Julie Harris and Ethel Waters Skillfully Attend to Culler’s Eventful Member of the Wedding

 

The poetic, perceptive literature of author Carson McCullers has been the basis for several film adaptions of her prime works, featuring an array of unorthodox, complex characters and mature situations, found in such tales as Reflections in a Golden Eye and The Heart is a Lonely Hunter. However, the first film produced from a McCullers’ story rates as possibly the most satisfying rendering of one of the Georgia native’s masterful works involving a Southern setting. Producer Stanley Kramer, after finding great success pairing with director Fred Zinnemann early in 1952 via the classic Western High Noon, sought a quality reteaming via an adaptation of The Member of the Wedding, a moving coming-of-age story based on McCullers’ classic 1946 novel and its 1950 acclaimed Broadway adaptation.  Featuring extraordinary, sensitive work by Zinnemann and stars Julie Harris and Ethel Waters, who beautifully recreate their original stage roles and make McCullers’ insightful prose constantly ring true to life, this lovingly crafted cinematic Member offers a mesmerizing view into the world of some of McCullers’ most haunting characters.

Zinnemann, after a 1936 directorial debut in film, was gaining respect as one of Hollywood’s most acclaimed filmmakers after finding success in the post-WWII era with realistically shot and expertly acted work such as The Search, Act of Violence, The Men, Noon and an Oscar-winning 1951 (pseudo) documentary short, Benjy. For Member, Zinnemann handles the Edna and Edward Anhalt screenplay adaptation with care and dexterity, wisely emphasizing the key work of Harris and Waters, allowing them to preserve their landmark, dedicated performances. With adeptly set up shots and close-ups artfully lensed by cinematographer Hal Mohr, Zinnemann is able to enhance his stars’ stellar work as they find a rhythm and spontaneity fit for the screen, while maintaining the theatrical vividness that made their singular depictions a Broadway talking point in 1950. With varying degrees of success, Zinnemann attempts to “open up” the play with some shots outside the Addam’s kitchen wherein most of the action takes place, including Frankie’s journey into town to see her father, then via her solo excursion later in the film, but fortunately keeps most of the action front and center around the Addam’s homestead and backyard, helping an audience to become fully enmeshed in Frankie’s isolated environment. After Member, Zinnemann would again show his knack for gaining top performances while depicting mature themes in compelling fashion with his follow-up, 1953’s From Here to Eternity, one of the biggest this and most lauded films of the era then, after a switch to musicals helming the large-scale production of Oklahoma!, returning to dramas of class and distinction via A Hatful of Rain, The Nun’s Story, The Sundowners, A Man for All Seasons and 1977’s Julia, a late-career success.

Julie Harris, recreating her star-making stage performance as Frankie Addams, the alternately sensitive and volatile 12-year-old tomboy eloquently yearning to find the “We of me” with her military brother and his bride-to-be (hence the title), gives a fearless, commanding performance that conveys every aspect of Frankie’s multifaceted persona, from the stubbornness that prevents the dreamy-but-difficult girl from listening to reason concerning the wedding, to a fragility that makes a viewer sympathetic to Frankie’s plight as a lonely outcast restless to find a connection. As Frankie, Harris switches from moments of calm to electrifying outbursts wherein she combines naked emotionalism and a more artful control of her craft with a flair belying her lack of experience in front of the camera. Harris understands the pain, imagination and intensity and that drive Frankie’s unpredictable actions and, although 26 at the time of filming, is so convincingly focused and involved in the part, she allows a viewer to suspend disbelief that she isn’t the preteen Frankie with her every look and gesture. With an adventurous spirit and complete absorption in her role, Harris gives a rare example of the magical affect a wholly realized performance can have on the screen. After this important start in movies, Harris would continue primarily on stage wherein she made her 1945 debut, becoming one of the most influential artists in her field with five Best Actress Tony awards, while also returning to film on occasion, with East of Eden, The Haunting and a return to McCullers’ territory in Reflections marking some of her finest screen efforts, and finding additional success on television, wherein her finely-pitched performances brought Harris three Emmy awards.

Ethel Waters is equally astonishing in transforming her role as Berenice, the worldly-wise, warm cook/housekeeper and mother figure for Frankie, to the screen. With a rich, rewarding career behind her on stage, screen and recordings, including an Oscar nomination for 1949’s Pinky, Waters utilizes her wealth of experience to give a faultless performance filled with wit, tenderness and intelligence. Clearly comfortable in a role she perfected and innately knew how to attune for the screen with subtle clarity, Waters embellishes Berenice’s every thought and mood with the force of her thespian talents in full evidence throughout. Whether Bernice is playfully teasing Frankie for her pretensions or, with profound depth, recalling her one true love in stunning close-up, Waters equals Harris in hypnotic watchability. In perhaps the film’s most unforgettable moment, Berenice sings “His Eye is On the Sparrow” to comfort Frankie and her little cousin, neighbor and best friend, John Henry, and Waters truly heartfelt rendition of the hymn rates as one of the most beautiful and moving moments found in film. Waters would act in a few more movies, ending with 1959’s The Sound and the Fury, but Member provided her with her most potent role, and serves as a reminder of Waters’ remarkable ability as a screen actor of the finest caliber.

Ten-year-old Brandon DeWilde, as the bespeckled, owlish-looking and precocious John Henry, also makes a fine film debut faithfully transferring his Broadway role to the screen. DeWilde lends a refreshingly straightforward and relaxed tone to his playing, meshing with his two dynamic costars to help bring a sense of effortlessness to their scenes, avoiding the overly cute and rehearsed type of acting sometimes found among child stars, or in stage-to-scene transitions, period. DeWilde appears completely at ease on camera, portraying John Henry, who in his way is as free-spirited and unique as Frankie, without a sign of awkwardness. Already making his mark via Member and a coveted appearance on the cover of Life magazine earlier in 1952, DeWilde would gain his biggest fame the following year as the hero-worshipping Jody in Shane, which led to him being (at the time) the youngest actor ever nominated for an Academy Award. Moving into his adolescent years, DeWilde would continue to flourish offering fine portraits of sensible young men coming of age, as opposed to the many peers striving in these type of roles for angst-filled acting in the wake of James Dean’s passing, with adroit work in such films as Blue Denim, All Fall Down and one of the 1960s chief film dramas, Hud. Member is largely centered around Frankie, Berenice and John Henry; however, among the rest of the cast, William Hansen does well as Frankie’s sometimes patient, sometimes exasperated father, Nancy Gates exudes compassion as Janice, the bride-to-be, James Edwards adds fervor to his playing of Berenice’s wayward foster brother, Honey Camden Brown and former child actor Dicke Moore makes his final screen appearance as the young soldier Frankie encounters in town.

                Released in December of 1952, The Member of the Wedding proved too offbeat to general audiences to repeat its Broadway success but found favor with critics impressed by Zinnemann’s moving stage-to-screen translation of the material, and the profound, overpowering work of Harris and Waters. During awards season, Zinnemann was singled out for his direction of the more popular High Noon over his conscientious, deft work on Member; however, the merits of the movie did attract some kudos, with inclusion on Time magazine’s top ten list, DeWilde earning a special Golden Globe for Juvenile performance, and Harris’ monumental film debut gaining the movie’s sole Academy Award nomination, for Best Actress. Although the movie remains something of a hidden gem for most audiences, the impactful nature of Frankie’s quest for happiness lingers in memory long after a viewing, and movie lovers interested in seeing a sublimely interpreted example of McCullers’ singular work will find ample rewards attending the stellar Member of the Wedding. 

Sir Carol Reed Hits All the Right Notes with the Diverting Oliver!

 

                Offering an intoxicating cavalcade of absorbing drama (including tragic elements), enlivening comedy, beautifully constructed and performed musical numbers, and a host of richly drawn, unforgettable characters portrayed in pitch-perfect style by an ideally chosen cast, 1968’s rousing Oliver! provides veteran director Carol Reed the chance to gain a late-career crowning glory helming a colorful change-of-pace production with his distinct taste, style and talent. Based on the 1960 London hit (which also scored on Broadway in 1963), the moving, creditably drawn musical retelling by Lionel Bart of Charles Dickens’ Oliver Twist reaches the screen with maximum impact, thanks to Reed’s sure hand in opening up events to bring a spontaneous, natural flow to Vernon Harris’ involving screenplay, specifically when moving into some artfully setup, enthralling numbers aided by Oona White’s playful, exhilarating chorography. Also utilizing a cast of pros to emphasize their multi-talents in stunning fashion as they enact all the humor, humanity and heartbreak found in the story, Reed is able to craft a singular musical entertainment that deserves mention among the best works of its genre.

                By this stage in his esteemed career Reed, who become “Sir” in 1952 upon his knighthood, had gained fame and respect as one of the cinema’s most valued talents, with a 1935 start in British films via Midshipman Easy, before helming such classic offerings as The Stars Look Down, Kipps, then co-directing The True Glory with Garson Kanin, which went on to win the Best Documentary Oscar. Reed moved onto “Heavyweight” status among directors with his incredible late-1940’s one-two-three punch of Odd Man Out, The Fallen Idol and closing out the decade at his zenith with The Third Man. All three landmark films won British Academy Awards for Best British Film (with Third Man also winning the Grand Prize at Cannes), with the last two also gaining Reed Best Director wins from Britain and Oscar nominations for his direction. The 1950s also proved fruitful for Reed, with the fascinating Outcast of the Islands, A Kid for Two Farthings, gaining a major hit with the entertaining Burt Lancaster-Gina Lollobrigida-Tony Curtis starrer Trapeze, The Key, then finishing the decade with the bright comedy of Our Man in Havana, penned by Graham Greene and starring Alec Guinness. The new decade would see Reed slowing down his film output while maintaining his status as a top-tier director, taking on the challenging The Agony and the Ecstasy prior to his work on Oliver!

 However, despite his honorable achievements, Reed was a somewhat out-of-left-field choice to oversee an elaborate, large scale musical comedy/drama, and it’s admirable how effectively Reed, seemingly in his comfort zone, appears to skillfully ensure one excellent staged sequence following another, be they of a musical or dramatic ilk, from the introduction of the orphaned title character toiling at a workhouse before famously asking for “more” gruel, to the joyous, free-spirited ”Consider Yourself” jaunt through London after Oliver meets the Artful Dodger, then emphasizing the comic liveliness on display in “Be Back Soon” and “You’ve Got to Pick a Pocket or Two,” with Fagin and his brood, before later switching to the delicate aura maintained throughout the lovely “Who Will Buy” number, wherein Oliver witnesses marketers beginning to sell their wares at the day’s onset. Reed is firmly in control of each tonal shift in the eventful storyline, and, as in his best films, he maintains a clear rapport with each actor, allowing them to offer believable, stellar characterizations that allows an audience to understand their motives and strongly relate to them. Reed would only direct two more movies following this astounding effort, ending his career with 1972’s Follow Me! Before his passing in 1976, with Oliver! serving as his last great success, and one that aptly illustrates Reed’s undimmed mastery of his craft.

For the title role, Reed was fortunate to have largely unknown Mark Lester cast in the demanding part. Born in 1958, Lester started in British television, before making his film debut in 1964, followed by a cameo in Fahrenheit 451 and fine work in 1967’s tense and unusual Our Mother’s House. The maturity and acting skill Lester demonstrated in House served him well as Oliver Twist, with Lester definitely lending both angelic countenance and an apt streetwise toughness to the role, making one believe the fragile-looking but contemplative lad possesses the nerve and knowhow to face the many adversities that come his way with fearless resolve, starting with his initial conflict with the foreboding Mr. Bumble over the aforementioned gruel. Lester’s likable presence and unforced, earnest playing style has the audience firmly rooting for Oliver’s well-being throughout, as a strong protective leaning towards the character grows with every scene. Although he is at least partially dubbed during his musical moments such as “Where is Love?” the singing tones of Kathe Green are an excellent match to Lester’s speaking voice, and one can buy it’s Oliver thrilling the lovely refrain of “Who Will Buy?” After his high-profile breakthrough, Lester would continue in films throughout his adolescence, including the intriguing Whoever Slew Auntie Roo? opposite Shelley Winters, then retire from the screen with 1977’s The Price and the Pauper before studying for, then adopting, a career in osteopathy.

Recreating his star-making stage appearance in the original production, Ron Moody puts his stamp on the flamboyant role of Fagin, the masterful pickpocket who oversees a stable of young boys, and trains them to excel in his ignoble chosen profession. Performing in an animated, free-spirited manner, Moody turns the seedy character into a likable comic figure for the most part, specifically while cavorting with the boys in rollicking fashion in Fagin’s big musical moments, wherein Moody is inspired and irresistibly funny, bringing great levity to the film amid squalid surroundings, with his constant sense of fun making later scenes wherein Fagin faces serve setbacks all the more profound. Moody manages a convincing shift into this more dramatic territory wherein Fagin’s fortunes are quickly altered, and audience sympathy moves to Fagin, despite his criminal background, thanks to Moody’s emotionally centered work. After his major accomplishment Moody, who started in British films in 1958, would foster many more credits on the stage and screen, making another fine comic impression in Mel Brooks’ The Twelve Chairs from 1970, then gaining a Tony nomination for recreating Fagin on Broadway in a 1984 revival of Oliver!, before his final screen work in 2005, then retirement before passing in 2015 at 91.

Theater veteran Shani Wallis, who started on the London stage in the early 1950s but had limited film credits, pours all of her substantial talent into her best chance on the screen to create the definitive portrait of Nancy Sikes, perfectly illustrating the loving character’s compassion, humor and world-weariness as she forms a bond with Oliver and becomes a protective force in his life, thereby facing conflict with her brutish husband, Bill. Wallis, utilizing her solid background as a singer, puts over the show’s big ballad, “As Long As He Needs Me,” with a soulful, poignant persuasion, while adopting a more uplifting, buoyant tone to “It’s a Fine Life” and the incredibly effective and climatic “Oom-Pah-Pah” number, wherein a seemingly carefree Nancy cheerfully attempts to get patrons at the barroom she toils in to join in the lively number and dance along with her, in order to help Oliver out of a dire situation. It’s one of the most dramatic and compelling numbers found in a musical, and Wallis is thrilling to watch as Nancy throws herself into the song with heart and purpose. Wallis instills so much warmth and humanity into the part, that Nancy’s ultimate fate can leave any viewer with a pulse emotionally shattered. Although Wallis never again found a choice part on the level of Nancy, she enjoyed an active career post-Oliver! on the stage and in television (with Columbo, Gunsmoke, Night Gallery and Murder, She Wrote among her credits) and films, including vocal work for 1986’s The Great Mouse Detective (more on Wallis' stellar work in the Oliver! here).

Scoring perhaps his finest screen role as Bill Sikes, Fagin’s nefarious colleague in crime, Oliver Reed comes through for his uncle Carol with a forceful sinisterness that adds a sense of unease to any scene wherein Sikes appears, as one ponders how far the immoral burglar is capable of going to achieve his aims. Surly and unkept, Reed suggests the seething, diabolical aspects that are integral to Sikes’ hateful makeup, and is truly frightening in his violent outbursts. Starting in films in 1955, Reed would gain notice in Hammer movies, particularly as the lead in 1961’s The Curse of the Werewolf, while also gaining noticer for his bad boy persona on and off screen, during the age wherein “The Angry Young Man” become a key factor of British Cinema. After his breakthrough in Oliver! Reed would reach his peak of success in the 1970’s, particularly working with Ken Russell (with whom Reed started collaborating with in 1965) in such notable fare as Women in Love, featuring his famous nude grappling with Alan Bates and 1975’s surreal Who rock opera Tommy, as well as scoring as Athos in The Three (then Four) Musketeers. The 1980’s would prove a downturn in the quality of Reed’s output, but he would rise again for a glorious posthumous final curtain after his passing in 1999 via 2000’s Oscar-winning Gladiator, standing out in the elite cast as Proximo, a tough, sage teacher to the heroic protagonist, Maximus.

Also enacting a signature screen role as the nimble, quick witted Artful Dodger, Jack Wild gives one of the more assured, entertaining teen performances in film. Starting in movies the year prior with a bit in Poor Cow after appearing on stage (including playing on the West End in Oliver! as one of Fagin’s brood, Wild is remarkably self-assured and mature in the showy role, adding impish flair and immense good nature to his ace interpretation of the sly Dodger. Clearly defining the Dodger’s street smart makeup and quick wit, Wild glides through the part with an easy charm, while also handling the Dodger’s final meeting with Fagin, as the youngster shows his support and loyalty towards his father figure, with an intelligence and simplicity that makes the moment one of the most moving in the picture, with an impact that lingers in memory for viewers. After this resounding success, Wild would immediately gain a second major credit as Jimmy on television’s H.R. Pufnstuf, which also hit the big screen in a 1970 iteration, Pufnstuf. Post adolescence, Wild would have trouble maintaining his career wherein, in addition to the normal challenges faced by child stars vying for work as an adult actor he also battled substance abuse issues, but occasionally an interesting opportunity arose, such as a role in 1991’s big hit Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves, before his death from oral cancer in 2006 at 53.

Among others in the imposing cast, as the formidable Mr. Bumble Harry Secombe is all one could ask for in the part, in physical stature and thespian temperament, starting out with his “More!?” reply to Oliver, then with his compelling rendering of “Boy for Sale” as he traverses the city streets with the unwanted orphan, using the famous tenor voice that had gained him fame on records to touching effect. Hugh Griffith gives one of his direct, gruff, ostentatious performances as the Magistrate, while Shelia White has a sweetly plaintive quality as Bet, a friend of Nancy. Joseph O’Conor is appropriately fatherly and gentle as Mr. Brownlow, who becomes a benefactor for Oliver, and Megs Jenkins makes an impression as Brownlow’s housekeeper, Mrs. Bedwin, similar to her work in the same occupation in 1961’s The Innocents.

Oliver! proved a major success with both critics and audiences upon its release in late 1968, going on to place among the top ten box-office hits of the year (according to Variety) with an eventual gross of $16,800,000, while scoring a host of rave reviews, helping it stand out during the 1968-69 award season. The film was ranked on the National Board of Review’s list of top ten films, while also scoring Golden Globes for Best Musical/Comedy Picture and Actor (Moody). In a competitive year, Oliver! would go on to win five Academy Awards, including Best Picture and Director, and a special Oscar for Oona White’s inventive choreography. However, due to the Oscar wins (especially Best Picture), Oliver! has faced backlash over the years, falling prey to a lot of barbs being thrown its way as a “lesser” effort that shouldn’t have won over rival nominees, specifically the tonier The Lion in Winter. Used as one of the ultimate examples supporting the tired bias that lighter comedies or musicals don’t merit awards over serious drama, actually watching Oliver! one is hard pressed to measure how Reed and a prodigious cast and crew could have brought the story as gloriously to life as they manage to, bringing Dicken’s timeless tale to the screen with an abundance of riveting drama, comedy and musical elements. One of the most satisfying entries in filmdom’s musical catalog, viewers need only journey along with Oliver! to experience an engrossing adventure filled with laughs, heartache and thrills. 

Rock Hudson, Robert Stack and Dorothy Malone Fly High in Sirk’s The Tarnished Angels

 

                One of the lesser-known entries in director Douglas Sirk’s venerated cannon of top-flight 1950’s Universal-International melodramas, 1957’s The Tarnished Angels deserves more attention as an enthralling entertainment, with stunningly staged action sequences and moving work from a sublime cast. Based on William Faulkner’s 1935’s novel Pylon (adroitly adapted for the screen by George Zuckerman), the film depicts the exploits of Roger and Laverne Shumann, a daredevil pilot and former WWI ace and his beautiful, devoted wife, who performs parachute jumps to help attract the crowds as she billows down from the sky, and their interactions with Burke Delvin, a frequently intoxicated reporter who becomes fascinated by the Shumann’s nomadic, wayward lifestyle. Sirk handles the material with his typical dramatic flourish, resulting in a highly compelling watch, with evocative B&W cinematography by Irving Glassberg perfectly capturing the 1930’s barnstorming era and an intense score by Frank Skinner that effectively supports the standout work of the cast in some vividly emotional sequences, both on-and-off the ground.  

Starting his film career in his homeland of Germany in the 1930’s, after his 1943 U.S. directorial debut via Columbia’s Hitler’s Madmen, Douglas Sirk spent ten years honing his distinct style, before a Universal-International contract would propel him to greater fame and box office success after his breakthrough with 1954’s Magnificent Obsession. The first in a series of Sirk classics featuring an intoxicating blend of romance, Technicolor and involving histrionic sequences, Obsession would gain Rock Hudson stardom and place Sirk at the forefront of Universal’s most reliable and profitable directors, with All That Heaven Allows and Written on the Wind confirming his status as a master of the Melodrama. With Tarnished, Sirk’s talent for executing riveting scenes featuring actors at their thespian best is in full bloom; Sirk is particularly impressive in utilizing the Cinemascope expanse to depict several exciting and dangerous races around said pylons, with Sirk’s skillful helming and ace editing by Russell F. Schoengarth allowing these scenes to come across to viewers with maximum impact (as the author can attest, seeing Tarnished on a big screen is a must if the opportunity arises). After Tarnished, Sirk would end the 1950s and his career with his biggest box-office success, the florid, compulsively watchable remake of Imitation of Life, which pulls tears as effectively as just about any movie and is now regarded by many as Sirk’s masterpiece.

Hudson was at a career peak by the release of Angels, thanks to fruitful collaborations with Sirk and a Best Actor Oscar nomination for one of the decade’s big ones, 1956’s Giant, with placement atop Quigley’s 1957’s poll of top Box-Office stars around the corner. In the midst of this fame and achievement, Hudson gave one of his most quietly effective performances as Burke Delvin, the contemplative, calm moralist who strives to help the Shumanns find some sort of stability and peace, while falling for Laverne in the process. The stoic Hudson does a great job suggesting the melancholic aspects of Delvin’s character, specifically in possible his best moment, wherein the drunken Delvin delivers a poetic monologue to his newspaper colleagues, with Hudson bringing off the speech and Delvin’s inebriated state with an effortless conviction that impresses, especially when considering how easily the difficult scene could have gone wrong if enacted in the too-showy manner actors often adopt when playing drunk. Following Tarnished, Hudson’s career would witness a huge shift when he closed out the decade showing substantial comic flair in the smash romcom Pillow Talk opposite his ideal costar, Doris Day. Afterwards Hudson would alternate between comedies (including two more with Day), dramas, Westerns and War-oriented films, remaining a top draw until the mid-1960’s, before moving on to possibly his most offbeat and daring film and performance in 1966’s Seconds, directed by John Frankenheimer. Hudson would turn to stage work, while also gaining major television success in the 1970’s via McMillan and Wife, before his untimely passing from AIDS in 1985 at age 59, raising awareness of the disease in the process, with Giant costar and lifelong friend Elizabeth Taylor stepping up as an advocate in the fight against AIDS.

Robert Stack was also at the top of his film career around the time of Angels after winning high praise and a seemingly near-miss Supporting Actor Oscar for his dedicated, forceful work as a paranoid alcoholic in Sirk’s sweeping Wind. Starting in films with much publicity as the first to bestow a screen kiss on Deanna Durbin in 1939’s First Love, the ultra-handsome and charismatic Stack would build on this initial success during the 1940s via screen endeavors such as Ernst Lubitsch’s To Be or Not to Be, A Date with Judy and an underrated comic gem, Miss Tatlock’s Millions, while also serving in the Navy during WWII. The new decade would find Stack offering up substantial dramatic work in 1951’s The Bullfighter and the Lady and as a jittery pilot in one of 1954’s big hits, The High and the Mighty. Following Tarnished Angels, Stack would soon gain his biggest fame with his Emmy-winning work as Eliot Ness on The Untouchables (his work therein even garnering mention in 1960’s The Apartment), then continue his career, most memorably as one of the stoic-leading-men-turned-comic-stars in 1980’s Airplane! and, starting in 1987, as the host of the long-running Unsolved Mysteries, while also penning (with Mark Evans) a highly absorbing 1980 autobiography.

After nearly fifteen years in the business, Dorothy Malone was also thriving circa 1957, winning the Best Supporting Actress Oscar for her previous Sirk endeavor as the carnal, rich and troublemaking Marylee Hadley in Wind (more on that here) before giving perhaps her most profound and moving performance in Angels. Starting in films in 1943, Malone would spend ten years in a series of comedies, dramas and Westerns, making key impacts as the lovely bookseller Humphrey Bogart idles his time with in 1946’s classic noir The Big Sleep and as the lonely USO coordinator who trysts with Tab Hunter in a big 1955 hit, Battle Cry, before a change from brunette to blonde provided a spike in Malone’s fortunes, specifically in her films with Sirk, wherein her stunning looks and emotionally-driven acting style conveying both sensuality and anguish were showcased to staggering effect. As Laverne, Malone downplays the flamboyant sexuality inherit to her Wind characterization, instead using her sad, soulful eyes to emphasize a forlorn, wounded deportment the dispirited Laverne has adopted after years on the road with the shiftless Roger, while she yearns for a more secure existence for her family. In the wake of tragedy central to the film, Malone delves the depths of despair to illustrate Laverne’s bitterness and regret with a believable dramatic force that lingers, with a viewer hoping the vulnerable heroine will gain some sense of peace after so many setbacks. After Angels, Malone would continue to do interesting work in movies that failed to find much of an audience (Too Much, Too Soon, Warlock, The Last Voyage and in a reteaming with Hudson in The Last Sunset), until a career upswing in the mid-1960s via television’s Peyton Place. After that success, Malone would continue on T.V. with occasional film appearances, aptly ending her career on a high note with a small but pivotal role in 1992’s smash Basic Instinct.

Jack Carson has one of his best roles as Jiggs, Roger and Laverne’s sympathetic right-hand man. Starting in films in the 1930s (Carson can be seen in bits in such top fare as Stage Door and Bringing Up Baby), during the 1940s Carson gained fame at Warner Brothers in both comedy (often alongside Dennis Morgan) and dramas, including unforgettable, Oscar-worthy work in 1943’s The Hard Way, alternating between lead and character roles in the process, with Mildred Pierce and 1954’s A Star is Born among his most notable efforts. As Jiggs, Carson is able to convey a stabilizing voice of reason in the Shumann’s unorthodox lifestyle, as well as Jiggs’ loyalty to the pair in a poignant manner. Among others, as Jack, the Shumann’s adoring son, Chris Olsen continued his nice run after scoring the previous year in both The Man Who Knew Too Much singing “Que, Sera, Sera” alongside Doris Day, and in possible his best work as James Mason’s tormented son in Bigger Than Life. Robert Middleton makes a strong showing as Matt Ord, the businessman who only has lecherous eyes for Laverne. Troy Donahue makes a brief appearance as a rival ace pilot to roger, and William Schallert also pops up, as he inevitably did both in film and television during the 1950s and way beyond, with his first credit in 1947 and last appearance in 2014, two years before his passing at 93.

                Although The Tarnished Angels did not match the box office success of some previous Sirk pictures and was largely dismissed by many critics who placed the noteworthy film strictly in the “potboiler” category, the movie has benefited from the re-assessment of Sirk as one of the finest screen craftsmen of his generation and now stands as a prime entry in the filmographies of its stellar cast and crew, as well as gaining consideration as the best screen adaptation of a Faulkner work, alongside Intruder in the Dust and The Long, Hot Summer. Fans of Sirk, Hudson, Malone, Stack (and costars) and classic films in general will want to fly high via a viewing of The Tarnished Angels, especially if given the chance to catch those breathtaking flying sequences on a big screen, to fully gauge how masterfully Sirk could build dramatic tension to an explosive climax in a manner unlike any other filmmaker.

                And a fond farewell to Diane Ladd, who passed away on November 3^rd at age 89. Debuting in films in 1961 after a start on stage and television, the Mississippi-born Ladd would hone her craft as a deft character player until a major screen breakthrough in 1974 via Oscar-nominated and British Academy Award winning work in Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore and a small but key role in one of the era’s masterpieces, Chinatown. Afterwards Ladd would continue to build her reputation as a thespian of note, with highlights including a Golden Globe for her t.v. stint on the hit Alice and two more Oscar nominations for her daringly out-there performance in 1990’s Wild at Heart and, in a more subtle vein the following year, Rambling Rose, both opposite daughter Laura Dern. Later significant films included Primary Colors and a nice small role in 2015’s Joy opposite Jennifer Lawrence, with a final screen appearance in 2022. R.I.P. to a talented, spirited original, Diane Ladd.

Robert Ryan, Van Heflin and Janet Leigh Are Embroiled in Zinnemann's Stark Act of Violence

              Among the most exciting and unpredictable entries in the film noir canon, 1948’s Act of Violence from MGM provides a tense, suspenseful viewing throughout a brisk 83-minute running time. Setting a fast-paced, uneasy tone from the outset, wherein only the title of the film is shown (unusual for the time) before jumping into the action, wherein director Fred Zinnemann shows star Robert Ryan retrieving a gun before hopping on a Greyhound bus to the small town of Santa Lisa, California, the audience is quickly drawn into the inventive, hard-boiled screenplay by Robert L. Richards (based on a story by Collier Young) as the fate of the main characters play out, including Ryan’s embittered WWII vet Joe Parkson, his war ally in a POW Camp, Frank Enley (Van Heflin), and Frank’s lovely, supportive wife, Edith (Janet Leigh). Blessed with superior, economical direction by Zinnemann, a pulsating score by Bronislaw Kaper, era-evocative B&W on-location cinematography by lensing master Robert Surtees, and a rich, talented cast of players who are clearly receptive to bringing Zinnemann’s vision to life with conviction and strength, Act of Violence offers one of the most satisfying and hypnotic noirs from the Golden Age of the genre.

For director Zinnemann, who started helming films in 1936, Act would solidify his position as one of the most gifted of the new breed of Hollywood directors, following his breakthrough earlier in 1948 with The Search, filmed in docu-drama style illustrating how effectively Zinnemann could capture a believable sense of time and place while drawing expert performances from his cast, including Montgomery Clift in his first film (although released after his second, the classic Western Red River) and young Ivan Jandl, whom Zinnemann guided to an Oscar nomination and Juvenile Academy Award, respectively, while gaining his first Best Director nod. These traits also loom large in Act, with a consistent tone maintained throughout as the lead figures move about the town’s vicinity, then eventually Los Angeles, and powerful emoting adding much color to proceedings, as Zinnemann unfolds the action in a straightforward, extremely compelling manner that keeps a viewer glued to the screen. Following this outstanding effort, Zinnemann would carefully select works, in the process amassing a stellar lineup for his filmography consisting of such class productions as High Noon, the moving The Member of the Wedding, opting for a challenging musical change-of-pace with 1955’s Oklahoma! (which he had to film twice for two different screening formats), The Nun’s Story, The Sundowners and Best Director Oscar to match Best Picture wins for From Here to Eternity and A Man for All Seasons.

Robert Ryan, a noir staple with an uncanny knack of making unsavory characters identifiable to a viewer, such as in his career defining, Oscar nominated work as a bigoted brute in the previous year’s Crossfire, is mesmerizing to watch in Act, wherein he utilizes a seething, sweaty intensity he deftly mixes with a serene but menacing quality that ranks him among the most unique and unnerving figures in noir. With Ryan firmly in control of the role and carefully adding dimension to Joe, one understands the character’s motives, even if they may be misguided and ominous, while wondering just how far the vet is willing to go to avenge the wrong he believes he’s been dealt; with ultra convincing Ryan in the part a viewer watches with trepidation, hoping Joe doesn’t let his wrathful attitude run rampant. Starting in films in 1940 after being a star boxer in college, then traversing around in different jobs before deciding on an acting career, Ryan gained an RKO contract then played leads and second leads in a variety of films before his Crossfire breakthrough, including work opposite Fred Astaire in The Sky’s the Limit and elevated to the male lead costarring with Ginger Rogers in Tender Comrade. Following Act, Ryan would maintain a steady career in films as a hero, anti-hero and villain in a wide array of films, with highlights including his venal, crafty cads in The Naked Spur and Bad Day at Black Rock; more sympathetic work as a down-on-his-luck boxer in The Set-Up and endearingly comic and touching in God’s Little Acre; out-of-left field casting as John the Baptist in 1961’s King of Kings before returning to more unholy character territory with Billy Budd; scoring 1960’s hits in rugged tough guy mode via The Professionals, The Dirty Dozen and The Wild Bunch, then making in a fine final bow in films via stellar work in Eugene O’Neill’s The Iceman Cometh, released posthumously in 1973 along with The Outfit and Executive Action, after his death the previous year at 63, with Iceman garnering a Best Actor Award from the National Board of Review (in a tie with Al Pacino for Serpico) and a citation from The National Society of Film Critics, a fitting tribute to an actor of the first rank who seldom received the hosannas he was eminently worthy of during a rich screen career.

Top-billed Van Heflin does an admirable job of fully enacting Captain Frank Enley’s cowardice towards Joe as the latter stalks him around the Santa Lisa and Los Angeles areas and the guilt Frank holds concerning his decisions as a leader during the war. In an era when most male starring roles suggested an altruistic, heroic character, as with Ryan Heflin was more interested in showing the flaws inherent in his roster of edgy characters, and his work in Act offers one of his most penetrating portrayals as a desperate man ill-at-ease with his conscious and his place in society. The tension he and Ryan create concerning the conflict between Joe and Frank builds to a stunning confrontation, with both talents showcasing thespian playing of the highest order, leading to a satisfying and surprising final act. Starting in films (after work on Broadway) in 1936’s A Woman Rebels opposite Katharine Hepburn, Heflin who go on to star on stage with Hepburn in the hit The Philadelphia Story before making his mark in films during the 1940’s, including on Oscar-winning breakthrough with Johnny Eager and excellent work as an anti-hero (or downright swine) in other noirs such as The Strange Love of Martha Ivers and causing Joan Crawford even more grief than she usually encountered onscreen in 1947’s Possessed, while also raising his profile playing more likable gents in lavish big-budget MGM productions such as Till the Clouds Roll By, Green Dolphin Street and a big one in 1948, the Technicolor, all-star The Three Musketeers. After his standout 1940s in film, Heflin would continue as a reliable star character actor, with deft work in such high-profile movies as Shane, Battle Cry, 3:10 to Yuma and, just before his passing in 1971, one of the more impactful performances in the 1970 blockbuster Airport.

Janet Leigh, fresh to films after being discovered by Norma Shearer via a photograph, then promoted to stardom by MGM with her fine debut as the lovely heroine in 1947’s The Romance of Rosy Ridge, comes through with the best work of her young career as Edith, Frank’s initially bewildered, concerned and loyal wife. As evident in Ridge, Leigh had an intuitive gift for sincere, emotionally grounded screen acting, while being able to suggest both wholesomeness and tougher, more mature aspects not normally seem in a sweet ingenue role. These traits lend heft to her earnest, ultra-focused work in Act, with Edith becoming central to the action and gaining audience empathy as she stands up to Joe in admirable fashion once she grasps the danger he represents to her home and family, then seeks out Frank to forthrightly determine what exactly went on between the two adversaries during the war. Leigh always appears completely ‘in the moment’ in her demanding scenes with Ryan and Heflin, granting Edith a strength, dimension and humanity that is rarely seen by a relative novice to acting. After Act, Leigh would score immediately again with another endearing, carefully modulated performance as Meg in the Technicolor Little Women, followed by one of the more successful leading lady runs in the 1950s and 1960s, with standout work in hits such as The Naked Spur, Pete Kelly’s Blues, The Vikings, Bye, Bye Birdie and Harper to her credit, as well as prominent roles in three major all-time classics: returning to noir territory via 1958’s Touch of Evil, Oscar-nominated as Marion Crane, the most famous and unfortunate motel guest in film history, in Psycho¸ then equally riveting in the small but key role as the somewhat hard-to-perceive but magnetic Rosie in 1962’s The Manchurian Candidate. After her heyday, Leigh would focus more on family from the 1970s onward, including watching daughter Jamie Lee rise to success in 1978’s Halloween then, after appearing with Jamie Lee in 1980’s The Fog, joining her 20 years later for a lovely cameo in one of the Halloween franchise’s better sequels, before passing in 2004 at age 77. 

                Mary Astor, in the midst of playing a series of warm motherly roles for MGM (most notably in Meet Me in St. Louis) after amassing a rich filmography over 20-plus years that included Don Juan, Red Dust, Dodsworth, Midnight, The Palm Beach Story and a remarkable 1941 with singular work in The Maltese Falcon and an eventual Oscar for The Great Lie, does a vivid against-type turn as Pat, a hard-boiled but compassionate prostitute who talks about getting her “kicks” but tries to help out the lost Frank once he hits the skids. Phyllis Thaxter also shows up to good effect as Ann, Joe’s girlfriend pleading with him to not waste his life. Thaxter works well with Ryan and helps illustrates the Joe isn’t completely unsympathetic due to his relationship with Ann, wherein a bit of gentleness can be discerned under his gruff exterior. Rounding out the top cast, Connie Gilchrest brings her likable openness to Martha, the Enley’s next-door neighbor, while Taylor Holmes and the aways-menacing Berry Kroeger help darken the movie’s noir shade as two ignoble types Frank meets through Pat.

As was the case with many top noirs of the period, upon release Act of Violence witnessed lukewarm audience reaction, although some critics noted the quality involved in an MGM production that chose to forego the studio’s typical gloss while illustrating a harsh crime thriller in a realistic, mature manner. Over the years Act’s merit has gained attention from film historians recognizing the unique storyline as one of noir’s most forceful, and the contributions of Zinnemann, Ryan, Heflin, Leigh and a supreme supporting cast and crew ranking with the best work of their careers. The prime noir has recently been given a splendid presentation on Blu-ray from Warner Archive, resulting in the movie looking the best it ever has on physical media. Those wishing for a key example of 1940’s L.A. (and environs) based noir with an intriguing WWII twist thoroughly embroiling a viewer into the plot machinations will not want to avoid this penetrating Act of Violence. 

And a fond farewell to June Lockhart, who passed on October 23rd at age 100. An iconic figure in 1950’s and 1960’s television for her idealized mothers in Lassie and Lost in Space, preceding and followed by many additional appearances in the medium into the 2000s, the modern and progressive-minded Lockhart also made her mark on stage and in movies during her lengthy career. Starting on stage at 8, then eventually winning a Tony for Best Broadway Newcomer in 1948, Lockhart made her film debut at thirteen with 1938’s A Christmas Carol, then found her way into several major 1940’s cinematic offerings, including playing opposite Bette Davis in All That Heaven Allows, Sergeant York, gracing the holiday season perennial Meet Me in St. Louis, The Yearling and, inevitably, 1945’s Son of Lassie, over a decade before her 1958-64 run in the t.v. series. R.I.P. to a talented, lovely and durable presence on screen, June Lockhart.