Fred Astaire and Cyd Charisse Board The Band Wagon to Cinematic Greatness

 

             One of the primary films responsible for MGM’s reputation as the preeminent studio behind the “Golden Age of Musicals” in the 1940s and 1950s, The Band Wagon allows two of the screen’s supreme terpsichorean talents, Fred Astaire and Cyd Charisse, the opportunity to pair up for some of the most memorable dancing ever seen, while Vincente Minnelli brings his typically exceptional taste, sophistication and Grade-A utilization of those MGM top production values to offer a visually-stunning, constantly enjoyable 1953 cinematic undertaking that constitutes one of the classiest and most indelible entries found in the musical genre. Betty Comden and Adolph Green, at their peak as a screenwriting team just after penning the immortal Singin’ in the Rain, offer up another fresh, amusing, and knowing take on a show business theme, detailing the various behind-the-scenes complications involved in putting on a Broadway show, specifically in relation to Jeffrey Cordova, an egomaniacal actor/director, Tony Hunter, his hoofer costar looking for a comeback, and Gaby Gerard, the beautiful, elegant ballerina chosen for his dancing partner and Lester and Lily Marton, the writers of the musical who also know their way around a number. Howard Dietz and Arthur Schwartz’s great songbook is artfully meshed with the storyline, combining classics such as “Dancing in the Dark” (from the otherwise unrelated the 1931 revue The Band Wagon starring Astaire and his sister Adele) and “A Shien on Your Shoes” with a new instant showbiz anthem, “That’s Entertainment,” while Michael Kidd’s ace chorography ensures each number is staged to the best advantage, further aiding The Band Wagon’s status as one of Hollywood’s most sparkling musicals.

Vincente Minnelli was in the midst of an incredible run at MGM, with a decade of quality output behind him by the time he helmed Band Wagon. Starting with his directorial debut via 1943’s Cabin in the Sky (after years as one of the most ingenious set and costume designers on stage and in movies) Minnelli would forge one of the most creative and diverse filmographies, with such prime offerings as 1944’s holiday perennial Meet Me in St. Louis starring soon-to-be wife Judy Garland, the wonderful 1945 romance The Clock with Garland ideally paired in a dramatic vein with the equally sensitive Robert Walker, the inventive The Pirate, then starting the 1950s off with the one-two-three punch of Father of the Bride, guiding An American in Paris  to a Best Picture Oscar, then moving to some florid melodrama with the Tinseltown-themed The Bad and the Beautiful. Clearly witnessing a peak period of artistry, Minnelli brings to the Band Wagon’s production design and the scenario rich flavor and color, while focusing on the star performers’ abundant gifts to allow each the opportunity to shine in a distinctive manner. Among many Band Wagon highs, Minnelli reaches an apex with the gorgeously constructed “The Girl Hunt” set piece, an elaborate, fasted-paced and quick-witted musical take on the popular Mickey Spillane crime novels. Following his impeccably-crafted work on The Band Wagon, Minnelli would continue his beneficial partnership with MGM with other notable works including Lust for Life, a Best Director Oscar for Gigi, the same year he staged the compelling drama of Some Came Running, Home from the Hill and The Courtship of Eddie’s Father. After leaving the studio following yet another hit (at least in box-office terms), the Elizabeth Taylor/Richard Buton led (or misled) The Sandpiper, Minnelli would wrap up one of the more substantial film careers working Babara Streisand through the large-scale movie adaptation of On a Clear Day You Can See Forever before teaming with no less than Ingrid Bergman and multi-talented daughter Liza for his final film, 1976’s A Matter of Time.

                Band Wagon allowed Astaire the vehicle to enter a third decade in film with his great style and hoofing dexterity undiminished. First gaining fame as a youth on stage with his sister Adele, leading them to triumphs on Broadway and in London in early adulthood, after Adele’s retirement Astaire was first seen onscreen in 1933 winging it with Joan Crawford in one of her biggest hits, Dancing Lady, before forming the ultimate cinematic dance team with Ginger Rogers in the same year’s Flying Down to Rio. After a string of successes, including the peerless Top Hat and Swing Time, the professional duo would seek careers individually in the 1940s, with Astaire first finding his footing with the enchanting Rita Hayworth in two films, then hitting it big opposite Bing Crosby in Holiday Inn and Blue Skies and with Judy Garland in Easter Parade (after a brief screen retirement), before reuniting with Rogers at the decade’s end for another sizable hit, The Barkley’s of Broadway. Continuing fairly apace in the early 1950’s, with a Golden Globe for 1950’s Three Little Words opposite the lovely and adept Vera Ellen and creating one of his most famous routines dancing on the ceiling in Royal Wedding countering the less-successful Let’s Dance and The Belle of New York opposite Ellen, Astaire would reach the peak of his 1950’s screen endeavors with The Band Wagon. Astaire lends an easy likability to his playing of Tony as he faces a career crossroads, while being given ample chances to showcase his astounding singing and dancing abilities, both in solo fashion with a rousing opening number, “Shine on Your Shoes”  and later the plaintive “By Myself,” then in truly spectacular duets with Charisse, first in their ultra-romantic traipsing in a park to the strains of “Dancing in the Dark,” then in yowzah fashion throughout “The Girl Hunt.” In both instances, the pair are in magical alignment with each movement, causing a viewer to smile in admiration at the physical perfection of their artful, unforgettable work together.  

Astaire continued gracing musicals such as Daddy Long Legs and in a welcome reteaming with Charisse for 1957’s Silk Stockings before turning to television specials, having a major impact via his work with Barrie Chase in 1958’s An Evening with Fred Astaire and its 1959 follow-up, while taking a dramatic turn onscreen in On the Beach to close out the decade. With the decline of film musicals, during the 1960’s Astaire’s screen output lessened, with 1968’s Finian’s Rainbow offering a return to the genre, but late in his career he would finally gain a competitive Oscar nomination (to go with his 1950 honorary Academy Award) for charming work in one of the 1970’s disaster blockbusters, The Towering Inferno. Seemingly as nimble as ever in his pairing with Gene Kelly for 1976’s That’s Entertainment, Part II, Astaire would finish up on screen (outside a documentary appearance) with 1981’s Ghost Story, before his passing in 1988 at 88.

Cyd Charisse cemented her place as cinema’s most beautiful and graceful presence with her electrifying dancing skills, seizing her Band Wagon opportunities to make a lasting impression in her signature role as Gaby, one of the first leading parts of her career. After touring with the Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo starting at 14, Charisse would first gain attention onscreen at MGM with Ziegfeld Follies and 1946’s hit The Harvey Girls, as the ingenue friend of Judy Garland. Missing her big break in Easter Parade, Charisse would toil a few years in various MGM productions, then finally gain her major breakthrough in the all-timer Singin’ in the Rain, as the sizzling siren who woos Gene Kelly during the climatic “Broadway Rhythm” ballet. The sensuality and magnetism Charisse displays in this number showed her ability to act in dance as effectively as anyone has ever done on screen, a trait that serves her very well in her big Band Wagon moments. Opposite Astaire in “Dancing in the Dark,” Charisse conveys a lovely, romantic persona as Gaby and Tony become bonded, as dance partners and personally. Later, in “The Girl Hunt,” Charisse magnificently portrays both the fragile blonde looking for protection and the temptress who causes both Tony (in private eye mode) and the audience’s eyebrows and temperatures to rise. Dancing doesn’t get more exciting than when Astaire intertwines with Charisse here, whether she’s garbed in that iconic red sequined dress while jazzing it up in a bar in perfect synchronicity with Astaire, or moving in a gentler, poetic but equally dazzling manner as the fetching blonde. Firmly established after Band Wagon, Charisse would have a few good years at MGM as the studio’s premier female dancer, costarring with Gene Kelly in Brigadoon and It’s Always Fair Weather, highlighting Meet Me in Las Vegas with a stirring “Frankie and Johnny” number before another peak opposite Astaire in Silk Stockings (possibly her best performance, with several standout numbers) and again offering maximum sex appeal in movement via Party Girl. After the 1950s Charisse’s film output would slow down, with 1952’s Two Weeks in Another Town and classing and steaming up 1966’s The Silencers with her undiminished allure and dancing aptitude standing out. Moving more into television appearances in the 1970s and 1980s, Charisse would make a fitting final big screen appearance as one of the stars presenting in 1994’s That’s Entertainment, Part III, before her death in 2008 at 86.

As the flamboyant Jeffery Cordova, veteran British star of stage and film Jack Buchanan takes his late-career showcase and makes an indelible mark, infusing the picture with his breezy, good-natured performance style, lending distinction and verve to his duet with Astaire and selling his part of “That’s Entertainment” with brio. Buchanan had earlier starred in Ernst Lubitsch’s 1930 Monte Carlo before making a name for himself in British films, allowing The Band Wagon to serve as a fitting bookend to his other most notable Hollywood work. As the Martons, a performing/playwriting team inspired by Comden and Green, Oscar Levant and Nanette Fabray also add plenty of zest. As Lester, Levant is more genial than his normal acerbic self that scored in pictures such as Humoresque and Minnelli’s American in Paris, while Fabray gets to join Astaire and Buchanan for the film’s funniest number, “Triplets,” while also demonstrating the musical comedy gifts that made her a Tony-winning hit on Broadway via her “Louisiana Hayride” solo. Fabray would go on to greater success on television, winning three Emmys in the process, with The Band Wagon lingering as her finest screen outings. In other roles, Ava Gardner can be seen at her loveliest in a cameo as herself, the handsome and agile James Mitchell works so well as Charisse’s choreographer that they re-teamed the following year for one of Deep in My Heart’s best segments, an erotically-charged dance, while the lithesome Julie Newmar makes an early screen appearance in “The Girl Hunt” ballet.

Debuting at NYC’s Radio City Music Hall in July of 1953, the film’s sophisticated humor, class production design and artful numbers found great favor at the Hall and other metropolitan venues critics, while faring decently in “the sticks,” leading to The Band Wagon to amass a solid but (given the film’s high quality and production costs) not spectacular $2,550,000 in film rentals, according to Variety. Critics roundly praised the stellar efforts of The Band Wagon cast and crew, including Newsweek magazine, which placed Astaire and Charisse on the cover as part of an overview of the movie. Despite the somewhat lukewarm initial audience reaction, time has held the film in high esteem as one of Hollywood’s most entertaining and durable musicals, with the picture making the 1995 National Film Registry list for preservation, coming in at #17 on the 2006 AFI list of greatest musicals, and having no less a film historian than Martin Scorsese ranking the Band Wagon as his favorite musical. Those interested in catching benchmarks in the careers of Minnelli, Astaire, Charisse, and nearly everyone else associated with the sterling Band Wagon need make no delay in hopping aboard for a trip through one of the cinema’s most enjoyable song-and-dance ventures.

And a fond farewell to Polly Holliday, who died September 9^th at age 88. A native of Jasper, Alabama, Holliday would hone her craft on stage in college and beyond before transitioning to films and television, wherein she became a true cultural phenomenon playing sassy waitress Flo Castleberry on the hit comedy series Alice, putting over one of the most famous catchphrases of the 1970s whenever the forthright Flo told her boss at Mel‘s Diner to “Kiss my grits!” Quickly establishing herself as a major character player via Flo, which would win her Emmy nominations and a couple Golden Globes, after her benchmark success on Alice  and the inevitable spinoff, Flo, Holliday would continue in television, stage and film, wherein she would score another indelible role as the cantankerous Ruby Deagle, who is served one of the screen’s more memorable exits in the 1984 smash Gremlins, while also making impressions in other high-profile movies such as All the President’s Men, Mrs. Doubtfire and The Parent Trap before her final film role in 2010’s Fair Game. Rest in peace to a unique comic presence who claimed a major generational impact on audiences, Polly Holliday.

Steven Spielberg Dives into Uncharted Cinematic Success with Jaws

 

A true game changer in the history of films, Jaws became a cultural phenomenon upon release in June of 1975 as the original summer blockbuster, obtaining record-breaking box-office figures while bringing director Steven Spielberg worldwide fame as possibly the most gifted young director to come Hollywood’s way since Orson Welles, as well as keeping more impressionable viewers out of the ocean waters for years to come. Keenly crafted to offer nail-biting suspense from the famous first scene Spielberg, aided by terrific on-location shooting at Martha’s Vineyard by Bill Butler, John Williams’ renown tension-filled score, and a first-rate screenplay adaptation of Peter Benchley’s  1974 best seller by Benchley and Carl Gottlieb, Spielberg manages to keep viewers on edge the entire 124-minute running time, setting up a series of singularly designed and cleverly shot sequences as the story unfolds concerning the title character’s rampage near the beaches of the small-but-touristy coastal town of Amity Island during a fateful July 4^th season, with a finely-chosen cast creating characters of individually, humor and resolve also assisting in setting the right ambience as the audience is drawn into their plight. 

                Exhibiting mastery of the film medium unheard of in so new a directorial talent, Steven Spielberg, only 27 when the film was shot, after already starting strongly in television with such fare as Night Gallery and the superior t.v. film Duel before his outstanding theatrical debut with 1974’s The Sugarland Express, took on the mantle of the go-to director for quality entertainment of a thrilling and fantastic nature with Jaws, and confidently ran with his new status to create some of the most impactful, nuanced and absorbing films of his generation, following Jaws with Close Encounters of the Third Kind, Raiders of the Lost Ark  and E.T. to name a few highlights. However, his complete focus and dedication as a filmmaker to achieving a perfect balance wherein elements of terror, drama and comedy are supremely interwoven to keep the tone of the work and a viewer’s involvement admirably consistent and entertaining may never have been better demonstrated than with Jaws. Spielberg appears to instinctually know when to offer up the chilling attack scenes or unsettling moments wherein these tragedies are discussed, or the results of them shown, with more humanistic, identifiable instances, such as the downcast police chief hero’s son mimicking his father at a dinner table to bond with his dad, or the unforgettable passage wherein a victim’s tormented mother confronts Martin Brody, the overwhelmed police chief, making Jaws a chiller with an unusually strong component of humanity mixed in with the more explosive action. The astounding editing of Verna Fields greatly aids Spielberg in maintaining his vision, as she delineates each slowly mounting attack with a skill and precision that allows for some of the biggest shocks found in a major film, while Spielberg wisely opts to wait to reveal the main villain of the piece, leaving much of the terror surrounding the attacks to the macabre portion of the audience’s imagination. Although Spielberg would move from strength-to strength throughout his amazing career, if he had only directed Jaws, his place among the top craftsmen in Hollywood history would be unquestioned. 

                As police chief Brody, Roy Scheider helps anchor the film in reality and humanity, adding intriguing layers far from the black-and-white portrayals of brave, commanding heroes normally found in movies. With calm fortitude, Scheider suggests how the dilemmas surrounding him are weighing down the chief, who among other drawbacks prefers to stay out of the water even before the most unwelcomed title visitor shows up to wreak havoc on the townspeople and tourists. Scheider is unafraid to show Brody’s lack of courage as danger looms at sea, leading to the most famous retort in the movie concerning the need for a “bigger boat.” However, Scheider also lends a quiet nobility to the thoughtful, sometimes wary lawman as he fights to resolve the serious issue and again bring peace to the community, allowing him to gain sympathy from audiences towards this likable, identifiable everyman. Starting in films in 1964 after a career with the U.S. Air Force, Scheider had a breakthrough 1971 with both Klute and Oscar-nominated work in Best Picture winner The French Connection. After Jaws, Scheider’s preeminent decade in cinema continued with Marathon Man, Sorcerer, the inevitable but popular Jaws 2, before exiting the decade in glory with his expansive, Oscar-nominated work in All That Jazz. He then continued with on with sturdy, sincere work in such eclectic offerings as 2010, 52 Pick-Up, The Russia House and Naked Lunch. Scheider would pass in 2008 at age 75, then have a posthumous final film credit with 2009’s Iron Cross.

                Richard Dreyfuss, continuing his upward career trajectory after starting out in bits in 1967’s Valley of the Dolls and The Graduate before claiming stardom with 1973’s American Graffiti and one of his career roles the next year via The Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz, scores heavily as Matt Hooper, the alert, sage young oceanographer who aids Brody on the quest to find the killer shark. Dreyfuss, with his spirited presence and deft ability to mix dramatic and comedic moments in creating a fully rounded portrait of Hooper as an intelligent, concerned scientist who wants to get to the bottom of things at the bottom of the sea, leading to one of the biggest surprise shocks in movies as Hooper inspects a deserted fishing boat and finds a lot more than he expected, is magnetically convincing throughout. Post-Jaws Dreyfuss would continue on his superstar path, reaching his zenith in 1977 with the one-two box-office and critical punch of Close encounters and his Oscar role in The Goodbye Girl. The ten years following this peak brought Dreyfuss ill fortune, but he would return as a major star thereafter with fare such as Down and Out in Beverly Hills, Stakeout, What About Bob? and a second Academy Award nomination for Mr. Holland’s Opus, while continuing to enhance his credits via film, television and theater work on Broadway and elsewhere.

Robert Shaw is robust and sly as the mysterious Quint, who arrives on the scene after the initial attack to offer his services, at a hefty price, to remove the shark. The confident, entertainingly hammy Shaw has a field day in illustrating the daring seaman’s haphazard behavior and derring-do as he loads his boat “Orca,” then goes out to sea with Brody and Hooper determined to blow the shark down. Shaw wrests every ounce of color to be found in the eccentric seafarer’s persona, as a viewer stares on in wonder mulling over the surprising extremes Quint follows to conquer the ocean predator, while also enjoying the at first adversarial, then friendlier banter between Quint and his more practical colleagues (Shaw works extremely well with Dreyfuss in the famous, humorous sequence wherein they compare scars they’ve encountered during their aquatic endeavors). Following this smash Shaw, who also toiled as a writer and had debuted in films via 1951’s The Lavender Hill Mob before bolstering his name value in the 1960’s via From Russia with Love and Oscar-nominated work in 1966’s Best Picture A Man for All Seasons before work in another Academy Best Picture, 1973’s The Sting, made ample use of the top stardom Jaws brought him before his passing in 1978 at only 51, with appearances in top late-1970’s action-oriented movies such as Black Sunday, The Deep and Force 10 from Navarone.

Among the rest of a memorable cast, Murray Hamilton exudes calculated sneakiness at every turn in a subdued, smart performance as Larry Vaughan, Amity’s nervous mayor who seemingly wants the beach to remain open on Independence Day at any cost. Lorraine Gary is warm and appealing as Ellen, Brody’s concerned wife, working very well with Scheider to establish a strong relationship dynamic filled with touching and funny moments. As Chrissie, the most unfortunate swimmer in the annals of film, Susan Backlinie earns her place in movie history with her indelible and justifiably renown opening scene. Lee Fierro has perhaps the prime dramatically transfixing scene in Jaws as the bereft Mrs. Kintner who angrily addresses Brody, enacting the role with a gripping emotional truth that lingers as one wonders what became of this distraught mother in the aftermath of her darkest holiday. Jeffrey Kramer has a nice comic presence as Brody’s out-of-his-league deputy, and screenwriters Gottlieb and Benchley make brief appearances as well. 

                The seismic success of Jaws changed how movies were offered to the general public, with filmmakers and studios realizing significant profitable gains could be garnered by emphasizing summer releases after witnessing receipts pouring in, with Jaws amassing a little over $121,000,000 in U.S./Canadian rentals (according to Variety) during its first run, ending up as the highest-grossing movie ever (not adjusted for inflation) until the behemoth known as Star Wars took the crown a couple years later. Critics were also rhapsodic concerning the merits of the one-of-a-kind production, specifically throwing hosannas Spielberg’s way for pulling off such a challenging assignment with flair and intelligence. Come award season, in a very competitive year (Dog Day Afternoon, Nashville and One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest were just three of the other top 1975 releases) Jaws did receive some of the attention it deserved, although bias against its massive success may have kept it from ultimately achieving as praise as it should have, awards-wise. Spielberg did receive notice with nominations from the Director’s Guild of America and the Golden Globes, which also granted Jaws a Best Picture nomination, while Time magazine placed the film among its top ten and the Writers Guild of America nominated Benchley and Gottlieb. At the Academy Awards, Jaws won richly deserved Oscars for Field’s uncanny editing, Williams’ legendary score and for Best Sound, while also finding a place in the Best Picture lineup, which proved victorious for Cuckoo’s Nest. However, in one of the biggest oversights ever, Spielberg was not among the Best Director candidates, having to wait a couple years for his first nomination in the category for Close Encounters, before finally going on to win two directorial Oscars for more Academy-friendly WWII pictures. 

 Jaws has lived on with a series of sequels and rip-offs, some more successful than others but none matching the ingenuity and massive entertainment value of the original, with the film’s great white shark becoming a beloved figure as a Universal Studios’ main attraction and as one of the most villainous characters ever to fill an audience with dread, with some granting a measure of compassion for the fish who was simply doing what comes naturally asea. Among other honors, Jaws was included on the National Film Registry’s 2001 list of movies for preservation, while making many lists of the top 100 greatest movies of all time, including placement on the AFI’s 1998 and 2008 polls of the best American films and inclusion at #104 (tied with three other masterworks, including The Godfather, Part II) on the most recent Sight and Sound poll from 2022. Jaws far-reaching appeal is also suggested by it claiming the #2 position (behind Weapons) when last weekend’s box office figures were tallied during the 50^th anniversary release of the classic. As a child, this author was among those easily-susceptible to the many beautifully illustrated scare factors so artfully visualized in the movie, with what is generally regarded as the biggest shock “jump scare” in the movie resulting in overpowering screams in his kiddie matinee showing (which an older kid finally stopped by yelling for us to “shut up!”) he has never heard again in a movie house, just one example of how resourcefully and effectively Spielberg and his cast and crew were able to pull off one of the greatest achievements ever seen on the silver screen.

Arletty and Jean-Louis Barrault Iconically Shine in Marcel Carné’s Masterful Paradise

 

                One of French Cinema’s crowning glories, director Marcel Carné’s mesmerizing romantic drama Children of Paradise (Les Enfants du Paradis) spins a fascinating tale involving a wealth of intrigue and the complex, complicated relationships involved therein. Centered around the shifting fortunes, artistic and otherwise, found among a group of colorful characters introduced on Paris’ “Boulevard of Crime” circa the 1830’s, the transfixing plot is beautifully laid out via frequent Carné collaborator Jacques Prévert’s incisive, efficient screenplay, which carefully outlines the progression of the rich array of imposing personages working and interacting at the Funamblues Theater, some based on actual historical figures, including a jovial, amorous actor, Frédérick Lemaître, the melancholic but ultra-gifted mime, Baptiste Deburau, the ignoble, dangerous Pierre Lacenarie, the proud Count de Montray and the woman they all covet, the serene, forthright Garance Reine. How these four form relations and impact each other in surprising, unorthodox ways during the abundant 190-minute runtime is illustrated by Carné and his brilliant cast and crew with a depth and flair that allow Paradise to place among the most engrossing narratives in film history.

                Carné, a leading figure in French cinema after making his feature film directional debut via 1936’s Jenny then finding great success with his previous work, 1942’s Les Visiteurs du Soir, poured all of his talent and resources into creating the opulent Paradise, somehow managing to pull off the bold undertaking during the mid-1940’s while in the midst of WWII devastation surrounding him and his large group of technicians in front and behind the camera. Overseeing the challenging assignment, including a mammoth cast and difficult on-location shooting that captures the perfect mise en scène for the story via Roger Hubert’s impeccable cinematography, with great attention to detail Carné upholds a firm focus on conveying the main themes concerning how art and passion affect the lives of the main players, outlining their various predicaments with conviction and dramatic clarity, while directing some major set pieces, including the elaborate segments on the fast-paced, congested Boulevard of Crime, with riveting style and sense of place, specifically during the stunning recreation of a frenetic carnival at its peak of activity on the Boulevard. After this phenomenal accomplishment, Carné would continue as a leading director, gaining critical and public acclaim in the 1950s with 1953’s Thérèse Raquin, which won the Silver Lion Award at the Venice Film Festival, and 1958’s Les tricheurs, a huge hit in France and Switzerland, after first being responsible for early film appearances by Yves Montand and Jean-Paul Belmondo, then later granting Robert De Niro his film debut in 1965’s Trois chambres à Manhattan. After building one of the more influential filmographies of his era, Carné would pass in October 1996 at age 90.

Arletty, who debuted in films in 1930 after extensive stage work, holds the screen with a mystique and easy command in her signature role as Garance, a street-smart, impetuous siren that lives life on her terms with a modern independence, but reveals a tender side once she connects with the equally smitten Baptiste. Possessing a bemused countenance with a frequent smile that suggests Mona Lisa’s trademark, Arletty imbues Garance with a rare, captivating stillness and practical nature that marks her among the most unique presences in film, allowing Garance to fall somewhere in between heroine and femme fatale. Her intuitive, natural acting talent is exquisitely showcased by Carné, continuing his work with Arletty after their fruitful collaborations which started with Hotel du Nord in 1938 and included Le jour se lève and Les Visiteurs prior to Paradise. Arletty is clearly in her element as Garance, performing with a confidence and instinct that make it hard for a viewer to focus on anyone else whenever she’s onscreen. Although Garance is often self-serving and tough, her brave, fearless demeanor draws the audience to her side as they wish her to overcome adversity and find some harmony in life. The gifted, skillful star is also winning in adopting a gentle, caring attitude in highly personal moments with the sensitive Jean-Louis Barrault as Baptiste, whether Garance is initially attempting to seduce the mime with her claim of the easy nature of love or, later in the film, revealing how vulnerable and sincere Garance, now fully enveloped in her passion for Baptiste, has become. After her unsurpassable triumph in Paradise Arletty, although sidelined around the time of the film’s release by a brief imprisonment for treason after an affair with a German officer, would remain a leading star of French films while also starring on stage, highlighted by her appearance as Blanche in the French production of A Streetcar Named Desire. Later in her career, Arletty would finally appear in a Hollywood production, as part of the all-star cast in Darryl Zanuck’s epic 1962 war drama The Longest Day, before retiring from films, outside of voice work and an appearance as herself, the following year in Le voyage à Biarritz opposite the top clown of French Cinema, Fernandel. After a lengthy retirement, Arletty would pass in 1992 at age 94.

For Jean-Louis Barrault, Paradise also represented a chance to leave his indelible footprint in a part perfectly suited to his thespian talents and distinctive physical presence. As Baptiste, the gangly-but-graceful mime, Barrault is given ample opportunity to enact several creative pantomime routines on the Funamblues stage, making a huge impression as “The Man in White,” the title of the second half of the film, who is adorned in a white ensemble, including stark, chalky facial makeup that literally paints Barrault with one of the most original visages seen in film. Out of costume, the gaunt Barrault is also eye-catching, with his soulful eyes and sharp facial features matching up well with Arletty’s equally romantic profile, while they exude a tender, moving chemistry as the fragile love affair plays out. Beginning in the theater in 1931, wherein he studied pantomime as well as other artistic forms of expression, Barrault would make his start in films with a 1935 appearance in Beautiful Days, then work regularly in movies, including two projects with Carné before Paradise, while also achieving great success as a star of the renown Comédie-Française in the 1940s. After his landmark role as Baptiste, Barrault would continue to make his mark on stage and film, with Max Ophüls’ La Ronde from 1950 offering another top entry in Barrault’s filmography, before his retirement in 1990, followed by his passing in 1994 at age 83.

Pierre Brasseur is responsible for providing the most joie de vivre in Paradise in a multifaceted, vastly appealing performance as the carefree, amorous Frédérick who, similar to Garance, appears to live free of societal norms as he forges his own path in regard to life and career. Brasseur colorfully allows a viewer to see the egotism that would drive this charismatic talent to success on stage as he works his way into the pantomimes at the celebrated Funamblues despite having no prior experience in this particular field, while also showing Frédérick possesses the sense of humor to take nothing too seriously, starting with himself. Marcel Herrand adds dark dimensions to his unsettling portrayal of Lacenaire, bringing a diabolical fierceness to the role that suggests Lacenaire is capable of any crime known to man, and maybe some others as well. Pierre Renoir, son of the legendary impressionist painter and brother of director Jean, also channels a heap of sinisterness into his work as the untrustworthy ragman Jėricho, while Louis Salou is coolly regal and stoic as Garance’s patronizing, jealous lover, Count de Montray. As Baptiste’s loyal, long-suffering wife and acting colleague, María Casares makes a solid film debut and effectively procures audience sympathy However, unlike her esteemed costars, Casares would wait a few more years before obtaining her most powerful and lasting cinematic exploit as the figure of Death in Jean Cocteau’s Orpheus, wherein Casares utilizes her magnetic eyes to eerily devasting effect.

                Paradise was an immediate hit both critically and with audiences upon its Paris premiere in March of 1945, wherein it played for over a year in one theater. This strong initial showing in France carried over internationally, with the movie winning Special Mention at the 1946 Venice Film Festival and Prévert going on to win an Academy Award nomination for Original Screenplay, a rare feat at the time for a foreign language film. The reputation of Paradise as one of filmdom’s most significant works has been enhanced over the years, with the classic named the “Greatest French Film” via a 1995 poll of 600 French critics and industry experts, then going on to find a place on Time magazine’s 2005 list of the 100 greatest films, and placing at #136 on the recent 2022 prestigious Sight and Sound poll, after coming in at #75 on the 2012 survey. A must-watch for film lovers seeking out the most impressive cinematic achievements from the Golden Age of movies, Children of Paradise offers an epic, enticing, and thoroughly engrossing viewing experience sure to linger in memory, thanks to the skillful, highly individual efforts of Carné and his sterling team of illustrious artists.

Marlon Brando and Vivien Leigh Brilliantly Take a Streetcar to Screen Glory

Rarely has a stage-to-film transfer been as deftly and powerfully created as in Warner Bros.’ remarkable 1951 version of Tennessee Williams’ landmark Pulitzer Prize-winning 1947 Broadway hit, A Streetcar Named Desire. Relating the story of the emotionally fragile Blanche DuBois, a fading Southern Belle forced to leave her environs and take the title trolley to the New Orlean residence of her younger sister Stella and her brutish-but-sexy husband Stanley Kowalski, director Elia Kazan, repeating his role after helming the play, pulls a host of stellar cinematic elements together, including a supreme cast, evocative black and white cinematography by Harry Stradling that artfully captures the seamy New Orleans atmosphere and a bluesy, often erotically-charged score by Alex North, with the skill of a master craftsman who knows exactly how to blend the highly-theatrical aspects of the story with a more believably modern approach to the volatile material and performances. Due to the all-mighty Production Code, the carefully composed screenplay by Williams and Oscar Saul had to be sanitized by Warner Bros. to sidestep some of the play’s adult themes (specifically depictions of homosexually and rape), yet Kazan and a monumental cast and crew all working at creative peaks, specifically stars Vivien Leigh and Marlon Brando, both lending all of their substantial talents in electrifying portrayals of Blanche and Stanley, were still able to convey the central plot points of Streetcar with passion and dexterity.

By 1951, Kazan was firmly at the head of both Broadway and Hollywood creative forces, having started his career as an actor on stage and film (1940’s City of Conquest) before gaining more pronounced success as a director, helming The Skin of Our Teeth, All My Sons, Death of a Salesman and Street on Broadway, while making a strong fray into movies starting in 1945 with A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, wherein his aptitude for drawing great performances from players regardless of their theatrical backgrounds was readily apparent via the work of the entire cast, specifically Oscar-winner James Dunn and young Peggy Ann Garner, who also was granted a special juvenile Oscar for her touching work, then winning an Oscar for Gentlemen’s Agreement and achieving an additional big hit with 1949’s Pinky,  another “message” picture tackling themes of prejudice, while also moving into film noir territory with two intense crime-oriented films with on location shooting, Boomerang! and 1950’s Panic in the Streets.

Fully versed in the art of finding the correct cinematic style for a story, the thriving Kazan is clearly at the top of his considerable game with Streetcar, illustrating the complex, character-driven narrative with lucidity and stunning dramatic force. Although the scenario largely takes place on a single set Kazan, wisely focusing on the magnificent work of Leigh, Brando and a stellar supporting cast and adroitly utilizing Stradling’s awesome use of shadow and light and North’s jazz-infested score to capture every mood, is able to escape the stage-bound vibe that hinders many transfers of plays to film, building such arresting dynamics that relationships unfold in profound, exciting ways, causing a viewer to become transfixed by the immediacy of the scenes and the “in the moment” performing on display therein, with Kazan managing to modulate the theatricality of the situations to stay in perfect tune with the more subtle nature of cinematic storytelling, including vividly sincere screen acting of the highest order. After Streetcar, Kazan would maintain his lofty place on stage (overseeing another Williams’ Pulitzer Prize hit, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof and also directing The Dark at the Top of the Stairs and Williams’  Sweet Bird of Youth) and in films, with another Oscar for On the Waterfront, East of Eden, Baby Doll, A Face in the Crowd, Splendor in the Grass and his highly personal passion project America, America bringing him significant acclaim and sometimes healthy box-office returns. Although 1952 testimony wherein Kazan named names for the corrupt House of Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC) caused some damage to his reputation, witnessed by the divided response when Kazan received an honorary Oscar in 1999, Kazan’s best work has kept a rightful place among the best-acted, most impressive films of the post-war era and beyond.

As possibly Williams’ most impactful and provocative heroine, the unnerved-yet-coquettish  Blanche DuBois, Vivien Leigh recreates her London stage success in one of the most powerful emotionally driven performances ever filmed. Dealing with her own mental issues at the time, Leigh appears determined to enact Blanche with the same force and conviction that marked her previous career-defining work as Scarlett O’Hara, while also infusing vulnerability and personal distress into her trenchant portrayal with shattering effect. Scenes wherein Blanche recollects her tragic romance with her deceased husband, or addresses the poems he wrote to her, carry a truth and emotional resonance that are rare to find in film, with a viewer wondering exactly how Leigh was able to plunge so deeply into the character, while finding the exact emotive balance in skillfully modulating the role from the stage to film, bringing as much realism as possible to the role and (at least) matching the more modern Actor’s Studio influenced work of her colleagues. Leigh also employs plenty of sensualness in the role as Blanche adopts a coquettish demeanor, teaming with Brando to generate a wealth of electricity as Blanche and Stanley‘s contrasting personalities create increasing tension and heat as the plot thickens, and lends a disquieting eroticism to the famous scene wherein Blanche flirts heavily with a young collector who arouses her attentions, to the extent of making her “mouth water.” Leigh’s searing work in Streetcar gained respect from her colleagues, with Brando stating Leigh was Blanche in some respects, Kazan claiming she would have “crawled through glass” to achieve greatness in her performance, and Williams avowing that Leigh found depth and complexity in the character he hadn’t intended when writing Blanche. After her triumph in Streetcar Leigh would return to the stage, winning a Tony for Tovarich, while sporadically appearing in films, including another imposing trek into Williams’ territory with 1961’s The Roman Spring of Mrs. Stone, before her final appearance in 1965’s Ship of Fools.

Commanding the screen with animal magnetism and an instinctive, forthright thespian ability which would revolutionize screen acting, Marlon Brando brings his star-making role of Stanley to film with a resounding spontaneity and intelligence that announced him as the actor of his generation. First making a major impact on Broadway via a small but overpowering role in Truckline Café that made evident the rare talent Brando possessed to display naked emotionalism in an honest, spellbinding fashion, Streetcar would confirm his reputation as the most gifted young actor on the Great White Way, as well as one possessing the charisma, sex appeal and looks that made him a sure bet for matinee idol status in Hollywood should he head west. After making this trek, 1950’s fine drama The Men, directed by Fred Zinnemann, provided an ideal film debut for Brando to showcase his intensity and sensitivity as Bud, a paralyzed war vet trying to find purpose in life while facing his disability, Brando was in perfect form to adapt Stanley to the screen with style, wit and uncommonly believable emoting that allows the audience to identify with the anti-hero’s abrasive, sometimes abusive behavior as, in Brando’s hands, Stanley also possesses a humanity that somewhat offsets the violent outbursts caused by his quick temper, such as in his famous breakdown wherein the despondent Stanley cries for “Stella!” to return after he’s lashed out at her. Brando allows for a sly spitefulness to Stanley as he plays cat-and-mouse with Blanche, with an audience becoming completely enveloped watching two of the great performances unfolding in hypnotically diverting fashion. Brando would indeed fulfill the promise of Streetcar by becoming the screen’s preeminent actor as well as a top box-office draw, amassing two Oscars during his career in a colorful filmography that included movies of both high quality and demerit, with the singular Brando often giving distinct, ingenious performances in lesser films made intriguing by his unique, often impish presence and undiminished mastery of his craft.

Actors Studio advocates and alumni Karl Malden and Kim Hunter also scored career-enhancing results recreating their Broadway roles as Mitch, Blanche’s shy-but-interested suitor and Stella, who’s torn between her loyalty to her sister and devotion for her coarse-but-enticing husband. Malden had toiled on stage and in film for a decade before his Streetcar breakthrough, debuting on Broadway in 1937 and in films shortly thereafter via 1940’s They Knew What They Wanted, thereafter making his strongest impact in noirs such as Boomerang, Kiss of Death and Where the Sidewalk Ends. With Mitch, Malden is able to add sensitive shading to the role, clearly suggesting the boyishness and mother issues that are chief characteristics of Mitch’s makeup, which lead to some eloquent scenes as the impressionable Mitch bonds with the despairing Blanche, then more caustically-laced moments as Mitch begins to question Blanche’s past, with Malden agilely switching from Mitch’s elation over falling in love to his more sinister tone in later scenes. Post Streetcar, Malden would continue as one of the most prominent actors in the business, fruitfully reteaming with Kazan for an Oscar-nominated turn as the uncompromising Father Barry in Waterfront and coloring his buffoonish hick in 1956’s controversial Baby Doll with comic brio, making an impressive turn to directing for 1957’s tense crime thriller Time Limit, holding his own with Brando as one of the screen’s most sadistic villains in Brando’s fine directional debut One-Eyed Jacks, in his element as Omar Bradley in Patton, then finding a huge audience on television in the 1970’s as the star of The Streets of San Francisco and hocking the American Express card in commercials, eventually ending his big screen career with 1987’s Nuts, with a final t.v. appearance in 2000 on The West Wing before his passing at 97 in 2009.

Kim Hunter made an encouraging entry into movies with producer Val Lewton’s classic 1943 thriller The 7th Victim, followed by a few more offerings, most notably as the female star of Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger’s A Matter of Life and Death before her earnest, skillfully conveyed work as Stella propelled her to the forefront of the brightest new talent on stage and screen. With the experience of carefully honing the rich role through a wealth of performances on Broadway, Hunter brings a thoughtful sensitivity to Stella as she attempts to support her often tremulous older sister, while also convincing the viewer she’s a southern belle with the courage to stand up to her bullying husband and give back what he throws her way. Also, Hunter floridly depicts the passionate nature that drives Stella back into Stanley’s arms and the “colored lights” he mentions, regardless of the fights that temporarily break them apart. Unfortunately for Hunter, after this peak, she was quickly sidelined by the shameful HUAC, which greatly limited her screen output during what should have been a golden era for her. Inventive, beguiling work in 1968’s smash Planet of the Apes helped restore Hunter’s status on screen, with frequent film and television appearances thereafter, including an Emmy-nominated turn on The Edge of Night, allowing a wide audience access to Hunter’s exceptional acting prowess, until her passing at 79 in 2002.

Rounding out the cast are a group of stalwart players also recreating their original Broadway performances. Peg Hillias stands out as Eunice, the sassy, knowing, tough-but-sympathetic upstairs neighbor. Rudy Bond and Nick Dennis offer a few lighter moments as Steve, Eunice’s husband and Pablo, both rowdy card-playing buddies of Stanley. Wright King is also pitch perfect as the unnamed young collector who encounters Blanche in one of the scenario’s most memorable segments, working in splendid tandem with Leigh while nicely illustrating a beguiling innocence and then surprised puzzlement after Blanche abruptly puts romantic designs on him. Richard Garrick and Ann Dere do their small but choice assignments as the doctor and nurse who are called upon late in the film with stirring clarity. Finally, one outlier from the stage version, former child star Mickey Kuhn, who appeared with Leigh in Wind, pops up at the film’s opening as the handsome young sailor who provides Blanche with directions.

With a September 1951 premiere in New York, A Streetcar Named Desire created a major stir among critics and the movie-going public in general, who were unaccustomed to seeing a screen drama of such force and conviction. At the box-office the talked-about film grossed $4,250,000 in U.S./Canadian rentals, placing it at year’s end among the top five hits, according to Variety. Streetcar also did extremely well come awards season, especially considering it faced stiff competition from A Place in the Sun as the year’s top drama. However, Streetcar picked up Best Picture and Director honors from The New York Film Critics’ Awards, and mention among the top ten films on lists from the National Board of Review, Time magazine and The New York Times. Leigh also made off with a richly-deserved share of Best Actress prizes from the NYFCA, Venice Film Festival and the British Academy Awards, while Kazan and Williams were nominated by the Director’s and Writer’s Guilds, respectfully. Unfortunately for Brando, his unorthodox, uncompromising anti-establishment mindset did him no favors, resulting in one of the greatest and most influential male performances ever to grace the screen coming up empty in regards to wins by awards bodies carrying a “make him wait” bias against the spectacularly gifted and daring young star (with 1954’s On the Waterfront the wait was finally over, of course). However, Brando's status as an exciting new cinematic star of merit was noted among the twelve Academy Award nominations for Streetcar, with the movie going on to win for Leigh, Malden and Hunter’s performances and for Best Production Design.

The film’s reputation as one of the most incisive and thrilling dramas ever committed to the screen has diminished not a whit as the years pass, with revivals, telecasts and physical media releases helping to enhance Streetcar’s already glowing status, and some of the material exorcised before the film’s 1951 release now included in DVD and Blu-ray releases to give audiences a chance to view the full representation of the movie as originally intended. Regardless of which version a viewer beholds, the outstanding, unequaled work of a rare group of artists fully committed to giving their best in bringing possibly Tennessee William’s best play to the screen, including the complex, unsurpassed contributions of Brando and Leigh, ensures audiences hopping aboard this Streetcar are taken on a riveting, thought-provoking and unforgettable cinematic experience unlike any other.

Beatlemania Finds a Perfect Groove in A Hard Day’s Night

 

            Bringing a joyous, free-wheeling spirit to the screen that beautifully encapsulates the worldwide frenzy over the Fab Four circa 1964, director Richard Lester’s upbeat, modish comic take on a day in the life of Paul McCartney, John Lennon, George and Ringo Starr, A Hard Day’s Night features the Beatles in their feature film debut, and at their iconic early peak. Dynamically utilizing directional measures and camerawork, including a wealth of on-location London shots that give a quasi-documentary feel to the proceedings, to showcase the charismatic quartet and their hectic, lively environs, the free-form screenplay by Alun Owen featuring a scant plot concerning the band preparing for a television concert amid a series of misadventures affords Lester and his stars the chance to spontaneously capture the Beatles’ personalities, interactions and performances of the incredible soundtrack by Lennon and McCartney with a joie de vivre rare to find in the cinema. Creatively crafted by Lester with a keen eye towards catching a specific moment in pop history when the Beatles were leading a British Invasion in the Arts, and performed by the group and a solid supporting cast of pros with great gusto and wit, A Hard Day’s Night is accessible to both fans of the surging phenomenon known as the Beatles and any moviegoer looking for a splendid, invigorating night of entertainment.

For Richard Lester, Night represented a huge rise in his stock as a preeminent director, after starting in American and British television in the 1950’s, then moving on to film with a 1959 short, The Running, Jumping & Standing Still Film, then a feature debut with the musically-fused It’s Trad, Dad!, followed a 1963’s comedy The Mouse on the Moon. Lester’s short film was beloved by the superstar group, leading to his involvement with Hard. From the opening shots wherein the four lads are chased thorough the London streets by an onslaught of impassioned teens as the lilting, exuberant strains of title song and fast cut editing by John Jympson sets the appropriate tone, until they finally elude the ecstatic fans and find refuge in a train, it’s clear Lester is up to the challenge of adapting the right visual approach to fully grant viewers a look inside the Beatles’ mammoth success, and how the abrupt fame affected their lifestyles as they became instant icons of the era.

          Lester finds ingenious, surprising ways to showcase the supreme Lennon/McCartney songbook rife with great songs, from using the title number again during an artful, vivid end credit sequence featuring a wealth of pictures of John, Paul, George and Ringo, then going to two different extremes concerning the mood of the piece, from taking a break from the endearingly chaotic proceedings by utilizing the gentle strains of “And I Love Her” as the band rehearses on the television stage in casual fashion, to the exhilarating high of the famous “Can’t Buy Me Love” sequence, wherein the group runs from the studio to cavort in the fields nearby, while Lester dizzyingly films their escapades with overhead shots from a helicopter to bring a literally uplifting, singular elation to the scenario. The director also incorporates methods to add surreal moments, such as when the stars are shown outside of a train waving at a gentleman they have just encountered inside, before the next shot shows them back in the terrain compartment passing by the perturbed fellow’s cabin.

The director aptly wraps up the film with the excitingly staged mini concert, wherein the action is focused as much on the (mostly) young girls in the balcony screaming and crying in ecstasy as the Beatles putting over several hit numbers before finishing things off with the perennially enchanting and buoyant “She Loves You.” If one is looking for one piece of archival footage to illustrate how overwhelming the influence was of the Beatles on the youths of this generation, the forceful shots of these enraptured groupies emotionally overcome and enthralled by their idols’ talent and appeal serves as a blueprint for the Beatlemania of the period. Lester would follow up his major Hard hit with another trendy British hit, The Knack. . .and How it Get it before reuniting with the Beatles for their second movie, 1965’s Help!, before going on to the helm one of the seminal 1960’s movies, Petulia, then maintaining a nice run of titles during the next two decades creating screen entertainments with often a sly comic touch, such as The Three (then Four) Musketeers, The Ritz and his biggest box office result via 1981’s Superman II, followed by the less impactful III, before making his fitting last screen effort in 1991's Get Back, which documented a Paul McCartney world tour, then settling into a lengthy retirement.

With seemingly effortless charm, magnetism and individuality, the Beatles hold the screen throughout the film’s 87 minutes in a spirited, endearing manner. Lester deftly illustrates each distinct persona involved in the group, with John coming across as sophisticated, gib and impish, Paul (or “Paulie”) more earnest and boyishly endearing, George the most mature, thoughtful member, and sad-eyed Ringo as the good-natured, honest and childlike innocent in the quartet. Whether jamming or trading barbs in tandem or featured in singular vignettes, the Fab Four are persistently likable and sincere screen presences, allowing one to wonder how much Lester’s guidance and to what extent their natural thespian aptitude was responsible for their consistently unforced, believable interactions with each other and their fellow castmates.

The Beatles are perhaps at their most compelling while being show in the musical passages, wherein a viewer gains insight into how they worked as a team in creating some of the great popular songs, lending a historical feel to these moments as they practice their numbers with an easy and rare synchronicity, or perform hits with precision and electrifying energy, making it clear why the public was so despondent when this stellar, unusually talented and unified superstar group broke up. Outside of these remarkable scenes, possibly the most memorable subplot concerns Ringo, urged to seek out excitement, leaving the studio environs to quietly roam around with camera in hand, including a stroll near the waterside by Kew Bridge, wherein he strikes up a conversation with a young lad, Charley (nicely played by David Janson), and in the process of the sequence Starr strikes an indelible portrait as a movingly forlorn, graceful and kind figure.

Among the other players, Wilfrid Brambell appears to be having a ball playing the colorful John McCartney, a.k.a. Paul’s (other) grandfather, a mischievous, leering livewire who’s responsible for Ringo venturing away from the studio. In his most humorous sequence, John journeys to a casino and, equipment with his own (soon to be) Bond girl, Margaret Nolan (shortly before her iconic appearance in Goldfinger, particularly as the bikini and aurum-adorned focus of the title sequence), goes on a spree until the boys come to abate his reckless actions. Norman Rossington and John Junkin form a nice comic duo as Norm and Shake, the Beatles’ frequently exasperated and more benign managers, while a be-specked Anna Quayle has a nice bit as Millie, a woman who encounters Lennon and isn’t quite sure about identifying him as Lennon. Victor Spinetti also stands out as the ultra-dramatic director of the televised show, while Marianne Stone, fresh from her definitive work as Peter Sellers’ mysterious dark lady in Lolita, shows up as a reporter. In other brief parts, Pattie Boyd (soon to be Mrs. George Harrison) can be seen as Jean, the attractive blonde who captures the boys’ attention on the train, while Charlotte Rampling and Phil Collins apparently are also on view as a dancer in a nightclub and a teen fan during the finale, but online research may be necessary to find where they actually appear in the film.

        The jubilant A Hard Day’s Night found favor with both critics and audiences upon its July 1964 opening in London, with Lester’s inventive helming and the Beatles natural charm and talent onscreen gaining substantial hosannas in mainly positive reviews, while potent box-office rentals of $4,473,000 (according to Variety) ranked the film among the top hits of 1964. During awards season, the film ended up on The New York Times “Ten Best” list, then went on to earn Academy Award nominations for Owen’s playful original story and screenplay and George Martin for Scoring- Adaptation or Treatment although, in a true botch rating as one of Oscar’s biggest faux pas, neither the glorious musical score or any of the timeless songs managed to place among the nominees that year. The hit-ladened soundtrack was another key factor in building the film into a major success, with the album amassing 14 weeks at #1 on the Billboard charts, resulting in it gaining status as the top album of the year. With it’s brisk, docu-style filmmaking and constantly beguiling stars holding the screen with flair during both narrative and incredible musical sequences, A Hard’s Day’s Night retains a freshness and a good-natured vibe that should prove irresistible to viewers as it transports them back to a happier time and place when the world was the vibrant, uniquely gifted Beatles’ oyster.

         And a fond farewell to another British icon, Terence Stamp, who passed on August 17^th at age 87. Gaining an auspicious start in films with his Oscar-nominated, Golden Globe-winning (for Best Newcomer) work as the beatific, observant title character in 1962’s Billy Budd, Stamp would solidify his place among filmdom’s top young thespians with Cannes-winning work in William Wyler’s The Collector and 1967’s Far from the Madding Crowd. Sparser appearances in the 1970s eventually led to his sinister General Zod in 1978’s blockbuster Superman before being featured more prominently as one of the chief villains in Superman II. Stamp figured in some 1980s mainstream offerings such as Wall Street and Young Guns, before witnessing a career-enlivening comeback via his flamboyant-but-grounded and powerful depiction of the indomitable Bernadette in 1994’s The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert. Following this landmark role, Stamp scored another big critical success with 1999’s The Limey, then worked frequently in films until his final screen role in 2021’s Last Night in Soho.