Showing posts with label Albert Finney. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Albert Finney. Show all posts

Wednesday, September 20, 2017

On the Road Again



One of my colleagues at work is a member of the Millennial generation.

She is also a big fan of Audrey Hepburn, who died before my co–worker was born. I learned of her fondness for Hepburn last year when she told me how she dressed like Audrey Hepburn in "Breakfast at Tiffany's" for a costume party given by the youth group at her church.

I asked a perfectly reasonable question: Did anyone know who she was pretending to be?

Her answer surprised me: Yes!

In fact, she said, just about everyone knew who she was.

I have always admired Hepburn, too, and I think one of the primary reasons for her appeal is that it wasn't really possible to pigeonhole her. She was an extraordinarily versatile actress who could do many things well. Even so she never seemed like the sort of star who would appeal to the Millennials.

At least that was my take on it. I stand corrected.

One of the best examples of her versatility was the British movie that made its debut on this day in 1967 — "Two for the Road" — which starred another versatile thespian, Albert Finney. They made an appealing on–screen couple.

Just one problem. That seemingly picture–perfect marriage was imploding.

As Roger Ebert observed in his review of the movie, "Love is ever so much more satisfactory in the movies where every other kiss is framed by a sunset, and people are always running toward each other in slow motion, their arms outstretched, while in the background the tide comes in, or goes out, or keeps busy, anyway."

Just about every married couple I know would tell you that isn't what marriage is really like.

That is what courtship is like. That's what going together (or whatever they call it these days) is like.

But when you say "I do," you're saying "I do" to a whole lot of stuff that is not mentioned directly in your vows — like the fact that you will have to work on keeping that spark of romance alive more often and in more ways than you think.

Some marriages can overcome that. Some can't.

That was the subtext of the story, and it was far from certain which way this couple would go. They had their two–seater transported to Northwestern France, and they took off on a road trip to the southeastern corner of the country. Finney played a successful architect, and they planned to participate in a celebration of the completion of a client's project.

The road through France was one they had traveled before, and the current road trip gave them the opportunity to reflect on events in their lives and examine where life had taken them since they met.

It was an intriguing story–telling technique, but the memories weren't always pleasant. There were moments of infidelity on both sides.

If you happen to catch this one on TV, look for Jacqueline Bisset in one of her early roles.

And listen for the title song, "Two for the Road," which was written by Henry Mancini. It wasn't nominated for an Oscar, unlike many of his other songs, but Mancini said it was his personal favorite.

In fact, the movie was all but ignored by the Oscars, receiving only one nomination, even though Ebert was adamant that "Two for the Road" was one of the best movies of 1967.

I thought it was a well–told story, balancing comedy and drama in that poignant way that real life does. To some viewers, the end may seem to be an unrealistic compromise in which the two remain together in spite of all that has passed before.

And there may be something to that.

But director Stanley Donen treated it differently than your typical Hollywood happy ending. He had Hepburn and Finney cross the French border into Italy, something they had never done before.

They symbolically turned the page and began a new chapter, traveling into unexplored territory.

Thursday, November 05, 2015

The Spirits of Christmas



"There is never enough time to do or say all the things that we would wish. The thing is to try to do as much as you can in the time that you have. Remember, Scrooge, time is short, and suddenly, you're not there anymore."

Ghost of Christmas Present (Kenneth More)

Nearly five years ago, I noticed that one of my favorite — and relatively unknown — Christmas movies, "Scrooge," was being shown on Turner Classic Movies, and I tried to notify my readers of that fact. I discovered rather belatedly that I had missed the 40th anniversary of the movie's release by about five weeks.

Well, here I am, five years later, and today is the 45th anniversary of the theatrical debut of "Scrooge," a musical adaptation of the familiar Charles Dickens tale, "A Christmas Carol." I'm not really sure I have much to add to what I wrote in 2010. Well, maybe a few things.

A couple of days ago, I mentioned that I am not a fan of musicals, and the movie about which I was writing at the time — "Guys and Dolls" — was a big reason why. I also mentioned, though, that I do like some musicals — and "Scrooge" is a big reason why that is true, I suppose.

But, really, I'm not sure why my reaction to those films is what it is. Why do I like one and not the other?

Maybe it is because I could always see the moral in "Scrooge," and I couldn't really see one in "Guys and Dolls" — other than "crime pays" or something similar.

I liked Albert Finney in the title role — but I've liked Finney in just about everything I've seen him in. Sometimes I have been baffled as to why he accepted an offer ("Looker" comes racing to mind) — but, having agreed to do the part, he always seems to give it everything he has. Far more often than not, he has risen to the occasion.

"The notion of Albert Finney playing Ebenezer Scrooge is admittedly mind–boggling," wrote film critic Roger Ebert, "and so is the idea of 'A Christmas Carol' being turned into a musical. But 'Scrooge' works very nicely on its intended level and the kids sitting near me seemed to be having a good time."

Ebert criticized the music, too: "(Leslie) Bricusse's songs fall so far below the level of good musical comedy that you wish Albert Finney would stop singing them, until you realize he isn't really singing. He's just noodling along, helped by lush orchestration."

That acknowledgement prompted Ebert to ask a question: "[W]hy does 'Scrooge' work? Because it's a universal story, I guess, and we like to see it told again."

I have always been a devout believer in the adage that a book is better than any movie that is based on it. But sometimes the movie tells us things the book apparently did not.

I was very young when I read "A Christmas Carol," and I don't remember a detailed discussion of Scrooge's lost love (played in the movie by British actress Suzanne Neve). It may have been in Dickens' original novel. I hope it was — because it certainly added a layer to Scrooge's personality to which many could relate. Darn few of us have not had the experience of losing a love.

Most of us overcome it. Some, like Scrooge, do not.

In general, it seems Ebert was pleased with "Scrooge."

"Alec Guinness contributes a Marley wrapped in chains; the Christmas turkey weighs at least 40 pounds; Tiny Tim is appropriately tiny, and Scrooge reforms himself with style," Ebert wrote. "What more could you want? No songs, I'd say."

OK, he didn't care for the music. I get that. It wasn't great, I'll grant you. But I could tolerate it. (Ironically, the music was virtually the only part of "Scrooge" that was nominated for Oscars. "Thank You Very Much" was nominated for Best Original Song, and the music in the movie was nominated for Best Original or Adaptation Score.

(The movie also received Oscar nominations for Best Costume Design and Best Art Direction.)

And just as I admire Finney's work, I also admire the work of Guinness as Scrooge's business partner, Jacob Marley. Some critics liked his performance. Others did not; I recall reading a critical review that dismissed Guinness' Marley as a "gay ghost." Personally, I liked the performance. I thought it was suitably ghostly — and, as Ebert observed, "wrapped in chains," as one expects Marley to be.

But I suppose it wasn't everyone's cup of tea.

After all these years, I still regard it as a classic Christmas movie, one that is always worth watching during the holidays.

Of course, if one wants to see a movie based on Dickens' classic tale, there is no shortage of versions from which to choose — but only one has Albert Finney and Alec Guinness.

In my opinion, that makes the decision much easier.

Monday, November 24, 2014

Bringing Agatha Christie to the Big Screen



Bianchi (Martin Balsam): You mean you saw the man? You can identify the murderer?

Mrs. Hubbard (Lauren Bacall): I mean nothing of the kind. I mean there was a man in my compartment last night. It was pitch dark, of course, and my eyes were closed in terror ...

Bianchi: Then how did you know it was a man?

Mrs. Hubbard: Because I've enjoyed very warm relations with both my husbands.

Bianchi: With your eyes closed?

Mrs. Hubbard: That helped.

I remember the night my father took our family from our central Arkansas hometown to Little Rock to see "Murder on the Orient Express," which premiered on this day in 1974. I have read many Agatha Christie books in my life, and I have read the one upon which the movie was based, but I had not read it before I saw the movie.

So I was completely fished in by the solution — which I won't give away, in case someone reading this would like to read the book (which I recommend) or see the movie (which I also recommend). In his review of the movie, Roger Ebert reminded readers that "nothing is as it seems (and you knew that already about a movie based on an Agatha Christie book)."

"Murder on the Orient Express" wasn't the first Agatha Christie book to be brought to the big screen, but, to my knowledge, it was the first to do so with such a heavyweight cast.

My parents were Agatha Christie fans. They read most, if not all, of her books — and my memory of that night is that they were almost giddy with anticipation. Looking back, I realize they must have read articles about the movie — reviews, features about the cast members, that sort of thing — but my brother and I had not, and we were bewildered; we knew some of the stars in the movie, but we had no idea what to expect from the plot.

I had seen Ingrid Bergman in movies on TV, but she was young and beautiful in those movies. She was nearly 60 when she made "Murder on the Orient Express" — still beautiful, as I found out later, but the role she played required her to look even frumpier than many women look at that age.

Bergman actually chose the role she played, an old Swedish missionary, even though director Sidney Lumet wanted to give her a better role, a still older yet prettier and wittier character than the missionary, a more graceful role with which he felt she could win another Oscar. But Bergman was "sweetly stubborn" about the role she wanted to play, Lumet said, and he couldn't deny her. After all, she was Ingrid Bergman.

In the end, she won an Oscar, anyway. After all, she was Ingrid Bergman.
Hercule Poirot (Albert Finney): Mr. Ratchett, I have made enough money to satisfy both my needs and my caprices. I take only such cases now as interest me, and to be frank, my interest in your case is ... dwindling.

Really, it was an all–star cast, befitting a story that seemed to have randomly thrown together a dozen colorful characters — until a rather tenuous link between them all and the victim was established.

Personally, I found the story's solution to be a clever twist, the kind of thing that only Agatha Christie could conceive. She put all the characters on a train that had been stopped by a snowdrift. They were confined to the train, where Poirot interrogated them all and then revealed the two conclusions he had reached about how the victim had been killed.

Must have been a delight to be on the set with all those talented people.

Hercule Poirot: You never smile, madame la princesse?

Princess Dragomiroff (Wendy Hiller): My doctor has advised against it.

For the quality of its production, "Murder on the Orient Express" was rewarded with half a dozen Oscar nominations — and one victory, Bergman's Best Supporting Actress Oscar.

But Bergman, when she accepted the award, apologized to the actresses she had beaten, especially Valentina Cortese, who was nominated for her performance in a film that was made in 1973. Bergman thought Cortese's performance was better.

"She gave the most beautiful performance," Bergman said admiringly as applause erupted from the audience.

Granted, but Bergman was pretty good, too. After all, she was Ingrid Bergman.

Saturday, October 29, 2011

Another Look at Looker



If you haven't already made your arrangements for Halloween viewing — and if you haven't, what have you been waiting for? — an option you might consider is "Looker," a movie that made its debut 30 years ago tomorrow.

It won't fit the bill for you if what you crave for Halloween is scary monsters or ghost stories. But if you lean to suspense thrillers with a touch of science fiction, well, "Looker" might be what you want.

It might not, though. It was more funny than spine–tingling, really a silly story.

The story, which was written and directed by Michael Crichton (better known for writing things like "Jurassic Park" and "The Andromeda Strain"), had some intriguing ideas behind it — and, in its way, was similar to "Network" in its anticipation of how modern mass communication would seek to manipulate the masses. But it never quite lived up to its promise.

"Network," which will mark its 35th birthday next month, addressed the concepts of news as entertainment and reality programming long before they popped up on the popular radar. "Looker" focused on advertising and absurdly precise measurements of physical beauty that determined what agencies did — and the lengths to which models would go to please the agencies.

Albert Finney, who had been nominated for Oscars twice prior to making this movie, was probably the most bankable star in a cast that included several familiar faces. He played a plastic surgeon who had performed apparently unnecessary operations on models who then turned up dead.

(These models, I should point out, were physically perfect, but not perfect in every way so a research company used digital scanning to acquire computer–generated models that could be animated in future commercials.)

Susan Dey, who was probably better known to moviegoers of that time as Laurie Partridge of TV's The Partridge Family, played one of Finney's patients. Her character worked with Finney to uncover a plot to kill the models.

At this point in her career, Dey was between her breakthrough role as the alluring yet virtuous Laurie and her next big role as the more mature lawyer, Grace Van Owen, in L.A. Law, and she was trying desperately to shed her squeaky–clean image.

She shed more than her image in her theatrical debut, 1977's "First Love." In fact, it could be argued that she exposed too much in that movie. When she made "Looker" about four years later, Dey seemed to have learned a lesson or two about the value of mystery — promise more but show less.

She teased the audience more in "Looker," and, ultimately, she delivered less. But, then, so did "Looker" in comparison to "First Love."

"First Love," at least, had a comprehensible, if schmaltzy, story. "Looker," on the other hand, was a bit contrived and there were elements that were simply never explained — except many years later in the commentary option on the DVD.

But it was fun then, and it should be fun now. If you don't have Halloween plans, you might give it some thought.

Friday, December 10, 2010

Scrooge



The other day, when I was writing about Christmas viewing traditions, I mentioned that my mother always seemed to know what the latest Christmas movie releases were, and she always saw to it that the family went to see them.

One of those Christmas movies will be airing on Turner Classic Movies tonight at 8:30 (Central).

It is called "Scrooge," and it was a retelling of Charles Dickens' "A Christmas Carol," with Albert Finney cast as Ebenezer Scrooge and Alec Guinness as Marley's ghost.

I don't know what you would discover if you could compile the number of times a beloved Christmas tale, like "A Christmas Carol," has been performed on the big screen — or the smaller one, for that matter — or on the stages of school auditoriums or community theaters, but, if it isn't at the top of such a list, Dickens' story certainly must be near the top — especially when you take into account not only the faithful retellings of the story, whether set in the period or given a more modern setting, but the parodies as well.

Heck, I remember being in an elementary school production of the story when I was in fourth or fifth grade. That was a pretty straight–forward telling, incidentally — hardly a satirical treatment.

And, over the years, there have been several Hollywood versions. Some were titled "A Christmas Carol," others took their title from the lead character's name, "Scrooge." Some were made before the advent of the "talkies," others came along later.

The version that will be shown tonight made its debut 40 years ago — in November 1970 — and it earned a few Academy Award nominations, including one for the song in the attached clip, "Thank You Very Much."

That scene, by the way, has a delightful twist to it. Scrooge (the fellow to be seen wandering around in a white nightshirt and a white nightcap) is unaware that what he and the others are singing and dancing about is an expression of their gratitude to Scrooge for dying — and, consequently, nullifying the debts they all owed him.

Unknown to Scrooge, he is in the middle of his own funeral procession, and it plays a role in reforming him.

If you're curious as to how this was accomplished — and, considering how many times this story must have been told on screen and stage, how could you be in the dark about that? But never mind — you'll have to watch the movie for yourself, won't you?

Unless you've spent your life in a cave, you must know about Scrooge's encounters with the ghosts of Christmas past, Christmas present and Christmas yet to come.

They are the broad brushstrokes of the original story, but each presentation contributes its own colors and textures.

And "Scrooge" managed to explore the reasons why Scrooge was the way he was. In hindsight, I can understand the emotions Scrooge experienced when he reflected on the love of his life, Isabel, and how circumstances had driven them apart forever.

The same circumstances contributed to the lonely, old miser that Scrooge had become. And I guess we all know that that is pretty much how life operates.

In spite of everything, though — and in large part because of his visit with the ghost of Christmas present — Scrooge decides that he likes life.

I don't recall the critical reaction to the movie, but I liked it. I remember my family was visiting my grandmother in Dallas that Christmas, and we all went out to the neighborhood theater (an old–fashioned single–screen one with a lobby and a balcony and a marquee out front) to see it.

We may have done that on Christmas Eve. Maybe we did it a night or two before that. In my memory, Christmas had not yet occurred, but it was close, excruciatingly close in a child's eyes.

It was a cold night, even for Dallas, which is always milder than most parts of the country in December but seemed unusually cold that particular Christmas. It wasn't snowing — it almost never snows here at Christmas — but, in my memory, it seemed cold enough that night for snow.

Perhaps that is because there were so many cold, snowy scenes in "Scrooge." I don't know. But that is how it is in my memory.

I'm sure that, for many folks, the character of Ebenezer Scrooge was defined by George C. Scott in a made–for–TV movie that came out in the 1980s. For other generations, there were other actors, I suppose, who epitomized the character of Scrooge.

For that matter, I've seen Finney in several movies, and I really liked some of them. I was always particularly fond of his performance as Hercule Poirot in the 1974 adaptation of "Murder on the Orient Express."

But, to me, Finney was Scrooge. And he always will be.

Watch it and enjoy it, especially if you missed it the first time. As Scrooge learned, sometimes life gives you second chances.

Start your own Christmas tradition.