Showing posts with label Joseph Cotten. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Joseph Cotten. Show all posts

Wednesday, September 23, 2015

Awakening a Sleeping Giant



I've made a life's study of history. It was my minor in college, and it's been a personal passion all my life.

Movies have been a passion of my life, too, and I always like it when the two converge. I like movies that are based on actual events — preferably significant ones — although I do enjoy learning about something I never knew about before. Just as long as I'm getting the straight dope. I don't mind fictional accounts, as long as the stories are true to the events. For example, I didn't really object to "Titanic," mainly because it didn't embellish the truth — even though it did tell a true story in the context of a fictional one. But the truth wasn't sacrificed.

Which is more than I can say about "Pearl Harbor," a success at the box office but a flop with the critics — in no small part because the fictional story set against the backdrop of the sneak attack took all the attention but failed to make the audience care about anyone in the movie — and it didn't contribute to a younger generation's understanding of what happened and why. Even though the audience knew — or should have known — what was going to happen.

No such problem with "Tora! Tora! Tora!" That account of Pearl Harbor, which premiered on this date in 1970, was absolutely committed to re–creating the attack down to the smallest detail.

The audience realized early on how woefully unprepared the Americans were for the attack. One of my favorite moments in the movie comes on that fateful day — Dec. 7, 1941 — when E.G. Marshall, playing Lt. Col. Bratton, comes looking for the chief of staff, only to be told by his incredulous aide that he wasn't in his office because "It's Sunday, sir."

I watched this movie again a couple of years after the terrorist attacks of Sept. 11, 2001. At the time of those attacks, I heard them compared, over and over, to Pearl Harbor; I heard that so much it became a cliche. But after I watched "Tora! Tora! Tora!" again, I had a change of heart. There were differences between the events, of course, but there were also similarities. Both involved determined foes who regarded the United States as a deadly threat to their existence. And, in both cases, the United States was either ignorant of or guilty of ignoring the gathering storm.

A big difference, of course, was that the 9–11 attacks targeted largely civilian facilities — with the noteworthy exception of the Pentagon. At least the Americans who were attacked in Pearl Harbor had the means to defend themselves — and many of them tried to do so. But the complacency of the perception of a routine Sunday morning prevented the counterattack from being very effective.

The attack was harrowing. In fact, until I saw the re–creation of D–Day in "Saving Private Ryan," I thought it was the most graphic depiction of battle — one–sided though it was — that I had ever seen.

"I fear all we have done is to awaken a sleeping giant and fill him with a terrible resolve," said Sô Yamamura in the role of Admiral Yamamoto. It was the most prophetic line in both real life and the movie.

I know little of the Japanese actors in the movie, which really isn't surprising since the producers deliberately sought actors who were not stars. I could write volumes on the American actors, though — Marshall, Jason Robards, Joseph Cotten, James Whitmore, Martin Balsam. Perhaps they were not regarded as A list stars at the time, but I would have considered them stars. Until I watched the movie again after 9–11, I thought Henry Fonda was in it as well. But he wasn't. I must have been thinking of "Midway."

The cast was top notch.

But, really, what else would you expect from guys like that? They delivered — as they always did.

It was interesting that the movie did better at the box office in Japan than it did in the United States — which was probably why it took years for the producers to make back their $25 million investment.

"Tora! Tora! Tora!" was nominated for five Oscars and won one — Best Visual Effects.

Monday, September 01, 2014

'The Third Man' Was One of the Best Film Noirs Ever Made



"In Italy for 30 years under the Borgias they had warfare, terror, murder and bloodshed, but they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci and the Renaissance. In Switzerland they had brotherly love — they had 500 years of democracy and peace, and what did that produce? The cuckoo clock."

Harry Lime (Orson Welles)
American Film Institute's #37 movie villain

All my life, I have heard that "Citizen Kane" is the greatest movie ever made.

But, apparently, some people think "The Third Man," which premiered on Sept. 2, 1949, is the greatest movie ever made. Well, one of them, anyway. And Orson Welles starred in both.

While there was no mistaking Welles' role in "Citizen Kane," it was kind of hard to figure out the part he played in "Third Man" until more than halfway through. See, up to that point in the movie, the assumption everyone made was that Welles' character, Harry Lime, had recently died. There had been a funeral and everything.

The guy with the most screen time was Welles' friend, a writer played by Joseph Cotten (who also appeared in "Citizen Kane"). He showed up in postwar Vienna planning to work for Welles — only to learn Welles' character recently died after being struck by a car while crossing the street.

But was that really what happened? That, as film critic Roger Ebert observed, is "the engine that drives the plot."

Cotten was told that a mysterious third man helped two other men (whose identities were known) carry Welles from the scene. He was also told by a British officer (Trevor Howard) that Welles had been a thief and a murderer, accusations Cotten refused to believe. But, as the movie progressed, he learned that what he had been told was true — and he found out that Welles was very much alive.

"By the time Lime finally appears," Ebert wrote, "we have almost forgotten Welles is even *in* the movie."

And, thus, the stage was set for the final scene — a chase through the sewers of Vienna.

It was in that final scene that the movie's distinctive cinematography was most in evidence, with its severe lighting and unusual camera angles.

"The chase sequence ... is another joining of the right action with the right location," Ebert wrote. "Harry escapes into the sewer system like a cornered rat, and [director Carol] Reed edits the pursuit into long, echoing, empty sewer vistas, and closeups of Lime's sweaty face, his eyes darting for a way out."

And the music. Its influence on the mood of the movie was unmistakable.

"Has there ever been a film where the music more perfectly suited the action?" Ebert wrote, referring to the nearly constant zither music. Reed came across the musician who performed it one night in a Viennese beer house where the musician was playing. The movie's theme was one of the biggest hits of 1950.

My answer to Ebert's question would be "Probably not."

I don't think "The Third Man" was the greatest movie ever made — I'm still inclined to give that designation to "Citizen Kane" — but I definitely think it was one of the great film noirs ever made.

Sunday, May 11, 2014

Pay No Attention to Those Flickering Lights



gas·light [gas-lahyt]

noun
1. light produced by the combustion of illuminating gas.
2. a gas burner or gas jet for producing this kind of light.

adjective
3.gaslit ( def 2 ) .

verb (used with object), gas·light·ed or gas·lit, gas·light·ing.
4. to cause (a person) to doubt his or her sanity through the use of psychological manipulation: How do you know if your partner is gaslighting you?

Origin: 1800–10; gas + light1 ; def 4 in reference to the 1944 movie Gaslight, in which an abusive husband secretly and repeatedly dims and brightens the gaslights in the house while accusing his wife of imagining the flickering

Random House Dictionary

Ingrid Bergman won her first Oscar for George Cukor's "Gaslight," which premiered 70 years ago today. That movie also earned the rare distinction of serving as the illustration for a term in the dictionary — in this case, a verb.

I don't know if gaslight is used frequently anymore, but, surely, everyone can understand the concept. Bergman's character was driven to the very brink of madness through the psychological manipulation of her husband (Charles Boyer).

"I think [Bergman]'s my favorite movie actress," wrote Roger Ebert, and I think many people would agree. Bergman was still young in 1944, but she already had a reputation and a following. She was pretty well known by the time she won her Oscar for "Gaslight."

See, Bergman played a turn–of–the–century young singer who fell for a dashing older man (Boyer). They got married and set up their home in a house Bergman's character had inherited from her aunt, also a singer who had been murdered there a decade earlier.

The man who had murdered her aunt had been searching for her jewels, but he was interrupted by Bergman as a child and fled. He was never identified.

"If it was I who took that picture down ... if it was I who took it down the other times, if I do all these senseless, meaningless things, so meaningless, why should I take a picture down? But then, I don't know what I do anymore. ... But then, if that's true, then you must be gentle with me. You must bear with me, please."

Paula (Ingrid Bergman)

It was all part of Boyer's character's plan. You see, he was the one who had killed Bergman's aunt, and he tried to manipulate her psychologically. When he moved around in the attic, looking for the jewels he left behind all those years ago, his footsteps could be heard, and the gaslights in the house flickered when he switched on the lights in the attic because that reduced the gas supply to the rest of the house.

He systematically attempted to drive her insane. If she were certified insane and put in an institution, he would be free to search for the jewels whenever he pleased.

As her paranoia increased, Bergman's character became convinced that her maid (Angela Lansbury, a real spitfire in her first movie role) detested her.

It was Joseph Cotten, as an inspector from Scotland Yard, who provided the alliance Bergman needed to convince herself that all the odd things really were happening, that they weren't her imagination — and, most importantly, that she was not responsible for them. There was a reasonable explanation for what had been happening.

The movie got seven Oscar nominations, but only the mesmerizing Bergman and four others (for Art Direction) took home the statuette. Boyer and Lansbury were nominated for their acting, the movie was nominated for Best Picture, and John Balderston, Walter Reisch and John Van Druten were nominated for their adapted screenplay, but Cukor was not nominated for his direction.

There were some heavyweights in that category that year, though (Billy Wilder, Otto Preminger, Alfred Hitchcock, Henry King and the winner, Leo McCarey), and it is hard to imagine how Cukor could have been wedged in.

Wednesday, October 30, 2013

The Night of the Alien Invasion



I was reminded today, when I went to the campus to advise the newspaper staff, that this is the 75th anniversary of the broadcast of Orson Welles' radio adaptation of "War of the Worlds."

It was performed by Welles' "Mercury Theatre on the Air" group, which included the likes of Ray Collins, Joseph Cotten, Arlene Francis and Agnes Moorehead among others.

Roughly the first 40 minutes of the 62–minute CBS broadcast were presented as news bulletins reporting an alien invasion. The bulletins apparently were quite convincing — aided, no doubt, by the fact that the drama had no commercial interruptions — and a mass panic ensued.

Well, it was said that there was a mass panic, but there has been a debate over just how many people actually did panic on the night of Oct. 30, 1938. The number that has been settled on is 6 million.

That sounds like a lot, but it is actually about one–fifth the audience of rival NBC.

Welles and his group were criticized by some for the allegedly deceptive nature of those news bulletins, but the broadcast opened with a passage from the novel that described the aliens' intentions and noted that the events in the drama were set in 1939 — the following year.

Listeners who came in on the broadcast after that opening wouldn't have known what was going on — but such a listener, if he/she really listened to the broadcast and used some logic and common sense, could have figured out it wasn't real. At one point, the broadcast announced the start of a battle — only to announce not only the conclusion of the battle but also a body count within a minute.

Of course, you have to remember the context of the broadcast to understand why some people panicked. War was in the air in Europe. Within a year, the Nazis would invade Poland; within two, they would be in Paris.

In fact, the Radio Research Project studied the Halloween Eve broadcast and concluded that roughly one–fourth of the estimated 6 million listeners believed it was real — but most did not think Martians were invading. They believed the Germans were invading.

I have to think they were predisposed to react as they did.

Monday, January 21, 2013

Over the Edge



George (Joseph Cotten): Why should the Falls drag me down here at 5 o'clock in the morning? To show me how big they are and how small I am? To remind me they can get along without any help? All right, so they've proved it. But why not? They've had 10,000 years to get independent. What's so wonderful about that? I suppose I could, too, only it might take a little more time.

They come and they go, the pinup sensations and the slinky actresses who seize our collective attention for a year or two until the next one comes along.

Marilyn Monroe, though, was different. Her decade was the 1950s, but she would have stood out in any decade. Only the clothes and the hairstyle would vary.

Sixty years ago, Marilyn was probably in her prime, and the movie that made its debut on this day in 1953 — "Niagara" — clearly was a turning point for her. In 1952, she made $750/week, but after "Niagara," her salary went up 67%.

She went on to make most of her most memorable films after her appearance in "Niagara," but that was really when the Marilyn phenomenon began.

About a quarter of a century later, "Charlie's Angels" was credited with pioneering what came to be known as "jiggle TV."

But the model for it was really developed on the big screen by Marilyn Monroe. I mean, did anyone ever walk away from a camera the way Marilyn did?

And I mean movie cameras. Still cameras could only capture her beauty. They couldn't fully convey her movements when she walked.

As I say, she stood out.

That was her character's problem in "Niagara," too. She attracted a lot of attention — from her actual lover, with whom she communicated in various ways, and those who wanted to be her lover, like the kids at the Niagara Falls motel where she and her husband (Joseph Cotten) were staying — and her husband, too, for that matter.

Cotten's character clearly had issues with his wife's behavior — at one point, when Marilyn was about to leave the motel to meet her lover, Cotten told her she "smell[ed] like a dime store," and she tauntingly replied, "I'm meeting somebody, just anybody handy, as long as he's a man!"

(OK, sometimes the dialogue in "Niagara" lacked subtlety, but I doubt that most film noirs, as melodramatic as they tended to be, managed to avoid that pitfall.)

She knew how to push all his buttons, but she didn't want to annoy him. She wanted to be rid of him, and her lover was going to help her do that. That, essentially, was the plan.

But things didn't go according to plan.

There was a lot of electricity between Monroe and Cotten. In the first half of the movie, it was face to face, but in the second half of the movie, when Monroe realized that her lover, not Cotten, had been killed, the electricity took on a more sinister and shadowy aura.

He was out there, somewhere, and Monroe knew why he had killed her lover — because her lover had tried to kill him. He knew that she had cajoled her lover into coming after him — perhaps because he had been cajoled by her into killing someone else years before.

(That's just speculation on my part. But who knows?)

Ultimately, Cotten's character — who, it was suggested earlier in the movie, had been discharged from an Army mental hospital — killed Marilyn and then accidentally abducted a young woman who had been kind to him at the motel. Their boat ran out of gas on the river above the Falls, and Cotten put the young woman (Jean Peters) on a rock just before the boat went over.

Just before that, when Peters was still on board the boat, Peters' husband (Max Showalter) muttered "Scuttle it!" as he watched from the shoreline. Later, after Peters was retrieved by helicopter, an officer observed, "That's the first time somebody said 'Scuttle it!' as a prayer."

"And had it answered," Showalter replied.

Critics of the time were tepid in their praise of Monroe, but I think she often got (and continues to get) the short end of that stick. Because of her beauty, the assumption was and is that she was a dumb blonde — when, in fact, it was Marilyn who really created the dumb blonde.

The characters she played may have been dumb, but she wasn't dumb — and certainly not in "Niagara." She was cold and conniving. Her plan did not fail because it was a bad plan. It failed because her husband found a way to beat it.

Nevertheless, Monroe was dismissed as human scenery.

Don't get me wrong. Monroe was and still is pleasing to the eye. But there was much more to the package. (As far as I am concerned, Peter was every bit as appealing — in her own way — as Monroe in "Niagara.")

Some reputations are determined to live on, and it is likely that Monroe will still be regarded as an airhead decades from now. But, for those who are willing to evaluate her with fresh eyes, her movies are out there waiting to be seen, and "Niagara" will bear witness to her talent.