Showing posts with label The Forties. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Forties. Show all posts
Tuesday, 8 June 2010
Rebecca (1940): Who is 'The Second Mrs. de Winter'?
Rebecca (1940) Dir: Alfred Hitchcock
Mrs Danvers: [behind 'The Second Mrs. de Winter'* as she looks down onto the courtyard below:]
You've nothing to stay for. You've nothing to live for really, have you?
Look down there. It's easy, isn't it? Why don't you? Why don't you? Go on. Go on. Don't be afraid...
*The Second Mrs. de Winter's first name was not given, in either the book or the film. She's a shy, self-conscious young woman from a lower-middle class background, and is a paid companion to Mrs. Edithe Van Hopper, a wealthy American woman. In Monte Carlo, she meets and marries the older, wealthy widower, Maxim de Winter, and, as his wife, becomes the mistress of Manderley. However, upon arrival, she is overshadowed by the memory of the late Mrs. de Winter, Rebecca. (via IMDB)
Also? That's a creepy scene.
Thursday, 27 May 2010
The Glass Key (1942): Classic Movie Review
Examining the Enduring Appeal of a Film Noir Classic
Stuart Heisler's adaptation of Dashiell Hammett's novel still influences Hollywood, with a tale of dubious alliances and loyalty.
In The Glass Key, Alan Ladd plays Ed Beaumont, right-hand man to Paul Madvig (Brian Donlevy), a boorish, ambitious player with political aspirations.
When the murder of a reckless playboy casts suspicion on his boss, Ed works to protect Madvig. Matters are further complicated when Madvig falls for the daughter of a wealthy industrialist (Veronica Lake) - especially when Ed falls under the spell of the same girl.
It's a labyrinthine plot, typical of the genre. Given the right running time (the film plays out in under 90 minutes), the script distills Hammett's usual complexities adequately - but it's still hard to follow.
Although, fans of the hardboiled crime tradition will know, that's part of the fun.
Faithful to Hammett's Hardboiled Style
Hammett popularised the kind of story-telling that threw the reader into morally murky waters. In The Glass Key, there aren't any good guys as such - just the corrupt, or the even more corrupt.The Glass Key is celebrated as one of the earliest pairings between Ladd and Lake, who went on to make a total of seven movies together. Although Lake shares top billing here, she's actually in only a handful of scenes, but when the pair first meet in this, the scene crackles with energy.
Veronica Lake glides gracefully through her brief scenes, her distinctive voice punctuating the dialogue with effortless style. Ladd is perfectly cast, his face seeming to barely mask a sardonic smile.
Brian Donlevy is superb as the oafish yet successful Madvig. Another standout performance comes from Ladd's counterpart: a thug called Jeff, played by William Bendix.
A Standout Action Scene
In perhaps the most startling and memorable scene, Ed is held captive by Jeff and repeatedly beaten. The ferocity and intensity on display is shocking for a film almost seven decades old. Bendix relishes the role, giving a creepy, homo-erotic spin to his psychopathic punishments, wooing Ed with pet names; continually, he refers to his quarry as 'sweetheart' and 'baby'.Ed's flight from danger is an audacious, physically punishing scene that has him fall three storeys, through a glass roof and onto a dinner table. Unlike action heroes of today, he spends the next few days in hospital and never completely recovers.
Summing Up
Held alongside other movies of the genre, The Glass Key is a slighter example of Film Noir. In terms of plot, however, it was hugely influential: Akira Kurosawa acknowledged it as the chief inspiration for Yojimbo (1961), a film that in turn influenced many subsequent Hollywood movies, most notably A Fistful of Dollars (1964).These examples are eclipsed by the Coen brothers' Miller's Crossing (1990), which effectively rewrites The Glass Key for a modern audience.
An undisputed classic of the era, The Glass Key is essential viewing for any self-respecting fan of the genre.
Tuesday, 11 May 2010
Double Indemnity (1944)
That was all there was to it. Nothing had slipped, nothing had been overlooked. There was nothing to give us away. And yet, Keyes, as I was walking down the street to the drugstore, suddenly, it came over me that everything would go wrong. It sounds crazy Keyes, but it’s true, so help me, I couldn’t hear my own footsteps. It was the walk of a dead man.
Double Indemnity (1944) Dir: Billy Wilder
I reckon this possibly my favourite Noir movie. Barbara Stanwyck is perhaps the definitive Fatale; she plays an arch manipulator, so skilful in her estimations of the men in her life that she has to do (or say) very little - she just lets them spin like tops around her until they all fall down.
The screenplay was by Raymond Chandler, adapting the James M. Cain novel. Chandler wasn’t a fan of Cain; although the plot remains pretty much the same, the dialogue is clearly Chandler’s work - especially the exchanges between Stanwyck and Fred MacMurray, who plays the central role of a lovestruck cynic so well.
The movie starts at the end, which I always enjoy - here, MacMurray narrates what happened into a primitive dictaphone. This foreshadows events, so we know from the outset it won’t have a happy ending. The power of the story is what happens in between.
A (relatively) more recent example of this narrative technique is DePalma’s Carlito’s Way, where a bleeding-to-death Carlito (Al Pacino) wearily dreams of a tropical retreat he’ll never get to see (his flagging eyes see it on a travel poster instead) and works his story back from there.
Double Indemnity (1944) Dir: Billy Wilder
I reckon this possibly my favourite Noir movie. Barbara Stanwyck is perhaps the definitive Fatale; she plays an arch manipulator, so skilful in her estimations of the men in her life that she has to do (or say) very little - she just lets them spin like tops around her until they all fall down.
The screenplay was by Raymond Chandler, adapting the James M. Cain novel. Chandler wasn’t a fan of Cain; although the plot remains pretty much the same, the dialogue is clearly Chandler’s work - especially the exchanges between Stanwyck and Fred MacMurray, who plays the central role of a lovestruck cynic so well.
The movie starts at the end, which I always enjoy - here, MacMurray narrates what happened into a primitive dictaphone. This foreshadows events, so we know from the outset it won’t have a happy ending. The power of the story is what happens in between.
A (relatively) more recent example of this narrative technique is DePalma’s Carlito’s Way, where a bleeding-to-death Carlito (Al Pacino) wearily dreams of a tropical retreat he’ll never get to see (his flagging eyes see it on a travel poster instead) and works his story back from there.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)




