Movie Review #54

Spellbound (1945)
Directed by Alfred Hitchcock
Written by Ben Hecht
Adaptation by Angus MacPhail
Based on the novel The House of Doctor Edwardes by Francis Beeding

Rating: 6.00/10.00 or ** 1/2

Today Spellbound seems more an artificat of history than a classic movie. Spellbound has badly aged, primarily based on its material, and this becomes obvious only seconds into the film. Spellbound's focus is on psychoanalysis, which in the mid-1940s was in its infancy. Only recently had Freud's theories taken hold of the science and of mainstream society. It seems natural that a film of Spellbound's nature would result from that era of psychology. It is unfair to criticize a movie for its scientific flaws when the science itself and not necessarily the filmmakers' interpretation of the science was the source of the errors. However, it is impossible to watch Spellbound without thinking how wrong this movie is.

I can't help but admire Hitchcock for the courageous move he made in making this film. Hitchcock was fully aware of how cutting edge psychoanalysis was at the time. He was certainly aware that the science would later evolve, and many of the ideas surrounding psychology would change. So it took some daring to make a film like this at a time when the ideas driving the plot were new, raw, and often incorrect. This makes Spellbound a film haunted by time. And 1945 was a long time ago.

The movie stars the unbeatable Ingrid Bergman, undoubtedly my favorite actress of all time, as the "blood-of-steel" Dr. Constance Petersen. Petersen is driven by her work, and the others taunt her a little for it. Petersen is emotionally nonexistant. She has no relationships due to her devoted passion for her work. She talks in monotone; her face shows little, if any, movement. She seems unaware of any personal emotion, but she is fervent in helping others through theirs.

She works at a place called the Green Manors. It is a mental asylum that has been run for many years by the formiddable but aging Dr. Murchison (Leo G. Carroll). Recently on sabbatical to regain some of his lost vigor, he returned to Green Manors only to soon be replaced by the mysterious Dr. Edwardes. As Dr. Murchison departs with grace and dignity, Dr. Edwardes appears with quiet professionalism. With time, however, others begin to note odd behavior from the man. He seems to have spontaneous emotional tantrums, which often are sparked by anything appearing as darker curves in a light background.

Dr. Petersen investigates and learns that Dr. Edwardes is really not Dr. Edwardes at all. In fact, he is one of his patients that goes by the initials of J.B. Through incessant revelations, J.B. begins to learn his past. Apparently, a traumatic event between Dr. Edwardes and J.B. occurred. Dr. Petersen believes this is what sparked J.B.'s amnesia. She also believes that J.B. is innocent of any wrongdoing and goes to great lengths to keep J.B. from the hands of the police. Yep, the same highly professional Dr. Petersen.

Dr. Petersen and J.B. evade law enforcement and go to Petersen's mentor's house. Her mentor is Dr. Alex Brulov (Michael Chekhov), an aloof but very wise old man who proves to be quite valuable to the couple. Although Brulov does not trust J.B., he knows how to handle him and remains loyal to Dr. Petersen. Chekhov's performance is a bright spot in the film, adding sly, purposeful humor to the intended dark atmosphere that Hitchcock has developed.

Meanwhile, J.B. and Dr. Petersen have fallen in love. Petersen's judgments are solely driven by her emotional attachment to J.B. This transition is not subtle; it takes place in a matter of a few scenes and seems rather forced and over-simplified. It seems unrealistic that the Dr. Petersen we knew in the first half hour of the film could be changed so suddenly and completely by a stranger. This blaring flaw in the film's development proves to be the film's downfall. It provides ultimately unnecessary and unbelievable melodrama to Spellbound's resolution. More importantly, it gives the film an inconsistent feel. Spellbound's development seems rather rushed and confused. Scenes do not transition smoothly (atypical of Hitchcock). Often it feels the movie has too much to handle.

One by-product of this developed mess is that the love story seems to be separated from they mystery of J.B. One scene focuses on the growing love between the characters; the next scene focuses on J.B.'s amnesia. They never mix as much as they probably should. Only one year later would Hitchcock masterfully connect a love story and a suspense story; that would be with the cinematic masterpiece Notorious. Maybe Hitchcock and Hecht learned from the errors in this film's construct.

Ultimately, Dr. Petersen figures out J.B.'s and Dr. Edwardes's past (It involves a ski resort -- dark curves on a light background). This is done through spontaneous glimpses of the past as seen by J.B., which when viewed today seem utterly silly and melodramatic. Unbelievable to anyone's eyes in today's world. As previously stated, it would be unfair to view the film badly because of the misguided plot developments that these spontaneous visions now appear to be. Even so, it seems that Dr. Petersen should at times have the title, "Dr. Petersen, P.I." Her scientific reasoning seems more compatible with Columbo than Jung. In fact, the film could be compared to a two-hour Matlock episode rather than a two-hour psychiatric session.

***Major spoiler ahead***

When Dr. Edwardes's true murderer is revealed, Dr. Petersen confronts the individual, who just so happens to be the gracefully retired Dr. Murchison. Bergman and Carroll are terrific in the scene that features a genuinely suspenseful back-and-forth conversation. I love how Hitchcock can build a scene so well. There is an alarming amount of suspense built all around the sight of a gun, but the alarm turns to dread as we understand what is about to transpire. Here, Hitchcock adds the artistically brilliant and brief touch of color (So non-color blind people say). The impact of this scene is substantial and gives a glimpse of his more pronounced works that were about to come.

Reviewing Spellbound would not be complete without at least mentioning the dream sequence artistically envisioned by Salvador Dali. The scene is quite magical if not a little over-the-top. It had a benefit, however, of making the film a bit more fantastical. Strangely, it seemed to make the film less believable and more mystical, which actually aids in watching the film today (when our better understanding of the science gets in the way of our enjoyment of the film). The scene is pretentious, to be sure, but it is also an interesting addition to the movie.

J.B. (whose full name is John Ballantine) is played by Gregory Peck. Peck's performance is, at Hitchcock's direction, aloof and spacey. Unfortunately, it also seems one-dimensional and at times clumsy. This oversimplification is a significant drawback; as one critic put it, it makes the character more pathetic than sympathetic. It is no surprise that the most impressive scene of the film (that between Bergman and Carroll) does not include Peck.

Spellbound is an interesting movie that only occasionally works. It often seems unbalanced. Its spin on a relatively new science seems hopelessly simplistic and outdated when viewing the film today, but its true flaws remain in the film's construct. Spellbound can be admired for its daring but cannot be lauded for its vision.

Editor's Note: This review was co-written by Phil Mathers.

Movie Review #53

The Way We Were (1973)
Directed by Sydney Pollack
Written by Arthur Laurents

Rating: 6.50/10.00 or ***

In the early 1970s, no female star stole the screen quite as well as Barbra Streisand. She sang her way to the top of Hollywood, but her versatile talents would emerge when the motion picture musical genre began to wane. Most female actresses who became stars because of the musical genre all but disappeared after the genre's demise. Not Barbra. Her stardom was only beginning.

The Way We Were may be Streisand's most popular film; it contains one of the most memorable on-screen romances in the history of cinema. According to the Internet Movie Database, the tagline for the film was, "Streisand and Redford together!!" Not too surprising when you see their first scene together. There was a spark there that few other acting couples have found. And all it took was a look from Hubbell (Redford). Katie (Streisand) was speaking for the Young Communists at a college rally in the 1930s. Few agreed with her ideas, and she was essentially booed and laughed off-stage. But Hubbell just looked at her. There was the spark.

The film's fundamental problem is that the spark never starts a fire. As soon as the characters started talking, my interest waned. Katie is vocal, strong, independent, and fiery. Hubbell is withdrawn, quiet, conservative, and indifferent. The two are polar opposites. Yet they fall in love and through thick and thin get married and are about to have a child. Through this "forbidden love" I can't help but ask how in the world this happened. There is nothing in the world interesting about Hubbell except that he can write well and "everything seems to come a bit too easily to him". And Katie's outspoken political beliefs frequently created conflict between the two characters. Conflict, I may add, that seems unnecessary and more than a little predictable.

So much so at one point that Hubbell goes to the radio station where Katie works and tells her he thinks that the relationship will not work (This is before they get married). Although Katie's disappointment and desperation are apparent, she strongly asks him to leave. "I get it. Go away!" But then she goes back to her apartment, and the loneliness becomes overwhelming. In the best scene of the film, she calls Hubbell up and asks him to come over to her place. Streisand absolutely nails this scene. She cries and desperately (with amazing subtlety, a positive attribute to Streisand's performance) persuades Hubbell that she'll change. This is not only the best acted scene in the movie, but it is also the truest.

So forbidden love continues. Katie is too strong and focused to change, and both of them know it. But they blindly keep on trudging. They move out to California when Hubbell sells his book. By this time, the McCarthy era has arrived. When Katie defends the Hollywood 10, Hubbell's exhaustion with Katie's constant defense of her political principles has reached the boiling point. But the tragedy is (supposedly) amplified by how long it took them to realize they were not at all compatible. Thus, the scene that everyone knows is coming: Hubbell gets angry, and Katie gets defensive. Katie stands up for what she believes in, and Hubbell can't stand it. And the relationship ends with Katie pregnant and alone. And I continue to ask why this happened at all.

A big positive in the film, however, is Streisand. Her performance is outstanding. She is full of energy; she acts with such a volatile strength. It makes her character believable, it makes her character's strengths flourish, and it makes her character's weaknesses blatantly visible. Her character is three-dimensional, the only one in the film. Although that is in part due to the simplistic script by Laurents, there is no doubting an edge that Streisand gives to Katie that few others would be able to supply.

Meanwhile, in stark contrast, Redford's performance is lackluster. Of course, this makes his character somewhat more believable since Hubbell's indifference is marked by his lack of energy, but Redford does not provide the fire in the relationship that is necessary for the film to be effective. It instead makes The Way We Were seem somewhat misguided, contrived, and strangely cheesy.

The film ends with a "chance" bump-in in New York City. Hubbell has re-married. Katie has a new man. They meet, they hug, they have small talk. Katie brushes Hubbell's hair. Hubbell asks how his child is doing. And Hubbell then says goodbye. Hubbell likes his simple life. Katie continues to persuade passers-by to act on the latest political controversy. They are who they are. They just don't know it when they are together.

That was the way they were. Undoubtedly, I am supposed to feel bad for their pain. It was "too bad" their relationship ended. But all I could think about was how they got together in the first place. Nothing matched. Not one thing. So it has to come down to the basics. What brought them together was lust and what kept them together was fear. And if that's the way they were, then maybe they are better off moving on rather than singing about memories of better days.

Movie Review #52

Bringing Up Baby (1938)
Directed by Howard Hawks
Screenplay by Dudley Nichols & Hagar Wilde
Story by Hagar Wilde

Rating: 7.25/10.00 or ***

The great Katharine Hepburn. The immortal Cary Grant. Seeing the two of them on film is a treasure. Together, everything feels right. When they are on screen, we can sit back, relax, and enjoy the fun. Bringing Up Baby is like sitting in your favorite rocking chair. It's comfortable; it feels just right. And it's something you can always turn to after a hard day.

Bringing Up Baby is the definitive screwball comedy. The situations presented are absurdly humorous, the characters are a couple of beats off the main cadence, and the chemistry between the main players is wickedly enjoyable to watch. Bringing Up Baby, from its quite humble roots, has become a staple of American comedy. Indeed, its inductance into AFI's Top 100 Movies has confirmed that fact. And after watching the film for the first time, it is not difficult to understand why this movie is so popular. Bringing Up Baby is immensely entertaining and one of the best classic comedies.

The film stars Cary Grant as the paleontologist David Huxley. Huxley has been working very hard on completing a brontosaurus skeleton for the past four years. What remains is the intercostal clavicle, a phrase heard commonly throughout the film, as if the writers understood that it was humorous to hear Cary Grant say those words. The final piece of the dinosaur puzzle was to be sent tomorrow, the same day coincidentally that he was to be married to his stiff, all-business fiancee Alice (Virginia Walker). Huxley's dread of Alice's all-work-and-no-play marriage can be seen right from the start in a witty conversation that dabbles with the word sex but never says it (It's all about the times). It reminded me of the "Master of Your Domain" episode of Seinfeld. Can you imagine how less funny the episode would have been if the word masturbation was included?

Huxley has a golf game scheduled with a lawyer named Alexander Peabody (George Irving). Peabody represents a sponsor to the museum. The sponsor plans to give one million dollars, but a confirmation has not been given. So Alice warns Huxley to win him over: "Let Mr. Peabody win."

It is on the golf course that Huxley meets the feisty chatterbox named Susan Vance (Hepburn) -- and the first of many times he insults/loses/injures Peabody. After Huxley's first shot hooks onto the 18th fairway, Susan confuses Huxley's ball for her own. It leads to this wonderful maze of conversation:

David: What kind of ball are you playing?
Susan: PGA.
David: And I'm playing a Pro-Flight.
Susan: I like a PGA better.
David: No, I'm just trying to prove to you that you're playing my ball. You see, a PGA has two black dots and a Pro-Flight has a circle.
Susan: I'm not superstitious about things like that.
David: Oh, well, that doesn't have anything to do with it.
Susan: Stop talking for a minute, will you please? (To caddy) Will you take out the pin? (proceeds to sink her putt)
David: Oh my, this is so silly. I never saw such -- (He reaches for the ball in the cup) There, you see, it's a circle.
Susan: Well, of course it is. Do you think it would run if it were square?
David: No. I have reference to a mark on the ball. That proves it's a Pro-Flight and that's my ball!
Susan: I know....Well, what does it matter? It's only a game anyway.
David: Well, my dear young lady, you don't seem to realize. You placed me in a very embarrassing position...The most important corporation lawyer in New York is waiting for me over on the first fairway.
Susan: Then it's silly of you to be fooling around on the 18th green.

Conversations like these riddle the movie, which only help to complement the wonderful chemistry between Grant and Hepburn. Both attack their roles with ferocious energy. They constantly battle each other in every scene; I can't help but wonder if they are trying to out-do each other as actors as well. Whatever their methods, Grant and Hepburn are perfect together.

Essentially, the film is about the conflicts, adventures, mix-ups, and swashbuckling chases the two of them have together. Along the way, they meet a bone-loving dog named George, a tame-as-possible leopard named Baby, a not-so-tame leopard that is accidentally uncaged, a mindful Aunt Elizabeth (May Robson), and a loon-calling Major Horace Applegate (Charlie Ruggles). Most of the sequences work, especially those involving the animals themselves. I especially enjoyed the bone-hiding George sequence. Huxley, in desperation to retrieve the intercostal clavicle, resorts to digging up holes in Aunt Elizabeth's yard with Susan in bemused taunt mode.

David: I'm getting tired of all this digging.
Susan: Yes, what we need is a plow.

It becomes clear quite early on that Susan's goal is to win Dr. David Huxley's heart. And with time she does exactly that. In a comedically touching scene, the two are searching for Baby. They soon find Baby on a rooftop of a neighbor's home. To calm the leopard down, Susan starts singing and David nervously and then more confidently joins in:

I can't give you anything but love, baby
That's the only thing I've plenty of, baby
Dream awhile, scheme awhile, you're sure to find
Happiness and I guess, all those things you've always pined for
Gee, it's great to see you looking swell, baby
Diamond bracelets Woolworth's never sell, baby
Till that lucky day you know darn well...

The conclusion of the film ends like a big chorus with most of the main players in for one final hurrah. The scene features a pessimistic Constable Slocum (Walter Catlett) jailing the couple for their noisy nighttime antics involving their search for George and Baby. The Constable does not believe anything they say, and any evidence Susan and David present is soon "discounted". Gradually, however, what follows is a classic bombardment of more absurd characters/events that eventually force him to change his mind about their story. The scene drags out a little too long, but it does involve some nice chemistry among all of the characters. Especially fitting was the fiercely persistent Susan dragging in the nasty leopard (as opposed to Baby) after sneaking out of jail. The film's final scene is perfect. Susan destroys the brontosaurus in the museum but wins David's heart.

Cary Grant's performance is notable for its edginess. This is not typical Grant fare. His character is somewhat shy, always nervous, and childlike. He nails the role with his comedic timing and his ingenious one-liners. Katharine Hepburn is also phenomenal in her portrayal of the grating but desperate Susan. Her comedic timing matches Grant's at each turn. Hepburn is one of the few actresses out there who can steal scenes away from Grant. She does so effortlessly in this film.

Bringing Up Baby is standard fare in screwball comedy. It's not masterpiece material, but it gets the job done nonetheless. It's refreshing, charged-up style makes the film fly by on screen. Never boring, Bringing Up Baby makes you yearn for more even though you've had a good amount to take in. Bringing Up Baby knows when to quit. And that's good comedy.

Editor's note: This review was co-written by Emily Hutchins and Chad Shafer.

Movie Review #51

Scarface (1983)
Directed by Brain De Palma
Written by Oliver Stone

Rating: 6.25/10.00 or ** 1/2

The character of Tony Montana (played by the great Al Pacino) is a fixture of American cinema. Few characters in the movie industry have been referenced (whether positively or negatively) as often as the protagonist of the 1983 re-make Scarface (Consider Anakin Skywalker's scar in Revenge of the Sith, e.g.). Pacino's performance is over-the-top, zealous, and gargantuan. Yet, so is Tony Montana.

Montana is an exaggerated, somewhat maligned representation of a young man and his American dream. Written by Oliver Stone, always one to use hyperbole to get his point across, Scarface tells the tale of Montana's "humble" beginnings, his rise to power, his loss of power, and ultimately, his complete and total destruction. With the equally zealous Brian De Palma at the helm, Scarface has the manpower to create the bloated caricature. It's an epic tale of a man larger than life, with intelligence overwhelmed by instinctive greed, and with chaotic bouts of glorified violence tinged with a bitter taste of malice. Scarface is an operatic gangster film, a choice that has led to one of the most dichotomous camps of critics in film history. Some believe the film to be one of the best ever made; others believe the film's seemingly celebratory depictions of a character's rise and fall in the drug underworld is pretentious, borderline campy, and somewhat dangerous.

The film begins in the early 1980s in Miami. Castro has orchestrated a brief emigration policy, allowing thousands of Cubans to flee from the Communist nation for Florida's south coast. Castro uses this opportunity to empty his over-crowded jails. Thus, a major influx of vicious criminals enter the Miami area. One such criminal is Tony Montana. Al Pacino sets the course of the movie very well here. Although completely powerless in his surroundings, Montana scares people into submission through intimidation. Using his sources, including his trusted friend Manuel (Steven Bauer), Tony conducts a mob hit. This mob hit gets the attention of Frank Lopez (Robert Loggia), a leader of the criminal underworld in south Florida.

This leads to one of the most famous scenes in cinematic history, when a meeting between Tony and gang and some Colombians goes horribly wrong. Here, Tony witnesses the death of one of his friends via chainsaw. But Tony's stubbornness and reinforcements ensure his survival and, more importantly, his belief that he is untouchable. Soon his rise to power is swiftly realized. Tony soon courts Lopez's wife Elvira (Michelle Pfeiffer) and replaces Lopez as drug kingpin.

The middle hour of the film is a character study. We see what drives Montana's madness. Tony is obsessed with his sister, Gina (Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio). There is undoubtedly incestuous desire at play here as he warns Manuel somewhat prematurely to stay away from her, violently intervenes one of her "bathroom" courtships, and destroys his one true ally because of his love for her. More on this later, though.

Tony is also obsessed with ownership. In human form, this is Elvira. There is no love between the two characters. The only thing that binds them is cocaine. Elvira, in fact, hates Tony; she sticks around to get high and to stay rich. Tony is not too rattled by this, at least for a while. He seizes the opportunity and weds her. He has to because this leads to the culmination of power and wealth, so he believes.

Finally, Tony has a hunger for power. When he has everything, he wants more. This is what eventually leads to his downfall. His power becomes so great that he is unable to handle it. His rich lifestlye blinds him; he no longer can feel the wealth he maintains. We see it slowly slip away from him with his combined bouts of paranoia, naivete, and thoughtless greed. There is a scene between Tony and Manuel that symbolizes this loss quite well. Tony and Manuel discuss security at his mansion, and soon Tony argues with Manuel seemingly about security. However, there is a sense of desperation in Tony's voice as if he's not entirely sure what he's protecting.

Unfortunately, this is where the film loses its potential greatness. The film deals Montana blow after blow that eventually leads to his disintegrated standing. The film tries to give Tony a heart by protecting a wife and children. As a result, a drug hit goes horribly wrong. Soon, a drug warlord is out for blood. But would Tony have really protected a wife and children? Why the nearly two hours of heartless character development to spontaneously spawn a Tony Montana soft spot? Wouldn't Tony's desires for success, wealth, and power have overwhelmed his desire to spare the wife and kids?

And then the final 15 minutes. Montana's face is planted in cocaine as his mansion is swarmed by the drug warlord's army. Tony takes his "lil' friend" and shoots about 75% of them. Soon he is shot...and shot...and shot...but he won't go down. It takes the drug warlord's own gun to kill him, so "cleverly" in the back. Tony falls into his own welcome room's pool of "The World Is Yours" proportions. What an onslaught of obvious and overblown symbolism. Shakespeare could not have done it any worse (Several critics are correct in comparing this film's ending to Shakespeare's tragedies -- there's definitely a sense of Macbeth in the final sequence of the film). The style was purposefully exaggerated and larger-than-life, but it ultimately makes for a thoughtless, arrogant, and eerily campy ending. Why not an ending more along the lines of Kill Bill 2 with a metaphorical punch in the stomach? The smallest attack is usually what takes out the biggest leader.

One aspect of the film's conclusion, however, is extremely well presented. Tony's obsession with his sister leads to the inevitable death of his greatest companion. Manuel and Gina secretly get married. When Tony finds out where Gina is, he finds the two of them together (At the time, he had not quite put two and two together). His rage overtakes him, and he murders Manuel without a second thought. His obsessions blind any common sense Tony may have. This is the best symbol of the character's impending doom.

Unfortunately, the film is on unstoppable hyperdrive. It implodes on its self-assured importance. Its larger-than-life feel soon transfers to simple silliness. What results is a final generally drawn-out hour of a hateful character's downfall. The ending feels long, hopeless, melodramatic, and arrogantly symbolic.

The filmmakers expect us to feel for the character's loss. But why should we care about Tony Montana? His inconsistent behavior (due in part to Oliver Stone's blind love for the character) and his overall wretched personality do not make this a character to sympathize or to empathize with. That's a problem when you devote a whole third of this very long film to his "tragic" downfall. Strangely, Tony's downfall was also this movie's.

Editor's note: The original Scarface, released in 1932, will be shown on Turner Classic Movies at 10:00 pm EDT (9:00 pm CDT) on July 8.