My View of Bridge on the River Kwai

  Okay, we all know the drill.  Every year, Hollywood puts out action movies that are devoid of character development, solidly written dialog, and restrained pace  These are first-shot-explosion-turned-chase-scene-turned-shoot-out-to-the-last-scene-explosion epics that plaster the wide screens from April through September.  They have no background development.  The characters are flat, dialog is non-existent.  Despite our complaints about them, the fact is, we're all dazzled by the whiz-bang wizardry of Hollywood's bland magic makers.  We can't help it.  We twist our necks to see what's happening, much like any one would when a loud noise catches our attention in a crowded space.  Sadly, it has reduced us to onlookers, driving by and blinking in surprise at what we see without stopping to find out what it's all about.
  Without these dizzying effects to keep our attention (just think of someone standing next to you, snapping his fingers every few moments to keep you looking in his direction) we have become bored with things like character development, conversations, reflective moments, and yes, even setting.  The funny thing is, this is what made up the bulk of all those classic movies that everyone is so quick to say they love.  Consider the following:

  In Bridge on the River Kwai, William Holden and Alex Guinness must battle the misery and brutality of a Japanese Prison Camp during World War II.  It's a war movie that runs for 161 minutes.  For those of you who gave up math because it's just too time consuming, let me remind you that 161 minutes is two hours and forty-one minutes.  That's like watching six episodes of The Office back-to-back on a DVD, with about fifteen minutes left over to discuss all the hilarious ways Michael mistreated his employees.  So during all of this screen time, you would expect this war movie to have loads of action.  But in reality, there is very little.  There's an escape attempt about twenty minutes into the film.  It is shot in the dark, by moonlight, and there's some running around in the jungle, a few gunshots, and a knifing.  Later, more than an hour later, we see a very quick one-sided gun battle, followed by more running in the jungle, and another knifing.  It is not until the final scene that we see some action which includes mortar fire, machine guns, and explosives.  And yet, even during this action, the greatest and most memorable moment in it is when two characters utter one word at the other.

Jack Hawkins attempts to draw William Holden into
his plan to demolish the River Kwai Bridge.

  And that's it.  That's all the action you get.  By today's standards it's boring.
  I sat my two teenage sons down one night to watch this long, drawn-out drama, with the firm conviction that it was one of the best war movies I've ever seen.  Sure, they've seen Saving Private Ryan, and  Band of Brothers.  I knew that they loved action movies, thought even the most creative CGI displays don't keep their full attention.  They have a habit of chit-chatting during movies, joking and poking at each other as if they need something else to entertain them during the film.  I admit I worried that their focus would wander during Kwai, which I knew to be thin on action.  But I pressed the play button and hoped for the best.
  Two hours and forty-one minutes later, as the credits filled the screen, I looked over at my sons, who were still leaning towards the screen, a position I had noticed them in early on in the film.  They both reluctantly turned away from the screen, looking in my direction.  "Wow, that's a good movie," one of them said.  The other one nodded.
  Now, a little full-disclosure is required here.  I've raised these boys on classic movies.  Though they watch plenty of modern movies like Tron:Legacy, and Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, they've also watched many Bogart movies with me, as well as Steve McQueen, and John Wayne, and even Buster Keaton.  They learned how to pay attention during long conversations and they understand that lighting and music can be used to create and promote themes in the background of a movie.  But that doesn't always mean they like the older movies.  It doesn't mean the classics always keep their attention.
  But Kwai had them from the get-go.  The moment they heard that theme song being whistled by a ragtag bunch of prisoners marching vigorously, shod only with the tattered remains of what might once have been boots, proudly holding their place as the wounded straggle in behind them, they were hooked.  And it wasn't action that held them there.
  The first thing to keep them pinned to their seats was the slightly humorous British officer, played with such dry excellence by Sir Alec Guinness, as he obnoxiously argues with the prison camp commander Colonel Saito.  Guinness is at his best here, but I believe it only works so well because of the equally stunning performance by veteran actor (and former silent film star) Sessue Hayakawa.  Hollywood, in 1957, also thought he was pretty darned good.  He was nominated for an Academy Award as supporting actor.  The humor here quickly leads to drama as Guinness is locked into the hot box and a battle of wills ensues.
  The linchpin of this long film is a scene between these two officers near the middle of the movie.  It is not the point at which they square off and fight with amazing gravity defying skills that can only be filmed with the use of harnesses and green-screens.  In fact, such a fight never happens.  Why should it when these two men can hold us captive with a conversation.  That's all it is.  A conversation over dinner.  Two men just talking. And yet, it is mesmerizing.  At the end of it, you feel the need to stop and take a breath, and marvel at the sheer magic that can be accomplished by a writer, two actors, and a director.
  As the film builds to its climax, we aren't assaulted with a dizzying array of brutal prison camp scenes that most modern movies like to throw at us.  What we see instead is a bizarre twist as Guinness emerges as more of a villain than Hayakawa.  At the same time, we see Holden do everything he can to not be a hero.  He goes out of his way to be a coward.  And yet, fate drags him closer and closer to the climax.  And we begin to suspect that despite his anti-hero wise-cracks, Holden will not disappoint.  He will, in fact, emerge as the hero, boots planted victoriously astride the bodies and ashes of the Japanese and their bridge.
  Spoiler alert here.  I hate to do this for anyone who hasn't seen this movie.  But the climax is the point of what I am saying.  If you are the type to care about these things, and you haven't seen the movie, stop now, go and rent it and watch it, then come back to finish reading.  Otherwise, just keep reading.  Knowing the end doesn't ruin the movie.  The sum total of this movie's greatness does not lie in a twist ending.  It won't lose anything if you know what happens.  You won't care once you finally sit down to watch it, because you'll be spellbound anyway, and forget what you read here, and it will be just as satisfying to watch as if you'd never heard what happens.

Sir Alec Guinness struggles with duty and pride in
the heat of the Burmese Jungle.

  As I said before, the final battle contains machine-gun fire, mortars dropping on the river, and the bridge blowing up.  But that doesn't matter very much.  What does matter is that one character must face the decision to kill one of his own, and we know, from character development, that he has enough trouble killing the enemy, let alone a fellow officer.  What does matter is that William Holden, the Hollywood Star (and only American in the film) shrugs off his cowardice, boldly surges across the river under enemy gunfire, utters a one-word line that is his best line in the film, and dies needlessly, accomplishing nothing.  What does matter is that Guinness utters the same line as Holden, dies in shame, and only redeems himself through happenstance.
  What really matters is the doctor's last words.  (Played by the wonderful Scottish actor James Donald.)
  "Madness!  Madness!"
  None of which would be worth watching without character development, a slow, gut-twisting pace, and minimal action.  When it is over, and the bodies are strung out in a line in the riverbed, you'll need to catch your breath.  And if you take the time to think about it, you'll wonder what all these action movies today are lacking.  Because none of them, with their millions of dollars of CGI stunt-laden action, can approach this kind of finale.

My View of Ida Lupino

  Okay, as many of you know, I have a great many photographs of actors and actresses in my theater.  I have decided to add Ida Lupino to my wall, and am not sure which picture to add.  I'd love to hear what readers think is the best picture to add to my collection.  I'll give you a few choices from which to choose.

  Now, to start, there's this great shot of Ida with (anyone surprised?) Humphrey Bogart.  I should warn you, Mr. Bogart is already on my wall in about a half dozen photos, so as much as I like the shot, it may not be the best choice.

  Lupino and Bogart filmed They Drive By Night together in 1940, after which they filmed High Sierra, from which this still is taken.  I liked They Drive By Night better, but it is hard not to like any picture with these two film greats together.

  You may not know it, but Jack Palance had quite a career as a leading man, appearing in many great Film Noir thrillers.  This publicity shot is from 1955's The Big Knife, a great movie that showcases the acting range of Palance.  Shelly Winters and Rod Steiger have excellent supporting roles.  Lupino is stunning in this picture.  A fun, wild look behind the scenes of Hollywood.  Palance, always creepy, would be a nice addition to my wall.

  Okay, speaking of creepy, and since October is coming up, it would be pretty cool to add Basil Rathbone, along with sidekick Nigel Bruce, as they assist the young, troubled Lupino, saving her life, and the British Empire, of course, in The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, in 1939.

  Now, what collection of movie stars doesn't look good with a studio, publicity glamour shot?  This is not Lupino's best look, since she made a career out of being a victimized woman (one who fought back with more bite than many of her fellow actresses, to be sure), though she does glamour pretty well.

  Speaking of fight, here's Lupino, her back against a wall but her hands full of a Winchester rifle.  She was always a tough girl, with that throaty voice of hers, it was easy to believe she could hold her own if the need arose.  In this 1949 western, Lust for Gold, Lupino stars with Glenn Ford, along with Gig Young (a personal favorite of mine), Will Geer (you know him as Grandpa Walton), and Jay Silverheels (Tonto!).  Gold, betrayal, and Ida Lupino with a Winchester--man, why can't they make movies like this anymore?

  This last publicity shot, from The Big Knife, is your last choice.  I like it, because it shows her slightly more vulnerable side, which always shone through her tough-girl act.  It's why she was able to be the tough girl.  Unlike many of today's tough girls, who are tough without a speck of vulnerability, hence little chance to earn our sympathy, Lupino always managed to both convince us that she was only as tough as she needed to be to protect a sensitive spirit that hid within.

  Lupino not only had a successful career as a leading lady in Hollywood, but she became one of the first major female directors in that male dominated field, including being credited as the first female director of a Film Noir (The Hitch-Hiker, 1953).  She directed many feature-length movies, as well as directing numerous television programs, including Gilligan's Island, Bewitched, The Twilight Zone (The Masks), and Alfred Hitchcock Presents.  She has also guest-starred on many shows, including The Twilight Zone (The Sixteen-Millimeter Shrine), Charlie's Angels, Colombo, Ellery Queen, Bonanza, and Batman (as Dr. Cassandra Spellcraft, a criminal alchemist).

So go ahead, let me know what your vote is.  Which picture of Ms. Lupino would be the best one for my Hollywood wall?

And if you are interested in Ms. Lupino's work, be sure to check out the following movies:
(High Sierra can be viewed online at the link below.)

My View of Sunset Boulevard

  As a pretty serious film buff, there have been a few major movies that I have not yet seen.  Since this list contains movies made forty, sixty and even eighty years ago, and this list of movie titles does not grow, I have not gone out of my way to watch them all quickly in order to strike them off the list.  I have time to work through them slowly, opening each one like a gift, knowing that these are special movies.  Some of these movies do not live up to their hype, but these are rare.  Most of the time I discover that their pantheon status is well-deserved.

Sunset Boulevard (1950)

  I'd passed on the chance to watch Sunset Boulevard earlier in life for several reasons, the most prominent being that it just seemed to be about an old lady who was unhappy with having lost her popularity as a silent film star.  It just didn't sound too thrilling, and when I was younger I tended to look for more thrilling movies than ones that were not.  And although I loved William Holden in Stalag 17, I had never heard of Gloria Swanson, and so I felt no compulsion to watch a movie in which she was the female lead.  Back then I was more interested in Kathryn Hepburn, Grace Kelly, or Kim Novak.

  So after being bedridden with the flu, I found Sunset Boulevard on Netflix and decided it was time to give it a chance.  After all, it was rated as one of the top films ever made about Hollywood.  It has been included in the Library of Congress' first list of 25 films that are "culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant."  It had been nominated for 11 Academy Awards.  (Not always a good indicator, mind you.)  It was a Billy Wilder classic, which could be a good thing, and could be a bad thing.  I like Wilder, some of his movies top my favorites list.  But some of his top my most disappointed list as well.

  And so, like Gloria Swanson's character in the movie (though I did not know it at the time), I settled in to watch an old screen legend on my in-house movie screen.

  From the opening shots, we see two corpses:  one of a man lying face-down in a pool, one of a monkey lying in state, the silk sheet drawn back to reveal its death-mask.  The first image tells us this is going to be a noir-thriller.  The second tells us it is going to be anything but common; it is, in fact, going to be a Gothic, macabre tale.

  Joe Gillis, played with William Holden's usual laconic dry humor, is a struggling Hollywood hack who desperately needs to make some dough.  Sure, he's behind in his rent, but his big concern is losing his car, which as any man will tell you, symbolizes his freedom.  Unable to scrounge up a job, he ducks his car into what appears to be an abandoned garage on Sunset Boulevard while running from the repo-men.  Sunset is known for lavish, wealthy estates populated by the original stars of Hollywood, most of whom, at this time (1950) are living in seclusion, having dropped out of the public eye since the introduction of sound in pictures twenty-three years earlier.  Most of these stars, once the most envied by the public, were nearly forgotten in the wake of the unprecedented explosion of Hollywood's popularity.

  To Joe's unnerved surprise, the house is not empty.

  Here's where I began to enjoy this movie.  The house is presented as something close to Dracula's castle.  No, it's not a castle in the conventional moat-and-drawbridge sort of way, but this Italianate mansion actually has a creaky gate, bizarre decorations, and wide, open rooms that certainly give us that Castle feeling.  The butler, with his gargoyle-like stony expression, adds to the classic-horror feel as Joe is told he is "expected".

  Oh boy, don't walk in that gate!

  A woman's throaty voice calls out from the top of the stairs.  "You're late.  Come up here!"

  Oh boy, don't go up them stairs!

  The butler tells him, "if you need help with the casket, just call me."

  Excuse me?

  At the top of the stairs, he hears that same woman's voice say-- "In here."

  Oh boy, don't go in there.

  "He's right here."  She draws back that silk sheet to reveal the dead monkey.

  How does Bill Holden get out of this with only some dry humor and good looks?

Gloria Swanson's iconic portrayal of Norma Desmond

 And so begins this tale, of a man who discovers a silent film star, Norma Desmond (Swanson's role), who is living in some sort of Boris Karloff unreality, and decides she wants Holden to stay with her.  Holden's Joe Gillis, who doesn't flee as any right-minded man would, thinks he can exploit her for a job and some easy dough.  Well, why not?  If had acted as a right-minded man should, it would not have been a movie.

  From here on in, like Joe, we begin to learn of a Hollywood that no longer exists.  Of card games played by former stars: Gloria Swanson was actually a silent screen film star, and she gets old friends Buster Keaton, H. B. Warner, and Anna Q. Nilsson to join her at the card table.  What a delight it was to see Keaton in this cameo!  Her old friend and director Cecil B. Demille gets to play a significant part in the story, and even that old gossip Hedda Hopper shows up for the fun.  We are allowed to see the back-lots and offices of Paramount Pictures, as well as the sound stages.  All of which would make this a fun, cheery picture, except for the fact that these sights are only dressing added to the main story in that macabre house of Swanson's.

  Director Billy Wilder does this on purpose.  He wants to show us this hidden, sad layer of Hollywood, but he knows we won't buy it if it is done without the heavy involvement of the real Hollywood.  If Demille's role had been a generic, fake director, it would have made the movie just look like a farce.  So bizarre is the world that Wilder is showcasing that he must use these elements of truth to get us to agree to come along for the ride.

  Not all of Hollywood was thrilled at Wilder's depiction of their universe.  Many of the older stars complained about it.  But that had to be sheer vanity, since Wilder does a great job of highlighting one woman's loss of sanity, without condemning the entire industry along with her.

  There are some fascinating images used in this movie.  None of the doors in the mansion have locks, all of them have been removed, leaving holes in every door.  Oddball beauty treatments resemble something out of Phantom of the Opera.  The lavish, downright hokey decor in Swanson's house is great, especially when you find out that the set decorator actually designed similar houses for actual stars like Mae West.  Should anyone be surprised that Hollywood stars might have bad taste?

  The plot is not too original.  But it doesn't have to be.  It is simply a take on how Hollywood, with all of its money and glitz, can seduce a man who wants to do something good with his talent.  This is illustrated by the contrast between the glamorous Swanson and Holden's sweet love-interest, played by newcomer Nancy Olson.  (Boy, even her name reeks of sweetness.  She's almost too pure to be believable, looking and acting like one of those innocent college girls in a Superman comic book.)  A special gem in the movie is Nancy's friend Arty, played with enthusiastic joie de vivre by the unlikely Jack Webb.  He's so young, and so full of expression, I had to look him up on the Internet to figure out who he was.  I knew he looked familiar, but I would never have guessed Joe Friday could be so...smiley.

  There is so much I'd like to say about this movie, but can't, for fear of ruining it for the few out there who have not seen it.  (It seems unlikely, given its status, but I hadn't seen it until just the other day, so I have to assume there are others.)  All I can add is that once you've seen it, read up on the history of the actors involved.  Pay particular attention to the butler (Eric von Stroheim) .  His role is full of wonderful irony that is even more so when his real life is taken into consideration.

  Holden gets all the witty, cynical lines, as when he responds to Olson's comment that she had heard he had some talent--"That was last year.  This year I'm trying to earn a living."  But it's Swanson who gets the best lines.  When Holden threatens to leave her, she holds that movie-star profile high and says "No one ever leaves a star--that's what makes one a star."  But what Wilder makes so painfully clear is that though the stars may light up the sky for a time, stars also fall.  And when they do, it is fascinating to watch them plummet from the sky. 

My Lonely View of Movies

Am I the only person who thinks most trailers are better than the movies themselves?
Am I the only person who says this time I'm not going to buy popcorn, and then buy it as soon as I smell it?
Am I the only person who thinks there is too much action in action movies?
Am I the only person who thinks Ashley is not worth all that bother?
Am I the only person who sits in an empty theater, only to have a man with a chronic cough sit down directly behind me?
Am I the only person who enjoys the snack food/please be quiet film at the beginning of the show?
Am I the only movie-goer that hated Avatar?
Am I the only person who fell asleep at a Harry Potter movie?
Am I the only person who sees that Hollywood would make a ton of money if they just started re-releasing movies like The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly every week?
Am I the only person who watched The Passion of the Christ while some idiot behind me explained the movie to his lady-friend, mostly with explanations that were wrong?
Am I the only person that likes to read many of the technical credits even though I don't know one person who works in Hollywood?
Am I the only person who realizes that most of the numbskulls around me at the theater don't have a clue what's going on in the movie?
Am I the only man who thinks Glynnis Johns is sexy?
Am I the only person who watches fight scenes that occur in people's homes and cringe at the thought of all that home repair work that will need to be paid for and completed?
Am I the only person who thinks Elliot should have handed ET over to the authorities?
Am I the only person who thinks eating nachos at a theater is a no-no?
Am I the only father who teared up when his kids got the chance to see Casablanca on the big screen?
Am I the only person who gave up seeing the Eiffel Tower lit up at night to see The Lady from Shanghai in a little Parisian theater?
Am I the only person who has never double-dipped for a second, free movie at the multi-plex?
Am I the only person who remembers seeing The Sting with his parents when he was only three years old?
Am I the only movie-goer who still wants a refund for that Tom Selleck debacle Folks?
Am I the only man who thinks Angelina Jolie is not hot?
Am I the only person who thinks 80's synthesizer movie-scores were really cool?
Am I the only person who is glad Peter Jackson changed Glorfindel to Arwen for Frodo's rescue at the Ford of Bruinen?
Am I the only person who never liked jujubes?
Am I the only person who has watched a movie from the first row in the seat farthest to the left?
Am I the only person who thought The Boatniks was a great movie?
Am I the only person who thinks Moonraker should be stricken from the James Bond collective memory?
Am I the only person who misses the scratchy needle-on-a-record sound that preceded the beginning of movies before digital ruined everything with its perfect sound?
Am I the only person who wishes he could quit his job, buy an old theater, and play classic movies as a career?
Am I the only person who recasts movies in his mind even as he's watching them, even if he likes the actors in it?
Am I the only person who suddenly wants to go to a theater near me?

My Long Awaited View of Casablanca

I'm just not sure where to begin.  I would go back to the beginning, but I can't say I really remember it.  I'd seen Casablanca on television several times in my early teens.  I can't be positive of the year.  What I do know for sure is that when I began to date my future wife, I was stunned that she had never seen it.  We set a date to spend the day watching Casablanca along with one of her favorite movies that I had never seen: My Fair Lady.  She was not very excited about Film Noir.  I was not excited about musicals.  We politely watched each other's movies.

As time went by, I sat our kids down to watch Casablanca.  They loved it, or so they said.  Peter Lorre was always a kid-pleaser.  As were the despicable Nazis.  Much of the humor went over their young heads.  But it was fun, and a few people were shot.

Since I was a teenager, I loved Humphrey Bogart.  At that point I had probably only seen him in a few movies (Casablanca, African Queen, We're No Angels, and Sahara), but that didn't matter.  I knew he was the man.  And unlike other stars of the Golden Age, like Cary Grant, Henry Fonda, and Jimmy Stewart, he was a legend from another time, not still alive and appearing on variety shows on TV and still making occasional appearances in new movies.  This gave him an iconic status along with Dean and Gable and Monroe.  Even when diet Coke inserted him into one of its commercials with high-tech smoke and mirrors, it couldn't diminish his status.

Despite his Olympian address, there was one little problem.  And little is the right word.  All we could ever see of him was on a little TV set.  Even the big TVs of the time were only around 30 inches.  And unless you lived in a big city where old movies might occasionally pop up, you just weren't going to see Bogart on the big screen.

I've been plotting ways to make that happen.  The last few years, I've teased my kids, asking them why they don't rent a theater for my birthday so we could see one of the great classics up on a thirty-foot-high screen.  Casablanca, Stalag 17, and Gone With the Wind were early considerations.  The year Jennifer and I were married, Gone With the Wind was shown for a fiftieth anniversary, but we missed seeing it.  So the question became, how many friends did I need to agree to come and see a movie if I spent five hundred dollars to rent a theater?

Along comes Turner Classic Movies.  To my surprise, they arranged for a classic to be shown in theaters nationwide.  It was West Side Story.  Fortunately, thanks to my wife, I have come to enjoy musicals since that long ago viewing of My Fair Lady.  And so I took one of my sons to WST, and we were simply awed by the spectacle of an early sixties musical on the big screen.  And then, on an average day, out of the clear blue, my daughter informed me that TCM announced it was going to present Casablanca.

We cleared our schedule, and marked the calendar.  After all those years, I was finally going to see the giants of Hollywood as they were meant to be seen; as they appeared when they ruled the world of entertainment.

Before taking the family for the night screening, I slipped into the matinee to watch it alone.  (Sadly, I was actually almost alone.  Only seven people were in the theater, which is an awful commentary on the viewing public of today.)  A friend of mine told me he had nearly cried when he saw the Warner Brother's logo come up at the beginning when he had a chance to see it in a theater some fifteen years ago.  I knew just what he meant.  I've been a passionate fan of classic movies for over thirty years, and I was only then getting a chance to see my favorite actor and one of my favorite films as they were meant to be seen.  Many of today's movies are filmed with the knowledge that they will be seen on TV.  Now, they are even taking into account that people will watch them on their iPhone.  But in 1942, they did not even think of movies being broadcast to TVs all over the country.  This was Casablanca as jack Warner and Hal Wallis had intended it to be.  Larger than life.

And so it was.  Bogart mesmerizes.  Peter Lorre cannot move, cannot speak, without overwhelming the viewer.  And because the Hayes Code would not allow the cheap thrills and laughs that can be had from crass language and loose morality, the writers were forced to craft and re-craft their scripts until every line was taut and clever and either funny or dramatic.  Say what you will about the censors of that day, but their refusal to allow sophomoric behavior strong-armed Hollywood into developing some of the best scripts ever written.

I will not give a full review of the movie here.  Perhaps that will come later.  But I do want to emphasize that all of the hype about this movie is well deserved.  Bogart and Bergman are magical together.  I've never seen actors dominate a screen like they did.  The world just seemed to pause as they held us spellbound.  It occurred to me that when people watched this in 1942, this had to be more than just magic for them.  Yes, they could see still pictures of celebrities, even large posters of them.  But there was no TV for most of the nation, no place they could see the actors move and speak and enchant except on that massive silver screen.  No wonder they were called movie palaces.  We cannot imagine what that was like.  But for a brief moment, I caught a glimpse of it.  I hope my kids did too.

I am nearly the exact age that Bogart was when he filmed this movie.  He'd been acting for over twenty years by then.  And in just fifteen years he would die from cancer.  Though he was nominated for the Best Actor Oscar, he would not win that year.  He had to wait eight years to finally win one for his performance in The African Queen.  I have no idea how many years I'll have to wait to see him again on that big screen.  I hope it won't be long.  And I hope I'll be able to see Grant and Stewart, and Hepburn (both of them) and many more from that grand era.  My thanks to TCM for their effort to make this happen, and here's hoping they keep it up.

If you had a chance to see it, I would love to hear your comments on it.  Or, tell us what classic movie you would really love to see in the theater. 

Here's looking at you, Bogey.