I got a copy of the OpenShot video editor (free open source), and I have been experimenting with it by creating some montages of favorite old film clips. First up is It’s the Law in a Man’s World:
Next up is Where Lies Wisdom?
I got a copy of the OpenShot video editor (free open source), and I have been experimenting with it by creating some montages of favorite old film clips. First up is It’s the Law in a Man’s World:
Next up is Where Lies Wisdom?
Watching Star Trek is always an exercise in déjà vu, because I was nine years old when it premiered, and because just about everything in it is borrowed from something else. Maybe the borrowings are on purpose, maybe they are just accidental in the sense that some themes are always “in the air” at certain times, but the shows are always a bricolage of themes and images. Part of the fun…
In this episode from the first season, Kirk is trapped on a planet with a lost scientist who has transformed himself into an android to preserve his mind when his body was dying of frostbite. (Mind-body issues run rampant through Star Trek). It takes a while for the doctor’s true nature to come out, but he is surrounded by androids he has constructed as part of his insane scheme to overrun the universe with superior beings, you know the drill. Andrea is one of them, clearly designed for more than protection and conquest, much to the chagrin of the doctor’s erstwhile fiancee who has joined Kirk on his search for the missing scientific hero.
Ruk, an android surviving from the old days of the planet, looks like he escaped from a local production of Pagliacci, is played by Ted Cassidy, aka Lurch, who, it happens, lived just a few minutes from where I was growing up in Woodland Hills, and whose ashes (he died prematurely) are scattered in the house’s back yard. He is easily befuddled and tricked by Kirk’s superior logical wit.
Kirk on the run, after flummoxing Ruk, makes use of a handy phallic formation for protection. You have to wonder if he’s just playing hard to get. The episode is filled with “transgressive” same-sex kissing and fondling, as is the norm for Star Trek’s intrepid exploration of racial and sexual taboos.
The android love nest gets to be too much for Andrea, who “loves” her maker, and who can’t abide rejection. Another correspondence: The Strange Love of Martha Ivers comes to mind.
Barbara Stanwyck and Kirk Douglas (hey, another correspondence!) are locked in their love-death embrace in the finale.
Not exactly clear who pulls the trigger, but it’s curtains for the two of them, the only way it could be.
A final correspondence: As Captain Kirk is being duplicated into an android Kirk, he shouts out an insulting phrase about Dr. Spock being a half-breed, knowing that the android will then repeat the sentiments when he is sent to the Enterprise to impersonate himself. Of course, Spock, receiving the insult, realizes that the “Captain” is an imposter, and takes proper action. It’s all reminiscent of the “Rolo Tomassi” sequence in L.A. Confidential, the best part of that flick, I think.
Netflix classified The Lineup (1958) as a film noir, which it most certainly is not, but it’s pretty dark nonetheless, and a crackerjack crime film that I thoroughly enjoyed. Great location shots in San Francisco, an excellent high-speed chase long before McQueen did Bullit, a full rogues gallery of outlaw characters, and some great dialog: just hold on through the pretty dull first thirty minutes of police procedural until Eli Wallach, as hit-man Dancer, makes his entrance, and enjoy the ride.
It’s called The Lineup, because it’s based on a TV show that ran in the early fifties under that name. The episode with an actual lineup is quite a small part of the story. The film is an expanded treatment of one story from the series, and it’s directed by Don Siegel. One of the posters for the film says, “Too hot for TV!”
Before the credits role, we are in the action as a porter rips off a passenger’s bag, and throws it into a cab which then races away. As they say, a chase ensues, and the cabbie, after running down a cop who dies later, is hit by a lucky shot. The luggage contains a statuette stuffed with high-grade heroin, part of a shipment run by a secretive outfit headed by The Man. The Man thinks things out thoroughly, and he foists junk on unwitting overseas tourists who work as his mules without their knowledge. Once they reach the States, the gang gathers up their souvenirs in whatever way they must.
Here, the police do their work methodically, checking in with the head of customs, whom the Lt. initially blames for the cop’s death. After all, why didn’t they catch that heroin in the statue? The customs man shows a map and calmly explains that there is just too much territory, too many ships for him to handle. Pretty routine stuff, but I like the guy on the left, although I could not find his name.
Our first glimpse of the bad guys, Robert Keith as Julian, and Eli Wallach as Dancer. Julian is Dancer’s handler, coaching him on ‘delivery’ verbal and ballistic. He wants Dancer to improve his grammar so as to be able to move more easily among his victims. Their first dialog is a discussion of the subjunctive. Dancer is incredulous that anyone would say, “If I were…,” rather than “If I was…” He’s not alone, but Julian is firm with him. After the fiasco with the cabbie, The Man brought them in to clean up things.
Julian knows that Dancer is a cold-blooded psychopath, filled with hate. he says as much to another gang member. Dancer later reveals that like everyone else, he had an old man once, except that he never knew him. Is Julian his father-figure, or is there a homo-erotic attachment here..?
Sandy is “their boy,” designated driver, except that he has a liking for drink. Julian slaps his bottle to the ground, and calls him “Dipso” from then on. But Sandy has a souped-up auto, and he can drive it, fast!
The one to see is a seaman on the boat who was given a hollowed out antique horse. They are told to find him in the steamroom in the Seaman’s Club. Two guys in a locker room…wearing hats. Dancer is convinced that this whole job is going to be a sticky one because the first shipment went awry, while Julian insists, no, it’s going to be an easy one. All done by 4:30pm.
Dancer undresses to go meet the man, and Julian offers to fold his clothes. He tells him “Go easy…,” but the contact figured out that he was being used as a mule, so he asks for a few grand to make it worth his trouble. Did they think he would believe that line about just carrying some art to a friend in the city for a favor? Big mistake for them, and for him too.
…while Dancer explains the facts of life to the upstart seaman. He does it silently, shall we say. Their driver asks if he really had to kill the guy, and Julian responds, “When you live outside the law, you have to eliminate dishonesty.” Bob Dylan may have taken note.
Next up, a set of fancy cutlery with powder stowed in the ivory handles needs to be repossessed from a rich pillar of society. The butler is not comfortable with the story of an accidental mix up of shipments. Dancer tries to talk his way out using his newly acquired gift for upper-class gab, but is not successful…
Dancer does a fine job at trying, but not too hard, to pick up the woman. She has a sad story about hoping that her divorced husband would have the decency to meet them at the dock to see his little girl, but no dice. He’s lonely too… He’s pretty convincing. Good enough to get her to an accept an offer of a drive with his friends to her hotel so she doesn’t have to bother with all those packages.
Once in the room, when mom leaves for a moment, they go for the doll, not the kind you carry around all the time. The stuff isn’t there, and under threat of death for her mom, the kid reveals that she found the powder and used it to freshen up the doll’s face! “That’s the most expensive face powder you could have used, kid.”
But he’s not about to let the enraged Dancer finish the conversation by shooting the two females, although that’s what Dancer is set to do. Interesting logic here, and strangely compelling: The Man is going to be mightily upset at getting a short shipment, and will likely conclude that Dancer and Julian did a little business of their own on the side. That will not be good for the duo, who will be dead in short order, so Julian concludes that they must force the ladies to go with them, to meet The Man, so that he will see that their explanation, which would be hard to believe, don’t ya’ think, is for real. It’s their only chance.
So they all drive to the coast, to Sutro’s Maritime Museum, all that’s left of the legendary Sutro’s Baths, an early 20th century amusement center, and another great SF location. Julian waits in the car with the ladies while Dancer goes in to meet The Man. He is repelled by their weakness, and explains “that is why there are so few women in the crime world. You just don’t understand the criminal’s need for violence.” He’s very thoughtful…
With time, it gets harder to locate those old noir films that are really good: there are a lot of mediocre ones! So, it’s always a pleasure to stumble on a real find – Black Angel (1946) is one. The title doesn’t seem to have anything to do with the story – the angels are all blonde – but don’t let that bother you. And it starts with a fantastic shot that takes us up off the street and through the window of luxury apartment way up in the sky, but still down in the dirt, of course.
A beautiful singer is murdered; a man, her ex-lover, is seen leaving the apartment. He is caught and convicted, destined to fry in the chair, but he didn’t do it. Catherine (June Vincent), his beautiful wife, stands by him, even though she knows he was cheating on her. She is the model of middle-class suburban virtue.
Mavis Marlowe, the dead woman, was quite a dish (Constance Dowling), and a real piece of work too. She was blackmailing a few guys, including the one who is fingered for her death. He didn’t want his sweetie to know he had been philandering.
Martin (Dan Duryea), is her husband, obviously estranged. She won’t give him the time of day. They used to be a hit singer/songwriter/piano player team. Catherine enlists Martin in her quest to free her husband, and they present themselves as a nightclub act (she used to sing) to Mr. Marko (Peter Lorre) who might have something to do with Mavis’ death.
Marko is a sleazy guy, and he was being blackmailed by Mavis too. With that face, he must have done it.
He’s no fool, and very suspicious too, but he likes Catherine. Likes her act, which does great, and likes her, a lot. He even saves some champagne to share with her for a “special occasion”. She doesn’t look pleased at what’s coming, but a girl has to do what she can for her hubby on death row, and it might allow her to get into that safe in Marko’s office for some clues. She’s made quite a transformation from Mrs. Homemaker…
There are many plot twists in the story, and the ending is a bit contrived, depending on a convenient alcoholic blackout, but it is tremendously entertaining. All the actors are great. (Once Catherine gets more interesting so does Vincent’s performance). They all have things to hide, and the only one who is a straight-shooter turns out to be the criminal.
Another installment in my highlighting of engineers as characters in cinema:
Phantom Lady (1944), directed by Robert Siodmak, doesn’t seem to be available anywhere but Youtube, so there I watched it, fortunately, on a large screen. The image above shows the phantom lady with the male lead, Alan Curtis as Scott Henderson. He’s just been dumped by his rich wife, who was also carrying on with his best friend.
His wife is found murdered, and Scott is fingered for the crime. He is remarkably passive about it all, but he is saved by his chipper secretary, “Kansas”, played by Ella Raines. (I read her voice was dubbed – couldn’t she do Kansas?) The scene where he throws in the towel after losing his appeal is pure Expressionism.
As noted, Kansas is of stronger stuff, and she tracks down everyone associated with the events of the fatal night, eventually finding the killer in a scene that surely inspired the finale of Jagged Edge many years later. Would you mess with Kansas? She has a remarkable clean, strong look to her.
The reliable Elisha Cook, Jr. came down from his Sierra hideaway to do his bit in the film as a hop-head drummer with the hots for Kansas, all tarted up to gain his confidence. Her legs incite his drumming to an orgasmic crescendo, but she keeps her cool.
Scott Henderson is a civil engineer, with dreams of building cities, dreams that excite the love and admiration of Kansas. (He’s too dull to notice her crush on him.) He wants playgrounds and sunlight everywhere. There we have the civil engineer as hero motif, still with some life in it in the 1940s.
Scott’s nemesis and friend, played by Franchot Tone, is an artist, an artist a bit too preoccupied with the power of his hands to create…and destroy. In a moment of candor, he derides the ambitions of his friend as paltry concerns with sewers and pipes, and whatnot.
Engineer as nebbish: a far cry from the protagonist of transatlantic tunnel.
Thanks to the savage guy, I have another cinema oddity to savor and comment on – Shack Out on 101 from 1955. Everyone who comments on this film, including me, agrees that it is bizarre. And strangely entertaining, despite the incredible stuff it contains. Most call it a red-scare noir, but I don’t quite see the noir aspects of it, except in a very watered-down state. I can say, however, I know of nothing else like it!
Nearly the entire action takes place in a run down diner on Highway 101 – once again I find myself thinking of the classical dramatic unities! Anything on the beach of southern California gives me a nostalgic tug, but there are precious few outside shots in this film: just a few scenes on the beach, including the opening which is much talked about.
We see a woman in a bathing suit lying in the sun at the surf’s edge; then we see Slob (Lee Marvin), talking into a cellphone…oops, that’s a shell-phone! No, he’s just listening to the sea in a shell, with the coastal bluffs as a backdrop.
Then he swoops onto the woman and kisses her as she violently resists him. It’s all in “fun,” they know each other, and he’s just giving her a major hard time and tease. He runs off laughing as she fumes. When he reaches the porch of the shack where they live and work slinging hash, he takes her underwear off the clothes line and grinds it into the dirt. This will occasion much talk indoors about how he is now obligated to buy her, Kotty, a new petticoat, the meanie!
Slob’s faux assault on Kotty prefigures some brutally real violence between them later on, but for now, the movie moves on between comedy, farce, and absurd Cold War espionage. Slob is part of a spy network, passing on secrets gleaned from fellow travelers at the nuclear research lab up the road. His boss, George (Keenan Wynn) is not part of the ring. Nor is George’s friend Eddie, a traumatized WWII vet who can’t get over his experience on D-Day. The two of them actually have some pretty affecting straight talk about what that’s all about. Through it all, some mighty strange stuff plays out on stage at the beanery.
George and Slob get into comparing their physiques during a work-out.
Marvin is all over the place in this film, really hamming it up at times. Here he reveals to George that what he really desires is a “nice, big neck.”
They go on to comparing their legs, and ask an impartial judgment. Didn’t that sort of thing start a long war in the old days?
Kotty knows better than to pick a winner, and besides, nobody has better legs than she does. That’s that!
George is determined to get Eddie to beat his fears of blood, violence, adventure, and even killing of fish (!) that the war left him with. He’s planning a snorkeling adventure in Mexico which they act out in front of everyone present. Yes, they do look like aliens…
Meanwhile, Kotty has a romance going on with the professor from the nuke lab. At first, it seems that he is in with the spies, but of course, that’s a cover. He tenderly supports Kotty’s ambitions to take a civil service exam so that she can get a desk job in the government doing something important. Boy, have ideas changed!
Being sort of noir, there’s a mirror, a double-identity. And that hand! All the passion of Venus is there!
Cut from the love scene to Slob and his courier in the kitchen. Right after the kiss, the guy shoves a fish at Slob’s mouth.
Here’s where it get’s pretty weird. We are definitely into homo-erotic territory here – look at the grins on their faces as they agree to start up their favorite game…
Nothing these guys enjoy more than a little dance with a rag while they take turns pummeling each other.
About this time, Kotty realizes that something is going on around here. These “truck drivers,” always teasing and coming on to her, have awfully soft hand for working slobs.
Eventually, she has a confrontation with Slob when he realizes his cover is blown. Now the violence is for real. First he threatens her repeatedly with a nasty knife, but she’s tough – she doesn’t blink. Then – incredible! – he throttles her and smashes her head out of the window. Then he starts garroting her with some underwear! After all the kooky stuff in this film, this scene is genuinely shocking.
Of course, the good guys win in the end. You knew that already, right?
Is not each one us a society’s child? Society made Eddie a killer, and then crucified him for it.
You Only Live Once (1937) is the second film by Fritz Lang after he came to America, and a pretty bleak job it is. Yes, I’d call it early noir, but it is also drenched with religious imagery. Henry Fonda plays Eddie Taylor (E. T. – that’s important in the film) and Sylvia Sydney looks gorgeous playing his faithful, too faithful, wife, Jo. He’s a good guy who’s gone wrong, and paid for it. Now, he wants to go straight, Jo waited for him during his three-year stretch in the joint, but society won’t give an ex-con a break. They’re doomed, and you know it.
Jo’s friend is a good-hearted lawyer who gets Eddie a job as a trucker when he’s freed, and he also carries a torch for Jo. In the film, he seems to be a direct mouthpiece for Lang’s views, sometimes lambasting the authorities for their brutishness and prejudice. He hopes for the best for Jo, when she and Eddie tie the knot on his release.
Eddie is a romantic, and of course that will screw him up good, but first he and she have a delightful honeymoon at a cozy motel, which has a lovely garden.
The lovebirds are watched over by two frogs who don’t appear to be mating themselves. At one point in the story, when Jo believes Eddie is on his way to the chair for a crime he did not commit, she sends him a message – “I still remember the frogs.” Only Fritz!
Those impassive guardians of the night watch as Eddie picks her up, kisses her, and mounts the steps to Calvary…oops, I mean their bedroom. It’s a foreshadowing of the final sequence when he carries Jo through the woods, both of them riddled with bullets, to their final rest. Pietas come to mind, as well as the finale of Farewell to Arms.
Eddie is late on a truck run because he makes a detour to take Jo to look at a house, a real fixer-up-er, that he and Jo can live in now that they are married. Naturally, his boss is not understanding, and he humiliates him with insults when he begs for another chance, telling the boss that his friends tempt him with easy money from safe bank heists, but he wants no more of that. No dice – the boss fires him, after forcing him to wait while he has trivial phone conversations with his wife about social arrangements. “Straight society sucks,” is the message. Eddie delivers a knock-out blow to the boss’ chin and says, “And I wanted to go straight!…”
That scene is the set-up for one of the most outrageous plots twists I can remember, at least of those that work! Eddie appears to have caved in, returned to the life of crime because society just won’t give him a break. Once a con, always a con… He’s arrested for a deadly bank job in which six men died from poison gas used to incapacitate the armored car guards. His hat, with his initials, was found on the scene, and was used to identify him since the robber wore a full gas mask. He is sent up, and sentenced to die.
Jo believes in him, and she carries a heavy load because she urged Eddie to turn himself in, believing he would get off with a fair trial. We figure she is just taken in by Eddie’s lies because she loves him: so taken by love, that she agrees to smuggle in a gun to him. The plot is foiled by a crude metal detector, but the good Father takes the blame to get Jo off the hook. He takes her aside and chides her: that arch looks like it’s ready to crush them with its institutional weight.
We too are taken in, but by Lang’s audacious plot twist that makes us complicit in society’s unfair pre-judgement. Until it’s too late, we believe Eddie did it. By then, Eddie, caged like an animal for slaughter, has lost all ability to judge the odds, let alone right and wrong.
With the aid of a friendly con, he makes a daring escape, using the fog and the all-too-bourgeois prison doctor as a shield.
Eddie reunites with Jo, who, this time, won’t urge him to turn himself in, not when she learns he shot Father Dolan on the way out. She figures she’s as guilty as he is because it was she who urged him to surrender in the first place, when he wasn’t guilty! They run for it, like those Gun Crazy kids, like Bonnie and Clyde, and even, maybe, like the Joads in The Grapes of Wrath.
They have a brief rest, before journey’s end. Idyllic…
Eddie knows they’re doomed. How could it be otherwise? He’s serene, and she loves him. They’ll go together.
They hit a roadblock, take some heavy fire from Tommy guns, and crash. Eddie stumbles into the woods, carrying Jo in his arms. The trooper lines up his gun with the two in his sights… Is it just me, or is that not the cross I see there, completed by Eddie? He is the sacrificial lamb for our social sins.
Jo, dying, tells him she wouldn’t have had it any other way.
He knows what he must do. He must kiss her dead lips, and then he will be free.
He sees the gates to freedom opening before him, and he hears the voice of Father Dolan repeating what he said during the breakout, when Eddie shot him – “You’re free! The gates are open!”
The title of this post is a reference, of course, to Society’s Child, a hit song from 1965 written by Janis Ian when she was fourteen (!!) and performed live on TV when she was sixteen. It’s the story of a white girl in love with a black boy, forced to break off with him because of her parents’ disapproval and peer pressure. She knows it’s all wrong but what can she do? She’s just society’s child.
First there was the novel, Nightmare Alley, now available in a new printing from the NYRB. Then the film, with Helen Walker playing Lilith Ritter, the female psychiatrist with ice water in her veins. She sucks the life out of Stanton Carlisle, played by Tyrone Power, and throws away his deflated husk of a body. He descends back into the muck from which he came and finishes as a geek, biting the heads off chickens for a living. It’s a faithful adaptation of the book.
Then there was Lilith, the uptight dominatrix psychiatrist of the TV sitcom Cheers, played by Bebe Neuwirth. She has to be channelling Helen Walker!
After that, came the comic book adaptation of Nightmare Alley by Spain Rodriguez, published by Fantagraphics.
Lilith has Bebe’s dark hair…
… and is up-front about her needs… The toe nail painting is a nice noir reference to Scarlett Street, by Fritz Lang.
Nothing much to say about The Killers (1946), a Siodmak gem with Ava Gardner and Burt Lancaster. This picture tells the whole story. He’s remarkable for his strong masculine appearance joined to an aura of total vulnerability and victimhood.
Kitty Collins looks nice even when she’s not being the fatal woman, or trying not to seem like one.