For It Is Man's Number: agnes moorehead

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Thursday, 23 November 2023

Dark Passage (1947)

This is much more like it. As much as I enjoyed them, I had inadvertently spent the past couple of days watching some film noirs that felt decidedly lighter than other films in that style. Dark Passage feels like it has everything you could want from a classic noir. A majorly flawed, perhaps truly dangerous, lead. At least one potential femme fatale. Supporting characters looking to profit from a bad situation. And Bogart and Bacall guaranteeing at least one or two moments that show a marked rise in temperature.

Based on a novel by David Goodis, this is written and directed by Delmer Daves, a solid director with a number of treats tucked away in his filmography (including this very title). It starts with a man escaping from prison, seeming to be undone by bad luck before a beautiful woman (Irene Jansen, played by Lauren Bacall) helps him reach somewhere he might be able to safely shelter for a while. The man, although unseen for most of the first half of the movie, is Vincent Parry (Humphrey Bogart), and he was in prison for the crime of murdering his wife. He claims that he's innocent though, but to stay out of prison he's going to have to go to some extreme lengths, including having his face changed (which explains the decision made to show the first half of the movie from his POV). But a different face is only worth a damn if nobody else is keeping a close eye on Vincent's movements.

This is excellent stuff throughout, thanks to a lovely script, excellent cast, and the fact that viewers are pretty sure from the earliest scenes that they are really watching an innocent man growing increasingly desperate as he starts to look more guilty. The first half of the film may irritate some people, it’s a bit gimmicky, although it makes sense when we get to the midway point, but it is probably the best way to let things unfold without using any other tactic that could take you out of the movie completely. It helps that Bogart is our guide, that iconic line delivery helping us know where this will all be leading eventually.

While this isn’t the best work delivered by either star, both Bogart and Bacall are as good as expected in the lead roles. They always have brilliant onscreen chemistry, even when one of them isn’t visible onscreen, and both feel capable of handling their turbulent journey towards what they hope could be a happy ending. Agnes Moorehead is enjoyable in a supporting role, perhaps with a key to our lead’s proof of innocence, and Clifton Young plays someone who is set to really throw a big spanner in the works when he figures out how he could earn himself an easy payday. Bruce Bennett also has a small role, although he doesn’t get to do much, and Tom D’Andrea and Houseley Stevenson get to steal a couple of scenes as, respectively, a cabbie and a doctor who could turn out to be life-changing allies.

Although not a title I had heard mentioned in too many conversations about the classic film noirs, Dark Passage certainly already has enough fans that will be rolling their eyes and wondering what took me so long. There are one or two scenes that already felt familiar to me, due to them influencing other works (I would assume Spielberg is a fan, considering a certain sci-if title he made that feels indebted to this at times . . . or maybe that is just me), and I will happily rewatch this any time. In fact, I suspect I may enjoy my second watch a bit more as I settle into it while knowing what to look out for as the plot starts to unfold. Superb stuff.

9/10

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Wednesday, 16 May 2018

All That Heaven Allows (1955)

Utilising a lot of the same cast members and the same essence of pure melodrama as Magnificent Obsession, from the previous year, Douglas Sirk delivers yet another wonderful tale of love, pain, and social etiquette with All That Heaven Allows.

Jane Wyman plays Cary Scott, a widow, who ends up falling in love with Ron Kirby (Rock Hudson), a gardener who doesn't seem to care about the same things as everyone else does. After a tentative start, both prepare to present themselves to Cary's adult children and her upper-class friends. Her children are immediately resentful, worrying about the loss of their family home and how their mother will be viewed. As for Cary's "friends", very few seem pleased with her choice.

Based upon a story by Edna L. Lee and Harry Lee, Peg Fenwick has crafted a script that easily sells the love between the two leads before starting to pile up the obstacles, and does so with a constant feeling of melancholy as opposed to misery, although that comes through more in the third act, thanks to the more pointed moments. Whatever is happening, be it happier times or despair, it all feels earned, thanks to the script and performances.

Hudson and Wyman are wonderful, and very easy to root for, and there are solid supporting turns from Agnes Moorehead, Conrad Nagel, Gloria Talbott and William Reynolds (as the daughter and son, respectively, of Cary), and Jacqueline deWit, particularly enjoyable as the nosiest and most gossipy member of the local community.

But this is a Sirk film before anything else, aided by gorgeous cinematography from Russell Metty and some more lovely music from Frank Skinner. It allows him to do what he does best, painting his tale with a gorgeous selection of colours and never once worrying about taking things too far in his attempts to wring every ounce of emotion or drama from a scene.

Much like his other films, viewers can easily decide to close themselves off to the pleasures of All That Heaven Allows. The cynical can see the strings being pulled, the film fan will already know how things are going to play out, and there's at least one too many convenient plot points. But to deny yourself the sheer pleasure of a Sirk melodrama is to deny the beauty and vibrancy that he gives to what should really be TV movie fare. And that is your loss.

9/10

This is another one available in this lovely set.
Americans have that Criterion edition available.

Tuesday, 8 May 2018

Magnificent Obsession (1954)

To my knowledge, this is only the second Douglas Sirk film that I have seen, and my first was just last week (All I Desire - wonderful stuff). But it's possibly the film that he is best known for, even if it's only being described by people who keep forgetting what the actual title is.

And here's the description for you. Rock Hudson plays Bob Merrick, a selfish, rich playboy who has his life saved by an unselfish doctor. The doctor dies, which leads to Bob trying to assuage his guilty conscience by offering to pay a large amount to his widow, Helen (Jane Wyman). That's not the way to make amends, of course, and things only go from bad to worse. Bob cannot figure out just how he is supposed to lead a better life, Helen is blinded in an accident, and . . . . well, I won't detail the rest of the plot, despite it being so well known to so many people. Suffice to say, it's absolutely preposterous stuff from start to finish.

It's also quite wonderful. I don't know why this worked for me as well as it did, but it REALLY did. All I can suggest is that perhaps the earnest nature of the performers in every scene made it all so much easier to swallow, coupled with the fact that I wanted to go along on this journey of romance and melodrama.

Based on a novel by Lloyd C. Douglas, the script is mainly credited to Robert Blees and Wells Root, and both of them move the narrative forward with great gusto, helped immensely by the obvious charms of Hudson and Wyman, both irresistible screen presences (yes, even when the former is being a selfish asshat during the earlier scenes). And Hudson and Wyman are in turn helped by a supporting cast that includes Barbara Rush, Agnes Moorehead, Otto Kruger, and more.

Sirk looks after everything with a steady hand, often livening up some of the quieter scenes with his usual eye for beautiful, vibrant colours and working well with the script to carry viewers more gently from one step to the next as the more ridiculous plot elements start to fall into place.

It will be all too easy for viewers to go into this and just hate-watch the whole thing from start to finish. If the content puts you off, you probably won't even appreciate the lovely imagery that crops up, the music, the performances, and all of the other technical expertise on display. I implore you to just give in to the magic of it all. You could end up loving it as much as me.

9/10