthy because there is so much to be said about the films he presents. In this case, it was an especially fascinating story.

Essentially, Muller was enticed into traveling to Argentina, where he was treated to screenings of some of the locally-filmed classic noir gems. Intrigued by what he saw, he returned to the country on his next vacation with plans to restore and circulate some of these films.

The Bitter Stems was one such find. It was rescued from poor storage conditions at a remote family estate. Many of the other films found at this location were beyond repair. While Stems was in bad condition, it was salvageable. Though it was missing its soundtrack, a 16mm version of the film was available and its soundtrack was digitized and added to the restored print.

That's a very much condensed version of the film's restoration story. I think Muller could have spoken for another hour and the audience would have welcomed it. If you get the chance to see this passionate advocate for film preservation speak, make a point of seeing him. He has a lot of great stories to share and I always come away from his talks with fascinating new information.

The film stars Carlos Cores as Alfredo Gaspar, a journalist who gets roped into a seamy journalism correspondence course scheme by European immigrant Liudas (Vassili Lambrinos). Put in a distrustful state of mind by their shady business, Gaspar suspects his partner of giving him the same raw deal they're giving their customers. His suspicions cloud his judgement, and an ill-advised attempt at revenge derails his life.

It took me a while to get into Stems. I felt like it was going down a familiar path of betrayal and retaliation, and I began to get restless when I thought I had it all figured out. Then the story took a fascinating turn, which moved the plot in a surprising direction. It essentially takes the kind of misunderstanding that drives a typical screwball comedy and paints it in the bleakest terms.

Because of the way The Bitter Stems switches gears, the relationship that drives it at the beginning is suddenly torn down and built into something new. It's an unsettling scenario, because there's so much charm on the surface, and only one character can see how horrid the situation truly is. Living alone with that knowledge tortures him, and he goes mad in a fashion much like the man imagining the throbbing heart of the corpse below the floorboards in Edgar Allen Poe's The Tell-Tale Heart.

This print of The Bitter Stems was one of the only, if not only 35mm screenings of SIFF 2016. I have to admit that in the past I've never entirely appreciated the difference between film and digital. There was something about this screening that helped me to understand though. I think it helped that it was such a visually striking film, so that I was already drinking in the imagery with extra enthusiasm, but other than that, I don't know why it suddenly hit me how much better it was. I finally could see how warm the picture was compared to digital images, and how that bit of softness it emanates makes the images so much more sensual and inviting. It was an exciting revelation for me.

During the screening, I noticed some odd behavior from the audience that I took to be a bit of cultural discomfort. There were a few moments where the interactions between the characters, or the drama of the music drew scattered laughs; and it seemed mostly because the visual cues or the mood were slightly different from that of northern-based cinema. It made me think of the awkward laughter you sometimes hear at silent film screenings. It wasn't much of a distraction, but I thought it interesting how the slightest of differences from expected behavior can make an audience uneasy. It seems even people who love movies so much they'll go to Argentinean film noirs on a sunny day could benefit from expanding their cinematic vocabulary. And isn't that what makes SIFF so amazing in the first place?

Seattle International Film Festival 2016: Chinese Silent All-Stars in The Big Road (1935)

Yan Jin the "Rudolph Valentino of Chinese Cinema"

As I walked up to the queue for The Big Road (1935), I heard a man ask, "Is this the line for Donald?" That's Donald Sosin, silent film accompanist and composer, and frequent guest of Seattle International Film Festival. It seems this talented musician has a bit of a following, and it is well deserved. For the first time, I wondered if I might get shut out of an archival screening as the line was held back for a quickly filling house.

This evening Sosin accompanied the screening of a Chinese classic that was most likely shown due to Richie Meyer, SIFF Board Member, Seattle University film professor and expert on Chinese cinema. Meyer introduced the film with a mini lecture about the political climate in which the film was made and the charismatic group of actors who starred. I think this was helpful to the audience. I didn't get the impression there were a lot of Chinese film experts there.

According to Meyer, The Big Road was shot in 1934-35 by a group of left wing progressives and Communists who wanted to protest the Japanese invasion of northeast China. As the airing of such opinions was dangerous, the filmmakers never directly name the enemy, instead making veiled, if obvious references.

Meyer then turned the spotlight on Sosin, challenging him to play snippets of music to go with whatever theme he named. This is a familiar shtick for anyone who has seen these two at a screening, and it's a great way to admire Sosin's skill at the keyboard before the movie begins and he essentially blends into the background. Meyer also introduced Dr. Malin Meyer, who would be translating the subtitles.

Li Lili reminded me a bit of Clara Bow

The story centers on six men and two women from a local eating house who befriend them. While the men struggle to build a road to transport troops, the women try to make their lives a bit happier and more comfortable. They have a hard, but relatively cheerful life until the Japanese capture the men, forcing the women to use their ingenuity to save them.

While the film was made silent, musical sequences were later added. These were charming interludes where the female and male stars take turns singing, and the audience was treated to the film's soundtrack for the songs while Sosin paused. They would have been a bit more charming without Malin translating over the songs, but it was interesting to know what they were saying, and I couldn't think of a better way to meld the two together.

It's easy to see why this group of actors was beloved in China. While a lot can be lost in translation, there's no denying the charisma of these dynamic people. Yan Jin (apparently known as the "Chinese Rudolph Valentino") and Li Lili (the "Chinese Mae West," though she reminded me more of Clara Bow) are particular standouts, both of them funny, gorgeous and a little off-kilter the way a truly relatable star must be. 

There's a nude swimming scene with the six men, where you only get glimpses of the really naughty bits, but I couldn't help but think it was put in there to show all those attractive stars to full advantage. Quite a shocker for 1935!

I also recognized Langen Han as the hapless brother from The Song of the Fisherman, which Meyer and Sosin presented at SIFF 2014. Meant to be comic relief, he was one of the few members of the cast who weren't ridiculously beautiful, and he got teased so much that I began to feel bad for him!

The Big Road makes a lot of sweeping emotional shifts, something I've come to recognize in Chinese cinema. One minute everyone is happy and laughing, the next there's a war plane mowing down innocent workers. It's jarring fatalism with a darkness that is in direct contrast to the Hollywood happy ending. Sometimes it feels like it is an honest reflection of reality, but I sometimes wonder if Chinese filmmakers and audiences almost found joy in everyone being destroyed so they could have big dramatic moments.

Sosin managed all those tonal shifts with ease. He is the most relaxed silent film accompanist I've seen perform, always alert and on point, but also seemingly completely confident and at ease. This is the fourth time I have seen him perform. I sat a couple of rows behind him, mostly because there simply weren't any other seats left, but it ended up being really interesting to see him at work, melding a truly creative performance (at one point he even yelled to punctuate a dramatic moment) with great precision work.

This was such a beautifully-executed presentation: a great film, strong narration, wonderful music and a little film history lesson to tie it all together. I hope to enjoy more Chinese films at SIFF in the future.

On DVD: Marion Davies and Billie Dove Sparkle in Blondie of the Follies (1932)

The stories former Ziegfeld girl Marion Davies told screenwriter Frances Marion about her time hoofing on the stage form the basis of the lively and often touching backstage film Blondie of the Follies (1932). The work of that sharp duo was further enhanced as scribe Anita Loos was hired to punch up the dialogue with real showgirl patter.

Paired with Billie Dove, another former Follies performer, Davies is at her most charming and touching as Blondie McClune. It's the perfect role for her, requiring a down-to-earth personality, but also giving the actress the freedom to cut loose and entertain her audience. The film is one of several newly available titles from Warner Archive which have increased my appreciation of the often misunderstood Ms. Davies.

Blondie lives with her parents and her sister's (Zasu Pitts) family in a New York tenement building. Her friend and former neighbor Lottie (Dove) has hit it big in the Follies. When the showgirl comes to visit one Mother's Day, she convinces Blondie to come spend time with her at her plush apartment. There she meets the man Lottie loves, the handsome and charming Larry (Robert Montgomery). Blondie doesn't know about her friend's crush, and when the two spend a wild night drinking and watching the Follies from backstage, Lottie is furious. She is even more green-eyed when Larry finds Blondie a spot in the show and she quickly becomes a success.

When Blondie learns of Lottie's crush, she tries to distance herself from Larry, though he isn't having it. All sorts of jealousy, and violence follow, much of it making me wonder if Joe Eszterhas watched this film with a notepad on his knee before writing his glorious trashterpiece Showgirls (1995). No one here runs off the rails talking about eating dog food though; there's a busy, chaotic tone to the action that makes it feel real. You can imagine the backstage dramas really happening, and the sight of men carrying set equipment back and forth and crumpled paper on the floor makes it feel all the more authentic.

Davies and Dove

Dove and Davies are a solid comic team, though it's obvious that producer, and Davies sugar daddy, William Randolph Hearst had influence over the final cut. While both actresses have the kind of faces that were meant to be carved into marble and displayed in a temple, it is Davies who gets the loving close-ups. While it is said that Dove left the movie business after this production to raise a family, you can't help but wonder if understandable frustration and envy over the attention her co-star received might have played a role in her retirement.

Of the uniformly pleasing supporting cast, James Gleason stands out as Blondie's father. He is heartbreakingly humble and salt of the earth in the midst of all the film's glamour. When he realizes he must let his daughter grow up and live life her own way, there's a sweet resignation to his acceptance. You can almost sense him envisioning Blondie as a baby and wondering how the years got away from him.

Jimmy Durante gets a prominent spot in the film's billing, but his only appearance is a performance with Davies in a brief party scene. It's a memorable bit though, a spoof on director Edmund Goulding's own hit Grand Hotel (1932) in which Durante is John Barrymore and Davies plays Garbo. I thought it was a clever way to incorporate the actress' talent for impersonations into a film. I'm guessing that skill was typically relegated to being a party trick in her real life.

Overall it's an interesting take on the life of a show girl, though who knows how much of it is actually on the level. Perhaps the most fascinating element of the film is that while Blondie's relationship with Larry is given a lot of weight plotwise, it is her connections with Lottie and her father that seem to hold the most meaning for her. In fact, Blondie only truly gives herself to Larry when those bonds are no longer able to sustain her. It's an unusual comment on movie romance, and you wonder which of the film's authors thought to present those relationships in that way.

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.

Quote of the Week: George Sanders Remembers Marilyn Monroe

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She was very beautiful and very inquiring and unsure--she was somebody in a play not yet written, uncertain of her part in the over-all plot. As far as I can recall, she was humble, punctual and untemperamental. She wanted people to like her.

-George Sanders, about Marilyn Monroe

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Seattle International Film Festival 2016: Technicolor Gene Tierney in Heaven Can Wait (1943)

Saturday at the Egyptian Theater, watching Lubitsch on the big screen, turning into an icicle. It really happened.

As we waited in line for a SIFF screening of Heaven Can Wait (1943), we were warned by a festival employee that the air conditioning in the Egyptian had been stuck on all night, and it was a bit chilly inside. However, he also told us that complimentary tea and coffee were available to help ward off the cold. A classy move.

The lady behind me was loaded up with a pillow and blanket, all ready to settle in for five hours of films, so she at least came prepared. She told me that getting ready for a long day at SIFF felt like packing for a camping trip. That's a good comparison, because both things have the same effect on your back. It actually didn't end up being much colder than usual.

Though I've seen and essentially enjoyed it a few times over the years, Heaven Can Wait has always been a problematic movie for me. Directed by Ernst Lubitsch, and written by the filmmaker's frequent screenwriter Sam Raphaelson, it has the sexy sparkle and sharp wit of his best films, though not quite as much as his pre-code romps. It also has a fantastic supporting cast, with Charles Coburn, Eugene Pallette, Marjorie Main and Gene Tierney doing some of their best work. My problem, aside from this being a post-code Lubitsch is that I don't like star Don Ameche and I like his character here even less.

The whole concept of this comedy is that Ameche's character, Henry Van Cleve is an imperfect person, but still worthy of entry into heaven. By the end of this screening, I think there were some audience members who still didn't believe he was ready for the pearly gates. I certainly wondered what he had done to redeem himself. Compounding the problem is that Ameche has always struck me as this kind of person in other movies as well: some cad who has it coming to him.

So my approach to this film is to treat Ameche like a talking movie audience member who won't be shushed, I feel tense about him, but I don't let him ruin things for me.

Heaven Can Wait follows Henry from babyhood to death. From the beginning he charms the ladies, and his flirtations with and mistreatment of them are the central pursuit of his life. As a baby his doting mother (Spring Byington) and grandmother (Clara Blandick) fight over him as he gazes up from the cradle. In the pre-teen years, he buys female attention with boxes of beetles. As a teen, he charms his mother's French maid (Signe Hasso) and gets drunk with her in a nightclub.

By the time Henry reaches adulthood, he has advanced to stealing his uptight cousin's (Allyn Joslyn) fiancée, Martha Strabel (Gene Tierney). It shouldn't come as a surprise, but is nevertheless disappointing that he isn't faithful to Martha. Never mind whether or not he should get into heaven, the dear lady should have kicked him to the curb. To make matters worse, when she enters the senior years, she is stuck with a hairdo that looks like an animal trying to eat her head. Even Gene Tierney isn't beautiful enough to overcome that, though she comes close.

With a man like that in the lead, the supporting cast must provide compensation, and it does. Charles Coburn is Henry's mischievous grandfather, and ironically is one of the most loveable characters, despite the fact that he must have been just as much of a cad as his grandson in his day. Eugene Pallette and Marjorie Main play their familiar types with gusto as Martha's strict, but warm-hearted parents. I love Gene Tierney, and would watch her in anything, but I have to admit I didn't previously give her enough credit for her comedy chops in this movie. While she is often stuck in the unrewarding disapproving wife role, she has some comic exchanges that she handles with great skill.

I also love that continuing Lubitsch/Raphaelson tradition of putting the spotlight on the servants. It makes sense to focus some attention on the help; imagine the things they have seen and the talent it must take to manage their employers. In this case there are two fascinating characters: the Van Cleve's butler Fogdell, who reacts with subtle amusement and occasional delight to the dramas of the family and the very amusing Clarence Muse as Jasper, the Strabel's patient and diplomatic servant, who clearly understands the delicate nature of his employees' marriage.

In his small part as the Devil, Laird Cregar deserves special mention. He plays the evil delight of his character perfectly; wide-eyed with amusement from learning all the dirt about his potential residents. Cregar even has the right look for the role: sort of handsome, sort of repellant and definitely dangerous looking.

As much as I dislike Ameche, all these characters, and the sharp wit of the script kept me grinning. You know you've been watching a Lubitsch when your face is sore, but you don't remember any belly laughs. This is a sly sort of humor that gets under your skin.

The film was a digital presentation of a new restoration by the 20th Century Fox, the Academy Film Archive, and The Film Foundation. While I found it beautiful overall, I was especially impressed by how vivid the colors were in the restored version. It's already such a brightly colored film, and in this presentation all those reds and blues really popped. There's also few leading ladies who can make a movie audience collectively hold its breath during a close-up like Gene Tierney does. She was made for Technicolor.

UPDATED With Winner: The Warner Archive Forbidden Hollywood Giveaway!

To commemorate the tenth and final volume of Warner Archive's delightful Forbidden Hollywood pre-code series, I am giving away one five-film set to a lucky reader!

The collection includes:

Guilty Hands (1931), with Lionel Barrymore, Kay Francis and Madge Evans

The Mouthpiece (1932), starring Warren William and Sidney Fox

Secrets of  the French Police (1932), featuring Gwili Andre, Gregory Ratoff and Frank Morgan

The Match King (1932), with Warren William, Lili Damita and Glenda Farrell

Ever in My Heart (1933), with Barbara Stanwyck and Ralph Bellamy

For more information about the films, check out my review from yesterday.

To enter the giveaway, just tell me your favorite pre-code film in the comments!

-Deadline to enter Monday, 5/30, 11:59 PST
-Open to USA residents only
-Winner to be announced in an update to this post Tuesday, 6/1 

Good Luck!

UPDATE:

The big winner of the Forbidden Hollywood giveaway is----

Ana Roland!

Congratulations Ana! Please send your mailing address to classicmovieblog@gmail.com and I will send your prize.

Thank you everyone for entering and thank you to Warner Archive Collection for providing a Forbidden Hollywood set for the giveaway!