Grift Tips from The Lady Eve (1941) ****

(While this is my own unique retelling of the story, there are spoilers.)

Good God, I do look good!  Oh, hello there, suckers.  My name’s Jean Harrington (some of the time at least), and I’ve been asked to discuss the art of the grift (con, scam, swindle—got it now, schmuck?).  This is a complicated subject and can take years to master, so I’m gonna dumb it down for those of you who weren’t raised in the racket and focus on my own personal story.

Some people are just born to be grifters—in my case, literally. I was raised by a card sharp named ‘Colonel’ ‘Harry’ Harrington (Charles Coburn). Grift Tip No. 1: Anyone who has ‘ ’ around their name is not to be trusted. You see, you’re either a colonel or you’re not—there’s a big difference between Colonel Custard and ‘Colonel’ Sanders…unless you’re a hungry Indian craving white meat.  Now, don’t get me wrong, I trust Harry, but that’s because I know all of his tricks and I never take my eyes off of him. 

As far back as I can remember Harry and I worked the luxury liners with our ‘valet’ Gerald (Melville Cooper).  There are lots of rich mugs who think they know how to play cards—problem is, they’re always under the illusion that everybody plays fair and square.  Yes, there’s a sucker born every minute—even in a silver spoon nursery. Grift Tip No. 2: If you want to be seen as rich all you have to do is wear designer clothes and tasteful jewelry;  hint at an oil field or a gold mine; and, appear affable and sophisticated.  And, that brings me to the greatest mark in grifter history—Charles ‘Hopsie’ Pike (Henry Fonda).

Heir to a brewery fortune, Hopsie was a snake enthusiast and a chump I met on an outbound boat from South America.  My first impression of him was that he needed more fiber in his diet, so I dropped an apple on the lunkhead.  This not being a proper introduction, I bided my time by picking out my sexiest outfit (a two-piece number: long black skirt with a slit up to heaven and a short black beaded top which exposed my flat midriff) designed by my personal couturier, Edith Head. I then strategically placed myself in the dining room and waited for an '”accidental” meeting. 

Grift Tip No. 3: The best way to appear disinterested but still keep your eyes on the prize is to use a pocket mirror to spy on your prey—plus, you can reassure yourself that you are definitely worth it. Once your mark has been spooked by countless hapless fortune hunters and attempts his escape, nonchalantly stick your glamorous gam out and trip him. And, that’s exactly what I did to Hopsie.  I just had a feeling that man was a klutz!  While he was still on the defensive I feigned indignation and outrage that he broke one of my pricey heels.  I then demanded that he escort me to my cabin to exchange my evening slippers. Once I had him alone in my room I turned up the heat and showed off my assets—first impressions are everything, you see.  Men who have been trapped in the jungle for an extended amount of time are susceptible to intoxicating perfume, sexual repartee, and light, but not so innocent, petting.  Suffice to say, Hopsie was quickly on the hook and all I had to do was reel him in, but then something quite shameful happened—I fell in love with my mark.

I don’t know how it happened: one minute I’m thinking what a schmuck this guy is for showing Harry and me how to palm a card and counting all the money we’re gonna take from him, and then the next thing I know I’m planning on marrying him and going straight.  Surely, I must have caught some strange jungle disease when I ran my fingers through his hair and canoodled with him!  I started spending my time double-dealing Harry and conducting business on moonlit decks.  When I look back on it all I should have seen the signs of fever-induced delusions: wearing a Christmas stocking as a hat, acting out scenes from Titanic, and believing that I could settle down with an ophiologist—a word and an occupation that decent people should never have to learn about!  It was all going so fast and I didn’t know whether to jump ship or get on board with love.  Then, something inexplicable happened: the grifter became the grifted.  Seems I’d been played for a fool by Hopsie—he’d known all along that Harry and I were con artists and he just wanted to teach us a lesson. Grift Tip No. 4: Love is for suckers! No explanation needed, I’m sure!

You’d think this is where the story ends, but what kind of grifter would I be if I told a story where I ended up with the shortest matchstick? No, I knew I couldn’t be so wrong about how much of a dope Hopsie was and I kept an eye out for an opportunity to settle the score.  Due to pesky U-boats in the Atlantic, my crew and I had to settle in the Big Apple for awhile. One day, after losing a good chunk of change on a horse that ran fifth in a five-horse race (really, what did we expect when we bet on a goat called "After You?"), we ran into Alfie, or Sir Alfred McGlennan Keith to his common American marks (Eric Blore).  When I learned Sir Alfie  was on his way to Bridgefield, Connecticut, I instantly thought of Hopsie. As fate would have it, Alfie was acquainted with the Pike family.  My mind did a quick checklist of all the reasons it knew Hopsie was a fool, and then I asked Alfie if I could pose as his niece on his displaced nobility grift. I brushed up on my British accent and colloquialisms and assumed the name Lady Eve Sidwich.  I know what you’re thinking, but rest assured it wasn’t love I was after (that would be Bette Davis).  No, I needed Hopsie like the axe needs the turkey, and I was going to have my revenge.

Looking back on it all it seems so biblical.  There I was in the Garden of Eden of all grifters: a Connecticut mansion filled with shiny apples ready to have their pockets plucked.  Hell, there was even a real snake on the loose—no, not me (but I see how you might infer that).  I arrived at the Pike mansion under cloak (really a huge fur), as I was still a bit unsure of my plan.  Once I got past Hopsie’s bodyguard and babysitter Muggsy (William Demarest), I entered the great hall as the guest of honor and proceeded to have every man hang on my every word.  Quite simply, and British, I looked smashing.  The first to succumb to my charms was Mr. Pike himself (Eugene Pallette)—the father, not the son (didn’t I say it was biblical?). At first, Hopsie was nowhere to be found (I suppose he was playing with his snake somewhere).  Ah, but then he appeared—and what a perplexed look he had on his face. Grift Tip No. 5: When you happen upon a previous mark ask them if you know them from somewhere. This confirms their belief they’ve crossed your path before. Plus, it looks like you don’t have anything to hide from them. 

You’d think it would be more difficult to convince a man with whom you canoodled that you weren’t the same woman who tried to con him on the high seas.  In a way, I was a bit peeved at how easily I pushed my real identity out of Hopsie’s mind. Of course, this feeling was quickly usurped by an overriding disbelief that I once loved a man who could be fooled by a royal title, a British accent, and a small tiara.  It didn’t take long before I had Hopsie back under my spell, but what did I want to do with him?  What better punishment was there for a bachelor than marriage?  And, so, yes, I did it: I married my mark. Ah, but I wasn’t quite done with that idiot just yet. Grift Tip No. 6: Sell the game to the bitter end and then have a well-designed escape route. 

We opted to spend our wedding night on a train. I donned my best sheer negligee and eagerly awaited the entrance of Hopsie into my cozy compartment.  He was nervous—it was obvious this was his first ride on a train. I tried to calm him down by recounting other train rides I’d taken. Surely if men like Angus, Herman, Vernon, Cecil, John, Hubert…or was it Herbert…could enjoy a train ride with me, so could Hopsie!  Perhaps he was afraid of tunnels—I always found entering and exiting them to be exhilarating.  It was all just so odd! You’d think a man who liked to play with snakes wouldn’t be so frightened of a speeding train.  It was like being in one of those Preston Sturges’ films, except there was no sex.  Maybe I shouldn’t have told him about those other guys, because he got off the train at the first stop.

And, so there I was—married and abandoned in a day by an heir to millions.  Somehow I just didn’t feel like I had exacted enough revenge on old Hopsie. Grift Tip No. 8: If you can have your cake and eat it too, eat the entire thing.  Why should I settle for a piece of the Pike pie when I could have the whole thing? Yes, I know I have mixed my food metaphors, but they are both desserts and that’s what I was going to have: my just desserts! So, when the lawyers called about divorce proceedings I ignored them.  Knowing Hopsie to be a creature of habit I returned to the high seas armed with my pocket mirror, my long, shapely legs, and my real name.  It wasn’t too long before Hopsie was escorting Jean Harrington…um, Pike…to her cabin.  Yes, he was a bit shocked when I revealed to him that Jean and Eve were one in the same—but this time I waited until he got used to the motion of the ocean.  Grift Tip No. 7: There is no greater con game than love. 

Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939) ***

Who runs Washington? How does one become a congressperson, a senator, or the president? These questions were asked in 1939—and are still being asked today. Americans would like to think that idealists like Jefferson Smith (James Stewart) go to Washington to serve the best interests of those they represent.  Yet, in reality, few idealists ever get to Washington, and if they do get there they are quickly disillusioned by the political process.  Most rational Americans today know that the political process has been corrupted, but I’m not quite so sure that people were so aware of what happened in Washington back in 1939—the year this film, like so many other classics, hit the silver screen.

Nominated for eleven Academy Awards (Best Picture, Best Director [Frank Capra], Best Actor [James Stewart], Best Supporting Actor [Harry Carey and Claude Rains], Best Score, Best Sound Recording, Best Film Editing, Best Interior Direction, Best Screenplay, and Best Original Story [winner Lewis R. Foster]), the film was almost put on the shelf after the outbreak of WWII in Europe.  It would seem that some thought the film presented the shining beacon of democracy as a corrupt cesspool operated by political thugs.  And, really, those people were partly right, but there’s more to the story than that.  Sure, director Frank Capra shows the dirt under the political rug, but he also brightly polishes the true meaning of patriotism and republicanism. 

Mr. Smith Goes to Washington is the simple story of a common man thrown into a complicated situation.  Jefferson Smith is called upon to represent his state (never identified) as a junior senator when his predecessor, Sam Foley, dies.  Needing to fill the position with someone who will be easy to control, Governor "Happy" Hopper (Guy Kibbee) chooses Mr. Smith because he is regarded as a hero and loved for his work with the Boy Rangers (think Boy Scouts)—plus, he has no political experience whatsoever.  As such, he represents, in the words of the governor, “the perfect man, never in politics in his life, wouldn't know what it was all about in two years, let alone two months. And the important thing it means votes. A hero of 50,000 boys, and a hundred thousand parents.” 

Why is it so important that the governor find a “yes” man?  Because he and every political office holder in the state are beholden to political boss Jim Taylor (Eddie Arnold). Taylor has bought up land surrounding a canyon along Willet Creek and wants his political stooges to push through a bill that will provide government funding for a dam—which would allow him to sell the land he’s bought up for a huge profit. Quite simply, it’s the blue ribbon of political pork. Taylor controls everyone, even Senator Joe Paine (Claude Rains), a man some think might be the next president. Indeed, Senator Paine is admired by many, especially by Mr. Smith, whose father was Paine’s best friend. Ah, the dangers of hero-worship.

Capra is quite crafty in how he juxtaposes the backroom dealings of a corrupt political machine with Mr. Smith’s honest reverence for freedom and democracy.  While Taylor, Hopper and Paine are always working the system in closed rooms (they choose who’s allowed in), Mr. Smith revels in the openness of the monuments of Washington (where everyone is welcome).  Even the Senate chamber (expertly recreated by Lionel Banks) is used to show the many faces of the political process. While Smith sits at his desk, once occupied by Daniel Webster, he can see common, everyday people looking on in the gallery. Yet, in this same chamber, you can see senators working the system and attempting to stymie the wheels of truth and justice.

There is an educational bent to the film as well. Mr. Smith’s secretary, Clarissa Saunders (the top-billed Jean Arthur), is supposed to make sure he shows up for roll call and that he votes how the machine wants.  In the beginning, she thinks he’s a big dope and refers to him as Daniel Boone and Don Quixote.  You see, she is the cynical Washington insider who knows how things work, and when some country bumpkin starts spouting off about the virtues of democracy she thinks he’s beyond naïve. She’s also not pleased that he wants to write a bill to start a national boy’s camp.  And, this is where the educational bent comes in.  Trying to dissuade him from his idea she explains the very long and tedious process of what it takes to get a bill passed.  Just her explanation alone is a civic lesson in itself—and perhaps an eye-opener for many audience members.  You must remember, they didn’t have School House Rock and “I’m Just a Bill” in 1939!

Of course, the fact that he wants to build this camp along Willet Creek also creates another problem for Saunders—as she knows about Taylor and Paine’s porked-up plan.  What to do?  Like many secretaries of the 1930s, Saunders is smarter than the boss and so she holds his hand as he first presents the bill and then gives him a crash course in political trench warfare after Paine and the machine discredit and crucify him.  And, this brings us to the famous 23-hour filibuster, where Mr. Smith refuses to yield the floor by reading from the Constitution and various other documents in the hopes that someone, specifically Paine, will clear his good name. Jimmy Stewart always played his righteous characters with just enough instability that they didn’t seem sanctimonious and/or preachy.  You see the complete destruction of his character in these scenes.  At the beginning of the filibuster he seems hopeful and self-assured—surely he will be able to convince the chamber that he is innocent.  But slowly, his strong voice and straight as a rod back start to falter.  His posture droops, his voice cracks, his clothes wrinkle, his hair musses.  What did democracy look like in 1787? Perhaps like Jefferson Smith when he began his filibuster—confident and composed. What does democracy look like in 1939? Like Mr. Smith at the end of his filibuster—defeated and disheveled.  Ah, have heart, there’s more to the story than that, but you need to watch it for yourself to find out. 

Mr. Smith Goes to Washington is a political morality tale about living up to the principles of republicanism—government of the people, by the people, for the people.  Who knew a monument could play a supporting role in a film? Everyone, even Lincoln himself, plays their part well. Eddie Arnold is the epitome of the vile political boss who will stop at nothing (not even running children off the road) to get what he wants. Claude Rains takes the part of cynical politician to a whole new level—you either want to slap or hug him.  Jean Arthur is her usual wise-cracking self, playing a Washington-weary woman just waiting for the right man to come along so she can show her heart of gold.  And, James Stewart does naïve as only he can—desperation and despondency never looked so believable. 

Final assessment: we could use more Jefferson Smiths in America today. Oh, and the film is quite good, too.

Inception (2010) **1/2

The first thing you need to know about this 2010 film from director Christopher Nolan is that it must be watched multiple times before it ever makes sense—and even then some things might be a bit sketchy.  The story itself is so unbelievable that when the characters attempt to make it sound plausible you get a headache. That said, it is an awesome spectacle of the power of special effects—and ones that are not heavily reliant on CGI.  Inception is primarily a visual experience, but it can also be seen as a psychological analysis of the architecture of the dreamscape.

Okay, so how does one explain this movie without sounding as though one should be carted off to an asylum?  Leonardo DiCaprio plays Don Cobb, the ringleader of a ragtag group who engage in corporate espionage by infiltrating people's dreams to extract important information.  Ah, yes, here comes the man with the straightjacket now!  Cobb is a wanted man in the United States for murdering his wife (Marion Cotillard) and will do anything to have his name cleared so he can return to his two children.  After passing Japanese businessman Saito’s (Ken Watanabe) test, Cobb and his crew are asked by Saito to plant an idea into the mind of a business rival’s son—thus, the title of the film: inception. Okay, so that’s all I’m going to attempt to explain about the plot. To go on anymore would give me a headache and draw the attention of mental health authorities.  Instead, I would like to discuss what I did and didn’t like about the film.  Dislikes: Ellen Page and the endless explanations about dreams within dreams. Likes: Visuals and Marion Cotillard.

Am I the only one who wished Ellen Page’s character, Ariadne, would go into a deep dream and never wake up? I found myself begging her to stop asking, “What’s happening?” Her name was not  Rerun and, more importantly, no one really knows the answer.  Page just didn’t fit into the overall landscape of the film. Besides the pudgy chemist played by Dileeep Rao, everyone in the film is action-movie fit.  I can somewhat see DiCaprio, Watanabe, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, and Tom Hardy shooting guns and engaging in hand-to-hand combat with a literal dream army—but short, non-athletic Page, really?  There’s one scene in the film where she has to run. Suffice to say, Nolan wasn’t aiming for a laugh here, but he got one.  I thought I was watching The Wizard of Oz for a second—”Does Fischer (Cillian Murphy) have Munchkins running around in his dreams?” I wondered. Plus, Ariadne is just annoying—who just invites themselves into someone else’s dream?  There’s a reason Evan Rachel Wood was Nolan’s first choice for the role!

The plot is crazy! Accept it and move on Chris Nolan—stop making your characters explain what is happening every five minutes. The more they explain, the more confused I become.  Is this the point?  When things are so utterly unbelievable you come to a point where you must embrace the insanity and hope the spectacular images can carry the film.

And, that is what carries the film—images. Cinematographer Wally Pfister and editor Lee Smith do a phenomenal job of creating a unique look for each dream level.  While the plot may be confounded, the viewer always knows which dream level they are looking at based on the atmospheric design.  I know when I see the stark gray and white of the compound that I’m looking at the third level; and, when I see the warmer, almost vintage-esque design I am seeing the second level at the hotel. In addition, it is visually striking to watch both whole cityscapes being designed and destroyed in a split second.  Plus, there is nothing like watching the team escape the dreamscape by riding the kicks up the three levels of the dream. In those few moments you believe you understand what you just watched for the last 2+ hours—it’s an illusion, but at least some perspective seems to have been gained.

Finally, Marion Cotillard is chillingly thrilling as DiCaprio’s dead ex-wife Mal.  Locked up in DiCaprio’s subconscious, she only emerges in his dreams—as well as anyone else’s who happens to be sharing Cobb’s.  No better looking saboteur has ever graced the screen than Cotillard.  Nolan deliberately framed her as a femme fatale, even though she was an atypical one.  She could be ferociously vindictive one moment and then heartbreakingly vulnerable the next.  Mal is the most developed character in the entire movie and she’s dead—that doesn’t say much for the rest of the characters, but still, she is the most memorable.  One very strange coincidence was Nolan’s choice to use Edith Piaf’s "Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien" as a plot device in a film where Cotillard’s character has many, many regrets—and of course, the fact that Cotillard won an Academy Award for playing Piaf in La Vie En Rose (2007) only adds to the strangeness. Although it may have been unintentional, it was still amusing to me and countless others.

The Man in Grey (1943) **

First off, please don’t tell me I’ve misspelled “grey”—as this is a British film, so the title will be spelled in proper English.  Second, I am not surprised that you haven’t seen this—it’s rarely (if ever) shown on TCM and is unavailable on DVD in the USA. A friend hooked me up with an illegal viewing (names and places will be omitted in case the piracy police are on the prowl), so that’s how I came recently to see it.  Lastly, you should find a way to see this, as it is so outrageously different from anything in early-1940s English-speaking cinema.

The Man in Grey (1943) is a Gainsborough Pictures melodrama starring James Mason as Lord Rohan (literally the man in grey) and Phyllis Calvert as Clarissa (AKA Lady Rohan).  Ah, but they weren’t the real stars of the film, as Margaret Lockwood got top billing playing one of the most deplorable characters of her career—Hesther Barbary!  Based on Lady Eleanor Smith’s 1942 novel of the same name, the film is set during Regency England (1811-1820) and tells the story of how a beautiful, ebullient woman has her life ruined by a callous husband and a calculating “best” friend.  Quite simply, if I didn’t know the story was written by an Englishwoman, I would have thought it was French!

How can I describe this without telling you everything—thus ruining it (sort of) if you ever see it for yourself?  Little known British director Leslie Arliss must have been given free reign to do whatever he liked with Margaret Kennedy and Doreen Montgomery’s adapted screenplay—that should tell you all you need to know: woman author + 2 woman screenwriters = wickedness gone wild (especially for 1943).  In addition, it’s a costume melodrama, so the wardrobe and sets are somewhat gothic, which gives the film an almost otherworldly feel. 

Calvert’s blonde Clarissa represents innocence and goodness; Lockwood’s brunette Hesther represents evil and sinfulness. They meet at Miss Patchett's school for young ladies, where Clarissa is beloved by all and Hesther is shunned by everyone but Clarissa. When they meet a gypsy fortune teller (Beatrice Varley) she sees bad things to come for the two girls.  Obviously foreshadowing and foreboding are necessary elements of any good melodrama, so this is no surprise.  What is a surprise is how these bad things happen and by whom. 

Eventually, Hesther runs off and elopes with a local soldier and Clarissa meets and marries the man in grey, Lord Rohan.  To say that he his less than doting would be an understatement.  When asked why he married her, Rohan says Clarissa was pretty, healthy and able to produce an heir. James Mason is beyond brooding as Rohan, and, I must say, every bit the S.O.B. He lives by his family crest, which reads “He who dishonors us dies.”  Hence, he enjoys duels.  He also enjoys bad women, so when Clarissa brings the recently widowed Hesther into their home he finds her to his liking.  Hesther’s been through some hard times and has turned into quite the opportunist since her school days.  She wants everything that Clarissa has and she has no qualms about getting what she wants. I can’t recall Lockwood ever playing such an out-and-out bitch.  She makes you hate Hesther—there is nothing, and I mean nothing, redeeming whatsoever about her. 

Yet, don’t feel too sorry for Clarissa. Once she produces a son (which she and we never see) Rohan lets her do whatever she likes as long as it doesn’t dishonor his name. Also, for some reason, she is completely oblivious to the fact that her husband and best friend are carrying on a torrid affair—though I doubt she would have cared anyway, but it would have made her less likely to trust Hesther’s advice in her own illicit affair. Yes, Clarissa must have been attracted to no-good men, because she falls for another rogue in Rokeby (Stewart Granger).  And, this sets up two very shocking events, both of which Hesther plays a crucial role.  I won’t say what happens, but you will be both repulsed and outraged. 

There are a few things that make this film standout (some good, some just bizarre).  The affair between Rohan and Hesther is brazenly presented for our eyes. One scene has her leaving Rohan’s bedroom in the middle of the night and creeping back to her own. Just so many amoral characters running about in 1943 England when the Brits are trying to win WWII just seems wrong, but this is the only good thing about the film.

Another thing that stood out for me was Clarissa’s slave boy Toby, played by Harry Scott.  Okay, please don’t get upset about what I’m about to say, but what the hell! If you have seen this, please explain to me whether Harry Scott was black or if he was a white child in blackface.  When I checked on IMBD he only had one film credit and there is no information listed about him.  I know it sounds strange, but every scene he was in I couldn’t take my eyes off him (and not because his performance was great because it surely was not), because I was so shocked.  They couldn’t find a black child somewhere in England to play this part?  The things I find fascinating!

Okay, so what’s the final assessment?  The Man in Grey is an average movie with an above-average cast.  The final ten minutes of the film are what makes it memorable. Once you see how far Hesther will go to get what she wants you will never forget it—nor what she gets in return for her loathsome behavior. If you are interested, email me and I will inform you where you can procure a viewing.

Whitney Houston in The Bodyguard

While The Bodyguard (1992) may not be the greatest film ever, it is a favorite of mine. My brother and I were still teenagers when we went to see this when it first came out.  I was just blown away by the songs—more so by how she sung them.  From the very first song to the last and most memorable, “I Will Always Love You”, I was enthralled.  After the movie we went directly to an all-night store where I purchased the soundtrack.  I learned every song by the next day and was singing the songs to whomever would listen.  My friends and family can attest that I have a pretty good voice—of course, I could never compare to Whitney—and I just loved singing those powerful songs.  Soon, anytime I heard someone say they were going to see the movie I tagged along--I wanted to be Rachel Marron (sans the crazy sister).

Once the film came out on VHS (no DVDs yet) I bought it and watched it over and over again. I made countless men sit through it and it became a favorite at various female bonding events.  When it made its way to cable, I watched it every time I came upon it—even knowing I owned a copy of my own. 

This was Whitney at the height of her career. Soon after the film came out she married that S.O.B. Bobby Brown and her life slowly went to crap. As such, the film (but mostly the soundtrack) stands as a testament to Whitney’s greatness.  If only Whitney was allowed to be who she truly was and not have been pushed into a marriage with such a lowlife.  Alas, this is one of the main reasons The Bodyguard is such an important film to me.

The Reckless Moment (1949) **

Who knew a 1949 film starring James Mason and Joan Bennett would be so obscure? It took me years to finally see this, and this would not have happened if TCM hadn’t finally premiered it this past January.  TCM has been on the air for almost thirty years, you would think The Reckless Moment might have found its way to the airwaves before now.  Yet, sometimes there are reasons a film doesn’t show up on TCM very often: it’s not popular, contract rights, lost prints, etc. Or, in the case of this film, it’s just not that good and not many people are clamoring to see it.  I suppose if the 1001 Movies You Must See Before You Die book hadn’t listed it in its first edition many people wouldn’t have requested that TCM show it.  Ah, so much anticipation but so much disappointment—it reminds me of my first (and only) encounter with caviar.  For years I’d seen rich people on TV and in movies praise the glory of this delicacy, so imagine my disappointment when I tasted what amounted to salty Pop Rocks (without the sugar) in my mouth at a college luncheon.  How can you tactfully spit out such swill when you are surrounded by inquisitive academics who have a really bad habit of invading your personal space?  Perhaps my experience with The Reckless Moment wasn’t as bad as the one with caviar, but it was such a letdown.

The great Max Ophuls only directed four Hollywood films: The Exile (1947), Letter from an Unknown Woman (1948), Caught (1949), and this less than stellar endeavor. Of the four, only Letter from an Unknown Woman showcases his true brilliance. Many critics would disagree with my assessment of The Reckless Moment, as one has went so far as to call it a masterpiece on par with Ophuls’ French marvels The Earrings of Madame de…(1953), Lola Montes (1955), and La Ronde (1950). I can’t bring myself to say this for many reasons—the most important being I can’t decide what type of film it is.  Is it a film noir or a melodrama?  Personally, it feels like a combination of both, and I don’t like to mix oil and water together. 

Joan Bennett plays Lucia Harper, mother of two and fixer of all.  When her incessantly annoying teenage daughter Bea (Geraldine Brooks) gets involved with an unsavory older man named Darby (Shepperd Strudwick), she pays the man a visit and threatens him.  After an unfortunate accident involving her daughter, in which Darby falls from the Harper’s pier and unto an anchor, Lucia must drag the body out to sea and dispose of it.  Not long after this unusual chore, a very calm Irish thug named Martin Donnelly (James Mason) shows up and demands $5,000 for some letters Bea wrote to Darby.

Donnelly’s interactions with the entire Harper family can only be described as bizarre.  I think this is what I most dislike about the film.  There are few would-be movie gangsters that I recall being polite and friendly to those from whom they are extorting money.  He gives horseracing tips to the father-in-law (Henry O’Neill) and helps Lucia’s son (David Bair)fix something on his car.  Oh, and then there is his quick infatuation with Lucia herself. Mind you, an infatuation he knows can’t go anywhere since she thinks he’s scum.  Perhaps it was the short running time (a brisk 82 minutes) or the Hollywood constraints Ophuls found himself working under, but I couldn’t believe the sacrifices that Donnelly makes for Lucia.  While unfulfilled love is a consistent Ophuls’ theme, it does not work here.

The acting is not the issue, as both Mason and Bennett give good performances. He is quietly menacing and she is confidently controlled.  Mason comes off as his usually does—as though he isn’t trying.  To me, Bennett’s character is the more interesting of the two.  No matter what comes her way, Lucia always seems to steady herself and continue on with a cigarette in one hand and a plan in the other.  Thrown into a world so unlike her own she never seems to change—it’s perfectly natural that a blackmailer is in her living room and that her father-in-law wants to invite him to dinner. Perhaps if Ophuls had had more time to develop the story, or if the writers had written a better adaptation of Elizabeth Sanxay Holding’s “The Blank Wall”, Bennett’s strange performance could have saved this picture.  Who knows?

One thing, on a sort of side note, that we do know is that Bennett would personally find herself in a somewhat similar situation in 1951 when her husband, Walter Wanger (who produced this film), shot Bennett’s agent, Jennings Lang, because he was having an affair with Bennett.  Wanger’s sensational attempted-murder trial rocked Hollywood. Wanger pleaded temporary insanity (the crime of passion defense) and served four months.  Oddly enough, Bennett and Wanger remained married until 1965.  It is said that the clandestine meetings between Bennett and Lang were an inspiration for Billy Wilder’s The Apartment (1960).  The event effectively ended Bennett’s film career, she would only make a handful of movies following the incident. 

Four Lions (2010) **1/2

It is difficult to believe that Four Lions (2010) is director Christopher Morris’ first feature film, because it is steady and focused. Morris is primarily known in England for his work on the mock news program The Day Today (1994), where he wrote and read some of the funniest news ever to cross the airwaves of the BBC. If you’re an American and you haven’t heard of this film don’t feel like you’ve been living under a rock. You see, this is a rather controversial film—a satirical comedy about homegrown British jihadists.  It was difficult enough to get Channel 4 or the BBC to get behind the project (eventually Film 4 Productions and Warp Films came on board), it was even more difficult to find a U.S. distributor—it took nine months, and even then it found a VERY limited release. Why?

The movie is about five young Muslim men who become determined to commit jihad on their homeland—England.  Never were there five men on earth less suited for such an endeavor.  The leader of the group, Omar (Riz Ahmed), is a husband and father who tells his son jihad bedtime stories with Simba from The Lion King starring as the martyr.  He aligns himself with four of the biggest losers ever: Waj (Kayvan Novak), a half-wit who takes his cell phone to a jihad training camp; Faisal (Adeel Akhtar), a man who tries to train crows to carry bombs; Barry (Nigel Lindsay), a white convert who thinks that if you swallow your SIM card your cell phone can’t be tracked; and, Hassan (Arsher Ali), a would-be rapper of jihad.  Basically, they are the Five Stooges of Jihad. 

I’m sure there are many people who think it’s not okay to make a satirical film about jihad—and, that’s their right—but I think that if you can make a TV show like Hogan’s Heroes or a film like or To Be or Not to Be then you can make a film like this.  It’s irreverent, topical, and hilarious.  Omar has the perfect family—a beautiful wife (Preeya Kalidas) and an adoring son—and is gainfully employed.  Yet, he is a also a critic of Western society—the same man who tell his son the Simba jihad bedtime story and allows his wife to work in a hospital.  It doesn’t fit.  Then, you have Hassan, a university student who devises his jihad video to include this rap: “I'm the Mujahedeen and I'm making a scene / Now you's gonna feel what the boom-boom means / It's like Tupac said, "When I die, I'm not dead"/ We are the martyrs, you're just smashed tomatoes / Allah Akbar!” How serious can this man be? But the worst has to be Barry—a man so insanely wrong about everything that he says things like, “You can't win an argument just by being right.”  This is the same man who tells his co-conspirators that if they shake their heads from side-to-side quickly that surveillance cameras won’t be able to capture their images.  This is the man who wants to be the leader?

Shot in an almost documentary style, the film reminds me of This Is Spinal Tap (1984) or Borat (2007), but it’s not a mockumentary but a satirical commentary about one of England’s closest held fears—homegrown jihadists doing things like the 7/7 London bombings.  While this film came out five years after that horrific day, its topic is still a sore spot for many in the nation.  I wonder what some people felt when they watched the final sequences of this movie, where the four surviving men (or the four lions) dress up in costumes (Teenage Mutant Turtle, Honey Monster, an Ostrich that looks like it has a giant penis, and a really idiotic Clown) and attempt to blow-up the London marathon.  Could this really happen?  Surely idiots like these would be detected before it got that far…

There is no doubt that the movie is funny.  It might make some people uncomfortable to watch it, let alone laugh at it, but I think it is worth a look.  In the words of Will Durst, “Comedy is defiance. It's a snort of contempt in the face of fear and anxiety. And it's the laughter that allows hope to creep back on the inhale.”

The Grapes of Wrath (1940) **1/2

You don’t get more of a Depression-era film than director John Ford’s The Grapes of Wrath (1940). Based on John Steinbeck’s Pulitzer Prize winning novel of the same name, the story follows the displaced Joad family from the Dust Bowl of Oklahoma to the sunny orchards of California.  Darryl Zanuck took a chance when he bought the film rights for 20th Century Fox, but in the end it paid off with seven Oscar nominations—two of which earned Oscars for Best Director John Ford and Best Supporting Actress Jane Darwell.  While it isn’t surprising that the film was nominated for Best Picture; it is a tad shocking that renowned cinematographer Gregg Toland’s striking images were overlooked by the Academy. You see, the story is gripping and the acting is mesmerizing, but the visuals are what make this film a treasure. 

When I read Steinbeck’s 600+ page novel in college I found myself admiring preacher Casy (John Carradine) and rooting for poor Rose-of-Sharon (Dorris Bowden).  I also didn’t really like Tom Joad (Henry Fonda) and I could have done without the intercalary chapters. Thankfully, the intercalary sections were left out of the film and what remains is a story that rips your heart out, chops it up, and then feeds it to the pigs.  Here you have a poor Oklahoma family thrown off the land their family has worked for generations by both mechanization and the banks.  No one seems to care that they have nothing but an old rickety truck loaded to the brim with a few pieces of furniture and articles of clothing.  They search out a new life in California, only to find that they are not needed or wanted.  Along the way they meet mostly scorn and mistreatment (mostly by land owners and law enforcement), but they do meet a few compassionate people.  The most memorable being the diner waitress who sells two peppermint sticks to the children for a penny, when they really cost a dime. 

While red-baiting was taking a coffee break in 1940 America, it was still risky to include Steinbeck’s rather socialistic themes. In one memorable scene Tom asks, “What is these 'Reds' anyway? Every time ya turn around, somebody callin' somebody else a Red. What is these 'Reds' anyway?” Steinbeck, and even Ford to a degree, are making the point that anyone who asks to be treated like a human being and be paid a fair wage is viewed as a “red” agitator. 

Henry Fonda does a good job of conveying Tom Joad’s underlying seething rage. Rewarded with a Best Actor nomination by the Academy, Fonda plays the embittered Tom as a man who could (and often does) explode at any moment. You can see the resentment Tom feels in the way Fonda moves, looks, and delivers his lines. 

In addition to Fonda’s fine acting, Jane Darwell delivers the performance of her life as Ma Joad.  It is the simple and quiet way that she goes about building her character into the backbone of the Joad family that I think most people admire. It would have been easy to play up the stereotypical hysterical hillbilly matriarch that some actresses went for, but Darwell is calm, resigned, and resilient in her role. 

The other standout performance is John Carradine’s (one of Ford’s favorite character actors) as Casy.  He adds an almost spiritual element to the film—and not because his character is a fallen preacher, either. He just seems to have a very reverent screen presence, and he delivers his lines in a prayer-like fashion.  Casy was my favorite character in the book, and while he doesn’t get as much screen time as one might like, I think Carradine uses what time he gets to make his Casy one of the most memorable things about the film.

While Carradine’s Casy is memorable, it is Gregg Toland’s cinematography that steals the entire production. Employing  the purity of black and white film, Toland used wide-angle lenses to capture the parched desolation of the Oklahoma plains and the deserted isolation of the desert.  How small is man compared to such images? When dealing with capturing the human element, Toland used deep focus so savagely that you feel uncomfortable looking at the ragged and malnourished people he sets his sights on.  He also uses shadows in a very clever way to literally illustrate when someone has something hanging over their head or breathing down their neck.  His images are stark, realistic, and uncomfortable—just what the film and the book were trying to convey about the plight of the Joads and thousands others like them. 

Now, some might be disappointed that I haven’t discussed the biblical references in the film. It’s there—Casy’s murder is like the crucifixion of Christ and the whole trip is like Exodus—but I find this element severally lacking from that of the book (much was cut), so I don’t find it to be that important.  What I think makes The Grapes of Wrath an enduring picture is the stunning photography and the nuanced presentation of one of the best examples of Americana during the Great Depression.

A Night at the Opera (1935) **

(This is my contribution to the CMBA’s Comedy Classics Blogathon. Please visit http://clamba.blogspot.com/ for more great comedy classic articles.)

Imagine if you will a world in which a nation finds itself weighed down by hard economic times—a world where a select few have much and the majority of people struggle to make ends meet. In this type of world the masses need something or someone to make things seem less dark and hopeless.  In 1935 the world was a dark place for many Americans.  The Great Depression saw unemployment and homelessness ascend and people’s spirits and dreams descend into despair.  Most people didn’t go to the movies to be reminded that their lives were filled with worry and uncertainty. No, they went to films to escape—at least for a few short hours—from the unpleasant times in which they lived.  Just that one simple act of sitting side-by-side in a darkened theater with people just like themselves and laughing at the absurdity of it all—the jokes, the actors, and the world itself—what a release it must have been!  That is what the Marx Brothers brought to the American people—comic relief from a very unfunny world.

The Marx Brothers made thirteen films (really fourteen, but Humor Risk [1921] doesn’t count, as it was never released); A Night at the Opera (1935) was their sixth film and their first for MGM.  They, like the American people, had suffered some setbacks.  Their previous film, Duck Soup (1933), had not fared well at the box office or with the critics; thus, effectively ending their working relationship with Paramount.  While the world might have seemed insane to most people, they didn’t want to go to movies where nothing made sense. Irving Thalberg knew this, and so when he took the brothers on at MGM he proposed that they remain as insane as they already were but that there be an actual plot that ran the insane asylum. What emerged was what most critics consider to be the Marx Brothers best film.
While they no longer carried the keys to the asylum, the Marx Brothers still got Thalberg to allow them to choose their writers, George S. Kaufman and Morrie Ryskind, and to showcase their individual talents.  Groucho still got to deliver his quick one-liners. Chico still played the wily ethnic, as well as the piano. And, Harpo was still a silent, childlike figure who could play the harp like an angel and leer at women like a pervert.  Yes, Zeppo was gone, but while his good looks would sorely me missed, the brothers no longer needed him to play the straight man as they now had the ultimate straight man—an actual story plot! 

By all accounts, the Marx Brothers were viewed as over-the-top, absurd characters.  Well, what better world to place them in than the world of opera?  And, not just any opera, but Verdi’s Il Travatore—one of the most ridiculous (and revered) operas ever.  In the words of NPR, “opera has always been easy fodder for jokes. Even the greatest of operas often seem to teeter on some weird edge between the profound and the preposterous.”  What a perfect setting for a group of men who took great pride in being profanely outrageous.  That is what A Night at the Opera is.
There are three things that are profanely outrageous about this film: 1) People are starving to death in America, but Mrs. Claypool (Margaret Dumont) is willing to pay $200,000 to the New York Opera Company if it gets her name into society. 2) The reputation and arrogance of tenor Rodolpho (Walter Wolf King) is more respected than the talent and industriousness of tenor Riccardo (Allan Jones). 3) And, everything else. That’s right, everything else. 

While the story is held together by the love story of tenor Rodolpho and soprano Rosa (Kitty Carlisle), the film is really nothing more than a cornucopia of Marx Brothers’ gags wrapped in the guise of a romantic musical comedy.  The plot, which they somewhat abide by, is what allows them to do what they do best—run anarchically amok.  Three things stand out in this regard.
First, you have the famous stateroom scene where Groucho’s character, Otis P. Driftwood, finds himself sardined into  a very small room with three stowaways: Riccardo, Tomasso (Harpo), and Fiorello (Chico).  The plot says that the stowaways are in the tight space because they can’t afford tickets and because Riccardo can’t be separated from Rosa.  The reality is that the Marx Brothers (with the help of Buster Keaton) saw an opportunity to pack as many people as humanly possible into that small space under the pretext that all fifteen people who eventually end up in it are there for a perfectly reasonable reason. 

The second example is the bed-switching skit in Groucho’s hotel.  Again, Groucho finds himself playing host to the three stowaways, but now they are illegal immigrants wanted by the police.  When Detective Henderson (Robert Emmet O’Connor) comes looking for them and sees three cots in Groucho’s hotel he knows something isn’t right.  What ensues is a ridiculous ruse in which Henderson is used as a human carousel to seamlessly transfer an entire bedroom to another room without him knowing. By the end of the ruse the poor detective is thoroughly convinced that he is in an entirely separate room.

The last example, of course, is the final sequence, where Harpo and Chico find themselves in the most unlikely situations: playing catch in the orchestra; playing gypsies in the chorus; and, finally as (for Harpo at least) rope pullers and set changers for the scene backdrops.  The fact that the show would go on when so much chaos is so obviously taking place before the audience’s own eyes is beyond profanely outrageous.

I have always thought of the finale as a reflection on America’s upper class citizens in the 1930s—the whole world is obviously on fire, yet they sit passively by and don’t even attempt to throw a glass of water on it! Perhaps I’m a bit subversive in this thinking, but I wouldn’t put it past the Marx Brothers. Maybe this was their small glass of water to an American public thirsting for a bright and hopeful future.