Archive for Delmer Daves

Gold Fever

Posted in FILM, literature, MUSIC with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on January 2, 2019 by dcairns

THE HANGING TREE is a fairly late Gary Cooper movie with “the Montana mule” atypically cast as a doctor treating a gold rush community (a ghost-town-in-waiting) and haunted by a dark secret. His past may not be as shady as in the startling MAN OF THE WEST, but it’s a more convincing fit for the man we see before us — the movie keeps it deniably ambiguous, but it’s pretty clear the Doc murdered his cheating wife and her lover before moving out to the badlands to gamble by night and heal the sick by day.

Since Gary is by now a touch long in the tooth (he’d just had a facelift but still looks rumpled), there’s a young sidekick in toe, a failed thief Coop saves from justice and blackmails into being his indentured servant. Ben Piazza (?) is excellent in this role, and I don’t know why he didn’t get bigger follow-up roles. Maybe because, when Hollywood paired its aging stars with young up-and-comers, the young u.a.c.’s always had to play callow, dopey characters, which isn’t good star-building experience. (The line “It’s nice to meet a SMART kid,” in RIO BRAVO seems to me to be a comment on this tendency.)

Anyhow, Maria Schell, Karl Malden and a debuting George C. Scott are also on hand, playing what you might expect, and Daves shoots the hell out of the thing. I first noticed his almost excessive zeal for getting the most cinematic value out of every scene in 3.10 TO YUMA. I use “cinematic” in its dumbest sense, I suppose: landscape spectacle, crane and tracking shots, looming close-ups, lots of coverage (but smart, impactful coverage, nothing wasteful or sloppy). So the movie is a feast for the eyes: Ted D. McCord shot it, and the compositions are frequently stunning. So although the plot development is mainly predictable, the few genre variations (by way of original author Dorothy M. Johnson, also the source of THE MAN WHO SHOT LIBERTY VALENCE) and the visual splendour kept me riveted, even though one would think some of the cast would be able to predict oncoming plot developments, what with Max Steiner signalling furiously to them with his baton.

 

TERRIBLE song at the start and finish does quite a bit of damage to an intriguing outcome.

Featuring Beau Geste; Helena Friese-Greene; Sheriff Dad Longworth; General Jack D. Ripper; Drunken doomsayer in diner; Morgan Ryker; Jack Belicec; and Darryl F. Zanuck.

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Humphrey Bogart had horns, apparently

Posted in FILM, literature, Politics, Theatre with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on March 5, 2018 by dcairns

The same evening that we watched CHRISTOPHER STRONG, in which Katherine Hepburn wears silver moth antennae, we watched THE PETRIFIED FOREST, in which Humphrey Bogart has horns. He totally has horns.

This was Bogie’s breakthrough, or one of them. It got him showy heavy roles. MALTESE FALCON moved him up to leading man roles in A-pictures. And he got to stop being showy, and just be Bogie. (Jeap-Pierre Melville claimed that Fred MacMurray invented underplaying, and that Bogie didn’t underplay until after DOUBLE INDEMNITY. I wonder.)

Now, I don’t know if Bogie had his horns filed short for other roles, like Hellboy, or he kept them long and Warners had them removed using the 1930s equivalent of photoshop (basically a sweat shop full of girls with paintbrushes, ruled over by a whip-wielding Hugh Herbert). I leave that for the likes of Rudy Behlmer to determine.

The horns are, arguably, a silly idea, but there’s other business, like a radio announcement in one scene starting to describe a car, followed by a series of hard cut to the bits of the car being detailed, leading out to wide shot showing that car in the desert, broken down but with the radio still describing it. That stuff is smart. Delmer Daves contributed to the script (from RC Sherwood’s play), so…

The Painted Desert

It’s taken me a VERY long time to get around to this film. I had heard of it as stagey and unconvincing in its set design. It IS remarkable how the same studio could make HEAT LIGHTNING, which has basically the same single location, a desert auto camp, and make of it a striking blend of reality and artifice that basically convinces, and then make this a few years later, with its weird, slanting cycloramas that feel close enough for Bette Davis to kick a heel through. As for the staginess, a hostage scenario creates a built-in dramatic tension that can basically let the writers get away with almost anything, so it’s not like it’s ever dull, and even in the long build-up, the whole setting is such a prison, there’s still tension before anything has happened. What makes it feel overly theatrical is the tendency to push character at the expense of situation, having characters reveal themselves in ways they wouldn’t, and eventually playing a love scene during a shoot-out.

Bette is miscast, I fear. You certainly believe she doesn’t belong in this desolate environment (“What’s a dazzling urbanite like you doing in a rustic setting like this?” as the Waco Kid once inquired) but you don’t see how she ever got there and there’s no trace of the naive hick about her. She has to be able to call Villon’s poetry “swell” and sound like she really does appreciate it BUT doesn’t understand that “swell” is a gauche word to use in the circumstances. With Bette, that moment is just kind of surreal. Still, though I can think of other Warners starlets who might have embodied the character more aptly (Ann Sheridan?) I can’t think of any with more star wattage (or oomph, if you will).

Leslie Howard is great. Kind of hated where the character was headed, but he made it electric. I guess we’re in the same phase of inter-war fatalism that gave us French poetic realism. It’s a beautiful, dreamy, melancholic mood, but probably the worst possible mood to have with fascism on the rise. KEY LARGO would have been a more switched-on version of this story to make in such a climate.

And then there’s the great meeting between two contrasting black characters, a moment that allows this film to pass whatever the African-American Bechdel test is. The stick-up man, Slim (Slim Thompson) greets the chauffeur, Joseph (John Alexander) with a jaunty “Hello, colored brother!” and gets a stiff “Good evening!” in reply, which makes his head go back about a foot in surprise. An amazing moment, built on in subsequent interactions. There’s the fact that these two black men ARE contrasting. And while the gangster expects them to have something in common, the driver knows he has NOTHING in common with this crook, and is positively alarmed by the other’s bonhomie, as if he were being cheerfully hailed by a rattlesnake or a hand grenade. And Slim looks at Joseph like he’s just plain from another planet. Warner Brothers’ progressive tendency could fire off in all kinds of directions…

The Man Without Bogart’s Face

Posted in FILM with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on October 1, 2016 by dcairns

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Welcome to Shadowplay, the daily blog about DARK PASSAGE.

Looking at part two of DARK PASSAGE, where it all kind of goes to shit. And where Bogart actually HAS Bogart’s face, having acquired it via plastic surgery performed by seedy rhinoplasterer Housely Stevens. Would you buy a used face from this man?

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“Change it back, doc, change it back!”

Spoilers from the start.

The more the movie deals with who killed Bogie’s wife, the less compelling it becomes, and not just because his real wife, Lauren Bacall, is standing right in front of us, very much alive. It’s because this is all backstory, dealing with someone we never met, and it’s of interest to us only if it can solve the true plot problem, Bogie’s being wanted by the law for a crime which, it so happens, he didn’t commit. The movie seems to totally misunderstand our requirements of it: it thinks that as long as we find out whodunnit and the guilty party is somehow punished, we’ll be satisfied. But while that kind of closure + justice is important, what the movie has set up as its dramatic problem is Bogart being a wanted man. And at the end of the movie he HASN’T cleared his name, he never will, but he gets to retire to Peru with Betty Bacall. It feels somehow unsatisfying. Maybe also because the film’s version of San Francisco was maybe one-fifth actual location footage, and Peru is a special effects and studio fantasia. It’s like ending the film in a dream sequence.

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But this floundering second half is kind of fascinating in the abstract, even if it’s not dramatically engaging. One weird thing is the way Bogart keeps presiding over fatal accidents. He basically shoves Clifton Young off a cliff — very good, grim shot of Young lying crumpled at the bottom. It suits him. At this point it’s going to be impossible for him to clear his name, and he IS somewhat guilty and so the movie’s prospects are derailed. And then Agnes Moorehead somehow auto-defenestrates, without meaning to, though given her dialogue before the fact and the typically frenzied manner she brings to her confrontation with Bogie, it would have made more sense as a strategic suicide. Instead, it feels like Bogie WILLED her through the skyscraper window, even though he needs her alive. It reminds me a bit of the abrupt climax of AMERICAN GIGOLO, where at least Richard Gere gets to grab the plummeting man’s legs and TRY to stop his death-plunge (again, he needs the defenestratee to clear his name).

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But a bigger similarity is with THE WALKING DEAD, in which Boris Karloff plays a Bogie-like gangster raised from the beyond who goes seeking revenge on his killers. Strangely, Karloff never lays a finger on his enemies, he just slow-walks them to their doom, backing off the edge of railway platforms and under approaching trains, etc. It’s as if he’s come back from the dead but he’s brought death with him, as an ally or as a sort of miasma that surrounds him, focussing in on those whom he directs his malevolent glare towards.

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It’s like Oscar Wilde wrote: “Karloff does it with a look, Lee Marvin with a towel.”

It’s been pointed out that John Boorman’s POINT BLANK plays like a hip remake of TWD, with Lee Marvin as the gangster who may have died (John Boorman has spoken of a possible Owl Creek Bridge reading of both his Lee Marvin movies) and who wreaks revenge on his foes without actually inflicting bodily harm on them himself. Its slick visuals, rat-a-tat cutting and Donald Westlake plot ingenuity make this the most engaging of the films under discussion, and by burying Lee Marvin’s revenant status deep in subtext, it makes it more fun to unpeel. THE WALKING DEAD is a little too somnolent for me, though you can certainly argue that’s appropriate.

POINT BLANK, of course, also plays out in San Francisco and features a spectacular sidewalk dive, this one from old Dean Wormer himself, John Vernon.

“Someone has to put his foot down, and that foot is me.”

And I guess GHOST STORY has a place in here too.

Anyhow, Bogart’s affinity with sudden death in DARK PASSAGE suggests both the shifty narrator of DETOUR (people just keep dying around me, honest!) and the fatal pro/antagonists of WALKING DEAD and POINT BLANK. Maybe Boorman would suggest that Bogie dies when the San Quentin barrel crashes downhill in scene 1, and the rest of the plot is just his dying fantasy. It would certainly give a meaning to the otherwise obscure title (there’s no significant literal passageway in the plot). And it would kind of explain how Bogart becomes a helpless passenger in his own movie. The “first person shooter” opening robs him of identity, and then his every action seems to be dictated by chance meetings, with a cabbie, a detective in a diner, the guy who picks him up who turns blackmailer. And all the deaths in the film just happen, Bogart doesn’t plan them or really want them. He’s the passive recipient of a narrative.