RIP(ed) Patrick Swayze

While Patrick Swayze was one of the few actors to ever make People's Sexiest Man Alive (1991) who did not appeal to me, I've always enjoyed the outrageous campiness of his movies. From Roadhouse to Red Dawn his movies are just fun and incredibly fun to mock. Mike Nelson of Mystery Science Theater fame has made a second career out of deriding Swayze , of course, in an affectionate way. So I love the movies, but Swayze himself? Sorta like watching a cold burrito on screen. Maybe it was the mullet? I dunno though, Bono had a pretty serious mullet throughout the 80s and that didn't stop me from plastering his picture all over my locker. So I can't even blame the hockey hair. But I post this bit of eye candy for those of you who did love the Swayze in all his shirtless (and often pantless) glory.

My favorite so bad it was good Swayze film was Next of Kin (1989) in which he plays a cop and violinist (I know!) who must take down a gang of mobsters who have killed one of his brothers. Meanwhile another brother, a hillbilly (played by, I kid you not, Liam Neeson!) decides to take the law into his own hands and starts using a crossbow on local wiseguys. This movie is so packed with mockability that it really deserves its own shrine, website, or at least a pic spam where I dissect the stupidity scene by scene. Maybe another day my friends.

So to the actor who gave us the immortal pot throwing scene in Ghost, the line "Nobody puts baby in a corner," the Chippendales dance off with Chris Farley, and the surfing bank robber philosopher in Point Break, I say Rest in Peace, dude. Rest in Peace.

Knight without Armor (in a savage land!)

This fun Marlene Dietrich/Robert Donat melodrama has all hallmarks of a great movie about the Russian Revolution: action, romance, dancing Tartars and wacky hats. Robert Donat plays a British journalist who, after being threatened with deportation from Russia, decides to assume a false identity and spy on revolutionaries. His cover is so good that when he gets caught and sent to Siberia by the Czarist regime, no one ever finds out he's a Brit. He manages to switch sides at will in the conflict to suit his purposes, which mainly involve cozying up to an imprisoned countess (Dietrich). Charged with delivering her to her probable execution, he decides to help her escape instead. This makes for a pleasant cross-country romantic adventure story that's not dissimilar from The Thirty-Nine Steps when you get down to it.

Perhaps because it's an English film, it feels quite a bit racier than typical American fare of the period (1937). Dietrich has no less than two gratuitous bathing scenes and she and Donat spend their time unchaperoned and unconcerned with sleeping arrangements. In one scene Donat tells her "They'll call off the search now. In a few days we can leave the forest." Dietrich inquires in her smokiest, most suggestive baritone "Don't you like my forest?" to which Donat replies, "I adore it" and they kiss, while the scene fades out. When next we see Dietrich she is skinny dipping, a scene reminiscent of the pre-code Blonde Venus (1932).

Though it was filmed in England and lacks that David Lean sweep of landscape that would make Doctor Zhivago an immortal classic, Knight Without Armor still manages to capture some of the insanity of that period of history. In a tense sequence Donat and Dietrich wait for a train that isn't coming, even though the station master insists on mustering passengers to the platform despite the obvious non-presence of the train. The longer they wait the more danger they face from Donat's own underlings who've decided to kidnap the Countess for themselves. There is a creeping irrationality to the peasants who are all mostly out for themselves and the good time to be had. The film presents no heroes or villains on either side, only individuals who are either sympathetic to the cause of the lovers or they are not. I suppose you could argue that this focus on the individual over the collective whole would be a way of taking sides after all.

At one point they encounter a young officer (John Clements) of the revolution who is so taken by the Countess' beauty that he deliberately allows them to escape, creating a diversion by killing himself. This conveniently allows the leads to have to avoid that big sacrifice that I was expecting from them, this being a 1930s melodrama. It also makes for some interesting dynamics between Donat and Dietrich. Donat uses the cover story that he and the Countess are brother and sister, so he has to sit by and watch while this young officer flatters and makes love to his girl. Donat applies his usual mask of indifference, appearing to trust Dietrich to prevent the fellow from going too far. In a beautifully filmed night scene, Dietrich reaches her arm out to Donat in the train car and he kisses it passionately, silently, all while the young officer looks on jealously. Yet, the young man never confronts the couple, preferring to push his advantage as far as he can, until he realizes that she will never love him. All of this is accomplished with minimal dialog and great skill from every quarter.

Certainly Knight Without Armor isn't a great film. Though Belgian director Jacques Feyder's other films are well-respected, this one is largely forgotten and I think it's partly his fault. The flow of the movie is a bit choppy and even occasionally hard to follow. There are scenes obviously left out (Dietrich's marriage and the death of her husband) and it isn't simply a case of a director deciding the audience is smart enough to fill in the blanks. It really seems as if he's not quite in control of the material or the pacing. Despite this criticism, I like the way he treats Dietrich as an actress rather than an object. He still manages to get her "little butterfly" in view in a few close-ups, but spends more care in setting up the drama the lighting. Take this clip which shows the moment when the Countess realizes that she is on the losing side in the revolution. Notice the time and elaborate set-up involved in building the drama of this scene. When Dietrich realizes that her servants have joined the rabble who've over run the estate, she is framed in a classic glamour close-up. She steels herself, asks "what are you waiting for?" and marches forward to face them. The crowd of rabble advances and an elderly woman from the crowd shouts, "c'mon she's only a woman!" The wit here is subtle, with Dietrich's power as a film star and her potency as a femme fatale being pitted against an angry mob.

There's a nice story attached to the making of this film, that stuck with me as I was watching it. Apparently during production Donat became ill and the film's producers wanted to replace him. Dietrich refused, saying that no other actor could play the part so well. She got her way and production was stalled till Donat could return. Perhaps all this really says is that Alexander Korda was more of a push over than Dietrich's usual Hollywood bosses. But it is nice to think of a little bit of chivalry involved in Knight without Armor, even if it is on the part of the damsel in distress.

Eye Candy of the Day: The 39 Steps

Robert Donat and Madeleine Carrol are literally shackled together and shacking up in Alfred Hitchcock's adventure thriller the 39 Steps (1935). Richard Hannay (Donat) steps into a music hall to divert himself and before long finds himself hip deep in a spy ring, beautiful women, racy sleeping arrangements, and murder. The action begins with a pick-up: a mysterious woman in a veiled hat invites herself up to Hannay's apartment and winds up dead a few hours later. Hannay borrows her ploy of using sex to get what he wants and finds women mostly willing to go out of their way to help him. Hitchcock exposes a society ready always to believe the lascivious and vicious before the innocent truth. Of the three women Hannay ends up spending the night with he falls for the one he fights with (Madelaine Carrol) which is true to the spirit of the screwball comedies that were bubbling up in America.

There's an interesting and poignant interlude on the Scottish moors with a woman who is completely swept off her feet by the dashing mysterious stranger who has stumbled briefly into the miserable cottage she shares with an even more miserable husband. The film leaves her behind, but not before she gets the memorable chance to make a noble sacrifice for him and get a kiss from our hero. She's like the fleshed out version of the woman into whose hospital room Cary Grant passes through in North by Northwest. Speaking of which, The 39 Steps is remarkably similar to that later more famous Hitchcock film. Both movies use a man on the run from the police as an excuse for a cross country chase and a series of entertaining adventures as he dodges the law, deadly thugs and prevents a master spy from stealing important military secrets. The focus of North By Northwest is a sweeping, technicolor travelogue while The 39 Steps has a more intimate agenda. Unlike the larger than life characters that inhabit North By Northwest, the supporting cast in 39 Steps insinuate themselves quickly into the memory and seem like real people glimpsed in the midst of their daily lives. That moment in North by Northwest when Cary Grant is treated like the movie star he is by the woman in the hospital room, is funny because the audience is in on the joke of the whole stylized, over-refined universe. And a similar moment in The 39 Steps is completely uncynical and poignant because Hannay begins his flirtation with crofter's wife as part of a role he's playing and ends with his genuine concern for her welfare. His good-bye kiss is what is required of the part but you can see him conflicted about the game he's played.

In both movies, Hitchcock seems to enjoy torturing his heroes, putting them not only in constant peril, but continually uncomfortable, awkward and embarassing situations. They get hungry, tired and dirty along the way (though not quite as much as mortal men would) but they never seem to get lonely! If there's one thing you should learn from these movies its this: chicks dig fugitives.

Show and Tell

Every once in a while, I have a bunch of disorganized, random stuff to tell you guys. (As opposed to every day when I have slightly organized random stuff to tell you guys about movies that I've watched.) I call it Show and Tell.

I'm on Ask Mick LaSalle. Again.

OK, so I admit I was annoyed that the last time I was on Ask Mick LaSalle they edited out the part where I said the name of my blog. So I devised a question that I knew he'd want to answer (though I did genuinely also want to know what he had to say) and deliberately phrased my question so that they couldn't easily edit my plug out. So if you want to hear me shamelessly self-promoting myself, go here.

I don't know why but I sound like I'm tranquilizers. I think I was trying to talk slowly or deliberately and it just sounds like I'm on meds. Oh well!

Amazing flash movie tributes are...amazing

While searching around for hard to find DVDs online the other day, I stumbled onto Raven Maven's site. Maven has some DVDs for sale, and enticingly, some wonderful flash video tributes on Robert Donat and Alfred Hitchcock among others at her site. I have gotten used to the fairly pedestrian quality of these things on Youtube, so I'm blown away by one that is done by someone who really knows how to use graphics and animation effectively.

Old time radio and other audio treasures

You know you are obsessed with an actor when you start seeking out their radio performances. I've heard so many Cary Grant Lux Theater episodes that I'm probably going to have to buy some Lux toilet soap which everyone knows is the secret that keeps all the stars looking so young and beautiful. One of the things I love about the radio performances is that frequently movies were adapted to the format and the casting changed. This makes for interesting listening. Cary Grant playing opposite Irene Dunne in Theodora Goes Wild; Herbert Mashall reading the Gary Cooper part in Desire; Good-bye Mr. Chips, starring Laurence Olivier; and Brian Aherne and Bette Davis doing Jane Eyre.

Some actors went outside merely reinterpreting roles they'd played on screen. Warren William helped develop and star in the radio program Strange Wills and went so far to create his own radio production company Warren William Inc. Other actors made a few extra bucks by recording great literature for use on the radio, in a sort of pre-cursor to books on tape. Among these, Robert Donat reading Ode to a Nightingale stands out.

While not exactly radio, I also have a fond affection for sound galleries. Before you could just upload video willy nilly onto the internet, one of the best ways of getting some multi-media content online was to record snatches of dialog and put it in .wav files. (This was pre-MP3s, people). I spent many happy hours recording bits of my favorite Cary Grant dialog for the Shrine. Occasionally I run across an old-school site that still has sound clips in this way. I recently found this one that has the best bit s of Alan Rickman dialog ("The air is full of spices!") with everything from the ubiquitous Harry potter movies to the obscure Barchester Chronicles.

Gallery and Playlist Updates

The Herbert Marshall Gallery is twice as big as when I first posted it. Also my Herbert Marshall playlist on Youtube is off the chain! Or as off the chain as anything about Herbert Marshall can really get, anyway with 29 videos, many of which are links to entire films. My other playlists include Robert Donat, Warren William, Michael Redgrave, Rosano Brazzi, Franchot Tone, Brian Aherne and Ernst Lubitsch.

Hello, Harold Lloyd

Lloyd and Jobya Ralston in The Freshman.

I think I've mentioned in this blog before that sometimes I 'm loathed to dig into the work of an actor that I haven't seen before. It's usually not because I'm afraid I won't like it but, dang it, with my obsessive personality, I'm afraid it will add to an already over-burdened tivo queue. That didn't stop me from taping a couple of Harold Lloyd movies last week or from trotting them out during tea time with my family over the week-end. So yeah, hello, Harold Lloyd. Hello, new obsession. And good-bye to a few gigs of storage.

I think that Harold Lloyd's movies are so infectious because they combine acrobatic slapstick with a romantic comedy plot. It's not enough that Harold has to defy death hanging from a clock tower in Safety Last (1923) or become an unwitting football hero in The Freshman (1925). He has to get the girl as well and though it may seem like a small thing, it's really everything. This plotting makes Lloyd's movies seem more modern than other silent comedies.

Most people remember the famous building climbing sequence in Safety Last. It takes up the final third of the movie and is memorably spectacular. I actually enjoyed the proceeding two thirds of the film more, where Lloyd was a hapless department store clerk trying to impress his girl who mistakenly believes that he is the general manager. The film was sweet and consistently funny as Lloyd tries to dodge his manager and supervisor, still do his job and find ways to convince his sweetheart that he's in charge of the whole store. Safety Last was not only ground breaking because of its physical comedy, it was ground breaking because it was one of the first romantic comedies on film. The form has been around at least since the Greeks, but because of the requirements of dialog, it wasn't something that was very doable in the world of silent film. Lloyd's comedy is mostly visual, but there is a certain amount of verbal wit that is relayed through the inter-titles and aided by sound effects that were written into to the story.

One doesn't think much about the writing in a silent film, but Hal Roach who did the screenplay for Safety Last, does a great job of getting the story and jokes across with relatively few inter titles. It's an amazing exercise in efficiency and there are plenty of throwaway pieces of dialog that you can see the actors mouthing that aren't given title cards. It's a given that we don't really need them.

His films are also topical which gives them a less universal, more grounded feeling. Safety Last exploits the building climbing stunts that were popular in the 1920s (a fad which has come back with the popularity of Alain Robert) and The Freshman lampoons all things collegiate. In the later film, Lloyd plays a young man who goes to see a movie called "The College Hero" over and over, memorizing the dialog and studying the actions for use in his own freshman year. The hero of "The College Hero" is named Speedy and Lloyd's nickname at school soon becomes speedy as well. A few years later Lloyd made a movie entitled Speedy (1928). The overlapping of fictional and real-life in Lloyd's world is intense and his characters often have the first name "Harold" or the last name "Lloyd."

Harold Lloyd's movies look terrific for their age. This is due in part to the fact that Lloyd used a fair amount of his personal fortune to preserve his own films. We are left with 11 silent feature films and dozens of shorts, many of which look pristine and feel more contemporary than almost anything else (with perhaps the exception of some of Lon Cheney's work) in the era.

The stuff dreams are made of: maltese Falcon Boxed set

What's better than a boxed set of the Maltese Falcon (1941) with extras, a commentary and a documentary? That same boxed set with all three film versions of Dashiell Hammet's novel included. While I mostly blame Tonto for the recent influx of expensive DVDs into my house, I can't deny I do love the extras. This is a rare case in which the extras might be something I actually watch as much if not more than the 1941 version of the film.

The documentary is average, although I did learn that I've pronouncing "Dashiell" wrong all these years. (It should be "da sheel" not "Dash-el") For some reason Henry Rollins is a commentator in it. That guy must have made a deal with devil or something. Never before has a little talent in the arena of punk rock and spoken word been a qualification to comment as to whether Humphrey Bogart's portrayal of Sam Spade was the first anti-hero put on film. (He wasn't by the way. See the first two film versions of this story, if you don't believe me.) The commentary too is mind-numbingly pedestrian. Bogart biographer Eric Lax talks in a monotone throughout giving dry facts about the actors on screen. He adds a few nice pieces of trivia, that I wouldn't have known about otherwise such as a poster for an obscure Bogart movie that's in the background when Miles is shot, but otherwise I had to force myself to get through it.

Having been raised on the '41 film, the Maltese Falcon (1931) was really a surprise and a pleasant one at that. With its focus on Sam Spade's sex life, it's naughty and funny as well as gritty. I can't picture Bogart ever being as breezy or as flippant as Ricardo Cortez is as he tidies his office after an afternoon rendezvous with a client, flirts with his secretary, takes a call from one of his girlfriends who happens to be married to his partner and makes goo goo eyes at Ruth Wonderly (Bebe Daniels) all before lunch. Daniels is a more street-wise, earthy femme fatale than Mary Astor. I've always respected Astor's acting, but Daniels is the kind of woman that seems like she could lead two or three guys to their doom and still make it to her lunch date without having to retouch her lipstick. Mary Astor projects a far more polished and high-class image, and when she says "I haven't lived a good life; I've been bad" you wonder if it isn't something to do with not matching her china pattern to the table cloth.

At the very least the sleeping arrangement make a lot more sense in the pre-code version. The famous detective wastes no time in shacking up with his client which gives him ample opportunity to search through her stuff to find the falcon as well as protecting her from Gutman's thug, Wilmer. In the '41 version we are expected to believe that Spade's faithful and sharp as a tack assistant, has a blind spot for Miss Wonderly and offers to put her up at her place as a favor to her boss. It's interesting to me that the adultery in all three of the film versions is toned down from the novel. The 31 version makes Iva Archer out to be tremendously unappealing and Sam is clearly regretful of his involvement with her. When Wonderly realizes that the negligee she found in her new lover's apartment belonged to the wife of the man she just murdered, she tears it off and takes a bath, scrubbing herself vigorously with a stiff brush. The film's producers made sure we understood that Ms. Wonderley had a conscience after all, and of course who were they to miss an opportunity to titillate the audience . In Satan Met a Lady, the affair happened before the Archers were married and in the '41 version Bogart breaks things off completely with Iva as soon as Miles is killed. In the novel, Spade is revolted by the his involvement but it is strongly implied that he will go back to her at the end. That was a conclusion that was too brutal even for the Pre-code era. The '31 film ends with Spade visiting Wonderly in jail, asking the prison matron to go easy on her and to send the bill for any little expenses she might incur to him at the DA's office. There is no famous line "the stuff that dreams are made of" and Sam Spade gets made assistant DA!

Satan Met a Lady (1936) is best known to film fans as the movie that precipitated Bette Davis breaking her contract with Warner Brothers. The film's reviews were colored by the chivalric feeling that critics had for Davis who they felt was above the material at hand. And perhaps she was, but that didn't stop me from enjoying the heck out of this quirky comedy. I am probably too big of a fan of screwball comedy, if such a thing is possible. I may be the only person who thinks a screwball bowlderization of The Maltese Falcon is a good idea. Critics, audiences and most of the people involved thought it was a disaster, but I couldn't help but admire the fact that this even got made. On top of that, it's actually quite funny.

The original New York Times review of Satan Met a Lady said that actors behave as if they expect the men in white coats to burst any moment and lock them up for attempting such a travesty. And really is that so different than the subtext of any screwball comedy? Is My Man Godfrey to be faulted for having the brass neck to put the homeless over the rich at a time when the country was nearly at war with itself? So what if a great book is made to look silly and liberties are taken with the plot? It is all in the service of comedy, which is not a noble sacrifice if you ask me. The question is then, is Satan Met a Lady any good as a comedy? I think it is. Warren William plays the Sam Spade stand-in Ted Shayne, the Satan of the title. He is far less tortured than the famous detective and inexplicably eccentric and even bizarre at times. He behaves like a person in a screwball comedy. Perhaps it is this knowing consciousness that they are in a comedy which put audiences off. I suppose the best comedies are those in which people play things straight in screwball situations. That holds to a point. Sooner or later things just get weird. Men in negligees stomp on dowagers' feet. It's bound to happen. Just as its bound to happen that a hard boiled detective will suddenly jump in the air grab onto the door frame and imitate King Kong.

3:10 to Yuma (1957)

This was one of many darker-toned westerns that came out after the success of High Noon. On the surface it's entirely derivative of that masterpiece down to the conceit of a clock-dependent conflict looming on the horizon, town-folk who'd rather save their own hides than render justice and a seemingly unstoppable gang of ruthless criminals. There is even a pervasive and maddeningly catchy theme song, similar to Tex Ritter's "Ballad of High Noon." Despite the similarities this picture has an original feel to it and is worth watching for one performance in particular--Glen Ford as the villain Ben Wade. He is completely evil, either killing or having his gang kill on his behalf in a ruthless, thoughtless way, but he also has a wide streak of nobility that makes his character almost likeable.

The film begins as Dan Evans (Van Heflin) and his sons witness a brutal stage coach robbery in which Wade and his gang gun down a driver. Evans is outnumbered and must watch helplessly and allow Wade to set his horses free in the desert. He goes home and finds his wife (Leora Dana) largely unsympathetic to the reasoning that he was completely outgunned in the situation. She convinces him to go to town to borrow money for their ranch which is in desperate need of irrigation.

While in town, Evans assists the local sheriff in arresting Wade (though his gang get away). Wade has stayed behind in order to seduce the local barmaid (Felicia Farr) who is so thoroughly bored by her life and so instantly in thrall to Wade that a bad choice in men, is just one more mistake in a string of calamities that brought her this far. There is also a hint in the script that she might be consumptive so there is certain grim determination to get some small pleasure out of her joyless existence. All this comes through in a few very brief scenes and here Ford and Farr are both excellent. It is the first hint that this killer, who was so menacing and seemingly without conscience, is not without a soul.

In order to get the needed money for his ranch, Evans agrees to be deputized and deliver Wade to the station in Contention to take the 3:10 to Yuma. In doing so, he must allow Wade to spend part of the evening with his family and there is a creepy scene in which Wade starts to work his charm on Mrs. Evans who seems like she's been romantically neglected. Wade uses the cracks in the Evans marriage as well as the family's money trouble to spend the next 40 minutes of the film trying to tempt Evans into accepting a bribe and let him free. This mostly takes place in the sun-drenched bridal suite of the Hotel Contention. If that's not symbolic enough for you, then I don't now what is, because in a strange way these two are locked into the forced intimacy of a bad marriage and watching every tense moment of this squirming tete a tete is as unnerving as it is absorbing.

The tension remains high as the audience waits for the inevitable showdown. At the last minute all the deputies pull out of the deal and Evans is left to face down the gang alone. The finale isn't quite as taught or perfect as the ending of High Noon, but the conclusion of the film is far more satisfying. Wade allows himself to be captured. Though he admits its not such a sacrifice--he's broken out of Yuma prison before-- he does it for no other reason than it seems the right thing to do as he feels he owes his life to Evans. As the train passes Mrs. Evans on the road and the sky opens up in a miraculous rain storm.

The story goes that Glen Ford was offered the part of the hero in the movie, but decided instead to play the villain. It's no wonder he did. It's a far more interesting role and Ford was definitely up to the challenge of creating this layered character who ultimately redeems himself. The rest of the cast is strong as well, especially Van Heflin and Leora Dana who manage to convey the necessary anxious tone without becoming shrill or tiresome.