What Was The Last Movie You Watched?

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

I came across several YouTube Gloria Grahame snippets while nervously waiting for the
Ohio Derby to roll yesterday. She's my choice to play Burma in my fantasy imaginings still
her talent and looks hold up well today with discernible depth to match.
Need to see her bio played out in Movie Stars Don't Die in Liverpool with Annete Benning.

 

[Julian Shellhammer]

Did we mention Buck Privates, from 1941, with Bud and Lou? It was some time back, another edition of family movie night. The kids liked the comedy bits, not so much the songs (which I enjoyed). There were frequent laugh out louds from the grown-ups, especially the dice game scene.

Noir icon Lawrence Tierney heads the cast in The Bodyguard, from 1948. Directed by Richard Fleisher, so there's some tough action, and some interesting close ups, where the actors walk right up to the lens, filling the screen. Tierney is a boundary-pushing homicide detective, and Priscilla Lane his fiance; he gets fired, but immediately is offered a job as a bodyguard for the rich boss of a meat-packing empire, Elizabeth Risdon. Attempts are made on her life, and the cop in Tierney comes to the fore, investigating the goings-on. Fast-paced, with IMDb alleging a one hour and 2 minute run time.

 

[Fading Fast]

Never Open That Door from 1952, an Argentinian film.


Director Carlos Hugo Christensen made a movie based on three Cornell Woolrich short stories, but owing to the demands at the time of Argentinian theaters, he broke his effort into two movies: the first containing two stories and the second movie containing just one.

The two movies are widely considered classics of "Argentinian film noir." With their beautiful black-and-white cinematography, haunting atmosphere and tales of lust, greed, betrayal and retribution, often going horribly wrong, they echo the themes of America's dark film genre.

In the first tale in Never Open That Door, a brother is trying to help his sister, who is in some kind of trouble, but she won't tell him what it is. The sister has lost a lot of money gambling, but the brother only finds this out indirectly when he sees that funds are missing from their account.

Angry that she has misappropriated family funds to pay off her debt, his reproach of her leads to dramatic consequences. He then learns, in a frighteningly quiet and oblique way, that his attempt to avenge the harm done to his sister has gone tragically wrong.

In the second vignette, a poor blind mother who lives with her pretty young niece talks glowingly about her son who has been away for eight years. The mother ignores the slight of him having never written to her as her love makes excuses for his behavior.

He then comes home but proves not to be the good son she thought he was. In a slow turn, the blind mother realizes she must stop her son from doing more bad things. The final harrowing scene foreshadows Audrey Hepburn's blind girl fighting for her life in 1967's Wait Until Dark.

These overviews have been intentionally vague as the only way to enjoy the movie is to see the two different plots develop without knowing their twists. Just like in good short stories, much of the fun is in their surprises.

Something good is happening on screen when a ringing phone causes intense fear in a character and the viewer, or when a car accidentally running over a misplaced shovel has you gripping your armrest. Christensen masterfully places several moments like these throughout his movie.

If these vignettes also sound somewhat like TV episodes from Alfred Hitchcock Presents or The Twilight Zone, that's because these short, tightly written tales feel very much like high-end episodes of those future TV shows.

There is also a subtle complementary commentary weaved into both vignettes. The first story is all about a rich world - penthouses, swanky nightclubs, furs, jewelry, etc. - that looks pretty, but can often be a cauldron of lies, deceit and intense pressures.

The second story, though, is mainly set on a poor rural farm where the religious mother and niece are happy and respected in their community. The son, though, reaching for more, like the gambling sister in the first vignette, shatters the comity of his home.

Never Open That Door, now beautifully restored, is a window into post-war Argentinian cinema that avers noir's themes of greed, lust and betrayal, lurking just below the surface of societal respectability, were as relevant south of the border as they were north.

There is also something very modern about a late 1940s Argentinian film noir movie being based on short stories written by an American writer born in New York City. It's an organic cultural exchange that is more sincere than many of our forced, modern efforts.

Worse, today some would be offended (read: those who are always offended) that an Argentinian film was based on an American-penned story. The rest of us (read: the adults in the room) just applaud the healthy and felicitous cultural cross pollination.

 

[Edward]

Hainan Airlines earlier in the week, a rewatch of Dial of Destiny and Oppenheimer. Both hold up to a fourth and second rewatch respectively. Also caught The Great Escaper, a fictionalised vrsion of the true story about the ninety year old ex RN guy who, having missed the official date to apply for the organised trip to Normandy for the 70th Anniversary of DDay , so slipped out of his nursing home and went on his own. Not a bad picture. There are some nice bits in it (meeting some German vets, proper recognition of the cost of war and PTSD nodded to). It suffers a bit too much from being a self-consciously "heart-warming British film for award season" for my tastes, but it does neatly avoid falling into the trap of flag-waving nonsense.

 

[Zombie_61]

Hainan Airlines earlier in the week, a rewatch of Dial of Destiny and Oppenheimer. Both hold up to a fourth and second rewatch respectively...

I didn't think Dial of Destiny held up to a first watch. I honestly didn't think Mr. Spielberg could have done worse than Temple of Doom, but he proved me wrong.

I haven't seen Oppenheimer yet, but I'm looking forward to it despite the mixed reviews it has received here in the U.S..

 

[Edward]

I didn't think Dial of Destiny held up to a first watch. I honestly didn't think Mr. Spielberg could have done worse than Temple of Doom, but he proved me wrong.

I haven't seen Oppenheimer yet, but I'm looking forward to it despite the mixed reviews it has received here in the U.S..

Dial does seem to have been an opinion-splitter - which is fair enough really. I liked it better than Skull. Temple I still have a lot of affection for as it was my first Indy. In the abstract I think of it as the weakest of the bunch, though in truth when I actully rewatch it it's always better than I recall. It's tempting though towodner how the whole series might have turned out with a great director - afraid I've not got a huge amount of time for Spielberg's style otherwise. I genrally find him overproneto the sacharine.

 

[Trenchfriend]

That's funny.
Born August 1984, I never was into the Indiana Jones merchandise. I only once saw a small part of the 2nd, nothing else.

BUT, try to imagine, if RICK DECKARD would be the protagonist, not Dr. Henry Jones! Then, I would give it a chance.

 

[Fading Fast]

If I Should Die Before I Wake from 1952, an Argentinian movie


If I Should Die Before I Wake is the third Cornell Woolrich short story that director Carlos Hugo Christensen turned into a movie. It was originally the last installment in the movie Never Open That Door, but theaters wanted shorter movies, so Christensen broke his movie into two.

While that tidbit of Argentinian movie history is interesting, If I Should Die Before I Wake works wonderfully as a stand-alone movie. It might even have benefited from the forced separation as it's a haunting and timeless effort worthy of consideration on its own.

A young boy, Lucio, is a bit of a clown at school as he teases the girls he clearly likes, doesn't pay attention in class and gets into minor scrapes. None of this pleases his stern but not unreasonable father, a police detective who feels his career has stalled.

In order to learn how a female classmate gets so much candy, Lucio makes a firm promise (think pinky swear) to her. She then tells him that a "nice man" gives it to her and promises to give her even more soon. Hearing this, the deep dread you feel as a viewer is awful.

The girl is then reported missing, but other than suspecting a serial killer, the police, with Lucio's father heading up the investigation, have no clues. Lucio, honoring his promise to the girl, says nothing even when he, as all her classmates are, is questioned.

The girl is eventually found dead - it's that horrible - but the crime is never solved. Time goes by and Lucio and his dad continue to struggle to find common ground. Lucio is still messing up at school, which prompts his dad to become sterner, which only drives them further apart.

Lucio then becomes friendly with another female classmate who seems to have an endless supply of expensive colored chalk. When she tells Lucio about the "kind man" who gives them to her, the pit in the viewer's stomach is even deeper this time.

When she goes missing, Lucio is initially distracted by a fight he has with a bully at school and then the ensuing punishment by the school and his father. Haunted, however, by the previous incident, Lucio doesn't sit still like he did before.

His efforts to save the missing girl, which require overcoming his fears, overlap with the police investigation, headed up, once again, by his father. It's a brutally tense race to try to save the girl that has you white-knuckled gripped on your armrests.

Woolrich's story with director Christensen at the helm perfectly captures the difficult nuance that every child has to learn at some time: when is it right to break a promise and where is the line between "snitching" and working for the greater good?

It's one of life's hardest lessons that doesn't really get that much easier as an adult, which is why the movie is timeless despite its dated appearance. Lucio's struggles with his father are also perennial, as we see a father and son, both sincere, talk right past each other.

All of this takes place in a noir / The Twilight Zone atmosphere as the innocent look of childhood - kids dressed in nice school uniforms playing games at recess - is juxtaposed with the menace of a psychotic killer stalking young girls with promises of candy and gifts.

If I Should Die Before I Wake and its cognate Never Open That Door are parables or fables with If I Should Die Before I Wake even being introduced by a voiceover comparing it to a fairy tale with monsters and heroes: think psychotic killers versus young boys and police detectives.

Argentinian movies like If I Should Die Before I Wake show that film noir was a world-wide phenomenon, which is hardly surprising as all countries have crime, psychotics, fear, angst and dark forces to contend with.

What makes Christensen's movies relevant today is, yes, their impressive and engaging noir style, but even more so, the haunting and powerful way they capture timeless human struggles and challenges in seemingly "simple" stories.

 

[Zombie_61]

It's tempting though to wonder how the whole series might have turned out with a great director - afraid I've not got a huge amount of time for Spielberg's style otherwise. I generally find him over-prone to the saccharine.

I do know a few people who disliked "Dial" as much as I do, but I don't know where they stand on the franchise or Mr. Spielberg in general. For me some of his movies fall under the "acquired taste" category, if I've watched them at all. Scanning the list of movies he's Produced/Directed, I find I've not watched far more than I've watched.

That's funny.
Born August 1984, I never was into the Indiana Jones merchandise. I only once saw a small part of the 2nd, nothing else.

BUT, try to imagine, if RICK DECKARD would be the protagonist, not Dr. Henry Jones! Then, I would give it a chance.

Ah, Blade Runner. I really don't get all of the fuss; visually interesting, but overly long and quite boring.

 

[Edward]

I do know a few people who disliked "Dial" as much as I do, but I don't know where they stand on the franchise or Mr. Spielberg in general. For me some of his movies fall under the "acquired taste" category, if I've watched them at all. Scanning the list of movies he's Produced/Directed, I find I've not watched far more than I've watched.


Ah, Blade Runner. I really don't get all of the fuss; visually interesting, but overly long and quite boring.

Blade Runner I remember being very disappointed in when I first saw it - I was still a Star Wars fan at the timee and expected something quite else. I came to enjoy it much later on when I'd developed an apreciation for noir and understood what they were driving at. One of a few films I appreciated much more when I got older.... Rebel Without a Cause falls hard in the same bracket.

 

[Fading Fast]

Psycho from 1960 with Janet Leigh, Anthony Perkins, Vera Miles, John Gavin, Martin Balsam and John McIntire


Psycho is still a scary movie. Despite all the imitations and expansions on its themes and style that have been done since its release, and despite being sixty-plus years old, Psycho is still a compelling horror/mystery/thriller movie that pulls you in and scares the bejesus out of you.

Director Alfred Hitchcock knew he was making something different and special with Psycho's tale of greed, a warped Freudian Oedipus complex and violent murder. He hawked it like P.T. Barnum, but he had the product to back up the hype.

Full-figured Janet Leigh plays a Phoenix office worker with a California boyfriend, played by John Gavin - a boyfriend she sleeps with when he's in town, in a cheap, sweltering hotel room on her lunch breaks - who can't marry her because his alimony payments have him all but destitute.

Leigh, a ten-year trusted employee at a small real estate concern, then absconds with $40,000 late on a Friday and heads to California to be with her boyfriend. This feels fake as nothing in Leigh reads criminal, and more importantly, nothing in her reads idiot as she will be caught.

It's all just a setup, though, to get Leigh to the Bates Motel, a small, empty establishment on a now abandoned local service road because of the new highway. The hotel is mid-century austere, but tucked up behind it on a hill is a creepy Victorian house that seems of another time.

Nervous Leigh meets the motel's genial, young, good-looking but off-in-some-way owner, played by Anthony Perkins. He bonds a bit with Leigh before she settles in for the night alone in her room with her $40,000 and guilty conscience.

Everything that happens from here, for the few people who haven't seen the movie, would be a spoiler, so just know that several classic moments in movie history are coming, moments that are so iconic they've been riffed on innumerable times since.

There is the classic shower scene brilliantly enhanced by Bernard Herrmann's music score, the car painfully slowly sinking into the swamp, the silhouetted mother in the window and a "don't go down into the basement" moment for the ages. These have all become cultural touchstones.

Bernard Herrmann's original and often piercing score throughout, not just in the shower scene, plays a pivotal role in amplifying the film's tension and horror, making it one of the most memorable and influential soundtracks in film history.

There is also the slow-grinding investigation driven by Leigh's sister, played by Vera Miles, and Leigh's boyfriend, Gavin, who go from slightly hostile to maybe interested in each other as they force the investigation for the missing Leigh forward.

In addition to Miles and Gavin, Simon Oakland as a-bit-too-cocksure psychiatrist, John McIntire as a thoughtful sheriff and John Anderson as a slick investor help round out an impressive cast that makes almost every scene engaging.

Martin Balsam, too, deserves mention as the smart private detective, hired by Miles, who catches Perkins' biggest mistake. Yet even Balsam didn't realize the level of evil he was dealing with. Balsam is one of those quiet professional actors who elevates every movie he is in.

None of this, though, would work without Perkins' incredible acting as possibly the most-broken cinematic mama's boy of all time. His affable but fidgety personality, with a frightening anger trigger that seems to make him calmer but crazier, is performance at its zenith.

His portrayal of Norman Bates delves deep into the character's disturbed psyche, bringing a psychological complexity that elevates the horror beyond mere physical threats. You don't want to be in the room alone with this man.

This overriding feeling of dread is advanced by Hitchcock's decision to shoot in black-and-white, in a mainly color era. Hitch coupled that with innovative camera angles and editing techniques to create an atmosphere of intense suspense and unease that still resonates with audiences today.

Yet, despite its black-and-white film, the movie doesn't scream 'film noir' or 'horror,' but instead has a timeless 'anywhere' feel. The Bates Motel exists forever in some kind of The Twilight Zone madness.

A classic film fan can almost get Hitchcock hagiography fatigue because the famed director's legend exists on such an elevated plane, in part, because Hitch put it there himself. But then you watch one of his movies, like Psycho, and you are simply glad he did what he did.