Vittorio De Sica Hits His Neorealistic Stride with the Profound Shoeshine

 

A major work in cinema, 1946’s Shoeshine announced on a global scale a new directorial force in film in the form of actor/writer Vittorio De Sica, who granted audiences an insightful, stark look at Rome, Italy, just after WWII. In detailing the tale of two young impoverished boys, Pasquale and Giuseppe, and how their friendship evolves as they face a series of life-changing events after working to purchase a beloved horse via the title profession and through other avenues, De Sica uses on-location shooting and untried actors to create a remarkably realistic mise-en-scène that lands with shattering impact. In unfolding the moving and straightforward narrative created by frequent De Sica collaborator Cesare Zavattini, along with fellow screenwriters Sergio Amide, Adolfo Franci and Cesare Giulio Viola, De Sica manages to capture a time and place as effectively as anyone, helping the new Neorealism movement in film progress substantially after the previous year’s Rome, Open City from Roberto Rossellini brought the genre to worldwide prominence. Alessandro Cicognini’s alternately poignant and playful score, Ubaldo Arata’s evocative, often documentary-style cinematography and Eraldo Da Roma’s precise editing are other key factors that draws one into the story with immediacy, resulting in an unforgettable and thought-provoking viewing experience.

                Born in 1901, De Sica started his theatrical career as an actor in the 1920s before his entry into Italian films in the 1930s, leading to his debut as director via 1940’s Rose scarlatte, in which he also starred, followed by intriguing fare harboring neorealistic touches such as The Children Are Watching Us and 1945’s The Gate of Heaven. With Shoeshine, De Sica appears to have masterly developed complete control in crafting his artistic vision to film with intelligence and truth, allowing for total involvement in Pasquale and Giuseppe’s plight as the lost youngsters find themselves caught up in a legal system set up to work against them at every turn, leading to vivid scenes in a juvenile detention center wherein De Sica is able to show how ill-equipped postwar Italy was in attempting to care for these abandoned youths. De Sica demonstrates great care and sensitivity in dealing with his cast, from stars Franco Interlenghi and Rinaldo Smordoni as Pasquale and Giuseppe and the peers they encounter in jail, to the adult players such as Emilio Cigoli, Maria Campi, Leo Garavaglia and Irene Smordoni, including those enacting the boys’ relatives and some of the officials overseeing the boys, authority figures who are given a sense of individually and understanding via honest portrayals that show at least some attempt to exhibit compassion along with sterner qualities as they discipline their young charges.

                De Sica spends much of his focus illustrating the harsh conditions the wayward adolescents deal with, lending to some startlingly believable passages, including a scene wherein the gentle, kind, frail Raffaele (Annielo Mele), who has befriended Pasquale, learns his mother cannot come to visit him, and starts to cry. In some hands this moment could come across as forced and maudlin, but De Sica resourcefully captures Raffaele’s disappointment with a simplicity and immediacy that hits an empathic viewer with alarming potency. De Sica draws the audience into the drama with a ”You are There” conviction that is maintained throughout the movie, making the characters and their journeys impossible to forget. Following this remarkable work, De Sica would reteam with Zavattini for an astounding run of influential classics during the next few years, including the Oscar-winning Bicycle Thieves in 1948, Miracle in Milan and Umberto D. De Sica would continue apace with a phenomenal film career as both actor, writer and director, wherein as a performer he gained an Oscar nomination for David Selznick’s 1957’s massive production of A Farewell to Arms, while behind the camera his supreme gifts helped launch Sophia Loren in The Gold of Naples, leading to a fruitful partnership, with Loren’s Oscar-winning work in Two Women, Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow (which won the Foreign Language Film Oscar), Marriage, Italian Style and his final directorial effort shortly before his passing in 1974, The Voyage, shortly after he helmed other Foreign Film Oscar winner, The Garden of the Finzi-Continis and scored a success in a final collaboration with Zavattini, A Brief Vacation.

As Pasquale, the tall, somber older of the two boys, Interlenghi shows an innate gift for intuitive, heartfelt screen acting of the highest order, handling the demanding role with great intensity and sincerity. Pasquale has a demanding character arch wherein he is torn between maintaining silence concerning a specific crime, and his loyalty towards Giuseppe. In one of the most riveting and emotionally charged scenes Pasquale, who believes Giuseppe is in danger, must make a difficult decision, and the manner in which Interlenghi conveys the nervous, conflicted mindset of Pasquale hits a viewer with devasting effect. In every scene Interlenghi appears to react to events and his costars with a fascinating focus, sensitivity and conviction only granted the finest thespians, leading to the final moments of the film, which Interlenghi puts over in dramatically shattering fashion. After this imposing film debut, Interlenghi would become a welcome regular presence in Italian stage and cinema, as well as obtaining roles elsewhere, with screen credits including Fellini’s breakthrough I Vitelloni, The Barefoot Contessa, Ulysses, joining De Sica for A Farewell to Arms and his final film, 2010’s La bella società, before his death in 2015 at age 83.

In the other principal role as the alternately tough and naive Giuseppe, Rinaldo Smordoni also makes a compelling film debut, adopting a comfortable and natural acting style impressive in one new to the medium. Smordoni aptly initially displays Giuseppe’s innocence and good-natured attitude towards life in a nice contrast to Pasquale’s more alert and speculative demeanor, helping to make the two friends’ bond indelible and endearing as they traipse around their Rome environs in search of shoeshine patrons and adventure, while joining forces to buy their beloved horse, Bersagliere. Later, after fate causes Giuseppe to become more adversarial and hardened, Smordoni adds more mature and jaded facets to the character’s makeup, bringing tension to Giuseppe’s interactions with his peers as conflicts arise and the dynamics in his friendship with Pasquale are altered. Unlike Interlenghi, Smordoni would only appear onscreen a few more times before his death in 2024, leaving his work as Giuseppe to account for his small but important place in movie history.

In other roles the aforementioned Annielo Mele is a welcomed warm, positive and sincere presence as the supportive Raffaele, possibly the kindest among the wayward boys hoping to get out of detention and find a stable life. The caustic, sleek Bruno Ortenzi holds one’s attention as the ominous Arcangeli, a fellow inmate of Giuseppe who factors importantly in the latter stages of the film after forming an alliance with his cellmates. Lastly, as Nannarella, the serious, weary-eyed little girl loyal to Giuseppe, Anna Pedoni brings a poignant earnestness to her brief role, including a key sequence wherein the distraught Nannarella has a memorable outburst upon hearing an unjust verdict, wherein the distinct Pedoni displays instinctive thespian gifts to match those of her young male costars.

One of the most original and telling works ever committed to film, Shoeshine was overwhelmingly embraced by critics and audiences worldwide after its release in April of 1946, with De Sica and stars Interlenghi and Smordoni gaining universal praise for stellar work in creating one of the cinema’s most penetrating and provocatively true to life dramas. Among accolades, for 1947 the film was cited on the top ten lists from both The New York Times and Time magazine, while also placing third on The National Board of Review’s list. Such was the worldwide power of De Sica’s masterpiece that at the Academy Awards ceremony in March of 1948 Shoeshine was bestowed a special Oscar due to the film’s creativity and overall merit, to go along with an Original Screenplay nomination, indicating how far-reaching reaction to the film was on an international scale. For Cinéastes looking to discover the finest films ever made, the haunting, eloquent Shoeshine offers them an opportunity to partake in a singular classic of undiminished quality and potency.

A Fond Farewell to the Radiant, Beguiling Valerie Perrine

 

A bittersweet adieu to the lovely, endearing Valerie Perrine, who passed on March 23^rd. Born in 1943, Perrine rose to prominence in 1970’s cinema after serving a lengthy apprenticeship as one of Las Vegas’ most alluring showgirls starting in the late 1960s, before a move to L.A. led to her memorable film debut as Montana Wildhack in 1972’s Slaughterhouse-Five. After this eye-catching role, Perrine would again score in an erotic vein via her highly publicized nude scene in the 1973 PBS production of Steambath. Her career highlight followed in 1974 with beautiful, moving work as Honey in Bob Fosse’s Lenny, wherein the vulnerable Perrine gracefully provided the heart of the film as Lenny Bruce’s wife, resulting in a Best Actress win at Cannes, Supporting Actress Awards from the New York Film Critics and the National Board of Review, as well as Best Actress nominations from the Golden Globes and Academy Awards.

Perrine would never again reach these critical heights, but she proved to be an Eve Teschmacher for the ages in the 1978 blockbuster Superman, perfectly mixing comic brio, sex appeal and, ultimately, a touching fragility. Perrine briefly reprised this standout role in the 1980 sequel, the same year she did her career no favors by starring in Can’t Stop the Music. Watching this entertainingly off-the-rails musical fiasco today, the innate friendly charisma Perrine effortlessly exudes onscreen is still readily apparent, making one wish for additional top roles in her filmography, while being thankful for what is there, such as work in other hits (1979’s The Electric Horseman and one of the more memorable comic bits in The Cannonball Run) and a lead role opposite Jack Nicholson in 1982’s The Border, before playing out her career with lesser big screen efforts and guest appearances on television. The author was able to catch Perrine about a decade ago at an interview/screening, wherein the star’s engaging, positive energy had not faded a jot as she won the audience over relating stories from her fascinating life and career. Rest in Peace to a beautiful, free-spirited presence in movies, Valerie Perrine.

Shirley Booth Lands a Golden Come Back Film Debut

 

            Among the most moving and involving stage-to-screen translations, 1952’s Come Back, Little Sheba maintains the dramatic heft of the 1950 Broadway success, offering film audiences more mature subject matter than normal, with seemingly few compromises made in adapting the William Inge drama (Come Back must be one of the first times the word “slut” is used in a Production Code era Hollywood film, for example) and allowing Shirley Booth to capture her legendary performance as the kind, friendly-yet-melancholic Lola Delaney, a middle-aged housewife yearning for her little dog Sheba, who was an integral part of her and her trouble husband Doc’s past. Wisely opting to not alter the material or “open up” the settings to a major extent, director Danial Mann, in the fine screenplay adaptation by Ketti Frings, chooses to focus on the conflicts at home between Doc and Lola after an attractive young collegian, Marie, becomes a boarder in their modest home, while allowing the excellent cast to fully explore their meaty roles with impactful skill and insight. Mood-enhancing B&W cinematography by James Wong Howe and music by Franz Waxman help embellish the suburban setting wherein most of the action unfolds and lend support to the top-flight performances that provide the film’s most compelling value for a viewer.

          Daniel Mann’s early start as a child actor, with additional training under Sanford Meisner, marked him as an exceptional choice to make his directional film debut helming a project strongly emphasizing the characters in the piece and the challenging thespian know-how required to bring them to life onscreen. Mann allows all the players room to bring their best to the roles, often using close-ups and simple blocking to ensure nothing distracts the audience from the fine front-and-center emoting at hand, resulting in sage, convincing and emotional impactful acting that holds up over seventy years later. Following this notable debut, Mann would go on to oversee many other top productions featuring plenty of rich performances, including a reunion with Booth for 1954’s About Mrs. Leslie, The Rose Tattoo, I’ll Cry Tomorrow, The Teahouse of the August Moon, Butterfield 8, scoring a success in the 1960’s spy genre with Our Man Flint and gaining another big hit with 1971’s suspenseful Willard, before passing in 1991 at age 79.

        The versatile Shirley Booth spent years honing her craft on Broadway (via a 1925 debut) and radio via comedy, drama and musical work, including appearances in The Philadelphia Story, My Sister Eileen, and Tonys for Goodbye My Fancy and Sheba, before being picked to recreate her greatest role onscreen. It’s amazing to watch how Booth, with no prior experience in film, instinctively modulates her work as Lola to fit the needs of the camera, allowing the performance a skill, spontaneity and heart that brings the character to life with incredible conviction in a manner not often seen, specifically from an artist recreating a role previously performed hundreds of times. Booth appears completely immersed in the role and clearly cares about depicting every aspect of Lola’s childlike nature, including her sweetness, vulnerability, pitifulness and forlorn mindset as the despondent Lola yearns for the past. In scenes such as Lola’s distressed phone call to her mother or one on her porch wherein, voice quavering, she cries out for Sheba to come back (cue the title), Booth is so unforgettable believable and touching a viewer may recall images of the fragile Lola years after viewing the movie. 

         Booth also adroitly interacts with her costars, bringing a lovely, beguiling warmth to her scenes with Lancaster and Moore, in particular illustrating the loyalty towards and dependency on Doc Lola harbors, regardless of any strife that threatens to destroy their union. After this singular triumph, Booth would return to Broadway and immediately win another Tony for The Time of the Cuckoo, appear sporadically in films (Hot Spell, The Matchmaker) before gaining her biggest fame on television in the hit sitcom Hazel, for which Booth added two Emmy awards to her already impressive roster of critical hosannas. Booth continued on television and the stage until 1974, with her last t.v. credit a notable one as the voice of Mrs. Claus in The Year Without a Santa Claus, then enjoyed a peaceful retirement until her passing in 1992 at age 94, with her complex, powerful work in Sheba looming large among her most accomplished career achievements.

        By 1952 Burt Lancaster was firmly established as a top action hero, with charisma, looks and virility to spare, when he opted to do a complete turnabout in regards to his screen image with his impactful dramatic work as the noble but tormented Doc, just after galivanting around the screen with dashing glee and vitality in one of his most endearing adventures as The Crimson Pirate, introducing the formation of Hecht-Lancaster Productions, which would gain Oscar glory in short order with 1955’s Marty. A star from his forceful film debut in 1946’s classic noir The Killers, Lancaster had built a solid filmography consisting largely of a series of top film noirs including Brute Force, Desert Fury, Criss Cross and Sorry, Wrong Number, but also including opportunities to showcase the acrobat skills he had honed prior to his film career, working opposite circus partner Nick Cravat in The Flame and the Arrow and Crimson to massively entertaining effect. During this period, 1951’s biopic Jim Thorpe- All American allowed Lancaster a chance to flex his acting acumen, but the complex role of Doc tested his thespian talents to a degree hitherto untried. 

        Some critics at the time (and later) opined the physically imposing and ultra-handsome star was miscast as the downtrodden Doc, but with Lancaster in the role a viewer senses the promise Doc had for a great life far above the modest success he attained. Lancaster, playing largely in introverted, reflective mode, brings a wealth of dignity and emotional depth to the role, fully illustrating Doc’s turmoil as he tries to keep his affairs in order and maintain a sense of harmony with Lola. In the big dramatic confrontations between the two characters during the second half of the film, Lancaster’s commitment to the part and overwhelming physical presence is frighteningly effective, making one fearful of and sympathetic to the haunted Doc. Lancaster would follow up Sheba with an incredible list of credits, including Oscar nominations for the following year’s blockbuster, From Here to Eternity, Birdman of Alcatraz, a late-career resurgence with Atlantic City, and his Oscar win as the magnetic Elmer Gantry, as well as impressive work in a slew of other top entertainments, including the smash Trapeze, mesmerizing as The Rainmaker, Gunfight at the O.K. Corral opposite frequent screen partner Kirk Douglas, Sweet Smell of Success as the villainous and powerful J.J. Hunsecker, a career highlight with The Leopard, the offbeat, now cult status offering The Swimmer, another blockbuster with Airport, which Lancaster did not hold in high regard, and a fitting end to a legendary film career via 1989’s hit Field of Dreams, before his passing in 1994 at 80.

          Terry Moore, already a veteran of films at 23 after making a 1940 movie debut and working mainly in bits with a first credit using her real name, Helen Koford in 1945’s Son of Lassie, until a late-1940s breakthrough to lead roles via The Return of October and Mighty Joe Young marked her an ingenue to watch, would start the new decade in programmers such as 1950’s The Great Rupert opposite Jimmy Durante until Sheba provided a significant step up in her screen career. As Marie Buckholder, the college student who unwittingly brings about turmoil between her boarders, Moore proves a perfect fit for the role, lending a straightforwardness, freshness, skill and a sometimes-underlining seductiveness to her playing that allows for a nice contrast among the more somber material, while interacting endearingly with Booth and Lancaster. Also, in her major dramatic moment wherein a shaken Marie has to reflect on her relationship options and how far sexually a young coed should go circa 1952 Moore, aided by Howe’s exceptional camera work that frames the shaken Marie in close up at a nighttime window, thoughtfully conveys the many conflicting emotions the character is experiencing as she considers her plight and possible future actions. Following her fine Sheba work, Moore’s enhanced status led to a Life cover for her follow-up film, Beneath the 12-Mile Reef (one of the first Cinemascope movies), then work in other notable 1950’s offerings such as Daddy Long Legs, Shack Out on 101, Bernardine, standing out as the sensual Betty Anderson in a huge smash, Peyton Place, then continuing in films and television from the 1960’s on, with appearances on series such as My Three Sons, Batman, Fantasy Island and Wiseguy. Befittingly, Ms. Moore did a cameo in the 1998 Mighty Joe Young remake, and before that garnered much attention via an autobiography and trial concerning her relationship with possible husband Howard Hughes. An enduring figure in films, Moore’s last credited appearance to date came via 2019’s Silent Life, 79 years after her first in Maryland.

          Richard Jaeckel, who debuted in films as a teenager via 1943’s Guadalcanal Diary and became a familiar presence in war-based dramas afterwards, bolstered his film career substantially with his attention-grabbing work as Turk, the sexy athlete whose overtly amorous designs on Marie helped place Sheba in the “adult drama” category circa 1952. The handsome Jaeckel has a confidence, magnetism and natural ease in his portrayal of Turk that allows a viewer to understand his motivations, even with the arrogant, forceful college jock is acting in an untoward and self-centered manner towards Marie. Jaeckel generates nice erotic chemistry with Moore as they depict the flirtatious and sensual nature of Marie and Turk’s relationship, leading to a vivid moment between them that causes the plot to move into starker dramatic territory. Following Sheba, Jaeckel would maintain his work in combat-driven pictures but also regularly gain roles in film and television via other genres, with a highlight coming via Oscar-nominated work in 1971’s Sometimes a Great Notion opposite Paul Newman. Among other cast members, Philip Ober as Ed Anderson, a supportive friend of the Delaneys and Lisa Golm as a critical but concerned neighbor also make nice impressions.

Upon release in December of 1952, Come Back, Little Sheba gained reviews to place it among the year’s most highly regarded dramas as well as healthy box-office returns, with rentals of $3,500,000 landing Sheba on the list of 1953’s top 20 hits, according to Variety. Critically, the film merited placement among the top ten movies of the year on both Time magazine and The New York Times lists, while gaining nominations for Best Picture from the British Academy and Golden Globes, and for Ketti Frings and Daniel Mann from the Writers Guild and Directors Guild, respectively. As a showcase for the thespian mastery of Shirley Booth the film came through in spades, with Booth winning Best Actress prizes from The National Board of Review, The New York Film Critics Awards, the Golden Globes and the Cannes Film Festival, where the film also won a special prize for “Award of Dramatic Film.” Come Oscar time, Booth’s frontrunner status held firm as she again captured Best Actress, while editor Warren Low gained a nomination, along with Terry Moore for Best Supporting Actress. With airings on television and frequent releases on physical media, including a recent Blu-ray from Kino Lorber providing an excellent print of the classic, Sheba has maintained its reputation as a moving, thought-provoking drama featuring one of the Hallmark performances in Oscar history via the enduring, heartrending work of its uncannily gifted star, Shirley Booth.

A Fond Farewell to an Acting Icon, Robert Duvall (1931-2026)

 

                An elite star who made his impact felt consistently in a wide array of movies during an impressive sixty year run in films in both leading and character roles, Robert Duvall passed away on February 15^th at age 95. Born in San Diego, Duvall would serve a stint in the Army before beginning a long tenure in New York theater and surrounding environs starting in the mid 1950’s, wherein colleagues during his studies at the Neighborhood Playhouse included Dustin Hoffman, Gene Hackman and James Caan. An encounter with Horton Foote aided Duvall in gaining his brief but impactful screen debut as Boo Radley in 1962’s To Kill a Mockingbird, followed by a solid resume build up via frequent television (The Twilight Zone, The Wild, Wild West and The Mod Squad, etc.) and film (Bullitt, True Grit and M*A*S*H chief among these) appearances over the next ten years, as well as finally gaining a Broadway debut in 1966 via the suspense hit Wait Until Dark, before a major breakthrough and first Oscar nomination via 1972’s The Godfather, the Francis Ford Coppola Academy-Award winning blockbuster that helped usher in a more daring a progressive era of films.  

Duvall’s success in Godfather led to a wealth of acclaim in key portrayals over the next several decades, resulting in seven Oscar nominations and a win for 1983’s Tender Mercies, wherein Foote (who also won for his screenplay) came through and wrote a beautiful part for Duvall as down-on-his-luck Country Music star Mac Sledge. Duvall was able to bring great humanity to his roles, while combining strength and sensitivity and complexity to his roles, whether the characters be largely sympathetic (Mockingbird, Mercies, Get Low) or more interpersonally challenged (Apocalypse Now, The Great Santini, The Apostle) in nature. For the author, Duvall’s mesmerizing work as Marine “Bull” Meecham in Santini lingered in memory after an early 1980’s viewing as one of the most penetrating views of a certain type of out-of-control control freak, including a scene where the formidable Meecham taunts his more compassionate son, Ben (a brilliant Michael O’Keefe, Oscar-nominated for his sublime work here along with Duvall) during a basketball game. This moment counted among the best dramatic and truly unforgettable sequences I’ve ever seen in a film, and I was able to ask Mr. Duvall about it during an interview that took place at the Aero Theater in conjunction with a showing of one of his later-career highlights, Get Low. I filmed the interview, wherein the endearingly low-key, personable star gave a nice overview of his career and Low. The piece can be viewed here, and R.I.P. to one of the most notable and gifted actors of his or any generation, Robert Duvall.  

Joan Crawford Works Her Way Up Flamingo Road with Histrionic Elan

            A tawdry yet invigorating excursion into melodramatic territory via the title locale, Warner Bros. 1949 Flamingo Road reunites star Joan Crawford with the studio’s preeminent director Michael Curtiz for another florid, noirish tale a few years after Mildred Pierce, their rewarding 1945 collaboration that revived Crawford’s career and brought her an Academy Award, while also re-establishing her screen persona at Warners as a tough, indomitable heroine, making her a fine fit for Road’s Lane Bellamy, a world-weary carnival dancer who finds herself down-but-not-out in the small town of Bolden City, wherein she seeks to find a better lot in life, but instead encounters initial setbacks and adversaries to rival those found in many a Crawford picture, including Pierce. Curtiz, transferring the Robert Wilder-Edmund H. North screenplay (from Wilder’s 1942 novel and (with wife Sally) 1946 play) to the screen, manages to keep the often-lurid material constantly engrossing, while allowing Crawford ample opportunity to convey both Lane’s steely reserve and a somewhat more benevolent nature not often seen in subsequent Crawford vehicles. A deft supporting cast, including the overpowering Syndey Greenstreet in one of his final roles as Titus Semple, the town’s ominous sheriff determined to make life hell for Lane, and an appropriately grandiose Max Steiner score aid star and director in keeping the action enticingly entertaining for the film’s fast-paced 94 minutes.

          For the Hungarian-born (as Mihály Kertész in 1886) Curtiz, Road would provide another notable work in perhaps his most remarkably successful decade as a filmmaker. Starting his durable career in 1912 in Hungary, Curtiz would also work in Danish, then Austrian cinema before being brought to Warner Bros. in 1926 for one of the greatest director-studio collaborations found in the Golden Age of Hollywood. Quickly establishing himself as a reliable, talented professional who could tackle any genre with aplomb, Curtiz would helm such memorable 1930’s classics as Doctor X, Captain Blood, Marked Woman, The Adventures of Robin Hood, Angels with Dirty Faces and Dodge City. Curtiz reached his peak during the 1940s with mammoth critical and/or box office success coming via The Sea Hawk, Yankee Doodle Dandy, This is the Army, Pierce, Life with Father, directing Doris Day to stardom in Romance on the High Seas and his Oscar-winning work in the definitive classic film (or film, period) for many, Casablanca. The confidence and skill honed over years as a top director are evident throughout Road, as Curtiz seemingly effortlessly moves the plot contrivances along, drawing the viewer in and keeping their interest regardless of how plausible some of the situations appear, while showcasing Crawford’s sometimes ornate dramatic style and the prime efforts of a sturdy group of Warner’s contract players with precise and verve as conflicts mount for the characters, creating fine opportunities for a rich array of emoting by Crawford and Company. During the 1950s Curtiz would add more intriguing titles such as The Breaking Point, Young Man with a Horn, We’re No Angels, The Proud Rebel and one of Elvis Presley’s best, King Creole to an already stacked filmography, along with another gigantic hit via 1954’s White Christmas, before ending his career with 1961’s The Comancheros, just before his passing in 1962.

           Entering her third decade as one of cinema’s most indestructible leading ladies after first breaking through at MGM with 1928’s Our Dancing Daughters, thereby becoming one of the studio’s biggest box office draws, first as a carefree flapper, then as a charming but determined beauty working her way from rags-to-riches in a manner similar to what Crawford pulled off herself, and often opposite her male counterpart in some ways, Clark Gable, Crawford had reinvented herself at Warners after leaving MGM in the early 1940s, and by the time of Road had developed a more mature persona as a sage, often cynical matron encountering a world of heartache and corruption during the course of a film, such as her frequently suffering protagonists in Pierce and to possibly even greater impact following that triumph with glorious turns in Humoresque (at her most alluring, dramatically and otherwise, and matching up superbly with the equally forceful John Garfield) and another Oscar nomination for possibly her most challenging work as the mentality unbalanced woman driven to distraction by the callous Van Heflin in 1947’s Possessed.

With Road, Crawford has no trouble suggesting the down-to-earth Lane’s knowing street smarts culled from years of hard knocks, but unlike many of her hard-bitten characters to come in vehicles such as The Damned Don’t Cry, Harriet Craig, Torch Song and the compulsively watchable Queen Bee, in Road Crawford still finds enough humanity in the role to place the audience firmly on her side, especially once Lane crosses paths and raises the ire of Titus, leading to the most riveting sequences in the film as they combat each other and Crawford and Greenstreet constantly vie for top thespian honors in these toe-to-toe passages wherein both Lane and Titus appear to relish the thought of the other being six feet under, yesterday. Following Road, Crawford would witness a downturn in her fortunes at Warners, finally leaving the studio for yet another comeback with Oscar-nominated work in 1952’s engrossing noir thriller Sudden Fear, then continue through the decade apace with titles such as Nicholas Ray’s wonderfully female-centric Western Johnny Guitar, May-December romances with Jeff Chandler and Cliff Robertson, respectively, in Female on the Beach and Autumn Leaves, then closing out the 1950s on a high note as the established career woman unbending towards the newer talent in the office in The Best of Everything, before entering a final phase as a horror queen in the 1960s via her legendary teaming with Bette Davis in perhaps Crawford’s final top-quality production, Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?, followed by a series of lesser exploitation thrillers, of which her committed performance in William Castle’s Strait-Jacket stands out, until her final movie, 1970’s woebegone Trog.

In his final year in films after a sensational run at Warners and elsewhere, starting with his peerless Oscar-nominated work as Kasper Gutman in 1941’s The Maltese Falcon before further marking himself as one of filmdom’s most singular character players via (among others) Casablanca, Christmas in Connecticut and The Hucksters, Greenstreet creates an indelible image as the sweaty, vengeful Titus.  Maintaining an eerie, hate-filled focus on Lane belying the portly sheriff’s often seemingly lackadaisical nature and utilizing one of the most sinister leers imaginable, Greenstreet paints his portrayal with venomous flavor, making a viewer clearly understand Titus is willing to use any diabolical measures necessary to rid himself of Lane or anyone else who questions his authority over the town, and his dirty dealings therein. With the magnetic Greenstreet and Crawford both in top form as not-to-be-trifled-with types, it’s wonderful to watch Titus and the unintimidated Lane battle it out to gain the upper hand, with the shifts in power as Lane keeps crossing swords with Titus (including an unforgettable elephant reference) keeping one held in diverting fashion as the plot twists unfold and the stakes are elevated for the adversaries. After this fitting final go-round at Warners as a colorful villain, Greenstreet would exit the studio with a cameo in It’s a Great Feeling, then end his career at MGM opposite James Stewart and Spencer Tracy in the WWII thriller Malaya, before passing in 1954 at age 74.

As Fielding Carlisle, the deputy sheriff who quicky takes a fancy to Lane, Zachary Scott reunites with Pierce costar Crawford but, unlike his slick and sneaky (if also kind of sexy) playboy in Pierce, in a more empathetic role as a kind, supportive contact for Lane. Scott does a fine job delineating Fielding’s conflicted state over his feelings for Lane and his dependency on his boss, Titus, who obviously doesn’t share his underling’s enthusiasm for the new girl in town. David Brian, making his first major screen appearance as Dan Reynolds, the big-time businessman who catches Lane’s eye and vice-versa, shows confidence and  a natural affinity with the camera, and would continue his breakout year with solid work in the superb drama Intruder in the Dust and as Bette Davis’ object of attraction in King Vidor’s torrid Beyond the Forest, which would serve as a perfect “Warner’s 1949 Melodramatic Mayhem” double feature with Road. As the roadhouse proprietresses who gives Lane a chance, Gladys George brings an earthy, knowing good-naturedness to her scenes. Others showing up to good advantage include Gertrude Michael as Millie, Lane’s wisecracking coworker at a restaurant, Tito Vuolo as Pete, who runs the self-named diner wherein Lane toils, Virginia Huston as Fielding’s tony, right side of the tracks girlfriend Annabelle and Fred Clark, gearing up to be one of the most recognizable character actors in films and television. 

Released in April of 1949, Flamingo Road garnered praise for Crawford’s latest addition in her screen gallery of spirited delineations of women impervious to any obstacle thrown their way, or at least able to survive them, usually while moving up the ladder of success in the same manner Crawford managed to do time and again throughout her singular career. Although Road failed to match the critical and box-office results of some other recent Crawford endeavors, specifically Pierce, along with some decent reviews the public demonstrated a strong Crawford fanbase was still eager to catch her yet again in larger-than-life action, with the film nearly doubling its production cost in rentals at a time when television was starting to draw viewers away from the silver screen. Over the years Road has continued to entertain those who discover the classic via airings on t.v. and through physical media, including a recent Blu-ray from Warner Archive presenting the best print ever of the movie, whose long-term popularity led to a television series bearing the same name in the early 1980s. Fans of Crawford, Curtiz, melodramas, and/or classic movies will be rewarded with an enthralling experience taking what is sure to be an eventful stroll down the striking theatrical paths found on Flamingo Road.

A Fond Farewell to a Great Comic Force, Catherine O'Hara

                A superb comic presence who made a lasting mark in films and television, the lovely and talented Catherine O’Hara passed on January 30^th at age 71. Born in Toronto, O’Hara rose to fame as part of the legendary SCTV troupe in the 1970s and 1980s alongside the likes of John Candy, Eugene Levy, Andrea Martin and Rick Moranis. Winning an Emmy for writing on the show, O’Hara would move on to extensive work in films on t.v. with a big-screen debut in 1980’s Nothing Personal leading to a rewarding career in many key movies of the next several decades, perhaps most famously as the beset mother in the Home Alone franchise, ensuing O’Hara ongoing recognition with the public, specifically every holiday season, while also shining in efforts such as After Hours, Beetlejuice, A Nightmare Before Christmas (another holiday mainstay) and perhaps most indelibly as a standout performer in a series of Christopher Guest mocumentaries, including Waiting For Guffman, Best in Show, A Mighty Wind and For Your Consideration.

                In these sage satires, O’Hara manages to remain relatable and real while deftly mixing a wild comic sensibility with a more serene, reflective countenance, lending heart and humanity to proceedings, specifically in her incisive, touching work in Mighty Wind. Following this memorable effort, O’Hara would again find humor and pathos in her showcase role in 2006’s Consideration, which traces the severe turnaround in the life of Marilyn Hack, an earnest, largely unknown actor in small scale movies who faces a possible surge in her career after the media targets her as a potential Oscar nominee for her newest drama. How O’Hara carefully illustrates the changes in Marilyn’s mindset in ways that are both funny and moving while managing a truly imposing character arch leaves a viewer in awe of her amazing gift as a thespian. During a Supporting Actress Blogathon that ran for several years at the time by the wonderful blogger Stinky Lulu, wherein before the Oscar nominations bloggers submitted overviews of standout work that should be noticed, for 2006 this author aptly picked O’Hara’s outstanding Consideration work for inclusion (read about that here), and it’s a shame she didn’t gain more attention for this sublime performance by the Academy, although major critics did tip their hats to her, including wins from The National Board of Review and The Kansas City Film Critics, among others.

                 O’Hara continued to be a major player in comedy, witnessing a late-career uptick in popularity and critical notice, winning another Emmy in 2020 for Schitt’s Creek (appearing again with Levy), and in films making a major impression in a big 2024 hit, Beetlejuice Beetlejuice and finishing her television career on a high note with Emmy-nominated work in The Studio. A knowing, bemused, graceful figure in entertainment, the substantial wit and style of Catherine O’Hara will be missed by the multitude of fans who have marveled over her exceptional talent for decades. R.I.P. to a true comic original, Catherine O’Hara. 

Spencer Tracy Encounters Adversaries Aplenty in John Sturges' Blistering Black Rock

 

               A terrific, suspenseful crime drama of merit and force, 1955’s Bad Day at Black Rock grants ace director John Sturges and a stellar cast and crew the opportunity to generate standout work in unfolding the noir-tinged, exciting tale taking place just after WWII 1945, wherein during an eventful 24 hours one (and one-armed) John Macreedy enters Black Rock seeking out Komoko, the Japanese-American father of a heroic colleague, and encounters unwarranted wrath by the bullying majority of the townsfolk. The streamlined, involving screenplay by Millard Kaufman (adaptation by Don McGuire, based on the 1947 short story by Howard Breslin) is helmed with great style, economy and intelligence by Sturges, which allows the powerhouse cast of prime talent to thrive with colorful, indelible performances, whether playing morally sound citizens or the predominately unsavory denizens of Black Rock, resulting in one of the most impactful and persuasive 81 minutes found in the cinema.

                For Sturges, Black Rock provided the director a chance to dynamically display his well-honed skills for crafting an artful, riveting entertainment with efficiency and individuality, after starting his career at Columbia in 1946 and moving to a productive association with MGM at the outset of the 1950s, with intriguing fare such as Mystery Street and Jeopardy to his credit prior to Bad Day. From the opening shots (artfully set up via Newell P. Kimlin’s adept editing) depicting a training crossing a barren landscape to reach the title town courtesy of the mood-enhancing Cinemascope lensing of William C. Mellor, Sturges sets a tone of isolation and danger befitting all the intrigue to come, making audiences unsettled at the outset as they fear for safety of the serene, seemingly vulnerable hero once he steps off the train. The inspired Sturges builds the tension thereafter and maintains a swift pace (aided by Andre Previn’s gripping score) as the mystery concerning the town’s backlash against Macreedy is detailed, presenting a template of how to create a prime, thoroughly absorbing movie with precision in under 90 minutes, a rule of thumb many current directors would do well to consider instead of regularly making 2-3 hour epics that often go on aimlessly as the viewer’s patience is subjected to a stern test. Sturges would continue with success post-Bad Day, often in the Western and Adventure genres, adding classics such as Gunfight at the O.K. Corral, The Magnificent Seven and The Great Escape to his filmography before slowing down his output in the 1970s, with 1976’s The Eagle Has Landed marking Sturges’ final screen directorial assignment.

                In the lead part of Macreedy, Spencer Tracy proves himself the ideal choice to portray a calm, world-weary, ethical hero with an edge. At this stage, Tracy had become one of the most revered and successful of screen stars, with two Oscars to his credit for Captain’s Courageous and Boy’s Town and years as a top box-office draw in some of MGM’s other top output, both solo and opposite his ideal costar, Katharine Hepburn, specifically in enjoyable comedies such as Adam’s Rib and Pat and Mike. By the time of Bad Day, Tracy had honed his low-keyed, trustworthy persona and subtle acting style to a natural, perfect pitch, and he expertly conveys the casual friendliness and determination of Macreedy as he contemplates how to deal with a slew of fierce antagonists, confidently enacting one of the most fascinating and original roles in his illustrious roster of fine characterizations. Following Bad Day, Tracy would limit his screen output, but continue to shine with thoughtful, honest works in quality projects, gaining four more Best Actor nominations in the process (for a total of nine), including one for moving work opposite Hepburn in his final role, the 1967 smash Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?, wherein his key monologue towards the end of the movie shows the sublime Tracy in full control of his technique as one of the great screen actors of his generation.

After an Oscar-nominated career-establishing role as the racist killer in 1947’s Crossfire, followed by other sweaty, intent wrongdoers in noir classics such as Act of Violence and The Racket, Robert Ryan once again displays his prodigious skill at outlining a prime villain with a chilling, masterfully calm ominousness. As Reno Smith, who exhibits a firm control over Black Rock and the largely obedient citizens therein, Ryan convincingly dominates his scenes, instilling a magnetism, sense of danger and cold, calculating nature mixed with a seething paranoia in Reno that make it hard to watch anyone else whenever Ryan’s onscreen illustrating Reno’s careful weighing of his next deviant action with purposeful focus. Ryan works ideally with Tracy as the two expert thespians entertainingly engage in the battle of wits between Macreedy and Reno via tactical, ingenious playing that completely draws one into the scenario as the viewer anticipants who will ultimately emerge victorious from the stark situation. The often-underrated Ryan would contain to offer fine portraits onscreen as both heel and hero until his passing in 1973, with God’s Little Acre, Billy Budd, The Dirty Dozen and an exceptional final performance in The Iceman Cometh factoring into his admirable filmography.

                As the sole female character among in an imposing cast, Anne Francis makes her presence felt as Liz, the tough yet glamourous (this is MGM after all) young lady in charge of the gas station and bearing an unfortunate infatuation towards Reno. Francis does a nice job of showing Liz’s ambivalent nature towards the stranger in town, allowing an audience to ponder the conflicted character’s motivations and loyalties as the plot thickens. On an early career high during this period after a 1947 film debut, Francis would follow Bad Day by scoring in two other major 1955 hits, Battle Cry and The Blackboard Jungle, before finding her most iconic screen role, again as the lone (but much more altruistic) feminine player in Forbidden Planet as the lovely, inquisitive Altaira, then continue in films and television, wherein she gained further career highlights with memorable Twilight Zone episodes (specifically “The After Hours”) and a Golden Globe for her work as a spy on the Honey West series.

Ernest Borgnine, making a name for himself as one of filmdom’s most despicable villains after his breakthrough the previous year giving Frank Sinatra a sadistically hard time in From Here to Eternity, makes another huge impression as the brash, brawny Coley, the most outwardly aggressive of the town bullies. Coley’s intense focus on Macreedy and his glee in harassing the older man leads to the movie’s most famous and satisfying scene, wherein the handicapped Macreedy teaches Coley a few of the finer points of martial arts with some moves rarely seen in a Hollywood film before. Lee Marvin, who similar to Borgnine had a career-establishing bad guy role in 1953 as the cad literally throwing Gloria Grahame more than she can handle in The Big Heat, also appears to relish the chance to play a despicable type with his own unique flair, adopting a cool, detached demeanor as Hector, a cowboy with ice in his veins who seems capable of any atrocity known to man that Coley and Smith don’t get around to doing first. Although continuing to find plenty of rewarding tough bad guy roles in Westerns and dramas after their stellar Bad Day work, both Borgnine and Marvin would reach artistic peaks in other genres, with Borgnine gaining his Oscar role later in 1955 as the shy, earnest title character in Marty, and Marvin taking the Best Actor Academy Award a decade later in a dual role as the hero and (in a throwback to his earlier roles) as the steely-eyed, fierce villain in the otherwise amusing Cat Ballou.         

Among the more ethical townspeople not entirely adverse to Macreedy’s arrival, Walter Brennan and Dean Jagger offer strong work befitting the two former Oscar winners. As Doc Velie, the benevolent, sage local, Brennan adds a few bits of welcomed levity to the proceedings as Doc opines with Macreedy concerning the dire circumstances the visitor now faces. Conversely, Jagger maintains an aura of pitifulness as Tim Horn, the honest but ineffectual sheriff under Reno’s control who finds it difficult to take a stand against the hateful brood wanting to rid themselves of Macreedy. As Liz’s forlorn brother Pete, the boyish overseer of the hotel, John Ericson, one of MGM’s top young talents after an impactful debut in 1951’s Teresa, adds an interesting pensive earnestness to the often-nervous Pete’s demeanor, which makes it unclear which side the unsure juvenile will join when forced to action. Finally, character actor Russell Collins has one of his best roles as Mr. Hastings, the cagey train station agent and telegraph operator who first encounters Macreedy when he enters Black Rock and demonstrates the foreboding behavior the outsider will face thereafter from the majority of the residents.

Opening in January 1955, Bad Day at Black Rock gained solid box office returns and major praise from critics impressed by the enthralling story and expertly detailed characters orchestrated by Sturges with class and distinction. During awards season, the early release of Bad Day did not hinder its chances of notice among the higher profile awards contenders. Both the National Board of Review and The New York Times placed the film among the top ten for the year, while at the Cannes Film Festival Tracy notably tied for Best Actor with costar Borgnine (for Marty), in a year wherein Borgnine took nearly every Best Actor prize single-handedly. Sturges was cited as a quarterly winner by the Director’s Guild of America, while Kaufman and McGuire were among the nominees for Best Written Drama by the Writer’s Guild, while the film gained Best Picture and the United Nations Award nominations at the British Academy Awards. At the Oscars, Bad Day captured nominations for Sturges, Tracy and Kaufman for Screenplay. Over the years, the movie has found favor with film enthusiasts interested in the work of Sturges and his talented roster of stars, reaching a wide audience with showings on television and physical media releases, including a Warner Archive Blu Ray offering the best presentation of the classic and in 2018 attaining inclusion on the esteemed National Film Registry list. Among the tensest, most efficiently created and best acted dramas of the 1950s, Bad Day at Black Rock provides viewers with an engrossing venture to a remote hamlet offering a plethora of thrill-inducing moments as the action escalates to a fever pitch while audiences anxiously await the uncertain fate of Macreedy, a unique screen hero for the cinematic ages.