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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Patty McCormack Plants Plenty of Ominous Trickery as The Bad Seed

 

            Offering one of the most original and entertaining thrillers from classic Hollywood, 1956’s The Bad Seed from Warner Bros. provides a compelling excursion into the innate nature of evil. Based on the hit 1954 Broadway success by Maxwell Anderson (from the same year’s praised novel by William March), the unusual story centers around eight-year-old Rhonda Penmark, a bright, perfectly poised child whose waters run deeper than her appearance conveys, to the dismay of her progressively concerned mother, Christine, whose suspicions concerning her daughter’s involvement a tragedy at a school outing mount as the tension-filled plot reaches an astounding climax. Helmed with panache by veteran writer/director/producer Mervyn LeRoy, who wisely focuses on allowing his gifted cast, most of them recreating their acclaimed Broadway performances, to put over the florid dramatics with the fervor and focus that informed their initial thespian antics, in the process creating a colorful, fascinating cinematic work that stays close to its theater origins, but avoids the staleness that often accompanies these stage-to-screen adaptations, instead bringing the scenario (via John Lee Mahin’s adept screenplay) to life with such melodramatic, sometimes campy relish during the 129-minute runtime that, enhanced by Alex North’s macabre-tinged score and Harold Rosson’s moody B&W cinematography, The Bad Seed has remained a fresh, eerily satisfying viewing experience for close to seventy years.

            For LeRoy, who started with stage and vaudeville work as a youth before beginning in silent pictures as an actor, then becoming a writer and director, Seed cemented his strong return to Warner Bros. after first making his name in the 1930’s at the studio directing such highly-regarded classics as Little Caesar, I Am a Fugitive from a Chain Gang and Gold Diggers of 1933. Moving over to a lengthy tenure at MGM, starting with producer credits, including The Wizard of Oz, before continuing as director of merit with titles such as Waterloo Bridge, Random Harvest (his sole Best Director Oscar nomination), Quo Vadis, LeRoy would depart MGM after 1954’s Rose Marie to return to WB in style stepping in to codirect Mister Roberts with John Ford. The massive success of Roberts in 1955 lent LeRoy the cache concerning his next film option and, after catching Seed on Broadway he was determined to bring it to life on the screen with the same transfixing heighten sense of reality the talented cast thrilled audiences with onstage. LeRoy is clearly invested in making sure the unsettling elements of the scenario slowly but deftly build, in the process drawing the viewer into the eeriness of the piece, then holding them rapt once sinister plot points are finally revealed and the theatrics reach a hypnotic fever pitch, which LeRoy oversees with aplomb to allow for maximum dramatic impact. Following Seed, LeRoy would continue with varying degrees of success at WB, with No Time for Sergeants, The FBI Story and Gypsy accounting for his most commercially viable late-career work. LeRoy would retire by the end of the 1960’s, then gain the prestigious Irving G. Thalberg Award in 1976 from the Academy, after previously receiving, just after Seed, the Golden Globes’ Cecil B. DeMille Award in 1957, before his passing in 1987 at age 86.

        Nancy Kelly, born in 1921 in Lowell, Massachusetts, started as a child model and appeared in several silent films, then worked on radio before successfully starting her leading lady career in films at the tender age of 17 in 1938 with John Ford’s Submarine Patrol. Making a strong impression opposite Tyrone Power in one of the following year’s biggest hits, Jesse James, Kelly would continue apace in movies until 1946, before moving over to stage work, landing her biggest success with her emotionally overwhelming work in Seed, which brought her a Best Actress Tony Award. In recreating her powerful portrayal for film, Kelly holds nothing back, fully depicting the mounting dread Christine encounters as she begins to unfold the mystery of the center of the macabre storyline; this full-frontal acting approach has led to criticism for what some feel is over-the-top emoting of the most florid and campy nature. However, Kelly always appears fully ‘in the moment’ while illustrating Christine’s plight, which indeed could send a mother over the edge once she figures out the score, as opposed to acting in a synthetic, unspontaneous manner. Kelly carefully modulates the characterization, showing Christine as a warm, sensible housewife early on, before depicting the unraveling of the poor woman’s mindset during the story’s progression, with Kelly bringing undeniable force to her challenging assignment, whether one reads an entertaining hammy quality in her emoting or not. Seed would represent Kelly’s last and most enduring screen role, with the star thereafter taking time off to raise a daughter, while making sporadic television and stage appearances, before her passing in 1995 at age 73.  

With a film debut in 1951 and work as a regular on television’s hit Mama starting in 1953, the same year as her Broadway debut, Patty McCormack had already amassed significant credits prior to her most famous role as Rhoda. McCormack has mentioned she had a strange affinity with the character and instinctually knew how to delve into the darker aspects of Rhoda’s psychic from the first time, at nine years old, she played the role on Broadway, after yearning for the part with a passion mirroring Rhoda’s desire to win that penmanship medal. Transferring her landmark performance to film, McCormack shows a remarkable self-assurance in front of the camera perfectly suited to Rhoda’s confident nature, convincing a viewer this child is capable of doing anything to achieve her aims without a thought in regard to moral standards. McCormack creatively balances Rhoda’s self-possessed moments with more brazen suggestions of her odious makeup, such as in her confrontations with the slimy janitor Leroy, and during Rhoda’s biggest dramatic scene with Christine, wherein the focused McCormack displays thespian skills rare to find in an actor at any age. Following this indelible career highlight, McCormack has admirably been able to continue building her list of credits, with All Mine to Give and 1958’s Kathy O’ follow-up screen endeavors during her brief reign as a child star, then much work on television and film into adulthood, including 1995’s Mommy, with McCormack in the title role offering a take of a Rhoda-like adult, work in a couple of major critical hits, Frost/Nixon and 2012’s The Master, and cleverly returning to the Seed arena as Dr. March in a 2018 remake and 2022 sequel.

Eileen Heckart, after firmly establishing her on stage via Picnic and Seed, was witnessing a sterling entry into movies in 1956 with her debut in Miracle in the Rain, then great work in Somebody Up There Likes Me and, in a lighter vein, Bus Stop complementing her astounding turn as the distraught Hortense Daigle. Heckart throws herself into the tragic role with full dedication, adding humor and disturbing emotional complexity as she delves into the part, resulting in both surprise moments of laughter and, sometimes immediately following these, explosive drunken outbursts as the bereft but canny Hortense demands to know more about the devasting circumstances tied to her only child’s downfall, making a viewer feel pity and uncomfortableness concerning Mrs. Daigle’s actions, thanks to Heckart’s unbridled, fearless emoting that puts the film on another level artistically, specifically in Mrs. Daigle’s electrifying final moment in the story, wherein she confronts Christine for the truth one last time to unforgettable dramatic effect. Following her breakthrough 1956, Heckart would continue to thrive in films, television and the theater winning an Oscar in 1973 for recreating her sage and funny work in Butterflies Are Free and, after several nominations, an Emmy Award for her guest appearance on Love & War. Heckart would end her movie career in style playing Diane Keaton’s tough mother in the hit The First Wives Club, then score a final major success on stage in Kenneth Longeran’s The Waverly Gallery before passing in 2001 at age 82.

Reprising his Broadway role as the mischievous, slovenly Leroy, Henry Jones, who began in films in 1943’s This is the Army, also gained status as a character actor, going on to become a recognizable, reliable player in many movie, television and stage productions. Sharing most of his scenes with McCormack, the two create a creepy dynamic as they go at each other in cat-and-mouse fashion until Rhoda has enough of the outmatched Leroy’s shenanigans, with Jones’ juicy histrionics in these moments responsible for much of the levity found in the film, before he finds teasing Rhoda to be no laughing matter after all. Evelyn Varden, a year after her memorable depiction of a friendly but overbearing busybody in Night of the Hunter, also offers bits of humor and enjoyably expansive playing as the psychoanalytical landlady Monica Breedlove, while Joan Croydon adds plenty of heft to her work as Miss Fern, Rhoda’s tactful but wary and hesitant teacher who with look and gesture seems to know all about the tyke’s least desirable and most mischievous traits. Of those not from the original cast, handsome William Hopper, bookending the film as the loving, sincere husband and father, brings earnestness to his brief appearance, Paul Fix exudes benevolence as Christine’s caring father, Frank Cady is touching as the forlorn Mr. Daigle and Jesse White lends his amiable persona as a guest of Christine’s.

          The Bad Seed would become a surprise box-office hit upon release in September of 1956, bolstered by strong word-of-mouth concerning the uniquely baleful premise of the film and solid critical response, specifically for the performances of Kelly, McCormick and Heckart. Heckart would go on to win the Golden Globe for her trenchant work, while also gaining an Oscar nomination along with costars Kelly and McCormack, who at eleven was one of the youngest performers ever nominated for an Academy Award. Television broadcasts and a viable presence on physical media via VHS, DVD and Blu-ray has allowed Seed to capture the imagination of new generations of classic movie lovers and those interested in unorthodox mysteries, while remakes of the source material and screen variations on the same themes largely failed to hit the mark The Bad Seed so adeptly manages to do with a panache that’s enabled this one-of-a-kind cinematic experience to remain fresh and resonant with audiences regardless of how many times one views the abundant array of dramatics onscreen as Rhoda intently does her thing. 

          And a fond farewell to Samantha Eggar, who passed away on October 15^th at age 86. The London-born Eggar started her career on stage and via a 1962 film debut, then made a major impact on a more global scale opposite Terrence Stamp in director William Wyler’s involving 1965 psychological drama/thriller The Collector. After winning impressive public and critical acclaim for the film, including Cannes Film Festival (with Stamp) and Golden Globe awards and her sole Oscar nomination, Eggar would enjoy a nice run as a preeminent leading lady onscreen, including Cary Grant’s final film, Walk, Don’t Run, then gracing the fantastical Doctor Dolittle and gaining one of her best roles in 1970’s The Molly Maguires. The 1970’s would witness a surprising shift in Eggar’s film output, with her becoming a key figure in several horror offerings of the era, including The Dead Are Alive, The Brood and Demonoid, while also appearing in the 1976 all-star mystery The Seven-Per-Cent Solution and regularly on television (including a 1973 remake of Double Indemnity) before an early silver screen exit with 1999’s The Astronaut’s Wife. R.I.P. to a lovely, talented presence onscreen, and one not adverse to taking risks therein, Samantha Eggar. 

Leslie Nielsen and Anne Francis Meet Sci-Fi Immortality on Forbidden Plant

 

               One of the most intelligent and enjoyable science fiction epics of the 1950’s, with class MGM production values that also place it as the most lavish otherworldly adventure of the period, 1956’s Forbidden Plant imaginatively retells Shakespeare’s The Tempest in galaxy far away, casting a spell over viewers of all ages as the scenario concerning spacemen in the 23^rd century on an expedition to the planet Altair to search for survivors from a previous journey 20 years before unfolds in riveting fashion. Helmed with impressive skill by director Fred Wilcox, and a far cry from the Lassie films that made his name at the studio, the various elements of suspense, romance, fantasy and comedy found in the creative, engrossing screenplay by Cyril Hume from Allen Adler/Irving Block story concerning , are dexterously interwoven with a top cast of players, including Walter Pidgeon, Anne Francis and newcomer Leslie Nielsen,  lending individual flair and sincerity to their choice assignments, including the introduction of a true sci-fi icon, vivid lensing in Eastmancolor by George J. Folsey that, along with ace special effects and choice art and set direction by Cedric Gibbons and Arthur Lonergan, helps create a colorful and fascinating alternative universe, and one of the cinema’s most eerily impactful scores, with composers Bebe and Louis Barron working wonders in producing their famous electronically driven score.

                For director Wilcox, Planet afforded him the outlet to oversee a big budget, challenging project, after he had spent over a decade at MGM, starting with 1943’s Lassie Come Home, then helming three more Lassie films before ending the decade with another child-oriented movie, The Secret Garden. Switching to dramatic fare in the 1950s with moderate success, Planet provided Wilcox the means to exhibit his talent for investing the opulently staged set designs and fantastic plotline with a childlike sense of wonder that, even with the film’s frightening elements, serves as ideal viewing for sci-fi fans of all ages. Specifically impressive is the manner in which Wilcox puts Joshua Meador’s astounding animation of the terrifying Id monster front-and-center after building the tension for the raging destructive force of the Id. Similarly, early on Wilcox sagely offers an attention-getting introduction for the film’s breakout star, Robby the Robot (expertly voiced by Marvin Miller in appropriately monotone, automated fashion), as the space crew notice a dust formation rapidly coming closer. After this debut, Wilcox focuses ample time on providing the audience with more info on what exactly makes Robby tick, adding much humor to the proceedings and ensuring Robby his spot among the most beloved figures in 1950’s movies.  Following the peak of Planet, Wilcox would direct one more film, 1960’s intriguingly titled I Passed for White before his passing at age 56 in 1964.

                As Dr. Edward Morbius, the sole survivor of the first trip to Altair, top billed Walter Pidgeon utilizes his confident, stoic and distinguished demeanor and deep, resounding voice to create a calm-yet-commanding, forceful presence. Starting his career in films in 1926 during the silent era, the handsome, reliable Pidgeon slowly progressed as a leading man during the 1930s, before becoming a major star and box-office draw in the 1940s, first as the hero of 1941’s Oscar-winning Best Picture, How Green Was My Valley, then via a series of ideal pairings with Greer Garson, including one of the decade’s biggest hits, Mrs. Miniver (making it two Best Pictures in a row for Pidgeon) and Madame Curie, both of which gained him Best Actor Oscar nominations. Continuing into the 1950s as something of an elder stateman at MGM in top fare such as The Bad and the Beautiful and Executive Suite, Pidgeon would gain his richest role in years as the complex Morbius, driven by internal passions beyond his control as he attempts to guard his beautiful young daughter from the advances of several of the romantically inclined crewmen while also protecting the durable advanced technological empire (the depiction of which really gives the art and set designs a chance to shine in overwhelming manner) created centuries before by the ingenious Krell Race from the crew’s intrusiveness. Pidgeon does a fine job in illustrating the doctor’s unwillingness to welcome the members of starship C-57D and indicating mysterious circumstances are involved in Morbius’ mindset, allowing him to become a character the audience can both sympathize with and, as events unfold, grow leerier of as some unhinged aspects of the doctor’s nature arise. After his imposing appearance in Planet Pidgeon would continue in films for the next two decades, with highlights including Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea, Advise and Consent and strong work as Florence Ziegfeld in 1968’s smash Funny Girl, making his final film opposite the equally indomitable Mae West in 1978’s Sexette, before passing away in 1984 at age 87.

Gaining film immortality in her icon role as Altaira, Morbius’ alluring, naïve daughter curious to discover more about the crewmen and their customs, the stunning Anne Francis invests the role with the proper innocence and moxie in a thoughtful, skillful performance indicating the experience young veteran Francis had already gained in her impressive screen career. Born in 1930, Francis started in films as a teen via a debut in 1947’s This Time for Keeps, then slowly worked her way up the Hollywood ladder, first in bit parts (she can be glimpsed at the end of Portrait of Jennie), then moving on to leads and second leads in some top early-mid 1950’s films, including Bad Day at Black Rock (wherein, similar to Planet, she is the only female cast member) and two major 1955 hits, Battle Cry and Blackboard Jungle. The professional poise and affinity with the camera Francis exhibits in Planet assures audience attention stays on Altaira (aided by some daring, revealing and gorgeous costumes by Helen Rose), even in scenes wherein she has little or nothing to say. Also, she capably shows Altaira’s increasing strength of character, as she becomes more knowledgeable of her and Morbius’ circumstances. Following Planet, Francis would continue in films (including a brief reunion with Pidgeon in Funny Girl) and score strongly on television, starring in the famous “The After Hours” episode of The Twilight Zone before winning a Golden Globe for her stint as a private eye on the Honey West series. Continuing through the 1980s and 1990s as a guest star on many top t.v. shows, Francis would make her final appearance on two episodes of Without a Trace in 2004 before passing away at 80 in early 2011.

                In his first major role after appearing in Ransom! earlier in 1956, Leslie Nielsen established himself as a low-keyed, persuasive screen actor of note. Although fitting the requirements for the squared-jawed, virile matinee idol type of star, Nielsen hints at the lighter, mock-serious aspect of his playing that would make him a huge star in comedies in the 1980s and beyond. As John J. Adams, the commander of the C-57D, Nielsen forthrightly demonstrates the strength and focus needed to convince as the leader, but he also finds moments of bemusement as Adams interacts with his colleagues, bringing both dramatic heft and levity to the role. In his romantic sequences with Francis, the statuesque Nielsen displays a charmingly boyish quality as Adams awkwardly attempts to get closer to the attentive maiden. The sturdy leading man would solidify his place among Hollywood’s new talent in the following year’s Tammy and the Bachelor opposite Debbie Reynolds, then spend the next two decades as a stalwart figure in films and television, including a memorable turn (literally) as the unlucky Captain Harrison, placed in charge of the title vessel in The Poseidon Adventure, before a hilarious role of a very different sort as the somber, but masterfully tongue-in-cheek doctor in 1980’s Airplane! garnered his career a whole new life as a major star of zany fare, including The Naked Gun (first on television, then in three movies) and Scary Movie series, among many others. Nielsen’s work in this satirical comedy genre continued in fairly unbated fashion, until his passing in 2010 at 84.

                A constant presence on films and television during the 1950s and 1960s, the hardy Warren Stevens has possibly his best-remembered screen role as Lt. “Doc” Ostrow, the staunchly loyal cohort of Adams. Starting in films as a pre-teen in 1939’s The Story of Alexander Graham Bell, Jack Kelly also has his signature big screen role as crewman Jerry, who vies with Adams for Altaira’s attentions and has a few amusing exchanges with Francis early on, just before Kelly gained major stardom on television as Bart Maverick. Another who went on to higher-profile stardom after a memorable showing in Planet, Richard Anderson is briefly onboard as Quinn, the crew’s Chief Engineer, years before his best-known work in the hit television sci-fi series The Six Million Dollar Man and its spinoff, The Six Million Dollar Woman. Finally, experiencing a great year in films with the blockbuster Giant and an endearing, Golden Globe-winning performance in The Rainmaker also to his credit before going on to greater television fame (via Police Woman), the ingratiatingly comic Earl Holliman scores heavily in Planet’s most entertaining and lightest subplot, wherein his cook befriends Robby, leading to a most un-sobering endeavor.

With its March 1956 release, the vastly entertaining, though-provoking Forbidden Planet was justifiably praised by critics for reaching a quality of filmmaking seldom seen in most sci-fi movies. Audiences also took to this Planet immediately, with the film eventually ending up with a profit despite the large production costs for the ambitious, risky undertaking. Unnoticed during most of the award season (possibly due to genre bias against sci-fi), at the Academy Awards Planet reaped a well-deserved nomination for Best Special Effects. The film has resonated strongly with subsequent generations as one of sci-fi cinema’s greatest undertakings, with re-releases (including kiddie matinees), showings on television and constant output on physical media exposing the classic to new Planet fans. The National Film Registry included the film on its 2013 list, while the fame of the movie took on a life of its own as Robby the Robot became one of the most lasting and recognizable film fabrications and pop icons ever, with a wealth of further appearances on films and television, while the movie and Ms. Francis were further etched in cinema history via homage to them during the opening of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. Sci-fi aficionados and movie lovers in the mood for seeing one of the most artfully conceived films of the fantastical genre, with class production values across the board and a cast and crew fully committed to selling the premise in highly compelling and entertaining fashion, will find a rich and unforgettable viewing experience by making a star trek to the inventively bewitching world of Forbidden Planet.

A Fond Farewell to a True Screen Original, Diane Keaton

 

                A vibrant, original, multitalented and complex presence in films from her 1970’s heyday onward, Diane Keaton lent truth and perception to a variety of memorable roles, granting individuality, grace humor and dramatic heft to some of the most indelible portrayals in the annals of film. Throughout a rich filmography spanning several decades, Keaton managed to constantly offer relevant and relatable work, brining a modern sensibility and believability to her roles that allowed audiences to identify with and admire her strong, independent heroines, with Keaton proving equally dexterous in both comedic and dramatic parts in such diverse work as The Godfather, Sleeper, Looking for Mr. Goodbar, Shoot the Moon, Baby Boom, Father of the Bride, The Family Stone, Academy Award nominated work in Reds, Marvin’s Room  and Something’s Gotta Give and her iconic, Oscar winning performance as the title character in Annie Hall, while branching out to develop her talents as a writer, director, photographer and editor of style and taste.

                Starting her career on Broadway in 1968 visa the smash Hair, Keaton would score another stage success and gain a Tony nomination for Play It Again, Sam, starting a highly fruitful collaboration with Woody Allen, before debuting in films via 1970’s Lovers and Other Strangers. 1972 would prove a pivotal year in her career, with Keaton showing finesse for playing in both lighter mode via a screen reprisal of her breakout Sam role, while plunging more dramatic depths as the put-upon Kay in The Godfather, a trend she would follow in her subsequent films with remarkable effectiveness as she artfully maneuvered through and balanced comedies and dramas. Reaching superstar status in 1977 with the formidable one-two punch of the delightful Hall and the disturbing Goodbar, Keaton would thereafter maintain her place among the top leading stars of her generation, continuing her association with Allen via the likes of Manhattan, Radio Days and Manhattan Murder Mystery, reaching other comic highs via Baby Boom, Father, a wonderful teaming with Goldie Hawn and Bette Milder in the hit First Wives Club and a triumph pairing with Jack Nicholson for 2003’s Something’s, while delving into forceful dramatic work with Allen’s Interiors, especially impactful alongside the equally compelling Albert Finney in Moon, The Little Drummer Girl and The Good Mother, while honing her directorial skills with the documentary Heaven, then Unstrung Heroes and Hanging Up.

                Perhaps Keaton’s most enduring and endearing work came via 1977’s Annie Hall, wherein her zany, heartfelt embodiment of the semiautobiographical title role, a young woman trying to find her voice (literally) and place in the world as she deals with and on-and-off romance proved remarkably popular with both audiences and critics, while also launching a fashion trend with the “Annie Hall Look.” Keaton adds great comic spontaneity to her scenes while also adding a touching truth and sensitivity to the more profound moments as Annie evolves into a more liberated spirit, with a viewer standing in awe at how adeptly and singularly Keaton is able bring Annie to life in a fully rounded, definitive manner. Take for example Annie’s first meeting with Alvy (Allen), wherein Keaton lends a bravura dizziness and intense likability to the nervous, open Annie, as she laments over her spacy demeanor and awkwardness with famous “la-de-da” comments and a beguiling forthrightness that make the character sing with truth, instead of becoming annoyingly cute and phony with her offbeat antics and stream of conscience ramblings. Keaton is also impressive in Annie’s more serious moments as she faces conflict via the fading nature of her relationship with Alvy, or her insecurity concerning her desires for a singing career, with the dramatic aspects of the role setting up Keaton’s trenchant, stark career 180-degree turn later in the year with her deep dive into the dark world depicted in Goodbar.

                A dynamic talent of seemingly unlimited artistic resources, Diane Keaton forged her own path during a revolutionary period in movies, with the outcome being a fantastic array of thoughtful, sincere and entertaining work both in front of and behind the camera. Rest in peace to a lovely, gifted star of rare merit and appeal, Diane Keaton.