Sidney Lumet Frames 12 Angry Men with Artful Precision

 

           One of the most incisive, stimulating dramas from the 1950s, United Artists’ forceful production of 12 Angry Men allows audiences a deep dive into the diverse aspects that can go on in a jury room as the peers therein attempt to make a “beyond a reasonable doubt” decision. Screenwriter Reginald Rose, adapting his 1954 Emmy-winning teleplay Twelve Angry Men based on Rose’s own experiences as a juror, provides a fascinating take on the motivations, egos and biases that can come into play among an array of contrasting personalities as they seek (or try to overlook) key facts in a murder case, while attempting to determine the validity of the evidence presented by presumed eyewitnesses. Director Sidney Lumet, in a remarkable cinematic directional debut, adroitly focuses on each jury member in order to paint a full portrait of the man’s assets and flaws, while perfectly capturing the mood involved in the dour jury room surroundings, aided by Boris Kaufman’s rich black and white lensing, Carl Lerner’s complex editing and a sparse, melancholic hinged score by Kenyon Hopkins that helps set the time-and-place. One of the most dynamic, gifted casts ever, led by Henry Fonda as Juror #8, the protagonist determined to give the accused a fair shake when the initial odds look dire, work in perfect tandem with Lumet, each coming through with definitive, highly individual performances that stand as benchmarks in their careers.

Born in 1924, Lumet started his landmark career as a child actor on Broadway, before WWII caused a break in this vocation. Post-war, Lumet honed his directional skills working off-Broadway, then thrived as one of the most prolific helmers of live television fare. This expansive background made him an ideal choice to oversee a film based almost entirely on one set. Using Rose’s concise, multi-faceted script, Lumet is able to emphasize the tense environment and array of emotions each juror encounters, allowing the theatrical nature of key moments to come across in vivid fashion, due to careful staging and precise use of close-ups that reveal a juror’s mindset, while also giving the actors and camerawork the freedom to bright forth the sometimes-florid drama with a sense of immediacy and truth. The ambience Lumet is able to maintain for the 96-minute run time is also a prime achievement, with a viewer first feeling the humid, sweat-inducing courtroom climate, then a sense of relief when rain comes midway through to offer the jurors a welcome reprieve as temperatures continue to rise. Lumet also wisely provides one lingering shot of the despondent young man on trial early on, before fading into the actual jury room. This sole image stays with a viewer throughout the proceedings as a humane point of identification, reminding one of the life at stake depending on the jury’s final decision.  After this outstanding endeavor, Lumet would continue as a major force in American film, often showcasing stories based in New York City and featuring powerful acting, offering such work as A Long Day’s Journey into Night, The Pawnbroker, Serpico, possibly peaking in the mid-1970s with Dog Day Afternoon and Network, continuing apace in the 1980s with Prince of the City, The Verdict and Running on Empty, then finishing his career with aplomb via 2007’s Before the Devil Knows Your Dead, before passing in 2011.

By 1957, Henry Fonda had firmly established his screen image of the ideal American over a two-decade career as a leading figure in films, with his iconic Tom Joad in The Grapes of Wrath, perfectly-pitched comic work opposite Barbara Stanwyck in The Lady Eve and his calm-yet-intense work as the most consciousness and decent citizen in 1943’s classic The Ox-Bow Incident just three of his soaring interpretations. Co-producing 12 Angry with writer Rose after gaining clout via his massive success on stage and in the 1955 film version as the title figure in Mr. Roberts, Fonda’s clear involvement with the 12 Angry material can be witnessed in his focused, dedicated portrayal of the honest, morally upright juror #8. As the intricacies of the plot develop, Fonda also does a great of suggesting, along with the character’s decency, the self-satisfaction and ego that may also be compelling #8 to challenge the opinion of his associates. In the wrong hands this role could grow tiresome and unbelievable, as the juror relentlessly questions nearly every observation of his peers, but Fonda so clearly conveys the search for honesty and justice driving the man that a viewer can only feel great admiration for the courage and principals he possesses. Following this triumph, Fonda would continue to score on stage and film, including changing gears to phenomenal effect as one of the cinema’s nastiest villains in 1969’s Once Upon a Time in the West, then eventually winning an Oscar in 1982 for a much more likeable delineation opposite Katharine Hepburn and daughter Jane in his final feature film On Golden Pond, shortly before his passing later that year.

Lee J. Cobb, as the easily riled juror #3, finds perhaps the most ideal role for the bombastic playing style that helped make him a top character star on stage and screen during this period, particularly via his breakthrough as Willy Loman in Death of a Salesman on Broadway and his Oscar-nominated mob boss in On the Waterfront. 12 Angry provides Cobb ample opportunities for his high-powered emoting, especially when #3 frequently tangles with Fonda’s juror over contrasting opinions but also gives Cobb room to show a more ruminative side as he finds parallels between #3’s own life and the trial. Equally adept character player Ed Begley, a few years from his Oscar win for Sweet Bird of Youth, has one of the richest roles as juror #10, a garage owner firm in his belief there can only be one outcome in regard to the verdict. In a bravura scene, Begley does an expert job illustrating the inner hate impelling #10’s beliefs, while also suggesting the man isn’t initially aware how limiting and unfair his perspective is.

As juror #4, a calm, reflective stockbroker who appears only interested in reviewing the case without bias, E.G. Marshall’s stillness is remarkably effective. Marshall conveys the character’s various thoughts with subtle craft, detailing possible changes in the man’s stance on the crime without making it clear to a viewer exactly what his final vote will be, with Lumet knowing when to place Marshall front-and-center as juror #4 mulls over the twists and turns relating to the evidence. Jack Warden, after first making an impact in 1953’s From Here to Eternity, then gaining further exposure on television’s Mr. Peepers, witnessed a big 1957 uptick in his screen career, with good work in Edge of the City and The Bachelor Party also attaching notice. In 12 Angry, as juror #7, a successful, down-to-earth salesman who appears as interested in making a baseball game as in reaching the correct verdict, Warden invests the role with an uncomplicated, easy-going demeanor that helps add believability to the role.

Martin Balsam, as the foreman of the group (a.k.a. juror #1), also makes his name as an important character actor in a part that allows him to showcase how admirably he could bring depth, distinction and spontaneity to an everyman role, traits that served him well for the rest of his career, many other high-profile works. In his second film at the start of a lengthy tenure in movies, the handsomely bespeckled, amiable Robert Webber has an easy infinity with the camera as juror #12, the friendly ad executive who attempts to bring some levity to the proceedings, while also showing a more involved nature as temperatures flare up and serious choices need to be made by each juror. Similarly in his second film of an expansive acting career, John Fielder shows some of the traits that would make him a star character player as a go-to guy for parts requiring a timid disposition as juror #2, an unassuming, mild-mannered bank teller who manages to show some heart and defiance when pressured by some of his aggressive peers.  

One of two actors recreating his fine work in the teleplay, George Voskovec lends great dignity and, when warranted, passion and urgency to his most famous screen role as juror #11, an introspective European-born watchmaker trying to ensure his peers are fully invested in making a fair decision. Joseph Sweeney also makes a strong connection with the audience in adapting his television role to the big screen as juror #9, the eldest member of the group who proves himself benevolent, rational and insightful as the discussion of the case unfolds. Years before major stardom on television, Jack Klugman registers as the tough, no-nonsense juror #5, who has a vivid moment wherein he takes umbrage over labeling the defendant worthless due to his lower-class background #5 strongly identifies with. Finally, Edward Binns offers a humane, likeable portrait of juror #6, a house painter who compassionate team player, but one able to stand up to any disrespect or injustice he notices his colleagues displaying.

It would take 12 Angry time for public perception to place the work among film history’s great dramas, with lukewarm box office awaiting the movie’s April 1957 release. However, critics fully grasped its merits from the get-go, resulting in the film placing in the top ten on both The New York Times and Time magazine’s ten best lists and ranking second on the National Board of Review’s top ten, gaining Fonda a Best Actor British Academy Award and winning Rose a Writers Guild of America prize for Best Written Drama, attaining the Golden Bear for Best Picture at the Berlin Film Festival, and granting Lumet a finalist spot from the Director’s Guild of America and one of four Golden Globe nominations, along with ones for Best Drama, Actor (Fonda) and Supporting Actor (Cobb). At the Oscars, Lumet and the film would repeat for nods, with rose cited among the Best Adapted Screenplay nominees, with the cast overlooked, with the ensemble nature of the piece providing the only clue for how Fonda could be left off the short list after creating one of his most intelligent and artful performances. Recently 12 Angry has factored in the forefront on several lists, with it ranked at #2, just behind To Kill a Mockingbird, on the AFI’s 2008 list of Top Courtroom Dramas, the year after it made the AFI’s 10^th Anniversary list of the 100 greatest American films and inclusion on the National Film Registry’s inductees. The film’s increasing reputation as a landmark drama also led to a 1997 television update of the material led by Jack Lemmon and an Emmy-winning George C. Scott as jurors #8 and #3. Those wishing to delve deep into superior dramatic fare so impactful it causes viewers to reconsider how they might approach any assumptions they have in regard to (seemingly) reasonable beyond a doubt facts of a case will find themselves held in rapt reverence by the gripping, thought-provoking entertainment found in the company of 12 Angry Men.

Tony Richardson and Albert Finney Add Impish Flair to Fielding's Tom Jones

 

                 A surprisingly lively take on a classic novel, director Tony Richardson’s daring 1963 adaptation of Henry Fielding’s landmark 1749 novel The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling brings the often-ribald tale to the screen with flair and originally. Paring the lengthy tome down to a 128-minute running time via an ingenious screenplay by frequent Richardson collaborator John Osborne, with a playful score by John Addison and fast-paced editing by Antony Gibbs that also aid in swiftly covering the dashing young title hero’s wealth of exploits as he seeks fortune and romance, while encountering many antics and colorful personages in the process. Richardson impressively maintains an amusing-but-relatable tone throughout the boisterous film, carefully guiding his superb cast to create deft portraits than balance comic and sometimes more serious elements, depending on the situation. The racy, jubilant activities unfolding on the screen offered a more overt, modern perspective than normally found in films at the time, allowing Tom Jones to resonate with audiences seeking out more adult-themed material in an era wherein the Production Code was still trying to limit how mature subject matter was portrayed in movies.

                For the young maverick overseeing Tom Jones, the film would bring worldwide fame to Richardson, after he had firmly established himself as one of Britian’s leading lights, both in theater and movies.  Starting in television in the 1950’s, Richardson would quickly rise to the forefront of new directors specializing in the gritty genre of “kitchen sink dramas” after the huge success of the Osborne-penned Look Back in Anger, which debuted in London in 1956, then won further acclaim on Broadway and via a 1959 film version starring Richard Burton. Following this, Richardson would score with several other top British dramas, including The Entertainer featuring Laurence Olivier recreating his trenchant stage performance, 1961’s A Taste of Honey, which he also produced and wrote, and The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner. This imposing output served Richardson well, giving him the experience and confidence to do an abrupt about-face with the much zanier tone of Tom Jones. The director seems to know exactly when to play up the story’s more theatrical, amusing aspects by means such as speeding up the action or breaking the fourth wall, and adopting a more earnest approach, specifically in the delicate romance that blossoms between Jones and his true love, Sophie Western. Following this career peak, Richardson would continue on stage and film, including another wild comedic adaptation of a famed book with 1965’s Evelyn Waugh-based The Loved One (via a Terry Southern and Christopher Isherwood screenplay), 1975’s Mahogony starring Diana Ross, a return to Fielding territory with 1977’s less-impactful Joseph Andrews and, in his final big screen endeavor, guiding Jessica Lange to a Best Actress Oscar in Blue Sky, before his death in 1991.

                By 1963, star Albert Finney had also quickly risen up the ranks to find himself considered among the most talented artists in his field. Making a major impact on the British stage with his 1956 work as Henry V, followed by Coriolanus and, in both London and Broadway, a wealth of praise for Luther, Finney made a similar impression on screen as, after a 1960 debut in Richardson’s Entertainer, he helped (along with Burton in Anger) usher in the new breed of “Angry Young Men” in films with his powerful work in Saturday Night and Sunday Morning, which brought him a British Academy Award and notice in the states with a Best Actor prize from the National Board of Review. After his initial success in very dramatic mode, Finney’s lighter, charismatic playing in Jones demonstrated the range of his versatility, and how well suit he was for romantic comedies as well as heavy dramas. Finney enacts Tom with boyish earnestness and sincerity, while bringing a positive energy to the role that makes it easy for one to root for this spirited, good-natured hero to gain his place in the world. The inspired Finney deftly handles the high comedy escapades, while also lending a touching warmth to his scenes with Tom’s lady love, Sophie. After Jones, Finney would continue on stage and screen, with highs such as his pairing with Audrey Hepburn for 1967’s moving and stylish Two for the Road, his Oscar-nominated work as a heavily made-up Hercule Poirot in 1974’s star-studded Murder on the Orient Express, a fruitful early to mid-1980s’ period via Annie, Shoot the Moon and two more Oscar nods for The Dresser and Under the Volcano, then later career glory via his beautiful work as the perplexed-but-supportive boss to Julia Robert’s Erin Brockovich in 2000, the same year he took part as the star-packed ensemble in another big critical and commercial hit, Traffic, an Emmy as Winston Churchill for 2002’s The Gathering Storm, then ending his screen career on yet another high note in 2012’s exciting James Bond opus Skyfall, before passing in 2019 at age 82.

The lovely and gifted Susannah York witnessed a major career uptick with her excellent work as Sophie Western. Graduating from the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art as a star pupil in 1958, York started in films in 1960, making an impression in Tunes of Glory, then really coming into her own with a beautiful performance in 1961’s coming-of-age drama The Greengage Summer, followed by a challenging role in Freud: The Secret Passion, which brought her a Golden Globe nomination for Best Actress- Drama. As Sophie, York is radiant and skillful, lending a sweet, graceful air to her playing and generates a gentle, chemistry with Finney that makes their romance ring true. Along Sophie largely represents the main straight figure of the piece amid all the hijinks and clowning, she holds the screen in a compelling manner, allowing a viewer to be as vested in her character as with the more flamboyant playing of her costars. After Tom Jones, York would build a fine filmography, including 1966’s Best Picture A Man for All Seasons, winning a British Academy Award and Golden Globe and Oscar nods for harrowing work as a Hollywood hopeful in They Shoot Horses, Don’t They, a Cannes Best Actress award for Robert Altman’s Images, Emmy-nominated work as Jane Eyre and reaching a huge audience again as the title figure’s mother in 1978’s Superman and its sequel, before her death in 2011, just after her 72^nd birthday.

                Responsible for many moments of hilarity is Hugh Griffith as Squire Western, Sophie’s rude, impulsive and outspoken father. After a 1940 screen debut in Carol Reed’s Night Train to Munich, the colorful character actor stood out in many British films, such as Kind Hearts and Cornets and Laughter in Paradise, while also flourishing on stage, including Tony-nominated work on Broadway for Look Homeward, Angel, before gaining international fame and a Supporting Actor Oscar for 1959’s blockbuster Ben Hur, follow by the epics Exodus and Mutiny on the Bounty prior to Tom Jones, and in Reed’s Oscar-winning Oliver! afterwards. As Western, Griffith is clearly having the time of his life bringing the Squire’s uncouth behavior to life in an unabashed, gleeful manner, with audiences eagerly anticipating him sending the movie into the comic stratosphere every time he blasts into a scene. Although the character’s actions are often rash and sometimes unsympathetic, the lust for life and impish humor Griffith adds to the role draws a viewer to him, with Griffith also conveying that, beneath the swagger, the Squire is a decent figure who ultimately wants the best for Sophie and Tom. 

As the Squire’s regal, confident and domineering sister, Miss Western, Edith Evans stands in perfect contrast to Griffith’s blustery playing, making them a comic duo of great style and animation, as Miss Western attempts to brook no dissention from her sibling, while he appears determined to offer her nothing but sass on a supreme level. Evans made a stage debut in 1912 and became one of the British Theater’s most revered thespians before, save for a few silent movie appearances, moving into films late-career with a striking list of credits, including gloriously recreating one of her most famous roles as Lady Bracknell in 1952’s The Importance of Being Earnest, followed by Look Back in Anger and excellent work opposite Audrey Hepburn as the serene, observant Rev. Mother in 1959’s The Nun’s Story before Tom Jones, and persuasive work thereafter, including two Academy Award nominations for again bringing a famous stage role to screen in 1964’s The Chalk Garden, then delving deep to give possibly her richest, most insightful dramatic portrayal as the lonely old woman clinging to reality in 1967’s The Whisperers, winning a slew of Best Actress prizes in the process but, alas, no Oscar. Evans would continue on stage and the screen up to her death at 88 in 1976, capping her illustrious career with a posthumous appearance in another uninhabited comedy set in a religious order far from The Nun’s Story, Nasty Habits.

Among the rest of a truly top-notch group of players, the bemused Joyce Redman makes one of the strongest impressions as the vivacious and quick-witted Mrs. Waters, with an unforgettable entrance before, in the most famous scene, sharing the lustiest and funniest meal in cinema history with Finney. Joan Greenwood and her distinct, seductive voice are a sublime match for Lady Bellaston, who takes a blatant interest in Tom and his charms. Early in the film Diane Cilento, with scant screen time, also scores heavily as the lusty Molly, a free spirit who passes time with Tom and takes life as it comes. In his first major film role David Warner adeptly delineates Tom’s chief adversary, Blifil, clearly relishing the opportunity to illustrate the calm-but oily villain’s every unchivalrous move, while Lynn Redgrave gets her first film career boost, with a much bigger soon to come as Georgy Girl. Other well-regarded players include Redgrave’s mother, Rachel Kempson, Peter Bull, David Tomlinson, gearing up for Mary Poppins, Wilfrid Lawson and Avis Bunnage.

                Upon release, Tom Jones’ breezy, irreverent tone found great favor with critics and audiences, with the film gaining a then-mammoth $16,000,000 in first-run U.S./Canadian rentals, according to Variety, placing it among the top comedy hits of the 1960’s. Critics were effusive in their praise, leading to a wealth of accolades, including Best Picture awards from The National Board of Review, The New York Film Critic’s Awards, The British Academy Awards (for Best British Film and Best Film From Any Source) and the Golden Globes, as well as placement on The New York Times Ten Best list. Richardson also gained prizes from the NBR and NYFC, as well as the Directors Guild of America award, while Finney won the NYFC and Venice Film Festival Best Actor prizes and a Golden Globe for Most Promising Newcomer- Male. Come Oscar time, the film scored ten nominations, including ones for cast members Cilento, Finney, Evans, Griffith and Redman, while winning for Best Picture, Director, Adapted Screenplay and Best Music Score- Substantially Original.

Although the movie was clearly influential and embraced at the time, helping to usher in the Swingin’ Sixties and British Invasion with the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, Julie Christie and Twiggy just around the corner (among many others), reappraisal of the movie’s quality over the years has not always been positive, with some deeming the film a lark not worthy of the major laurels it once receive, going so far as to place it among the “Worst Best Picture” winners. The author may be biased as, watching the film as a treen during a late-night showing he, expecting a dry, serious Best Picture drama, was delighted to discovered one of the funniest movies he’d yet seen; however, trying to maintain an objective view, the quality of the film and performances hold up, and one wonders if the standard, tired bias regarding comedy work being considered “lesser” than dramatic endeavors in deeming films worthy of awards is at play to a degree in demeriting the considerable assets of Richardson’s high-flying comedy. In any case, it’s hard to ignore the freshness and sense of joie de vivre found in the stylish, rousing adventures of the amorous but good-hearted title character as depicted by Richardson and an A-one cast and crew; those seeking an enjoyable adult romp with plenty of comic brio should find a satisfying cinematic feast with the richly entertaining Tom Jones.

Deborah Kerr Seeks a Higher Cinematic Calling in Black Narcissus

 

                One of the finest and most erotically-charged dramas to come from filmdom’s classic era, 1947’s Black Narcissus represents a literal peak in the work of British producer/director team Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger, with its story of Anglican nuns becoming increasingly unsettled as they attempt to run a school and hospital high in the Himalayas at the site of a former harem. The exotic locale presents a wealth of challenges for the young Sister Clodagh placed in charge of the operation, with religious themes involving faith daringly mixed with more carnal subject matter. Powell and Pressburger, who also adapted the screenplay (based on a 1939 novel by Rumor Godden) do a remarkable job in maintaining a sensual, dreamy tone throughout the film, with Technicolor expert Jack Cardiff’s lush, evocative cinematography ranking among the finest ever put on film, and doing much to aid in setting the proper aura for the unconventional movie, along with Alfred Junge’s inventive set designs and Brian Easdale’s pulsating score. An inspired cast led by the impeccable Deborah Kerr lends truth and complexity to their choice roles, helping to quickly capture the viewer’s interest, and hold them in rapt attention through the movie’s spellbinding 100 minutes.

                By the time of Narcissus, Powell and Pressburger had established themselves as a creative filmmaking team of unusual vision. Prior to their fruitful alliance, which they labeled “The Archers,” Powell had honed his skills in 1930’s British Cinema before being hired by famed producer Alexander Korda and rising to eminence as one of the co-directors of 1940’s hypnotically watchable fantasy The Thief of Bagdad, while the Hungarian-born Pressburger had been a journalist before  entering films via the UFA studios, working in German and French films before relocating to the United Kingdon in 1935, eventually also teaming with Korda and meeting Powell via a Korda collaboration in 1939. The dynamic partners were in synch from the get-go, turning out such important WWII-era films as 49^th Parallel, One of Our Aircraft is Missing, A Canterbury Tale, The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp and A Matter of Life and Death.

After this impressive run, the fully formed team were clearly ready to design one of the most richly atmospheric offerings yet seen on the screen. With conviction and zeal, Powell and Pressburger foster and maintain an ambience of mystery surrounding Narcissus’ characters and their environment, arousing an audience’s senses as they follow the extravagant tale, wondering what fate each of these often-overwhelmed sisters will meet, leading to the movie’s famous bizarre, hair-raising climax. After the impactful Narcissus, the team would score an even bigger global Technicolor success with the florid The Red Shoes, followed by, among others, an intriguing effort with David O. Selznick, Gone to Earth, then another original, dance-oriented musical offering, The Tales of Hoffman, before the end of their legendary pairing in 1957, although reuniting for two further projects, after Powell individually produced and directed the then-vilified but now revered daring 1960 psychological horror classic Peeping Tom.

As the multidimensional Sister Clodagh, Deborah Kerr moved to the forefront of top British stars with her focused, subtle and distinguished portrayal. Starting out in ballet, the teenaged Kerr would make her debut in 1941’s Major Barbara, before gaining much attention via Colonel Blimp, then offering another top performance just before Narcissus in I See a Dark Stranger. As Sister Clodagh, Kerr instinctually illustrates both the novice nun’s steely resolve and her insecurities in taking on an authoritarian role possibility beyond her skillset, adroitly limning the complexities of the challenging role with intelligence and elan. Kerr also displays her uncanny knack for hinting at the sexuality just underneath the proper exterior of a character, which would subsequently add plenty of individuality to some of her best work and help Kerr form her own distinct image as one of the screen’s classiest-yet-quietly-passionate leading ladies. Following Narcissus, Kerr would immediately segway into U.S. movie stardom via a prime MGM contract, starting with 1947’s The Hucksters opposite Clark Gable, with promotional material making it clear that “Kerr” rhymes with “star.” Kerr proved the tagline correct by becoming one of the top names in Hollywood over the course of a very rich career that included six Best Actress Oscar nominations (but alas, no wins), and the chance to display her top-tier talent in series of classics, including Quo Vadis, iconically trysting on a beach with Burt Lancaster in From Here to Eternity, The King And I and The Innocents and having a triumph on Broadway in 1953 with Tea and Sympathy, a performance she recreated in the watered-down 1956 screen adaptation. After the 1960s Kerr mainly would opt for stage and television work over films, standing out in the fine 1982 t.v. version of Agatha Christie’s Witness for the Prosecution, then showing up to receive one of the most warranted honorary Academy Awards in 1994, before her passing at 86 in 2007.

             The magnetic David Farrar is confidently suave and sexy in a direct manner not often seen in films of the period as Mr. Dean, the local, handsome, primitive free spirit who aides the sisters and causes plenty of unrest among them. Farrar makes Dean’s primal attraction to Sister Clodagh believable and steamy, generating a provocative chemistry with Kerr that makes one wonder exactly how true to her vows the roused Sister will be able to stay before the final fade-out, with Farrar so potentially illustrating Mr. Dean’s animalistic presence as a continual factor in Clodagh’s new environment. Farrar begin his British film career in the 1930s, but had limited success until his efficacious work in Narcissus. Following the higher profile in movies his fine rendering of Mr. Dean would bring Farrar, he would go on to play in some notable pictures, both in Britian and beyond, including reunions with the Powell/Pressburger team for The Small Back Room and Gone to Earth, and work in Hollywood productions such as The Black Shield of Falworth, Solomon and Sheba and his final film, 1962’s The 300 Spartans, while his stimulating portrait of Mr. Dean remained his most significant and memorable role.

Bringing much excitement to the film as Sister Ruth, the uninhibited neurotic whose nature becomes progressively more passionate and discontent as events unfold, Kathleen Byron performs with an electric intensity that is bewitching. From the outset, Byron vividly conveys the dangerous undercurrent in Sister’s Ruth’s disposition, making an audience uneasy in regards to just how far the character will go in expressing herself, specifically as the conflict between her and Sister Clodagh grows in regards to authority and fostering Mr. Dean’s attentions, leading to one of the more thrilling final confrontations in movies. Byron worked in Powell and Pressburger films both prior to (A Matter of Life and Death) and post-Narcissus (The Small Back Room) and also found late-career success appearing in several prestigious pictures (The Elephant Man, Emma, Saving Private Ryan), but her lasting fame rests largely on her unnerving work as the troubled and formidable Sister Ruth (Bryon once commented on getting a taxi and having the driver simply state, “You’re that crazy nun.”). 

In support, esteemed character player Flora Robson adds a nice melancholic air to dreamy Sister Philippa, who becomes distracted from her role as chief gardener by the mysterious vibes brought about by the strange new climate. Robson had thrived as an important star in British theater and films starting in the 1920s, and would also score in American cinema, with a highlight coming a couple of years before Narcissus with her Oscar-nominated (if un-P.C. today) as a maid in Saratoga Trunk. As Dilip Rai, the affluent young general who wishes to learn from the nuns, the well-established Korda  Sabu is allowed a refreshening change-of-pace from the loinclothed roles that brought him fame, starting with his debut at thirteen in 1937’s Elephant Boy and continuing with The Drum, an early peak in The Thief of Bagdad, The Jungle Book and several marvelous escapist fare from Universal Pictures featuring Arabian Nights themes, Jon Hall and Maria Montez, specifically 1944’s wondrously diverting Cobra Woman; it’s interesting to see the exotic star in regal garb in a much more reserved, dignified type of role. As the beautiful native girl who captures his fancy, Jean Simmons is properly mischievous and observant, continuing her upward trend as a leading young star in British films, after breaking through as the young Estella the previous year in David Lean’s Great Expectations, them making major career headway following Narcissus with and Ophelia for the ages in Laurence Oliver’s 1948 screen version of Hamlet, which brough Simmons an Oscar nomination and Venice Film Festival Best Actress award. Finally, as Angu Ayan, the pessimistic, witchlike housekeeper, the animated May Hallatt brings color and humor to the scenario.

With a London premiere in the spring of 1947, the imaginative, engrossing Black Narcissus gained a wealth of praise for its stark depiction of adult themes, rich performances and florid dramatic sequences. The film would go on to success on an international scale, resulting in Deborah Kerr winning the first of three Best Actress awards from the New York Film Critics Circle (with I See a Dark Stranger- a.k.a. The Adventuress- also cited in her win) and justified honors from the Golden Globes and the Academy Awards for Cardiff’s illustrious cinematography, with Junge also winning an Oscar for his impeccable set design. Over the decades, along with Powell and Pressburger’s elevated status as masters of the cinematic form (several of the team’s films, including Narcissus, placed on the latest Sight and Sound poll among the greatest movies ever made), Black Narcissus has continued to grow in status as a rare example of how perceptively mature topics can be presented in classic movies with style and tact, while losing none of the power to compel audiences with an emotionally-charged, tantalizing viewing experience.

Walt Disney Flys High with the Magical, Diverting Peter Pan

 

Representing one of Walt Disney Studio’s most ingratiating flights of fancy, 1953’s Peter Pan provides an exhilarating adventure with themes relatable to the young and the young-at-heart. Focusing on one exciting incident after another in recreating J.M. Barrie’s enduring 1904 tale of the title figure, a boy who won’t grow up as he whisks a trio of London children off to Neverland one fateful night, directors Hamilton Luske, Clyde Geronimi and Wilfred Jackson hold audiences rapt with action-packed sequences and a rich comic flavor maintained thorough for the movie’s swift 77 minutes. One of the least pretentious of the Disney feature-length cartoons, Pan largely resists the temptation to lean on “cutesy” elements and personas, instead offering pure entertainment in a straightforward manner, wasting scant time in unfolding the fantastical storyline with creative vigor. With beautiful, artfully drawn animation, vibrant Technicolor and indelible portrayals of the famous Barrie characters by a cast of vocal talents truly engaged with their top assignments, Peter Pan allows viewers to be captured by a visionary world that could only be rendered via a group of top artists working at their imaginative best.

                As early as 1935 Disney initially expressed interest in adapting Pan for the screen, after starting the Walt Disney Studios in 1923 and first finding fame with the introduction of Mickey Mouse in 1928, then going on to win a passel of animated shorts Academy Awards in the 1930s. However, before Pan could reach the screen other passion projects, including 1937’s landmark Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, the first feature-length cartoon, and quality follow-ups such as Pinocchio, Fantasia, Dumbo and Bambi as well as the onslaught of WWII halted Pan’s progress. With indifferent reaction to several post-Bambi undertakings, including 1951’s offbeat Alice in Wonderland, with 1950’s Cinderella the main entry hitting the bullseye with audiences during this experimental period, Disney must have understood the importance at this critical juncture of focusing on the release of a beloved family-friendly work that could appeal to the masses with maximum impact.

From the carefully staged intro to the film, wherein the Darlings, the family at the center of the scenario, are introduced in a clear manner that quickly establishes personality traits for each member, including Nana, the Darling’s loyal nursemaid dog, it’s evident Disney’s pulse is on the production, fostering the ultimate objective of making a smart, fast-paced, entertainment for young and old alike. With the aid of “Disney’s Nine Old Men,” animators who had toiled at the studio since the 1920s and 30s, with Ollie Johnson and Ward Kimball chief among them, a gorgeous feast for the eyes was also guaranteed, with lush layouts and expertly drawn characters (including distinct behavioral attributes for each) enabling the whole otherworldly enterprise to come alive onscreen with style, humor and intensity. Following Pan, Disney would remain the go-to symbol for prime family fare until his death in late 1966, via continued animation gems such as Lady and the Tramp, Sleeping Beauty and 101 Dalmatians, branching out into live-action films with 1954’s 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, followed by hits such as Old Yeller, The Shaggy Dog, The Absent-Minded Professor and the biggest one, 1964’s Mary Poppins and starting in 1954, via the debut of the long-running Disneyland television series, a year prior to the opening of the renowned theme park in Anaheim.

                Established Disney star Bobby Driscoll comes through in admirable fashion as the enlivening, free-spirited Pan. Previously scoring in Disney outings such as Song of the South and So Dear to My Heart before winning a special Juvenile Oscar for ace work in a engrossing film noir, The Window, then returning to Disney for the live-action Treasure Island, Driscoll fully inhabits the role of Pan with substantial brio, clearly delineating the mischievous nature of the sprite by lending plenty of energetic dash to his line readings, while also utilizing a touching innocence to show the good-hearted and sensitive aspects of Pan’s demeanor. Although the role had normally been played by a female prior to and (on stage, at least) subsequent to Disney’s version, Driscoll places his Pan among the most satisfying and beguiling portrayals of the pint-sized hero. As Pan’s constant sidekick, with nary a word spoken, Pan introduced one of Disney’s most lasting (and marketable) figures via Tinkerbell, the beautifully formed pixie with moxie, possessing a wealth of personality and temperament to go along with her curvy appeal, as she jealously attempts to guard Peter from Wendy with near-Fatal Attraction fervor. Despite her impish, often indignant behavior, Tinkerbell is so fully rendered a viewer is irresistibly drawn to the impish nymph, which allows the most serious and moving moment in the film to ring true, and an audience to side with Tinkerbell and pull for her ultimate well-being. 

                As Wendy Darling, the practical-but-dreamy young girl eager to experience the wonders of Neverland while also nurturing the Lost Boys therein as a mother figure, Kathyn Beaumont using her engaging, ultra-proper diction and spritely delivery to embody the confident miss with gratifying finesse. After starting out as a small child in films via 1944’s It Happened One Sunday, the London-born Beaumont would appear briefly in a few MGM films, including On an Island with You, before securing the plum role of Alice in Disney’s opulent 1951 retelling of the Lewis Carroll 1965 fantasy. Handling the role of Alice with precision and the apt amount of energy and willfulness informed Disney he had the right performer to put over Wendy with charm and strength. Beaumont keeps the character likably relatable throughout, with her honest, centered work making Wendy the main audience identification point. After this success Beamont would largely retreat from acting to focus on studies, eventually turning to a long-term teaching career as an adult.

Hans Conried, after over a decade lending his imposing voice and florid comic style to films and radio, witnessed a banner 1953, with career defining work both as a vain, sinister and buffoonish Captain Hook for the ages and, in a similar vein, the controlling, equally flamboyant, Dr. Terwilliker in the eye-catching The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T, formed from the wildly original mind of Dr. Seuss. As Hook, Conried is clearly having a ball illustrating the character’s egomaniacal demeanor, obsession with taking down arch-nemesis Pan and, most theatrically, Hook’s abject fear of the ever-lurking crocodile responsible for his hooklike state after an earlier encounter. One eagerly awaits each appearance of the amusing croc, so colorful he actually breaks the fourth wall at one point, in order to witness Conried’s unrestricted, emotionally drenched delivery of the petrified Hook’s wail-ridden tirades as he runs amok in a quest to avoid his toothsome fate. Doing double duty, Conried also starts out the film with a deft study of the dramatic, agitated Mr. Darling. Following this peak year, Conried would continue to appear in films and television as a par excellence actor carrying his own particular technique into each role, until is 1982 passing at age 64.

In other roles Bill Thompson scores strongly as Smee, Hook’s always put-upon right-hand man. Thompson plays up the cartoonish aspects of his voice to heighten Smee’s consistently befuddled state, allowing him to remain likable and upbeat regardless of the nefarious activity he sometimes is subjected to via Hook’s orders. Tom Conway, with his cultivated tones, provides smooth narration, while Heather Angel, an established British plater with credits such as The Informer and Lifeboat to her credit, offers a warm, knowing portrait of Mrs. Darling, compassionate with her brood and understanding of her husband’s volatile nature. As Wendy’s younger brothers, the bespeckled, levelheaded John and Michael, the amiable toddler of the group, Paul Collins and Tommy Luske vocally match up very well with their choice assignments. In cameos, voice legend of many classic cartoons, June Foray and Margaret Kerry, who served as the model for Tinkerbell, pop up as flirtatious mermaids Peter and Wendy meet in Neverland.

                Released through RKO in February of 1953, Peter Pan proved an instant box-office success with the Baby Boomer generation and gained positive critical reaction, including a Newsweek cover story that heralded Disney’s latest triumph. During its initial run the film earned $7,000,000 in U.S./Canadian rentals, thereby landing at #5 among the top hits of the year (according to Variety’s yearly list for 1953). Subsequent releases has raised the film’s profits considerably to where Pan now ranks among the top money-making films of the 1950s, while other high-profile references to the movie such as the “Peter Pan’s Flight” ride at various Disneylands and Tinkerbell’s enduring  place as a top Disney mascot, specifically her launching of each episode of the long-running Disneyland television show, and a constant presence on various physical media formats over the past decades have allow the movie to stay relevant while gaining an abundance of fans with each new Disney-loving generation. The ongoing devotion to Peter Pan is warranted, as rarely was Disney and company able to intermesh all of the studio’s creative forces so perfectly, resulting in a timeless whimsical cinematic gem that brings out the adventure-seeking child in all viewers.

The Marx Brothers Ensure Chaos Reigns Supreme in the Peerless Duck Soup

 

                A frenetic, hilarious blend of mayhem featuring the four Marx Brothers at their most free-wheeling and irreverent, while also taking satirical pot shots at politics and war that remain timely over ninety years later, 1933’s Duck Soup from Paramount represents one of filmdom’s prime comedies, wherein the seemingly loose, go-for-broke style on constant display somehow manages to stay cohesive among the breeziest 69 minutes found in cinema. Director Leo McCarey deftly unfolds the ingenious script by Bery Kalmar and Harry Ruby (with additional dialogue from Nat Perrin and Arthur Sheekman) that cleverly adds amusing musical passages into the narrative concerning the land of Freedonia, overseen by the mischievous Rufus T. Firefly, who apparently has no qualms starting war at the drop of a hat. McCarey adeptly keeps the plot moving at an astoundingly fast pace, while allowing the brothers ample freedom to spontaneously put over their special brand of shenanigans in a manner unmatched elsewhere in their filmographies, aided by the supremely regal and game “Fifth Marx Brother,” Margaret Dumont.

                For McCarey, Duck Soup signaled an uptick in his burgeoning career as one of Hollywood’s most inventive directors, particularly in comedies. Starting out in the 1920’s as a writer/director of shorts, including working with and helping develop Laurel and Hardy, McCarey would smoothly transition into sound films, scoring a major hit just prior to Soup via the Eddie Cantor star vehicle The Kid from Spain. With the Marx Brothers, McCarey allows for a loose, apparently impromptu style that lets the team shine in one set piece after another, including Groucho and Harpo’s famous mirror image gag and Chico and Harpo’s run-ins with a progressively more exasperated vendor. The mirror scene is clearly carefully staged, but with the vendor and in other sequences, it’s hard to tell how much is worked out, and to what extent the boys just went impishly wild with comic inspiration. McCarey helms with admirable dexterity, keeping the madcap tone flowing throughout the movie with verve and consistency. McCarey would continue his swift rise with 1935’s The Ruggles of Red Gap, then hit a peak in 1937 with Oscar-winning work for The Awful Truth, a screwball classic and presenting the polar opposite via the dramatically profound Make Way for Tomorrow, before ending the decade with a well-regarded romantic comedy/drama, Love Affair. McCarey scored mightily in the 1940’s with two huge hits starring Bing Crosby, 1944’s Going My Way, with McCarey walking away with three Oscars for his efforts, and the follow-up, The Bells of St. Mary’s, with an unbeatable Crosby/Ingrid Bergman combo, before parring back on his output, but once again reaching large audiences with his beloved 1957 remake of Love Affair, An Affair to Remember.

                With a strong assist from their driven mother, Minnie, the Marx Brothers (initially including a fifth brother, Gummo) first made a name for themselves on the vaudeville stage during the 1910’s, before moving on to Broadway success in the 1920’s. At the end of the decade, a deal with Paramount Pictures saw them adapting their hits The Cocoanuts and Animal Crackers to film with outstanding box-office the result, causing the team to make a shift to Hollywood. After two more hits, Monkey Business and Horse Feathers, the brothers found themselves on the cover of Time magazine as one of the biggest names in movies. Duck Soup should have represented the crowning glory it eventual became in their filmography, capturing the brothers at a peak after they had developed their perfectly-attuned performance skills before the camera, but the ingenuity unfolding onscreen in rapid-fire fashion would take years for the public to catch up to, although they did so adoringly when realizing the trove of comic treasures they’d missed out on by neglecting the tasty Soup upon the classic’s release.

                Groucho brings his unmatched comic sensibility to Soup, nimbly cavorting around the screen with disobedient sangfroid, while tossing out incredible quips so deftly one may find it necessary to re-watch Soup immediately after a screening to take in all the double entendres that were initially missed. Groucho adroitly offers a mixture of patent shtick (the rolling eyes and waggish eyebrows, his unmatched strut, breaking the fourth wall, etc.) with a seemingly effortless sense of capriciousness, which allows his free-wheeling performance to sustain an air of freshness and originality over 90 years after Soup’s release. Following the brothers reign at Paramount, then MGM, Groucho would find a huge new audience while dropping plenty of witticisms as the host of You Bet Your Life, starting on radio in 1947 before becoming one of early television’s biggest hits during its 1950-1961 run. Afterwards, Groucho would continue to bemuse the public with frequent appearances on t.v. talk and game shows, before passing in 1977 at 86.

                For Harpo, Soup also shows him at his zenith. With little pretense or chance for a musical instrumental solo to tame him, he goes about his business in a looser, more unrestricted manner than usual, leering away with gusto as he causes mass disorder regardless of the setting, leading to the peerless mirror scene wherein he stays in synch with Groucho with model precision to gain the utmost guffaws from immersed viewers. As his vocal co-conspirator who is working to unseat Firefly (at first) Chico is possibly seen to his best advantage during a cross-examination scene, wherein his pseudo-serious, perfectly-time play on words results in several of the movie’s best zingers. As the film’s faithful straight man, the handsome Zeppo is good-natured and professional, without his role as Firefly’s calm, reasonable secretary granting him many chances to shine in the uninhibited manner of his brothers.

As the affluent Mrs. Gloria Teasdale, the benefactress who only has eyes for Rufus, Margaret Dumont brings her invaluable gifts as one of the screen’s foremost straight ladies to her pairing with Groucho. With her regal bearing and dulcet tones (armed with an operatic background), Dumont serves as an ideal contrast to her leading man’s antics and suggestive, quick-witted one liners. First appearing opposite the Marx’s on Broadway in Cocoanuts and Crackers, Dumont rose to cinematic fame alongside the brothers when both stage successes were transferred to film. Groucho and Dumont’s fondness for each other is apparent, making them one of the most believable, if seemingly mismatched, couples in classic films, with Dumont’s dignity and class constantly at the mercy of Groucho’s leery advances and asides. Groucho often stated Dumont didn’t get the jokes thrown her way, but watching her with him, one can see the skill Dumont brought in maintaining a serious demeanor, but one not prone to bemusement when faced with Groucho’s latest untoward gesture- Dumont was clearly a grand talent who knew exactly how to interact with her free-spirted counterpoint. Appearing in a total of seven of the Marx’s pictures, Dumont would also occasionally stand out in other films, including Never Give a Sucker an Even Break opposite W.C. Fields, Up in Arms (Danny Kaye’s film debut), Bathing Beauty and her final role in 1964’s all-star What a Way to Go!, just before her passing in 1965 at 82.

With his imposing stature and deep, resonant voice, Louis Calhern makes an appropriately commanding impression as the assertive Ambassador of Sylvanna, who is at odds with Rufus over the affections of Mrs. Teasdale and anything else Firefly can think up to unnerve his foe. Calhern does a fine job outlining Trentino’s ever-increasing state of exasperation with each new conflict with Rufus, helping to make this running gag a source of constant amusement. As Vera, the siren whose plunging Pre-Code neckline raises the eyebrows of her costars and audience members, Raquel Torres brings the proper vixenish allure and energy to the part, to the extent a viewer wishes she could’ve ben put to more direct use with Groucho or his kin. Finally, as the vendor harassed by both Chico and (especially) Harpo, longtime character actor Edgar Kennedy, who started his film career at the dawn of cinema, works adeptly with his adversaries as they put over intricate physical comedy bits with relish.

                Duck Soup surprisingly failed to catch on with the public upon its November 1933 Depression era release, after the Marx Brothers had scored impressive box-office returns with their first four films, with the artful siblings, sans the underutilized Zeppo, witnessing a comeback and what at the time was regarded as a return to form after switching from Paramount to MGM for 1935’s merry A Night at the Opera, highlighted by its famous stateroom sequence. However, concerning Soup, continued interest in the team’s work, including frequent showings in revival houses and on television, caused a strong reevaluation of the film; today critical reassessment places this farcical masterpiece at the top of the Marx’s filmography (or near it, when factoring in a nod to Opera devotees or those holding a slight preference for one of the other earlier classics). Recent accolades include placement on the AFI’s 1998 and 2007 lists of the top 100 American films (at #85 and #60, respectively), coming in at a lofty #5 on the AFI 2000 “100 Laughs” list detailing the greatest American comedy films, seven spots above Opera’s also stellar showing and being included in the esteemed National Film Registry’s 1990 list of films for preservation. Anyone interested in swiftly gaining a maximum laugh quotient in limited time will benefit from watching one of cinema’s prime comedy teams put on possibly their greatest show of priceless anarchy via the uproarious Duck Soup.

Giulietta Masina Elevates Fellini’s Nights of Cabiria to Cinematic Greatness

 

                Stemming from the Italian Neorealism period which found great favor in the U.S. during the late 1940’s via such classics as Open City, Shoeshine and The Bicycle Thieves, Federico Fellini’s 1957 masterwork Nights of Cabiria offers one of the richest and most moving viewing experiences of any film. At turns funny, heartbreaking and profound, it relates the joys and setbacks of an optimistic, romantic Italian prostitute, Cabiria, intent breaking free from the ill repute associated with her career of choice and finding a better place in life. Following her day-to-day exploits, one becomes completely involved in Cabiria’s fate in a manner rarely seen in film. The character had originally appeared briefly in Fellini’s 1952 The White Sheik, and proved intriguing enough to warrant a full-length examination of the uniquely appealing heroine. Fellini’s wife Giulietta Masina originated the role in Sheik and had recently gained worldwide fame via her touching work in La Strada; in Cabiria she reaches her career peak, giving an unforgettable performance filled with grit, humor, vulnerability and hope that draws in an audience as they foster a protective bond with Cabiria throughout her every adventure and misadventure.

                For Fellini, Cabiria marked a high point in his early career, before his focus on fare with a more cosmopolitan and bizarre flavor, such as La Dolce Vita and 8 ½ rose to the forefront of his filmography. With Cabiria, Fellini adopts a more simplistic, naturalistic approach to the material, focusing on the free-spirited streetwalker in a series of seemingly non-related vignettes filmed on location at various Italian locales, which adds verisimilitude to the proceedings and helps draw a viewer into Cabiria’s world as she goes about her unconventional life. The trust and understanding Fellini shares with Masina in regards to the role are evident throughout the film, as their stellar teaming grants the viewer a full study of a warm, decent character considered an outcast by society but bravely maintaining a strong sense of self. depicting Along Fellini would go on to greater fame and accolades, Cabiria remains possibly his most humane, moving work, wherein his skill at depicting a complete portrait of individual at a specific time and place is at a peak; one feels Fellini’s fascination for the character and Masina’s artistry as Cabiria is delineated in sublime fashion. 

                Giulietta Masina had worked in films for over a decade prior to Cabiria, starting with a bit in Roberto Rossellini’s landmark Paisan in 1946. Honing her craft over the next several years led to a mammoth breakthrough as the tragicomic waif in La Strada, the success of which helped bring her and Fellini to the forefront of world cinema. Strada won a Best Foreign Language Film Oscar among many other awards and critical hosannas, with Masina’s moving work as the naïve heroine considered a major factor in the movie’s potent effect on viewers, leading some critics to draw comparisons of Masina to other renown artists in the tragicomic vein, specifically “The Tramp,” Charlie Chaplin. With this major accomplishment, it would be a significant task to have a reteaming of star and director create an even more effective vision, but Fellini and Masina surpassed all expectations with Cabiria, artfully building a rich, multi-faceted portrait of a heroine of individuality, spirit and strength.

Although compelling in Strada, there are times in this early Fellini masterwork wherein Masina is clearly playing up the comic and dramatic aspects of the role. With Cabiria, she fully embodies the character in a soulful, completely viable manner. The comedic and serious elements are still there and colorful, but always mesh believably with Cabiria’s unique, spirited persona. Rarely has a performer been so in touch with a character, and Masina beautifully and sensitively depicts each of Cabiria’s beguiling traits, culminating in one of the greatest and most impactful final moments in film, wherein Masina illustrates the indomitable nature of the human spirit with a brief, unforgettable smile at the camera that is both heartbreaking and inspiring; anyone feeling hopeless due to dire circumstances would do well to watch this beautifully-enacted scene and take heart in Cabiria’s unshakeable courage and endurance. Masina is also very funny and spontaneous in other key moments, such as dancing to a fare-thee-well in a nightclub, or bantering back-and-forth with other members of the world’s oldest profession, while registering as deeply humane in more thought-provoking sequences wherein Cabiria reflects on themes involving religion, faith and regret as they relate to her in her life and her sense of worth as she toils in her chosen field. After her eminent portrayal of possibly the screens’ most endearing lady of the night, Masina would continue in films through the sixties, including another substantial role in Fellini’s 1965 Juliet of the Spirits, before making a nice late-career impression in her husband’s 1986 comedy Fred and Ginger, as well as at the 1993 Oscars wherein Fellini received a special Oscar, and from the stage lovingly chastised Masina for crying in the audience.

Although Masina is aptly front-and-center throughout, several others manage to get an impression in edgewise. In an early comical sequence, the virile Amedeo Nazzari brings an air of machismo conceit to his role of Alberto Lazzari, a movie star who picks up an awed Cabiria on a whim after a falling out with his girlfriend. Franca Marzi is also formidable as Wanda, the tough, loyal roommate and colleague of Cabiria, who wants the best for her friend but is wary of Cabiria’s often unorthodox choices (with Marzi in the role, a viewer clearly grasps Wanda’s firm sense of reality and loving support for her friend, and one is grateful Cabiria has a figure so staunch in her life she can turn to when needed), while Aldo Silvani upholds a creepy presence as the wizard who puts Cabiria in an emotionally revealing trance late in the film. Finally, Francois Perier reads as both appealingly earnest and slightly and mysteriously tense as Oscar, the gentle suitor Cabiria meets late in the film, skillfully lending credence to the film’s extraordinary finale and, as with Masina’s seminal work, making it difficult for a viewer to forget Perier in this role when seeing him in other films.

                A big critical success upon its 1957 release, resulting in an Oscar win for Best Foreign Film, David di Donatello Direction and Producer awards for Fellini and Dino De Laurentiis, respectively, and Best Actress prizes for Masina from the Cannes and San Sebastián film festivals, Nights of Cabiria represented a triumph for all the creative forces behind and in front of the camera involved in making one of the cinema’s most significant and emotionally transcendent experiences. The reputation of Cabiria has only grown with time, with it now being regarding as one of the greatest films of Italian Cinema. The movie’s influence inspired the hit 1966 Broadway musical Sweet Charity, ambitiously transferred to the screen by Bob Fosse 1969 with Shirley MacLaine making a fine impact in the title role, and a successful 1998 re-release of Cabiria brought the film to a whole new audience, while including a sequence initially cut from the film. Further plaudits include placement in the National Society of Film Critic’s 2002 “Top 100 Essential Films of All Time” list (at #85) and the BBC’s 2018 list of “The 100 Greatest Foreign Language Films” list (at #87). At that 1998 re-release the author, who had previously only seen a dubbed version on television, was able to fully grasp the impact the original Cabiria can have on a rapt audience, as besides being immersed in the proceedings myself, I witnessed the powerful reaction of others who laughed and cried along with Masina as she beautifully conveyed one of Cinema’s greatest heroine’s every emotion with devastating potency, emphasizing a key reason why this masterpiece will endure in memory for any viewer lucky enough to encounter Cabiria’s singular charms via the introspective, droll, quirky and poignant work of Masina in one of Cinema’s truly imperishable performances.