A Matter Of Life And Death (1946)

It's been well-established for a long time that we Brits like to talk about the weather. A Matter Of Life And Death actually goes as far as allowing some weather to save the life (or delay the death anyway) of our main character. That's probably the only thing I can say here that might not have been said already in the multitude of reviews and essays telling you how good this film is. It's been hailed as a classic, one of the best British movies of all time, and rightly so.

Peter Carter (David Niven) is a British wartime airman who jumps out of his damaged plane with a parachute pack that he knows won't work. It's very foggy when he jumps though, which is why he isn't immediately scooped up to the afterlife by Conductor 71 (Marius Goring). That should be rectified soon enough, but there's a wrinkle. Carter has fallen in love with the American woman (June, played by Kim Hunter) who spoke to him over the radio when death was imminent. Arguing that he has other responsibilities and context now, Carter doesn't want dragged into the afterlife. He starts an appeal process, but the odds seem stacked against him.

Co-written and co-directed by the mighty Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger, two names known to anyone who is a fan of classic cinema, this was another film I had long been meaning to check off my watchlist, but also one I never seemed to be in the mood for. Silly me. The thing about so many films that are spoken so highly of, and with such fondness, is that they actually tend to work their magic on you any time you get around to them. 

Powell and Pressburger are rightly regarded as legends of cinema, and this glorious blend of the fantastical and the grounded, showcased by a very effective choice to have the time in our reality shown in Technicolor while the heavenly sequences are in gorgeously crisp black and white, is easy to consider as one of their very best, if not their absolute masterpiece. Like some other titles from this decade I could mention, the magical premise proves to be a great way to deliver a powerful message about the human experience, and all that it encompasses. Everyone deserves praise for bringing this vision to life (especially those who helped to create a giant escalator showcased in the third act), but I must highlight the contributions from editor Reginald Mills, cinematographer Jack Cardiff, and composer Allan Gray.

Despite being about a decade older than the age of his character, Niven is the perfect, and perfectly charming, lead. He delivers one of the all-time great "keep calm and carry on" British performances in cinema history. Hunter is very good opposite him, believably moved by the circumstances and the man to fall in love so quickly and strongly. Goring is a lot of fun in his role, which could have easily been played in a number of different ways (I did wonder if he was going to turn menacing and dangerous at some point), and both Roger Livesey and Raymond Massey relish their scenes in the finale that have them opposing one another in the case to decide Carter's designated date of death.

I can understand people being put off by the unrelentingly stiff-upper-lipped nature of a few of the main characters, one character passes a message along that is literally just "what ho!" at one point, but I would encourage everyone to just accept the language and mannerisms and let themselves be carried along through a cinematic experience that feels both unabashedly epic and also cosy and personal.

10/10

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The Seventh Victim (1943)

The directorial feature debut of Mark Robson, and the continuation of his working relationship with producer Val Lewton, The Seventh Victim is an odd mix of drama and what I couldn’t help viewing as very dark, and twisted, humour.

The plot focuses on Mary Gibson (Kim Hunter), a young woman who begins her own investigation when she is informed that her sister (Jacqueline, played by Jean Brooks) has gone missing. It isn’t long until Mary meets a few people who may be able to help her in her quest, including a psychiatrist (played by Tom Conway), a poet (Erford Gage), and a husband (Hugh Beaumont) she was previously unaware of. But where is her sister, and what has happened to her?

Like some other movies I have watched recently, The Seventh Victim is best appreciated by people who don’t bring their own expectations to it. The title may suggest a crime thriller (perhaps a serial killer movie) or something supernatural, but what you actually get is a framework that allows some time to be spent examining the power of faith, despite it being in a rather unusual context. This isn’t an unfamiliar topic to Lewton, of course, and you could argue that most of the movies he produced had that at the heart of them, but it’s a slightly less comfortable fit here, although everything still works well enough.

The script, by Charles O’Neal and DeWitt Bodeen, manages to take viewers through an ever-darkening corridor with enough light touches and breathing space to distract from the gloom and doom until reaching a rather bleak final destination. It’s just a shame that the ending isn’t at all satisfying, and the final scene feels more like a punchline than something effectively poignant.

Although Hunter, Conway, Gage, and Beaumont all do well in their roles, they also often feel as if they are starting in a different movie from the one in which a woman has gone missing, and is presumably in danger. Remove a couple of main scenes and you end up with a standard rom-com narrative here. Brooks, on the other hand, benefits from being the endangered woman, with her intermittent appearances creating either more mystery or more danger.

While not a bad film, this is easily the worst of the films I have seen produced by Lewton. It suffers from an identity crisis, as well as some plotting that never feels as tight and well-handled as it should be (especially when you consider the lean 71-minute runtime). I didn’t mind watching it, but I doubt I will ever want to rewatch it.

6/10

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The Kindred (1987)

I understand that people who know me through various social media connections may already be fed up of me going on about The Kindred, but I am going to spend some more time on it. Because it deserves it. Whatever people think of the quality of the film itself, this was something I had been wanting to see for about 35 years, all thanks (as so often happened) to a lurid and tempting VHS cover.

While his scientist mother (Kim Hunter) is dying, John Hollins (David Allen Brooks) is surprised by the news that he apparently has a half brother. Even more surprising, he is supposed to destroy this individual, named Anthony. Heading back to the old homestead with some firm friends to help him, John starts to piece together exactly what his mother meant. It is all to do with a load of illegal experiments, resulting in the creation of a life that really shouldn’t exist.

Co-written and co-directed by Stephen Carpenter and Jeffrey Obrow, The Kindred is, especially in the first half, a clumsy and clunky piece of work. It often tries to be creepy and suspenseful while most viewers will be waiting for whatever wild practical effects are surely due to come along in time for the third act. In fairness, however, those practical effects DO come along, kudos to the team for them, and they are given plenty of screentime to ensure that nobody feels short-changed.

Although The Kindred is gloopy horror fun, most will be unsurprised to find that it is far from a showcase for great acting. Brooks is decidedly average in the lead role, outshone in any scenes that he shares with either Talia Balsam (who plays his girlfriend) or Amanda Pays (who plays a woman so happy to help our hero that she might just have a secret agenda). Peter Frechette is defined by the fact that he is trying to no longer be a smoker, and he’s stuck being the most annoying of the main group members, while Timothy Gibbs and Julia Montgomery have lesser, but also less annoying, parts to play. Hunter may not be onscreen for long, but she’s not the only established star to be involved. Rod Steiger is enjoyably over the top as another scientist who values results over ethics, and every scene that features him is a barmy delight, either thanks to his performance or the special effects around him.

Despite the runtime not being overlong, the pacing could be tightened up slightly. The special effects, as wonderful as they are, vary wildly in quality. And the score by David Newman feels like it should have been much more bombastic. But these are relatively minor criticisms, especially when you think of the many other horror films from this time that ended up being much less satisfying.

The Kindred almost comes close to delivering on the promise sold on that VHS artwork, and almost coming close is a damn sight better than many other horror movies manage. I am sorry that it took me over three decades to see it, but I am also glad that something I had given up hope of ever seeing turned out to be part of a very special viewing experience, one that kept a grin on my face for the duration.

7/10

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