Showing posts with label Howard Hawkes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Howard Hawkes. Show all posts

11/08/2014



An Autumn Afternoon
Yasujiro Ozu (1962)

The swansong of the great director's career, An Autumn Afternoon is yet another exercise in cinematic beauty and artistic precision. Like many of the 53 features which came before it, this is a film about family, marriage, mortality and booze. The beauty of the everyday, the warmth of Chisu Ryu's smile.

The story is as neat and distilled as any in Ozu's career, perhaps even more so, with Ryu once again playing a father seeking a husband for his daughter, an act which will leave him a lonely widower. A patient, ponderous and simple tale, but oh what colour, what symmetry, what sincerity. I watched it with a blood transfusion gripping my right arm, both knackered and alone in a Berlin hospital ward. I visited his grave less than two weeks later, in a shrine on the outskirts of Tokyo, close to nine thousand kilometers away, with regret and endless gratitude in my heart.


Stray Dog
Akira Kurosawa (1949)

In 1949 Akira Kurosawa offered his own twist on American film noir with this hot-n-humid buddy cop thriller set, and largely shot, in the seedy underbelly of post war Tokyo.

Toshiro Mifune, in the third of his 16 collaborations with the director, plays Murakami, a desperate, obsessive DI on the trail of the killer who bought his stolen gun on the black market. We're told there are 7 rounds in the misplaced Colt 1908, so as the days go by and the bodies pile up, we slowly count them down. Buddying up with an old-pro detective named Sato (played by fellow Kurosawa favourite Takashi Shimura), Murakami sets out into the brothels and motels of a bombed out city to earn his redemption.

Noir was a genre born of America's post war existentialism. Kurosawa took the genre to a country, and city, which lost bad in WWII, and used it to examine the relative nature of morality. Both copper and criminal are veterans of the war and the film ponders why they now find themselves, psychologically, on differing sides. At one point Sato says that "Dirt breeds evil"- to which Murakami responds: "there are no bad people, only bad environments". Tokyo was floored by America's firebombs in 1944; and such men, having lost so much, choose what to make of the rubble. The humanist, and surprisingly beautiful climax to this film is surely testament to that.




Johnny Guitar
Nicholas Ray (1954) 

Joan Crawford gives a dominant lead performance in this strange, subversive, much discussed Western from 1954. 

She runs a bar called Vienna on the outskirts of a frontier town. A train-line is set to run past which she knows will bring business and prosperity but the locals are desperate to run her out. Crawford's character made her wealth through unladylike ways and we quickly learn that the locals despise her for it. The mob, led by a fire and brimstone wielding Mercedes McCambridge, demand to see her hanged and so quickly set to work to do just that.

After a less than thrilling American opening, the film- like many great melodramas of the time- was soon championed by Truffaut and his mates in Cahiers du Cinema, causing many to take a second look. It's seen as a strange sort of classic today and it's no doubt worthy of it. McCambridge's mob runs in clear parallel to McCarthy's communist witch hunts; Crawford is as dominant a female character as the Western genre had seen; and the repressed, emotional showdown between her character and her foe suggests all sorts of erotic, perhaps even homosexual, currents running underneath. 

As strange as it is subversive, Truffaut wrote that those who reject it should basically throw in the towel. What more do you need to hear?




The Hidden Fortress
Akira Kurosawa

Toshiro Mifune plays a general tasked with getting his princess home safe when a war between the clans leaves them stranded behind enemy lines. Disguised as peasants, weighed down by gold, the duo enlist two hapless, greedy farmers to guide them.

One of the more populist films of the great director's career, Akira Kurosawa agreed to take it on so that Toho studios would fund his more artistic efforts. Fair enough. Upon release, it became, at the time, the director's most successful film. The story is top shelf action-adventure stuff with things to say about camaraderie and greed, but it's the boldness of the imagery which still sets it apart. The first film shot on TOHO studios' answer to Hollywood widescreen, Kurosawa and cinematographer Kazuo Yamasaki take to the format with absolute ease, capturing the Mt Fuji vistas of their location shoot with dramatic sweep and scale. 

As great an influence on Star Wars as John Ford or The Seven Samurai, our lowly guides would become the blueprint for R2D2 and C3PO. Vadar mentions the rebel's "Hidden Fortress" in episode IV. The headstrong princess, well, you get the picture...



Bringing up Baby
Howard Hawks (1938)

Cary Grant spent an entire career balancing the suave with the silly- arguably better than any actor, at any time- but that scale was surely never tipped more to the latter than in this quintessential screwball comedy from the great Howard Hawks. Cary plays a soon-to-be-married zoologist on the hunt for some funding. Katherine Hepburn plays the niece of the wealthy trustee. The titular baby, you might have guessed, is Hepburn's pet leopard. Madness, of course, ensues. 

Despite their undeniable chemistry, it must be said, Hepburn's shrill British delivery hasn't aged quite as well as the daft brilliance of her great co-star. The pair somehow keep it lean as the story flies all over the shop but it's surely down to Hawks' deft hand that our concentration doesn't wane. 


If the rule-book of the Screwball comedy does indeed today state that the more two characters drive each other up the wall, the more they are in love; then in 1938 Howard Hawks was surely holding the pen.



Roman Holiday
William Wyler (1953)

Audrey Hepburn plays a want-away Princess Anne on a tour of the Italian capitol. She chooses to shake her royal responsibilities for one day in order to take in the sights with a dashing American reporter. Both have their own reasons for the shady rendezvous, but of course, they fall in love.

Gregory Peck, as usual, has charm to burn, but despite the postcard moments, his costar, in what is now seen as an almost mythical Oscar winning debut, is simply irresistible. Hepburn survived WWII, by holding up in a rat infested Arnhem cellar, just 8 years before; a fact which seems to make her lightness of touch here even more revelatory.

Rainy day fodder of the highest order; director William Wyler's final shot is a true gem.



2/03/2014



Oh the mountain of must see movies and my humble attempts to scale it...

Progress will be compiled at the end of each month and films are listed in order of preference. 

Monkey Business
Howard Hawkes (1952)
With Cary Grant playing a bumbling scientist whose chimpanzee accidently discovers the elixir of youth, this screwball comedy looks so off the wall it would be fair to assume that particular genre was coined merely to describe it. A young Marilyn Monroe, in a supporting role, offers a great example of her often overlooked comic timing and Grant is his usual brilliant self in the lead role, barking down phones and running amok with endless charm. Grant embodies all the old-school Hollywood heart throb traits, only rivaled perhaps by his mate Jimmy Stewart, but- to paraphrase a better critic than myself- while we love to see him win the girl, when he's slipping on an olive we love him all the more.

Umberto D.
Vittoria De Sica (1952)
4 years after his timeless Bicycle Thieves changed the cinematic landscape, Vittoria De Sica delivered this slightly more sentimental, but still starkly neo-realist effort which follows the trials of the titular Roman pensioner and his beloved dog Flike.  Umberto struggles with social welfare and a cruel landlady as decency seems to fade from the world around him. De Sica’s style looks a touch more decorative here than on previous outings but the director’s dark edge remains, shooting many scenes on the Roman streets and sugar-coating none of his disillusionment with Italian society.

There’s Always Tomorrow
Douglas Sirk (1956)
A decade after their seminal work in Billy Wilder’s peerless noir Double Indemnity, Fred MacMurray and Barbara Stanwyk were reunited here as, respectively, an underappreciated toy manufacturer and the old flame who returns to town. Gushing with all the melancholic longing that a title like that might suggest and with a vintage tender performance from Stanwyk this late Douglas Sirk effort has all the trappings of the melodramist’s best.

You Can Count On Me
Mark Lonergan (2000)

Mark Ruffolo plays a weary looking vagabond who takes a trip home to squeeze some cash from his sister (Laura Linney) but instead ends up playing father figure to her sheltered son (excellent Rory Culkin). Small town America; middle class problems; everyone grows: Lonergan’s film is a clear early omen of what we call the “Sundance film” today and bursting out from that particular festival, it may have even started the trend. 

 
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