LA Confidential: Rollo Tomassi has checked out

Visually stunning thriller: great direction, production design, score, camera-work, and editing. Strong performances all-round. But it has no soul and lacks any semblance of a noir sensibility. Screenplay is hopelessly contrived, and the ending is not only pat but too cute by half. Mickey Spillane on steroids.

Movie Notes #1

The Killer That Stalked New York (1950) is a b-noir from a director who made only three movies in the early 50s, Earl McEvoy. The movie was lensed by Joe Biroc and stars the under-rated Evelyn Keyes, who passed away last year, and appeared to advantage in Joseph Losey’s The Prowler (1951) and Robert Rossen’s Johnny O’Clock (1947). Keyes plays an accomplice to a hood, who after a job in Cuba, returns to NYC with smallpox, in a dramatisation of the New York smallpox scare of 1946. Keyes is brilliant as ‘the killer’ and dominates the film, which in the light of the current swine flu scare, is a well-crafted docu-drama which deftly weaves the drama of the woman’s noir story and how a city of over 8 million people has to mobilise to deal with such a threat, with vignettes on how the illness is transmitted, and a continuing story arc of the fate of the killer’s first ‘victim’, a young working-class girl.

An interesting segue is how these old Hollywood b-pictures weaved wonderful vignettes and comic moments into the story. Two such scenes stand out in this movie. A milkman is infected and there is a scene in the sick man’s bedroom when the inoculation team visits. The poor guy’s persona is eloquently evoked by his wife’s harping but deeply loving commentary on her husband – before she realises the gravity of his illness. The other scene cuts to a Brooklyn street with kids playing on the road in front of a bar. The kids scramble as a police car pulls up. They gather on the footpath to check it out. As a burly detective steps out of the car, one kid pipes up and asks for the low-down “Hey Bub…”. The cop replies “Beat it kid.” The bar is closed so the cops after getting the form from the kids, drive off, and the kids jump back on the road shooting air tommy guns after the car. They don’t make movies like that any more.

Otto Preminger's Laura (1944) is an elegant noir melodrama. Gene Tierney is an exquisite iridescent angel and Dana Andrews a stolid cop who nails the killer after falling for a dead dame. Clifton Webb as the homme-fatale is his annoying best.

The original The Taking of Pelham 123 (1974) is great entertainment, with a surreal mix of humor and violence, and a noirish denouement. Check out Walter Matthau’s loud check shirt and yellow tie.

Le quai des brumes (Port of Shadows – France 1938)

The fog of angst seeps from the faces of two doomed lovers in the dank gloom of Le Havre. Jean is on the run and Nelly is trapped in a psychic prison as real as the physical constraints on her existence. Happiness is something that may exist but neither knows it. They meet by chance one night in a broken-down bar on the waterfront amongst the detritus of an ephemeral humanity. Panama’s is a haven for the down-and-out named for its publican’s hat, an old shaman with a rusted soul as deep as the canal he visited in his youth. Father confessor of a convent for lost souls. He keeps his counsel, ask no questions, and strums his guitar. And everywhere the fog and the harbor with rusting hulks at anchor ever-waiting transport for deliverance. The two lovers stroll as tentative friends with a hope as forlorn as it is sublime, when a bright clarity intrudes, a hood with a malice as sharp as his clothes and his shave, and as evil as his cowardice. A night of bliss follows. Jean and Nelly find love at a sea-side carnival and that elusive union we all seek - in a rented room. They keep missing pernicious Fate a drunken vagabond. The glory of a new dawn is soon shattered. They each leave alone. Fate occupies the sheets of last night’s passion, and they are lost. “Kiss me. We don’t have much time.”

For Neda

For Neda “Policemen are not authorized to use weapons against people,” said Tehran Police Chief Azizollah Rajabzadeh, according to Press TV. “They are trained to only use antiriot tools to keep the people out of harm’s way.” She was young elegant cheeky loving and loved our sister A simple honest life faith-filled dutiful modestly aspiring She knew freedom liberty dwelled in her lustrous soul she acted not with violence nor rancour a witness against tyranny An instant the bullet’s trajectory unflinching she falls the blood the horror “I’m burning, I’m burning!” Iranian Neda Agha-Soltan, 26, was killed Saturday evening when hit by a bullet during a protest in Tehran. Thanks to Lloyd Fonville of mardecortesbaja.com for bringing Neda’s story to my attention. Quotes from Los Angeles Times. In Farsi, Neda means voice or call.

Sunshine Cleaning (2008)

A boy talks to God on a CB radio in a beat-up cleaning van. A sassy young woman with no job and fewer prospects is transported to ecstasy trestling under an urban train bridge. Her older sister struggles in low-paid jobs to survive and bring up her son. A loser father who never gives up and with a heart of gold. A gentle one-armed man sells cleaning agents and makes model planes. Contract cleaning the grisly detritus of messy deaths as a path to a life with purpose. Sunshine Cleaning is a simple film that transcends a modest premise if you look deeply enough and with empathy. A story of the mostly painful struggle of those living on the margins in the suburbs takes you gently, and without violence or sermonising, on a journey where you discover the emptiness of things, the value of family, and the pain and wistful joy of grief. To have the perspective that sees something worthwhile in this thoroughly decent film perhaps one needs to have actually faced failure, been on the outside, been a father, or faced the angst that can push someone to blow their head-off. Ask an adult child who has had the heart-broking job of emptying their dead parent’s home of the stuff that is left behind, of the pain of deciding what to keep and what to throw away, of a place full of memories stripped of the signposts that anchored them, of the shock realisation that the artifacts of a life are at bottom junk to be removed for the next occupant. In this movie we have an original screenplay and direction by relative newcomers, and from that perspective they have done well. The cast is engaging and modest, they assume their roles without affectation or histrionics. Amy Adams and Emily Blunt are the two sisters. Alan Arkin, who has a mortgage on such roles, is the father, and Jason Spevack is charming as his grandson. Clifton Collins Jr. is impressive as the local cleaning aids supplier. Christine Jeffs’ unassuming point and shoot direction leaves the story by Megan Holley to unfold through the characters. Not a great film but it remains in the memory as a bitter-sweet reminder of the transience of things, that a good life is not defined by the accumulation of possessions but by how honestly and bravely we tread the path fate has dealt us.

Summary Judgement: Gran Torino (2008)

A cliched story is saved by engaging performances from the the two young Asian-American co-stars. Eastwood's feel-good neighborly redemption and contrived sacrifice obscure the reactionary scenario that holds-up gun-justice and violence as solutions to urban alienation and conflict. A truly disturbing confection that has nothing to say on the causes of urban decline and the economic forces that shape lives in the suburbs and on the streets.

Book Review: "Have You Seen...?"

I waited with as much anticipation as a depressive 56yo can muster for my Amazon order of film critic David Thomson's book, "Have You Seen...?": A Personal Introduction to 1,000 Films (2008). The reviews and blurbs are glowing: "a prodigious, seductive, and addictive achievement" said Richard Schickel and a "brilliant commentary" wrote Molly Haskell. Greil Marcus and Andrew Sarris offer similar praise. On receiving the book, I was sadly disappointed. Thomson allocates a page for each movie giving him 600-800 words to play with. There are no images. The films are presented alphabetically and cover a wide range, with a strong bias for Hollywood product. The dustcover describes the contents as "including masterpieces, oddities, guilty pleasures, and classics (with just a few disasters)". The marketing hype tells me the book is "a sweeping collection [presenting] films that Thomson offers in response to the question... 'What should I see?' ". Sadly, the reviews are too self-consciously quirky and overly striving for knowing irony to be of any real assistance in their stated aim. I suppose you can put it down to dry English wit for it own sake. The short essays are full of arcane references for those cineastes who live for such trivia, and there is nothing wrong with that! But when you only have a page at your disposal, such indulgence costs. And the cost is high. After reading a review, if you have not seen the film, there is at bottom very little to inform your decision of whether to pursue it. If you have seen the movie, more often than not, you are left perplexed by the flippant tone and neglect of important elements. For an old geezer, Thomson, who is in his sixties, strives to be hip by mixing obscenities with irony. Words such as, f*ck, f*ckability, and pr*ck, are often used where more elegant language would serve his purpose better. As his bias is obvious I suppose it is to a degree acceptable. Though to my mind, this makes his survey rather limiting. For example, he writes-off the Marx Bros as mere vaudeville, refers to film noir as a "style looking for content", and barely tolerates Billy Wilder. Better to spend your money on The Time Out Film Guide and 1001 Movies You Must See Before You Die (though I do resent having to pick up a book that has to always remind me of my mortality).

State of Play (2009)

Buried under the mire of cliché, there is an important story in State of Play, but its telling in a feature film will need a more intelligent screenplay and tauter direction. An overweight long-haired junk-food-eating newspaper reporter, ably assisted by a young and attractive female blogger, stumbles across a story of corporate dirty-dealing which exposes government corruption and segues into sordid melodrama. Not to leave any stone of topicality unturned, we also have corporate demands for profits from the newspaper business, new versus old media, marital infidelity, abuse of process, and a deranged a gunman. The reporter is played by a stolid Russell Crowe, who does little with an empty role. Helen Mirren as the blustery editor shouts and swears a lot, and nothing much else. Only Ben Affleck as a young Senator resonates, while Michael Berresse is strangely effective as a rogue psychopath. It all plays out as a second-rate John Grisham novel, with a twist within a twist ending, which looks like it was tacked-on to appease a studio suit. The whole affair lacks tension or dramatic momentum largely due to the lacklustre direction and pedestrian cinematography. The soundtrack tries to instill a modicum of drama, but is weirdly out of sync: it telegraphs rather than informs the action. If you want the real story told with conviction and intelligence read Naomi Klein’s thoroughly researched expose The Shock Doctrine.

Reading the Movies

The Dancing Cinema film blog has asked film bloggers to list the film books that have enriched their passion. This is my list after excluding my latest disappointing purchase - "Have You Seen...?" by David Thomson, which I review here.

Landmark Films William Wolf A selection of films that Wolf saw as representing their time: from Griffith's Birth of a Nation (1915) to Wertmuller's Seven Beauties (1975)

Film Noir Andrew Spicer Essential introduction to film noir.

Film As Film: Understanding and Judging Movies V. F. Perkins A critique of film theory and criticism.

A Panorama of American Film Noir, 1941-1953 Raymond Borde and Étienne Chaumeton THE seminal survey of film noir.

More Than Night: Film Noir In its Contexts James Naremore A deeply insightful review of the the meaning of noir.

American Movie Critics ed. by Phillip Lopate A compendium of American film criticism from the silent era to the present.

The Art of the Film Ernest Lindgren How movies are made and the aesthetics of film-making.

The Contemporary Cinema: 1945-1963 Penelope Houston A survey of post-war cinema.

The Story of Film Mark Cousins A complete reference endorsed by Bernardo Bertolucci.

The Philosophy of Film Noir ed. by Mark T. Conrad Anthology of the philosophy of noir from Plato and Nietzsche to Sartre.

The Film Handbook (1989) Geoff Andrew A reference of major world directors with an introduction by Martin Scorsese.

1001 Movies (2005) ed. by Steven Jay Schneider Film reviews of top 1001 films by selected major international critics

His Girl Friday (1940): Dated and Oppressive

Howard Hawks' His Girl Friday is a dated stagy unfunny comedy that glibly milks cheap humor from cruel ridicule. Cary Grant and Rosalind Russell in their roles never go beyond caricature. The elements of moral turpitude and tragedy in the script are everywhere sacrificed to the tawdry ambition and low humor that propels the story. Particularly repugnant is the latent misogyny and contempt for people who don't have an angle. The rejected suitor, the guy on death row, and the decent ordinary Molly are all expendable once their "production for use" value is used up. Even corrupt officialdom is let off the hook in the twisted ending where a girl jumps out a window, is then promptly forgotten, and a heinous attempt to obstruct due process is traded for the freedom of the two amoral protagonists.