On "On the Waterfront" at 70. Kazan, Brando, and the Method

Spoilers Below

Dockworker Terry Malloy (Marlon Brando) has unknowingly set up fellow dockworker Joey Doyle to be murdered for testifying against the mob that runs the dock. As he looks towards where Joey has fallen off the roof of his apartment, Terry lets out a weathered 'pooof" of air. It's this moment, so unaffected and real  that stood out to me when I first saw the On the Waterfront as a teenager in the 2000s (geez I'm old) Brando's performance is perhaps my favourite performance of all time. I'd go so  far to say this is *the* Brando performance. Yes, The Godfather is probably his most iconic performance- and maybe the most iconic film performance of all time- but On the Waterfront is Brando in his prime.. While he had done A Streetcar Named Desire on stage and screen, played The Wild One and even challenged himself by doing Shakespeare, Terry Malloy is Brando's most complete and well-rounded performance up to this point- masculine but sensitive, a beautiful bum with the prospect of redemption. The film is also director Elia Kazan's masterpiece. If A Streetcar Named Desire is a little-intentionally so- boxed in cinematically, then On the Waterfront feels more lived in and vivid as a cinematic experience, fuller, more completer. 

Brando and Kazan only did three movies together, (Streetcar, Viva Zapata! and On the Waterfront), as well as the original Streetcar on Broadway and the play Truckline Cafe (which only ran for 10 performances) but they brought forward a new kind of psychological realism on stage and screen. Before she was a critic Pauline Kael tells a story of coming in late to see Truckline Cafe (this was 1946). On stage she sees a man who she believes is having a seizure. It wasn't until the man she was with grabbed her arm and said "Watch this guy," that she realized he was an actor. Of course, it was Brando

A lot is talked about these days concerning "Method Acting," and it's become synonymous with male actors being assholes, and of course the "Try acting" story about Laurence Olivier and Dustin Hoffman has been repeated so often that's it lost any real meaning. It's unfortunate that it has such a bad reputation because its an important piece screen and stage acting history. I think the problem is  people think method acting is something that it's not. I don't method acting was about staying in character or building a log cabin, or not wearing a wool coat because it's a period piece. My understanding of method is it was about finding a more psychologically real approach to acting. Instead of just performing an emotion, you draw from your own experiences, even painful ones to feel what the character is feeling. While it's associated strongly with American actors you have to travel back in time to Russia to find it origins. Konstantin Stanislavski called it "the system," rather than the method and then it was co-opted by American acting teachers like Stella Adler and Lee Strasberg. Brando never called himself a "method actor," disliking Strasberg's methods. Brando said it was Adler and Kazan who taught him everything about acting. 

Kazan actually started as an actor, moving to New York after studying drama at Yale and becoming part of the Group Theatre, which included the aforementioned Strasberg,  and which specialized in lesser known plays that delt with social issues, which Kazan would continue to explore as a stage and film director. In 1947 he founded the Actors Studio, a non-profit organization of which Strasberg became the director, who of course introduced "the method," and amongst his students were Montgomery Clift, Julie Harris, Karl Malden, Mildred Dunnock, Patricia Deal and Eli Wallach. 

While Kazan was never a teacher or practitioner of the method, he did use actors who practiced the method or something akin to it, actors like Brando and Malden, who co-starred in Truckline Cafe and then in the stage and film versions of Streetcar, as well as On the Waterfront. Kazan also worked with the always underrated Clift in the equally underrated Wild River. Clift often gets overshadowed by Brando, James Dean and Marilyn Monroe when it comes to 50s icons but I think he deserves as much credit as Brando for bringing a new kind of raw naturalism to the screen. His performance in A Place in the Sun is tremendous in how it creates a genuinely complex character who's neither hero or villain. He's also wonderful in his first film The Search, directed Fred Zinnemann, who also directed Brand in his first film role a couple of years later, The Men. In The Search, Clift plays an American soldier in Post WWII Germany who's attempting to reunite a boy with his mother, both of whom were in Auschwitz before being separated. Clift's chemistry with young actor Ivan Jandi (who won an Juvenile Oscar) provide the film with much humour and warmth, and it's definitely a movie worth seeking out.

 

Kazan also introduced James Dean to the world in East of Eden, based on the John Steinbeck novel, though condensed considerably by Kazan and Steinbeck, who had co-wrote Viva Zapata! together as well. The condensation of the generation spanning story of the Trask family, only focusing on the last section, centers the story on Cal Trask (Dean) and his fraught relationship with father Adam (Raymond Massey.) This was the only film of his Dean was alive to see, dying shortly before Rebel Without a Cause was released. Dean received criticism at the time for mimicking the acting style of Clift and Brando. It's true that Dean did emulate Brando and Clift, but I think the moodiness and mystery, as well as self-amusement belongs solely to Dean himself. 

Kazan never worked with Monroe but it's an intriguing what-if? Monroe studied the method under Adler and wanted to be more respected as an actress. Her last role in The Misfits, as long as Bus Stop years earlier, show a dramatic potential that could've flourished if Monroe had lived. 

Coming back to Brando, it's unfortunate that he got so lazy and pissed away his talent, because he obviously had a gift and charisma thar not everyone has. I'd argue Clift, Dean and Monroe had it but all died prematurely. Brando used to care so much about acting that he asked Kazan what the difference between Terry and his Streetcar character, Stanley Kowalski. This shows that Brando wanted to separate the two performances. I think it's easy for an actor sometimes to repeat themselves, but I don't Brando does in Waterfront, I think Terry is a different man than Stanley. Kazan wrote Brando a letter where he talked about the differences between the two men. He felt Terry was a more complex character than Stanley, which I agree. Kazan didn't feel there was a divide in Stanley, that he was more confident than Terry, lacking the the loneliness that pervades Terry. Kazan sums up Terry's journey throughout the film as  "A bum becomes a man." I think Stanley is a reprehensible animal in Streetcar whereas Terry feels more sympathetic and more well drawn.

Kazan's use of method actors or actors akin to method actors correlates with his tendency towards social realism. While casting a big star like Brando in the role of a dockworker amongst actual dockworkers would seem counterintuitive but Brando feels less like a movie star trying to be a everyday worker than a truly embodied kind of performance. Doing it now, you would Leonardo DiCaprio, Brad Pit or Bradley Cooper trying real hard to appear natural. In general they fight really hard against their movie star image and I think Brando is one of the few who did it naturally. Don't get me wrong, I think the aforementioned actors have been great in certain roles and I'll go to bat for those performances. I still think Leo should've won for Wolf of Wall Street or Once Upon a Time in Hollywood.

 

Brando almost wasn't in the film due to his dislike of Kazan testifying in front of the House Un-American Activities Committee, giving up names of communists to Joseph McCarthy. While it allowed him to still work it did and does give him a black mark to this day. When he received his Honorary Oscar in 1999, you had people like Nick Nolte and Ed Harris refusing to even clap.  Years before, Orson Welles called Kazan a "traitor" though also called him a fine director. I think Welles was kind of blowhard. That, and calling him a traitor seems to ignore how ruthless, cutthroat and remorseless a place Hollywood. I don't mean to condone Kazan's actions but let's not romanticize Hollywood as a completely rosy place. 

Malden, who was a Academy board member, was the proponent of the Honorary Oscar. His speech in front of the board supposedly drew applause and Charlton Heston also supported the decision, saying political differences shouldn't deny him of the honor, noting that Kazan was denied lifetime achievement honors because of his testimony, and the film is often seen as Kazan's defense of his actions.

The film is  unambiguously on the side of Terry informing. Johnny Friendly (Lee J. Cobb) and his goons are thugs, bullies and murderers. When Terry's brother Charley (Rod Steiger) is killed because he failed to convince Terry not to testify, as well as not killing him, it's like yeah, fuck those guys.  Now, I don't think this film works as an defense on Kazan's part of his own actions- the people he testified against weren't murderers or any kind of villains. In real life, it was Joseph McCarthy who was the real villain. When it comes to Kazan, I think his actions are complicated than his critics believe.

 I don't straight up condone but Kazan did but I feel he believed he was doing the right thing. I agree with Malden who felt the blame needed to be placed on politics. I think we should hate  McCarthy more than Kazan.  

Budd Schulberg, who won an Oscar for the film's screenplay, was also a "friendly witness" for HUAC. His screenplay I think is one of the most perfectly constructed. The way the film sets up Terry's past as a prizefighter and finally pays it off in the famous taxi scene (which I'll talk about later.), as well as its handling of a diverse ensemble of characters all while still keeping it a character study of the Terry character. 

When Martin Scorsese and Robert De Niro (who starred in Kazan's The Last Tycoon) presented Kazan with the Honorary Oscar Scorsese described Kazan as "This poetic realist," which I think may be the best description of Kazan as a filmmaker outside the oft used "Actor's director" used for directors of his kin. Kazan's films exist in a place where a new kind of psychological realism meets something more stylized and sometimes theatrical. The famous cab scene where Terry essentially tells Charley that he ruined his life, that if we wasn't asked to throw a fight years earlier he could've been a "contender." This scene walks a fine line between realism and melodrama, expertly (by the actors and Kazan) never losing the audience. It takes place in this enclosed place compared to the more lived in locations of the previous scenes, this taxi cab where the blinds are drawn in the back and we never see the driver until the end. It almost feels like a play, where everything is driven strictly by the actors and the dialogue. When we finally see the sinister driver, who we know is going to kill Charlie, it's a startlingly change of perspective. And you have to wonder, what was this guy thinking about when these two brothers were having this soul baring conversation? 

Compare the closed-off theatricality of the taxi scene with the docudrama scenes on the waterfront,. showing the workaday life and environment of the dockworkers. Then you have the noirish scenes

like when Charley is found dead and Terry and Evie (Joey's sister) are chased by a car. I mean, that shot of the goons on the roof at the beginning is straight something from a crime film. And Terry is a noirish character, a man haunted by his past, a guy who exists in a morally grey area. Terry ultimately has a more triumphant and redemptive ending than most noir characters - unlike most noir characters who are doomed by the femme fatale, Terry is saved by the angelic Evie, played by Eva Marie Saint in her film debut, which won her the Best Supporting Actress Oscar alongside Brando's Best Actor win. I feel bad for not mentioning her character earlier because she's so significant and is a big impetus for Terry's interna conflict. When she says "No wonder they call you a bum," so disgusted by Terry not wanting to help, it hurts us as much as Terry. 

Karl Malden's priest character Father Barry is also crucial to Terry's decision to testify because after Charley's murder Terry to strike out violently but Barry- who is right- tells him it's better to fight Friendly in court. Barry's character is also another instance of realism and theatricality blending and blurring in this film. Barry's sermons are probably the weakest part of this film and kind of drags it down.

On the Waterfront's denouement may strike some as too Hollywood, and it provides a bitter irony when contrasted with Kazan's reputation- which unlike Terry, is not that of a hero. Kazan never asked for forgiveness, maybe because he didn't feel he needed. Kazan did say in interviews that he probably would've done the same thing even if he had thought about it again. Despite Kazan's testimony, On the Waterfront won eight Oscars, including Best Picture and Best Director for Kazan. It's one of the best Best Picture winners, though Alfred Hitchcock's Rear Window is my favourite that year. I understand it's hard for people to separate their feelings about Kazan from the film, largely because it's so reflective of his beliefs on testifying. People use the expression "Separate the art from the artist" but I think it's so much difficult and complicated than that. Like I said, the film reflects Kazan's belief that he was right to testify, and I don't think the film works on that level, for I reasons I laid out earlier. I still appreciate the film for Brando's performance and for the story in its context. It remains a reminder of Kazan and Brando's immense talent and importance to cinema, as complicated as it is regarding Kazan.  

     

My Favourite Best Picture Winners

Spoilers Below 

In my last post I wrote about 10 films which didn't get nominated for Best Picture at the Oscars. Now, I want to discuss my favourite winners in this category, ones where I think the Academy got it (pretty much) right. The Oscars are always a fascinating snapshot in time. They're reflective of what people liked in the moment more than what lasts. But these films certainly have. So, let's get on with the list.

Casablanca

The late Roger Ebert once wrote of Carol Reed's The Third Man, that more than any film he had seen it embodied the romance of going to the movies. I feel that way about Casablanca. From its witty and poignant script, to the intrigue, the romance and its heroic finale, Casablanca has everything. It's pretty much a perfect film, maybe the best film to come out of the golden age of Hollywood. Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman, even if they had never starred in anything else significant, would still be immortalizes forever as Rick Blaine and Ilsa Lund. Rick is the cynical cafe owner, Ilsa is the woman he loved and left him because she was secretly married to resistance leader Victor Lazlo, and whom walks back in to his life. Rick. who's in possession of stolen letters of transit, is the only one who can help Ilsa and Victor out of Casablanca. But will his torch for Ilsa stop him from doing so? Yes, we know he'll do the right thing but its how we get there that matters. 

Lawrence of Arabia

The king of al epic movies, only rivaled by The Lord of The Rings, if you count that as one movie. The reason I call Lawrence of Arabia such is it's a great character study as well as a technical marvel. You have movies like the Star Wars prequels which  are conceptually and technically impressive but character and story-wise needed some script refining. And then you have certain superhero films which have some great character stuff but are compromised by formula, weak spectacle and uninteresting direction- but with Lawrence of Arabia, neither the character work or the grand-scale filmmaking feel anything less than stellar.. Another thing thing that impresses about the film is how effectively it both romanticizes T.E Lawrence while also portraying him as a complex, sometimes terrifying figure whom the audience is free to interpret the character, the man, however they like. In the greatest screen debut in cinema history, Peter O'Toole is beautiful, almost feminine, giving a performance that combines grace and madness. This is a mythic and majestic film.

The Godfather and The Godfather Part II

The great epic of American cinema, and still the only time a film and its sequel have both won Best Picture. It's hard to imagine that feat ever being replicated. I guess it's cheating to list both Godfathers under one heading but they compliment each other so well and tell one sprawling story that it makes sense to list them side by side. Michael Corleone's (Al Pacino) transformation from war hero and the good son who didn't want to become part of the family business to ruthless mob boss who will murder his own brother for his act of betrayal is possibly cinema's greatest character arc. That Pacino didn't win for either is one of Oscar's greatest travesties. Michael's arc is complimented by Part II's showing of how his father Vito went from orphan in Sicily to Don in turn of the century New York. These flashback add to the sprawling nature of the narrative, with Marlon Brando and Robert De Niro both winning Oscars for their performance as the Don. 

Director Francis Ford Coppola and novelist Mario Puzo, working from Puzo's popular novel, took the gangster film and put it on a Shakespearean scale while creating a lived in world with authentic people. The films are operatic yet subtle and nuanced. They also transport us back in time to early 1900s New York, post war New York and late 1950s Havana, just before revolution. These are simply unrivaled feats of filmmaking from the Hollywood studio system.

The Silence of the Lambs

The last film to win the top five Oscars (Best Picture, Director, Actor, Actress, and Screenplay), and one that has only gotten better with age. While Anthony Hopkins is iconic as Dr. Hannibal Lecter, it's Jodie Foster as F.B.I trainee Clarice Sterling, on the trail of serial killer Buffalo Bill (Ted Levine) who gives this film its grounding and heart.  The film's director, the late Jonathan Demme, was a master of the close-up, using them to show the perspective of characters looking at each other. The film blends the gothic and realistic in such a way that we accept them both as existing in the same world. And again, it's Foster who grounds the whole thing.

The Apartment

The optimistic cynic, Billy Wilder, along with his longtime collaborator, I.A.L Diamond, crafted a perfect screenplay for The Apartment, the story of C.C. "Bud" Baxter, an office worker who lends his apartment to his superiors for their extramarital affair. It's already a difficult situation for Bud, having to spend nights out in the cold, getting him sick. Things get more complicated when he discovers his boss Jeff Sheldrake (Fred MacMurray) is having an affair with Elevator girl Fran Kubelik (Shirley MacLaine), the object of Bud's affection. All of this could be contrived but Wilder and Diamond's script, along with Wilder's direction, create believable characters whose actions make sense, even in a scenario such as this. It's established that this whole apartment lending situation started out with just one guy wanting to use Bud's apartment and then escalated to many men at the office wanting to use the apartment, with Bud using it to his advantage, being granted perks by the higher-ups. Bud is selling his soul but Lemmon is such a likable and sympathetic everyman that we aren't immediately offput by his actions. Bud's not a bad guy and we can see how we could end up in a predicament like this. 

I always feel that Wilder's dramas were very funny and his comedies very dark. The Apartment walks the line between comedy and drama so expertly that that it feels unbalanced. And like many other Wilder films, it ends on the perfect note.

No Country For Old Men

I just re-watched this and man does it hold up. This is a fantastic movie that's only gotten better with age. It's one of the perfect matches of source material (Cormac McCarthy's novel) and filmmakers (the Coen brothers). From their first film, Blood Simple (1984), the Coens have played around with genre conventions, creating films that both belong in their respective genres but also exist somewhat outside them. There's an offbeat quality to their work, with No Country For Old Men being populated by familiar types who are also different from anyone else we've encountered before. Hit man Anton Chigurh (Javier Bardem in an Oscar winning performance), with his weird haircut and pre-occupation with a coin toss- a flip of faith- is one of the most unusual villains in recent memory, genuinely terrifying whenever he shows up. Llewelyn Moss (Josh Brolin) is the "good old boy" who's smarter than we may at first realize, a character who would be a supporting player, killed off pretty early in another film but takes center stage here. And then there's Sheriff Ed Tom Bell (Tommy Lee Jones), who we assume is maybe going to be killed when he catches up to Chigurh, but narrowly misses him. 

The movie sets us a up for a showdown between Moss (Josh Brolin), who has stolen 2 million from a drug deal gone bad, and  Chigurh but Moss is killed offscreen,  and the final scene is Bell (Tommy Lee Jones) talks to his wife about two dreams he had- "Then I woke up" is the final line, cutting to black. There's no satisfying resolution to anything. It's a bleak but it fits the noir style, where there are no heroes or heroic endings. The villain gets away and the survivor, Bell, retires because he doesn't know how to deal with the new kind of evil he's seeing in the world now, though ultimately this kind of evil, the evil Chigurh represents, has been forever, with Chigurh being a devil/grim reaper figure, haunting the whole film

Amadeus 

Maybe it's my own feeling of mediocrity that makes Amadeus the most relatable film to be, but I think it's also a brilliant idea to tell the story of a great artist through the perspective of the bitter rival who wasn't as great. Peter Shaffer's play was the basis for Milos Foreman's glorious film, one of the best of the 80s, a decade that's not one of my favourite, despite some great films. F. Murray Abraham, received a Best Actor Oscar for his performance as the proud but jealous and old-fashioned Antonio Salieri, while Tom Hulce was nominated for his performance along Abraham for his mischievous performance as Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. Mozart is childish but also serious when it comes to music. The fact that such an immature young man could be so talent enrages Salieri but he but he feels guilt for Mozart's death, believing he killed him.

On the Waterfront

If you were going to ask me what my favourite performance of all time is, I would say Marlon Brando's Oscar wining performance as Terry Malloy in Elia Kazan's On the Waterfront. This is Brando at the peak of his physical beauty and acting abilities. While A Streetcar Named Desire established his image, and The Godfather his most iconic, On the Waterfront is his most sensitive and tender work, masculine but feminine. Movies are time capsules that can keep an actor forever young in their prime, and that's what this film is for me when it comes to Brando. 

Of course, the film's director, Elia Kazan, was the ultimate actors' director, his films being defined by a rawer, more naturalistic style of acting, and the film is full of other superb performances, including Eva Marie Saint (who won Best Supporting Actress), Lee J. Cobb, Karl Malden and Rod Steiger When Kazan won an honorary Oscar in the late 90s (on of Oscar's most controversial moments), Martin Scorsese called Kazan a poetic realist, and you can see why just by looking at this film, which blends realism with stylish flourishes. 

The story is that of  Malloy, who testifies against the mob boss (Cobb) who runs the docks. Malloy has to decide between loyalty to this father figure and doing the right thing, which could lead to redemption for Malloy after being involved in the murder of another dock worker.

Rebecca

Hitchcock's first film in America, and the only Hitchcock film to win Best Picture (Hitchcock's other 1940 film Foreign Correspondent was also nominated) and on Hitchcock attributed more to producer David. O Selznick than himself. However, the Hitchcock is not absent in this entertaining gothic melodrama, base Daphne Du Maurier's splendid novel (one of my favourites), about a  unnamed woman (Joan Fontaine) who marries a rich widower, Max de Winter (Laurence Oliver), who former wife's presence still haunts his home of Manderley. Fontaine and Oliver were both nominated for their performances (Fontaine would win the next year for another Hitchcock film, Suspicion, with Cary . Grant) and Judith Anderson is sublimely creepy as Manderley's housemaid Mrs. Danvers, who still adores Rebecca. I wrote more about the film here: Davies in the Dark: The Essential Films: "Rebecca" (1940) (thenoirzone.blogspot.com)  

So, what are your favourite Best Picture winners? Comment and let me know. 

"The life of men among men:" Reflections on "Reflections in a Golden Eye"

1967 was a taboo breaking year for Hollywood movies. Bonnie and Clyde, In the Heat of the Night, Guess Who's Coming to Dinner and The Graduate challenged the traditional portrayals of violence, sexuality and race in movies. Sidney Poitier slapped a racist white man and dated a white girl, Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow were shown brutally shot down, and college graduate Benjamin Braddock had an affair with an older married woman. As the 60s were leading in to the 70s, Hollywood was changing forever. 

John Huston's Reflections in a Golden Eye, while not as well received then (and even now) still belongs that company due to its portrayal of a suppressed gay man on an army base. This is Major Weldon Penderton (Marlon Brando), who has a fraught marriage to Lenora (Elizabeth Taylor). Lenora is being unknowingly stalked by a young soldier named Williams (Robert Forster in his film debut). Penderton begins to grow attracted to Williams, without knowing Williams' fascination with Lenora. Lenora is also having an affair with Lieutenant Colonel Morris Langdon (Brian Keith), whose wife Alison (Julie Harris) suffers from depression due to a miscarriage, staying inside with only her servant Anacleto (Zorro David) as a companion.

Many of Huston's films were adaptations of novels, short stories, or in the case of Key Largo, a play. Reflections in a Golden Eye came from the pen of Carson McCullers, author of The Heart is a Lonely Hunter (1940). Originally published in two parts in  Harpers' Bazaar and then as a novel,  Reflections in a Golden Eye was her follow up novel. Like William Faulkner McCullers' work is categorized as southern gothic. Huston's film exists in a heightened and unusual reality, which is accentuated by Huston's choice for the film to have a golden hue. After a week in theatres, Warner Bros. took the film and removed the golden hue, re-releasing  the film in a normal colour version. The new Warner Bros. blu ray contains both versions. Many of the film's images feel like they could come from a dream, a memory or something in between. 

Huston's films were often very masculine but also about the vulnerability underneath the bravado. Think of Humphrey Bogart in his most iconic roles under Huston's direction, Sam Spade in The Maltese Falcon (1941) and Fred C. Dobbs in The Treasure of the Sierra Madre (1948). Spade falls for the femme fatale who he has to send to prison. Dobbs becomes sick with greed. And while Brando and Bogart have differing acting styles they're similar in being unconventional leading men. Bogart lisped and had a hard, occasionally sinister look. Brando mumbled and lacked the polish of more traditional male actors at the time. And underneath both Bogart and Brando's swagger lied a sensitive nature.

Reflections in a Golden Eye finds Brando- as Penderton- struggling with the ideas of masculinity and  leadership. Pernderton questions his sexuality. He hates himself for his feelings, which undermines his ability to be a leader. As he says in his speech to his students, "Leadership must include a measure of inherent ability to control...uh...and direct self-confidence." Penderton knows he lacks these things despite his rank. He doesn't even have Lenora's respect. Penderton beats her beloved horse due to  being thrown off by it.  Lenora confronts Penderton at that night's party and hits him with a riding crop. Earlier in the film she taunts Penderton and strips naked in front of him. 

Penderton is almost like Othello if he was more interested in Michael Cassio than Desdemona. But unlike Shakespeare's play this is more a slow-burn to tragedy. The film does have what could be called a leisurely pace, examining the day-to-day lives of the people on the base and how they all interweave. The first line of McCullers' novel reads "An army post in peacetime is a dull place," which is accurate to the story's slow pace but also ironic given what happens by the film's end. I'll admit, I struggled with the film's pace and wish it had focused more on Brando and Taylor. I've talked quite a bit about Penderton but he kind of drifts in to the background during the film. 

While watching the film I responded more to the direction and atmosphere but Penderton and Brando's performance are the most substantial character stuff in the film. Taylor is having fun as Lenora; coming off her Oscar winning performance in Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, she's playing a more voluptuous and lighter take on Martha. Harris, as in one of my favourite horror movies The Haunting (1963), is adept at portraying fragility without overly invoking pity. Forster gives a practically silent performance, making his voyeuristic nature even creepier.

While the reviews for the film, outside Roger Ebert and Pauline Kael, were mixed, Huston considered this one of his favourite among his films. Satisfaction is maybe all that matters when you're an artist. It's an off-beat in Huston's career, one I don't think is completely successful due to its pacing and sometimes thin characterization outside of Penderton. But it's worth seeing for its direction and unique look and feel, along with Brando and Taylor's performances.

"Superman" 40 Years of Believing a Man Can Fly

Richard Donner's Superman was released 40 years ago and it's arguably the greatest superhero film of all time. It's certainly the one to which all subsequent superhero films are most indebted; not just because it was the first large-scale superhero film but due to its indelible images, music and performances that left their imprint on audiences' imaginations, including the creators behind future superhero films. One can see Superman's D.N.A in something even as singular as Sam Raimi's first Spider-Man (2002). Christopher Nolan has acknowledged it's influence on his approach to Batman Begins (2005) and Kevin Feige, architect behind the Marvel Cinematic Universe, has said its the constant reference point for the films. Its casting of major stars Marlon Brando and Gene Hackman also led to the early Batman films utilising big name actors for its villains. I would argue Superman and the original Star Wars- released a year and a half earlier- helped shape movie culture in to what it is today.

Superman (who was created Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster) made his original appearance 40 years earlier in Action Comics #1 in 1938, so the film is at the exact mid-point of the character's history. It re-contextualised the character after nearly half a century of stories and defined many peoples' idea of the character since then. Instead of drawing inspiration solely from the comics, Donner used other films and genres as references. The early scenes on Krypton are reminiscent of other 70s sci-fi films, Clark Kent's teenage years feel like something out of Norman Rockwell and John Ford. When Clark gets to Metropolis, the scenes at The Daily Planet invoke His Girl Friday (1940) and Hackman's Lex Luthor is like a Bond villain. 

Donner's versatility as a director remains underappreciated. This is the man who went from The Omen (1976) to Superman, and eventually the Lethal Weapon franchise. He reminds me of Robert Wise, who also had an eclectic career, and Donner's old-school approach was beneficial to the film. Superman needed a classic approach rather than an "auteur's" touch.    

Mario Puzo, author of The Godfather, wrote the screenplay, with Leslie and David Newman, and Robert Benton coming in to do re-writes. It's important to note the screenplays for Superman and Superman II (1980) were written at the same time, with the first movie originally envisioned to end on a cliffhanger. The two films were filmed simultaneously but Donner was fired during work on Superman II. This was due to his poor relationship with the producers, father and son team Alexander and Ilyka Salkind. Richard Lester, director of the Beatles first film, A Hard Day's Night (1964), was brought in to finish Superman II. 

Returning to the screenplay, the film's structure is not a conventional three-act structure. Instead, it's a series of short films that tell an overarching story. The first film is the Krypton prologue. We witness Kal-El's (Clark/Superman's Kryptonian birth-name) father Jor-El sentencing General Zod (Terence Stamp) and his co-conspirators, who planned a coup, to the Phantom Zone. This version of the Phantom Zone, which is like a floating mirror prison, is its most frightening depiction in the Superman mythology.

We've come to accept acclaimed actors appearing in superhero films as a given. However, having Brando play Superman's father was significant casting for its time. It helped lend credibility to the film as a serious production. Production designer John Barry, who won the Oscar for his work on Star Wars,establishes a sterile and cold society which won't listen to Jor-El's reasonable conclusion that  Krypton will explode

I like how the sentencing of the trio to the Phantom Zone leads naturally to the discussion of Krypton's destruction. The Phantom Zone is a "living death" as Trevor Howard's Elder says but, as Jor-El responds, it's at least a chance at life, since everyone on Krypton will die. When baby Kal-El's ship flies through space, it passes by the prisoners. It's a darkly comic moment that thematically connects Kal-El and the other Kryptonians. They're survivors floating through space.

The second film is Clark's ship crash-landing in Smallville. He's discovered and adopted by Martha and Jonathan Kent (Phyllis Thaxter and Glenn Ford). We then flash forward to Clark as a teenager. It's a testament to Ford's performance that in his short screen time he makes him such a warm and likable character, a good man who Clark clearly respects and after which he will model himself. After Jonathan's death of a heart attack Clark discovers the Kryptonian crystal Jor-El stored in his ship and will help him unlock the secrets of his heritage. I think my favourite scene in the whole film is Clark's goodbye to Martha in the field, which invokes John Ford's The Searchers (1956). Thaxter, whose screen time is also short, gives a achingly touching performance. 

After Clark spends some 12 years learning from Jor-El in the Fortress of Solitude, Christopher Reeve finally enters the film as the adult Clark. Some pretty famous actors were considered for the role of Superman, including some odd choices- Nick Nolte, James Caan- and some understandable ones- notably Robert Redford. Reeve was practically an unknown actor at the time but the decision to go with an unknown- as I mentioned in my piece on Romeo & Juliet- allowed the audience to accept Reeve as the character without associating him with other characters he played. Reeve not only looked like the character but he was a strong actor who had screen presence. He also made us believe that people would never suspect bumbling Clark Kent was actually Superman. 

Reeve's portrayal of Superman has a reputation in certain circles as being boring but I feel his performance is charismatic, witty and sexy. He made this character flesh and blood in a way I don't think he'd been before on screen. And yes, he's old fashioned but he has to be so there's a strong contrast between him and the modern world he occupies. Costume designer Yvonne Blake, who died earlier this year, deserves a lot of credit for creating a Superman suit that was simple but iconic, as well as functional.

This is also the rare superhero film where the male is the object of allure rather than the woman. It seems fitting Zack Snyder became the heir to the franchise since he's also fascinated with the masculine body. 

Margot Kidder's performance as Lois Lane is also key to the film's success. She and Reeve have instant chemistry as both Clark and Lois and Superman and Lois. We understand why Clark would be attracted to her and respect her. Clark places himself in a weird love triangle with himself. He has a great night with Lois but then reverts to the Clark Kent persona, seeing Lois still occupied with thoughts of Superman. In a great moment he almost reveals his identity to Lois, changing his posture, taking his glasses off, changing from Clark to Superman and back again seamlessly.

I honestly love Gene Hackman's performance as Lex. I know for many he doesn't match the image they have of the character but his portrayal makes sense in the context of what I mentioned earlier- which he's essentially a Bond villain. And I do think he's true to comic-book Lex's megalomaniacal nature. Hackman is just broad enough with delving in to camp- and the dynamic between him and Superman in their one big scene together is well-defined.  

I will say I don't like the reversal of time ending, which was originally intended for the ending of Superman II (and was restored in the 2006 Richard Donner Cut version of the film) and I think it would've worked better as the conclusion of a two film story. The "Can you read my mind?" voice-over also undermines the flight scene with Lois and Superman.

I realised I talked this long with mentioning John Williams' majestic and triumphant score. I'd say the Superman theme is still the definitive superhero theme, aided by the visually stunning credits sequence. Williams' scores imbue in me a deep sense of nostalgia. The music for the film is whimsical, romantic, and filled with a sense of awe.

The film is dedicated to the film's cinematographer Geoffrey Unsworth, who died only a few months before the film's premiere. He photographed Stanley Kubrick 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968) and Roman Polanski's Tess (1979), for which he won a posthumous Oscar, his second after Cabaret (1972). Unsworth creates a distinct look for each world of the film, from Krypton to Smallville, to Metropolis, stressing how the film is largely about the different worlds Clark/Superman inhabit.  

Clark/Superman doesn't have a traditional character arc. The film is more about the world around Superman and its reaction to him, as well as his purpose on Earth, which to inspire the good in people. Superman remains an important pop culture figure because of his innate goodness and the importance of hope in dark times. Superman lives on because it's such a happy and hopeful film, even with its darker moments. Reeve and Kidder are no longer with us but they live on in their performances, which are as timeless as the performances from classic Hollywood. To them, Donner, and the rest, thank you.  

Shakespeare on Film: Joseph L. Mankiewicz's "Julius Caesar"

This is a revised version of a review I posted on another blog in the summer of 2010

When one reads a play of Shakespeare, there is usually one defining element that resonates in our consciousnesses. In the case of Julius Caesar, for me it's the theme of distrust and envy of those in power. Joseph L. Mankiewicz’s 1953 film version of Julius Caesar stays true to this theme and communicates it powerfully and precisely. The film is well acted and while it has a modest visual scale, the art and set design (which won an Oscar) immerses us in the world of ancient Rome. The film is a straightforward take on the play yet it never feels dated, rather the film feels quite modern.

One reason for this sense of modernity is the performance of Marlon Brando as Marc Antony. His performance in A Streetcar Named Desire established him as new, more "realistic" actor. Seeing him in that film, I don't think audiences would think Brando, especially with his signature “mumble,” would be well suited to speaking Shakespearean verse; yet Brando  gives what is arguably the best performance in the film. He is naturalistic yet also poetic. I think the oration speech is my favourite scene in the film and the big scene for any actor playing Marc Antony. Brando is skilful in this scene in how he builds upon each repetition of “ambitious” and “honourable men.” He brings genuine emotion, the loss of a friend and disgust at the ones who condone his assassination, into the speech. Even if the movie falls flat for you, this is a scene to admire.

The acting is very strong all around. Similar to Brando’s performance, while the acting is formal, it's not strained.  John Gielgud, who would go on to play Julius Caesar in Stuart Barges’ 1970 film version, is suitably bitter as the envious Cassius. Edmond O’Brien gives the role of Casca some personality, and James Mason, who had one of the best voices in movies, is eloquent as Brutus.

Now, I want to discuss a problem with the genre of the play itself and how it relates to this film. Julius Caesar, if taken as a tragedy, has a case of "whose tragedy is it anyway?" Brutus can be seen as the tragic hero of Julius Caesar.  At the same he seems a more modestly drawn character compared to Hamlet or Othello. He does not dominate the play like those characters, which makes his death less powerful than Hamlet or Othello. If Julius Caesar is taken as a political/historical play, then this isn't such a drawback. I think this film version of Julius Caesar is a historical/political tale. It puts focus on the ensemble rather than trying to be Brutus centric.

Another problem I have with the play, and this film version as well, is how the female characters are given little to do. I wished this film would have given us a visual aftermath of Caesar’s death in regard to Calpurnia, or Portia’s suicide. Two smaller visual quibbles I had: Cassius’ speech at the end of Act One, Scene Two is shot in close-up and pulls back as Cassius walks towards Caesar's statue. I would have just kept the camera on Cassius for the duration of the speech. I also did not like the way Caesar’s ghost was done. It is done as a special effect. I think just having Louis Calhern walk in to the tent would be creepier, more surreal.

I left out Calhern’s performance earlier, which I shouldn’t have. He is majestic as Caesar, able to convey the humanity of Caesar, which is important to the moral and political complexities of the play and the film.

As a performance piece. Mankiewicz was a very actor focused director, which shows in films like All About Eve and this film. Visually, as I mentioned, he is modest; yet this film never feels stagey. Rather, Mankiewicz knows how to move the story and the action forward and for Shakespeare this is absolutely essential.