The Remake Debate: Love Affair (1939) vs. An Affair to Remember (1957)

Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr in the 1957 remake.

People have been debating this since 1957 when Leo McCarey decided to remake his 1939 romantic classic Love Affair as An Affair to Remember, and the debate has only become more heated for old-movie buffs as the years pass. The story goes like this: director/screenwriter Leo McCarey, wrote the original 1939 script with Cary Grant in mind for his leading man, but Grant was unable to do it because of other obligations (he did, however, make Gunga Din and Only Angels Have Wings that year, both of which are fantastic pictures). Instead McCarey was forced to go with French actor Charles Boyer, whose tenuous grasp of English made his rendition of the famous final scene much less powerful than the performance Grant gave eighteen years later. Even though the film was nominated for a Best Picture Oscar that year, McCarey was not happy with the result, and thus after waiting a decent interval, he secured Grant as a leading man and decided to go ahead with a remake. That picture greatly eclipsed the fame of the original, mostly because it did not have to compete with Gone with the Wind the way its predecessor did.

That being the case, many people have argued - and rightly so - that despite Grant's superior performance and the more lavish production values, the remake feels somewhat hallow compared to the original. There are reasons for this, too. To start with the female lead was originally written for and performed by Irene Dunne (who, incidentally, had terrific chemistry with Grant in The Awful Truth, My Favorite Wife, and Penny Serenade which makes it especially a shame that they couldn't do the original together as planned), and she's absolutely perfect, blending just the right amount of humor and pathos - and doing her own signing with her light-lyric operatic soprano, unlike Deborah Kerr, who was dubbed in the remake and seems harder and more stilted in her acting style. Then there's the problem of pacing: the original seemed just right, telling its story in just under 90 minutes, whereas the 2-hour pace of the remake drags at times, especially in the second half. Most glaringly awful of these additional/updated scenes are the musical sequences with Kerr's elementary school class, which are corny without either being charming or adding anything to the narrative.

Irene Dunne and Charles Boyer in the 1939 original.

Apart from Cary Grant, though, there quite a few things to like about the remake. As mentioned above the famous final scene is much stronger in the remake, and since it's the emotional center of the story, you can argue for the remake's overall superiority on that ground alone. I also really love the cinematography, especially a certain shot on the ocean liner where Grant and Kerr kiss on a staircase, but we only see their legs, making the moment amazingly evocative; it's the kind of minimalist technique that filmmakers today would do well to emulate. The score, too, seems to blend perfectly with each scene, and the theme song is particularly memorable and reprised to great effect.

So which to I really prefer? I can't really say. I grew up with the Cary Grant version and will always prefer his performance as the male lead, but I'm becoming fonder and fonder of the original as I get older, especially because I adore Irene Dunne. I therefore find myself in the most disagreeable position any arbiter of taste can be: that of being unable to say equivocally which has more merit. Both are equally worth watching, though, so my advice is simply to watch them both and decide for yourself.

To Catch a Thief (1955)

To Catch a Thief has the distinction of being the first Hitchcock film I ever saw (as a child of 10), so it has a special place in my heart. It's fairly lighthearted as Hitchcocks go and is probably the closest thing to a true whodunit that Hitchcock ever filmed, which makes it a distinctive entry in the canon. Of course, since it stars Cary Grant and Grace Kelly and is set in the French Riviera, it fairly reeks of charm and refinement, and when combined with the good story and snappy dialog, it can hardly fail to please viewers looking for an entertaining romp. If you're looking for the heavy drama and real danger of some of Hitchcock's more iconic films, however, you may find this one somewhat lacking.

Cary Grant plays a reformed cat burglar who finds himself in trouble with the law once more when someone starts committing a new string of crimes copying his MO. With the police and all his old friends equally convinced of his guilt, Grant soon discovers that the only way to clear his name would be to catch the real thief himself, and so he sets out on an unlikely quest to beat the criminal at his own game. With the help of a Lloyds insurance agent, Grant insinuates himself into high society so he can be near the people who have jewelry worth stealing. Unfortunately a thrill-seeking socialite (Grace Kelly) uncovers his true identity, but instead of handing him over to the police, she wants to get in the excitement of helping him on a heist. Once she realizes he's innocent, though, she settles instead on scheming with him to catch the real thief.

This was filmed to be a visual spectacular, filmed entirely in Monaco and the French Riviera at a time when on-location shooting was just coming into vogue. Grace Kelly is also as her best as a sometimes-icy socialite yearning for adventure, and of course it was during the filming of this movie that she caught the eye of Prince Ranier of Monaco, whom she would eventually marry. It also features her driving recklessly on precipices not far from the very ones that would claim her life tragically, so it gets points for eerie foreshadowing. Cary Grant is sublime in this picture because he gets to showcase his great physical prowess in addition the charm, sophistication, danger, and exasperation he always portrays so well in his characters.

In all, I rate this film a 7.7.


Buy it on DVD:
To Catch a Thief

The Prisoner of Zenda (1937)

The Prisoner of Zenda is one of those films that you've probably seen even if you haven't ever watched it. It's an adaptation of the famous Victorian novel of the same name, and has been made into countless stage and screen productions. It's also been parodied relentlessly in film and television for the last fifty years, most famously in Peter Seller's 1979 spoof and the second act of Blake Edwards's The Great Race. Of all its various incarnations, however, this one is generally considered to be the best, and with good reason. A faithful screenplay, and the star power of Ronald Colman, Madeleine Carroll, Raymond Massey, Douglas Fairbanks Jr., Mary Astor, and David Niven makes this 1937 Selznick version the one considered absolutely definitive.

The plot is fairly basic, with Ronald Colman playing an English tourist in the (fictional) country of Ruritania, who is distantly related to the monarch of that nation and by an astonishing coincidence looks exactly like him. This proves to be advantageous when the king is drugged and falls comatose on the eve of his coronation, and Colman must take his place or the country will fall prey to the king's evil half-brother (Raymond Massey). The plan appears to go off without a hitch, although Colman instantly becomes smitten with the king's bride-to-be (Madeleine Carroll). Unfortunately Massey's evil henchman (Douglas Fairbanks, Jr.) stumbles upon the real king while the latter is still incapacitated, and kidnaps him in order to use him as a political leverage, possibly to kill him so Massey can assume the throne. The rest of the film is taken up in the thrilling rescue which includes Colman the infiltrating the castle of Zenda by swimming the moat, climbing the castle walls, and sword-fighting with Douglas Fairbanks, Jr.

I liken this film to a box of See's Candies: it's junk food, but it's high-quality junk food that tastes really good. The characters are extremely predictable with the bad guys do diabolical you can imagine them twirling their mustaches and the good guys impossible noble even if they do have their foibles (the king, for example, is a bit of a lush). Still, it's well executed, well acted, and has enough action and intrigue to keep the audience entertained the requisite two hours. Fairbanks has so much fun being evil, moreover, that you can't help enjoying his performance even if it is completely over-the-top.

I leave this film with a rating of 7.6.


buy it from Amazon:
The Great Race, The Prisoner of Zenda (1937 and 1952 Versions) 

The Petrified Forest (1936)

**spoiler warnings**

Rare is the film in which Bette Davis plays a likable character. Her stage roles always seemed to mimic the real life hardness for which she is noted, so it is refreshing to find her so appealing in the role of an ingenue. Not only is she fabulous in this movie, though, but her co-stars, Leslie Howard and Humphrey Bogart, give equally strong performances, making The Petrified Forest extremely memorable despite its depressing ending - sorry if I gave away a major plot point there. This film is also significant because it marks the first major role that Bogart ever played, reprising the part he played on Broadway at the absolute insistence of his good friend Leslie Howard.

Bette Davis plays a poetically-touched waitress working at a rest-stop diner in the Arizona desert. When a disillusioned writer (Leslie Howard) wanders in one day, the two are drawn together as kindred spirits, and  Davis's optimistic ambition to see the world rekindles Howard's long-extinguished faith in humanity. Howard intends to continue on his journey, but the arrival of a dangerous gangster (Humphrey Bogart) prevents him from leaving, as Bogart proceeds to hold the entire diner hostage while he waits for his girlfriend to join him. As the evening wears on and tensions mount, Howard looks at his worthless life and considers how he has nothing to offer Bette Davis, with whom he has fallen in love. He hits upon the idea, however, to name Davis as the beneficiary of his life insurance policy and then letting Bogart kill him, which the surly gangster agrees to do after he makes his rendezvous. The arrival of the law on the scene seems to prevent Howard's quixotic self-sacrifice, and after confessing his love to Davis, he seems to regain to will to live. But in a final act of serendipity, Howard tries to prevent Bogart's escape, and gets gunned down.

There's a strange kind of determinism and nihilism in this movie which makes it difficult to watch. Howard's character has strange premonitions that he will die there in the Petrified Forest, and he seems to think it poetically appropriate because he feels fossilized by his irrelevance and sense of powerlessness. Davis, too, seems to be destined to doff the her mundane surroundings and seek the adventure she longs for, and the achieves this means despite all plot twists, just as Howard achieves his sacrificial death. Howard's gesture is supposed to be noble, but I don't really know how much of a sacrifice it really is because he seems so careless of his life at times. Instead he feels at times like a suicide looking for a place to happen, and even though he seems to regain the will to live near the end, the way he flings himself in front of Bogart in the end feels truly needless because he really has no way of preventing Bogart's escape, and really just stands there and blocks the door before getting shot.

Despite these dismal images, there's also a movement towards searching for a reason to live, mostly depicting in people urging Davis to embrace her dreams. Even Howard has flashes of a rebirth - ironic since he is heading for Phoenix on the way to the pacific ocean - and as I said, his death is supposed to be redemptive because it will enable Davis to do what she wants with her life. Still, the pallor of death hangs so heavily over Howard's character that his rejuvenation seems more like that of the penitent thief on the cross saying, "Lord, remember me in your Kingdom!" than an actual Christ figure. So despite well-drawn characters and outstanding acting, this movie does not leave the audience edified as the best of tragedies do (Shakespeare, for example). It's philosophical examinations, however, bear viewing, however, if only to disagree with them.


I give this film a 7.5 for very strong acting, and an engaging, if not ultimately successful story.


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The Petrified Forest

It Happened One Night (1934)

This film swept all four of the major Oscars (Best Picture, Best Actor, Best Actress, and Best Director)  in 1934, a still-unprecedented feat, and skyrocketed the careers of Clark Gable and director Frank Capra in the process. This, incidentally, was the first black-and-white movie I saw as a child, and I still enjoy it as much in my mid-twenties as I did the first time I saw it at the age of eight. The reason for its enduring charm has to do with the humor, which entertains on enough levels to satisfy both the puerile and sophisticated intellects. It also fulfills all the functions of a successful romantic comedy, and does it with enough flair to keep our interest regardless of the fact that we know the inevitable conclusion.

Of course the real story of It Happened One Night is that everyone apart from Capra thought it was a horrible idea. Gable was "condemned" to the role as a disciplinary action by his parent studio MGM, loaning him out to Columbia to combat his insubordination. Colbert also did not relish her part, but complied only because they paid her a hefty sum and promised to complete filming in less than four weeks, which they did. Indeed, both stars issued apologies to Capra when they won their Oscars, but you could never tell they were unhappy from the fine performances they gave. In fact their frustration might have helped to hone the sardonic humor and sexual tension of both their characters.

The plot revolves around runaway heiress Ellen Andrews (Claudette Colbert) trying to get from Miami to New York in order to be reunited with her husband from whom she was torn away at the altar. Her father, however, is hot on her trail with an army of detectives and offering a huge reward for her whereabouts. Ellie is a resourceful girl, but spoiled and sheltered to the point where she needs the help of the wisecracking reporter Peter Warne in order to remain incognito. Despite their mutual disdain for each other, they agree to a deal: Peter helps Ellie back to her husband, and in return he gets an exclusive story about her epic journey - in which the unlikely couple travel by Greyhound, foot, hitchhiking, and whatever else will get the back to the Big Apple.  Of course they fall in love along the way, and sort through the usual cliche misunderstandings before they finally live happily ever after.

Probably the most iconic scene in the movie is the hitchhiking scene, in which Ellie proves the power of sex appeal by showing her legs in order to get a car to stop for them. Apparently Colbert initially refused to do the scene because she considered it vulgar, but she relented when she heard they were going to use a body double, saying her legs were plenty good enough to show on camera. My favorite parts are undoubtedly the "Walls of Jericho" scene and all the times that Peter becomes didactic about things like hitchhiking, dunking donuts, and piggyback rides. I don't want to spoil too much for people who have yet to see the film, but the ending is pretty memorable and has been parodied countless of time. I also can't overstate the influence of this film on the romantic comedy genre, an influence that has been transmitted down to this day.

I give this film an 8.5 out of ten, highly influential and highly entertaining.


Buy it from Amazon:
It Happened One Night (Remastered Black & White)

Easter Parade (1948)

Fred Astaire and Judy Garland together in the same film? The combination is not completely intuitive, but it works wonderfully, as producer Arthur Freed proved in this 1948 outing. The idea of teaming Astaire with a singer had been tried before to good effect. He had, in fact, made two movies with Bing Crosby: Holiday Inn and Blue Skies, but had never been paired with a female singer before. Easter Parade was originally intended as a vehicle for Gene Kelly and Judy Garland - Fred Astaire being completely off the radar because he retired the year before. When Kelly broke his leg during rehearsals, however, MGM begged Astaire to take his place - and apparently they didn't have to ask very hard. It's a good thing they did, too, because Astaire would continue to make films for the next fifteen years, producing some of his best-remembered works such as Royal Wedding, and The Band Wagon along with the film I'm reviewing today.

Set around 1910, Easter Parade follows the career of a vaudeville dancer (Fred Astaire) who loses his partner (Ann Miller) and must look for a girl to take her place. In a fit of drunken frustration, he bets that he can take any girl out of a chorus line and turn her into a star. Judy Garland ends up being the victim of this arrangement, and Astaire soon finds that she has no talent for the elegant ballroom dancing that is the staple of his act. Ironically, he is so mired in his personal angst that he remains oblivious to the fact that Judy's primary asset is not her feet but her voice, but when he finally discovers this, their act becomes a smash success. Of course by this point Garland has fallen madly in love with him, but Astaire remains stuck on his ex-partner, who is stuck on his friend (Peter Lawford), who is stuck on Judy, creating a hilarious circle of unrequited love. In the typical fashion of musical comedies, however, Astaire comes to realize that Garland is a much better option, and after some songs and dances, they all live happily ever after.

The highlight of this film for me is Astaire's big number, "Steppin' Out with My Baby," one of his all-time great tap routines, his absolutely joyous "Drum Crazy" solo, the "Couple of Swells" duet with Judy, and Ann Miller's "Shakin' the Blues Away." The music is a compilation of Irving Berlin hits plus a few written especially for this picture such as "It Only Happens When I Dance with You," which was inspired by Judy Garland. This being the case, there are no bad tunes in the bunch, though a few such as "Down on the Farm" are merely good and not excellent. Similarly, with Fred Astaire and Ann Miller doing the dances, none of those numbers fall flat either. It should be a great thrill for audiences to watch the undisputed best male dancer in Hollywood perform alongside a talented female dancer like Ann Miller, but their numbers together lack the romance we see in Astaire's parings with dancers like Ginger Rogers and Rita Hayworth because in this film his character and Ann Miller's never share the same love connection. This is not to say that the numbers aren't highly enjoyable, but they're not quite on the same level as some of Astaire's best pairings.

Before I close this review, I have to say that I love Judy's conundrum in the final scene of how to let a man know that she's in love with him: men are so difficult to buy for. The gender reversal she comes up with is just brilliant, as is Astaire's reaction to it.

I give this movie a 7.9 out of 10, a prime example of the great MGM musicals.

The More the Merrier (1943)

Jean Arthur discovers that her lodger has sublet her
apartment to a young officer.

Production of quality cinema during WWII was severely limited, but this film manages to be one of the happy exceptions to that rule. In fact, if it weren't for the housing crisis caused by the war, this classic screwball comedy probably never would have been made. At least this is one small consolation for one of the most horrible conflicts of the past century.

The More the Merrier stars Jean Arthur, Joel McCrea, and a riotously funny Charles Coburn, who steals the show as the quirky, meddlesome Mr. Dingle. The plot goes as follows: with all the servicemen coming in and out of D.C. because of the war, housing is next to impossible to find. Thus Jean Arthur feels it's her patriotic duty to sublet her apartment in order to help ease the situation. Obviously hoping to end up with a female lodger, she instead gets fast-talked by Mr. Dingle into subletting to him, which she figures will be all right because he's an elderly gentleman. Dingle, however, decides he must find a husband for her, so he sublets his half of the apartment to a young serviceman played by Joel McCrea, and hilarity ensues.

This film is one in which the brilliance lies more in the execution of the plot and the comedic details than in being terribly original. None of the gags are particularly memorable but they are built up so well and the timing on them is so impeccable that they still produce belly laughs. Arthur and McCrea were both veterans of romantic screwball comedies by the time this film came out, and they both shine in their roles, Arthur mostly reacting to the insanity around her, and McCrea fluctuating between a playful boyishness and genuine feelings for his landlady.

I give this film a 7.8 out of 10, one of the few good comedies produced during the Second World War.

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The More the Merrier

Suspicion (1941)

Joan Fontaine wonders if her husband (Cary Grant)
is trying to kill her in this Hitchcock classic.

For her performance in this Hitchcock classic, Joan Fontaine received an Oscar, considered to be an apology from the Academy for snubbing her the previous year in Rebecca - also directed by Alfred Hitchcock. In reality, if there were a make-up Oscar to be awarded for Suspicion, it should have gone to Cary Grant, who also got snubbed by the Academy the year before for his performance in The Philadelphia Story  (the Oscar went to his co-star James Stuart, a move that is almost universally regarded as a mistake). Ironically, Grant would not only get passed over again in 1941, but he would also be denied the statuette again in 1942 after giving one of his most powerful performances in Penny Serenade.  Of the three films, however, perhaps this one best showcases his great versatility as an actor.

As good as Fontaine is in her role of protagonist in this film, it is Grant who sells it for us.  For this movie to work at all, we must feel that Fontaine's suspicion of Grant is warranted, and thus Grant must appear to be equally guilty and innocent, and intriguing mixturn e of good and evil. Fortunately for the audience, Cary Grant can be menacing just as well as he can be charming and the result is an oft-overlooked gem in the Hitchcock cannon.

Part of this brilliant ambiguity, however, stems both from Hitchcock's great directing prowess and the fact that the film producers honestly didn't know whether or not to make Grant's character a murderer. This resulted in the need to shoot the movie in a manner that would support both endings, a ploy which, as I intimated, keeps us guessing along with Fontaine.

From the very first scene, we are aware along with Joan Fontaine's character that Grant is a bit of a bounder, but we can't help liking him anyway for his roguish impudence and charm. A shy bookworm with no marriage prospects, Fontaine soon falls under his spell and decides to elope with him despite her parents' disapproval. Soon after the honeymoon, however, Fontaine learns that her new husband is drowning in gambling debts and mortgaging their future away in order to maintain the upper-class lifestyle they've both been used to. More disconcerting still, he seems to have counted on Fontaine's fortune being larger than what her parents want to give her, and upon her father's death, cannot hide his disappointment at her small inheritance.

Things become only worse when Fontaine learns that Grant has lost his job on account of embezzling a large sum of money, and he must either repay it soon or risk jail - all of which he had been concealing from her. Then there's the matter of his best friend's suspicious death right after they pooled their money into a corporation - and an Englishman matching Grant's description at the scene of the crime. And when Fontaine finds out that Grant has been checking into a life insurance policy on her, she fears that she will be his next victim.

My only real complaint about this movie is that despite great characterizations by Grant and Fontaine as well as a splendid supporting role by Nigel Bruce as Grant's ill-fated friend, we never really feel the same sense of danger that we do in Hitchcock's other movies. Like Fontaine, we can't figure out if the Grant's threat is real or imaginary, so we end up discounting some of the drama.


I give this film a 7.8 out 10, a solid Hitchcock outing, but not one of his finest works.

Buy it from Amazon:
Suspicion, Penny Serenade, The Philadelphia Story (Two-Disc Special Edition), Rebecca

Pride and Prejudice (1940)

They had this film on TCM last night, and I tuned in thinking, "Maybe it's not as bad as I remember."

I was right.

Time had softened my memory of its manifold faults, and it was, in fact, worse than I remembered.

Fans of the novel have been disparaging the 1940 version of Pride and Prejudice since it first came out, and I can't really add anything to their well-appointed criticism of this movie, so I'll try to keep my comments as brief as possible. The problem with the movie is simple: the script is horrible. It's not just that it it cuts out a lot of material from the novel - for there are many fine adaptations of long novels that still succeed in capturing the essence their original works while necessarily truncating things for time's sake. Rather the problem lies in the fact that it alters the material it chooses to include almost beyond recognition.

Some of the more glaring inaccuracies include Mr. Darcy coming off as too likable and overt in his feelings for Elizabeth, the elimination of the trip to Pemberley, the Bennets planning to leave Hertfordshire because of Lydia's disgrace, and Lady Catherine turning noble in the end. Add to this the fact that the costumes are Victorian instead of Regency, and it makes the production truly unbearable to a purist like myself. As much as I love Laurence Olivier, moreover, this is certainly not his best performance, mostly because he wanted his then-wife Vivien Leigh to play Elizabeth, and when she was turned down for the role, he went on with the film only under great duress. Still, his phoned-in performance, even with a bad screenplay, is better than most actors could manage. But he just doesn't feel like Darcy to me in about half the scenes.

Now that I've given some vent to my spleen, however. I'm going to be generous and say that the film has some good points. Greer Garson certainly does better than Kiera Knightley did as Elizabeth, and many of the minor characters are also quite well done, notably Mr. and Mrs. Bennet and Mr. Collins. And despite the script's departure from the novel, Dame Edna May Oliver is good as Lady Catherine - but then again, she made her living playing those imperious British aristocrats.

 I'm going to hold my nose and give this movie a 5.6 out of 10 mostly because of my respect for Greer Garson and Laurence Olivier for their other film roles. It's not their faults they were handed such a bad script.

Simply put, though, if you love the book don't watch this movie because it's sure to engender homicidal thoughts!!!!!


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Pride and Prejudice

Dark Passage (1947)

This is hands-down my favorite Bogie and Bacall film noir, and there are three reasons for this abiding love. First off, it's underrated. When people think of Bogart and Bacall films, the three that immediately pop to mind are The Big Sleep, To Have and Have Not, and Key Largo, all of which are excellent and memorable, but I think Dark Passage is just as good. Secondly, the film uses an innovative film technique to conceal Bogart's face for the first half of the film because his character is supposed to get plastic surgery to change his face. Bogart physically acts these first scenes, but the camera always shoots him at an angle that hides his face or opts for the first-person view. The only way we know what he's supposed to look like before the surgery is from newspaper clippings that use another actor's face. So the film gets points for challenging cinematography. Third and finally, Dark Passage takes the cake for having one of the most accurate uses of San Francisco and Bay Area geography ever put to film. In fact at the one point where I thought the perfection had been spoiled, one of the characters yells out that they're going the wrong way - my only complaint is it took him so long to figure it out.

The film starts out at San Quentin State Prison, about fifteen miles north of San Francisco in then-rural Marin County. Sirens blare because the dangerous murderer Vincent Parry has just escaped, and the camera then follows the fugitive while never actually showing the actor's face. He gets rid of his prison shirt and tries to hitchhike to the city, only to be picked up by a woman who knows exactly who he is but still offers to hide him in her car. This scene is filmed entirely on-location, and when you drive northbound on US-101 today, you can retrace their steps with your eyes. Their drive back south to SF retraces the highway with exact precision including the Golden Gate Bridge and the tunnel leading up to it.

Bacall then drives him back to her home on Telegraph Hill - another scene unequivocally filmed on-location - where he discovers her motive for helping him is that her father was falsely accused of murdering his wife on the same kind of flimsy, circumstantial case that convicted Parry. She offers him money and a disguise, but Parry rightly figures that with his picture plastered all over the paper, the only way to travel truly incognito would be to change his face via plastic surgery.

He does this, and intends never to bother Bacall again, but when he finds his only other confidant has been murdered, he is forced to impose on Bacall until his face can heal from the surgery. While convalescing, Parry has a long time to contemplate both his friend's murder and his own sorry plight. He figures the killer must have been the same person who murdered his wife, but he has no way to prove it. His only choice, therefore, is to flee the country before the police track him down through the fingerprints, which remain the same even though his face has been changed. In the meantime he has also fallen in love with Bacall while listening to the great jazz standard "Too Marvelous for Words," but dares not take her with him to lead a fugitive's life.

There's enough surprises in the plot that I dare not reveal anything else. Bogie and Bacall sparkle as usual in their roles, and Agnes Moorhead is wonderfully sinister as the dangerous jilted woman. There's also a wonderful moral dilemma to grasp with as more and more evidence piles up against Bogie and he is drawn to more and more desperate means to avoid unjust imprisonment.

This film, however, more than any I've ever seen remains special because it shows the Bay Area as it is instead of insulting the intelligence of its native citizens with incongruous geography and locations that don't remotely resemble the actual environs they're trying to depict. I know I am not the only person to complain about Hollywood treating their native city in this way, so on behalf of all those people, I offer Dark Passage as an example that yes, sometimes the film industry can get it right.

I give this movie a 8.4 out of 10 for innovative photography, great acting and a great story, and enviable geographic verisimilitude.



Buy from Amazon:
Dark Passage (Snap Case), The Big Sleep, To Have and Have Not (Keepcase), Key Largo (Keepcase)

The Sheik (1921, Silent) / The Son of the Sheik (1926, Silent)

Rudolph Valentino's title character tries to force himself
on an English lady in the silent cult classic The Sheik.

I've always been curious about the great sex appeal that Rudolph Valentino held for women of the 1920s. So crazed was their passion, in fact, that I can't really even find a contemporary comparison for it. Perhaps it's somewhat akin to the splash Marilyn Monroe made with male audiences in the '50s and '60s, but that's the closest I can come to it.

Anyway, the 1921 film The Sheik was the film which propelled Valentino to cult status. It's based on a novel of the same name, which was the Twilight of its generation: a poorly-written, sentimental and salacious piece of drivel with at disturbingly predatory hero that women seemed to swoon over. So of course it was made into an equally popular movie which the critics rightly panned but audiences seemed to love nonetheless. Just like the climate today, the popularity of the novel and movie inspired so many spin-offs and imitations that it glutted the market with sheik/Arabian romance stories the same way our own culture is now overrun with vampire/supernatural romances thanks to Twilight - I'm beginning to think that the Medieval worldview was right to believe that history is cyclical instead of progressive. We don't seem to have made much progress in the past 90 years.

This film is so odd to 21st-century eyes that I had to watch it twice just to make sure I hadn't mistaken certain points of plot and character motive. It starts with the heroine, Lady Diana, sneaking into an Arabs-only party in a desert town in order to get a look at what's going on. She is spotted by the dashing young Sheik Ahmed (Valentino), whom we hear was educated in Paris, and who immediately falls for Diana. He serenades her unseen in the moonlight and even creeps into her bedroom while she's asleep, which I find profoundly frightening. The next morning Diana sets out on a journey across the dessert with only her servants to escort her, which prompts Sheik Ahmed to abduct her so that he can force her to become his bride - Nice fellow!

It's at this point where the film really loses me. Both Diana and Ahmed are so inconsistently characterized that it's hard for me to believe any of their actions. First off, it's hard to get a good picture of Ahmed because he fluctuates so rapidly between a cultured gentleman and a savage that he seems like either a sociopath or someone with a multiple-personalityto disorder. He makes a big show of keeping a valet and French-speaking servants, yet he is constantly trying to force himself on Diana - which he very nearly does on several occasions - and humiliates her by bringing one of his Parisian friends to see her in her captive state. What's even worse, however, is that in spite of this horrible treatment, Diana ends up falling for him even before he starts treating her with much decency. I know he's very handsome and everything, but it's still so wrong that she falls for her would-be rapist that I can't stomach it at all.

I give this movie a 5 out of 10 mostly for its historical significance. Interesting as a curiosity without being a very good film.

Very shortly after I first saw The Sheik, I found out there was a direct sequel, also staring Rudolph Valentino, and called The Son of the Sheik. By all the accounts I read, this film was supposed to be much better than the original, and it has the added appeal of being the last film released before Valentino's untimely death in 1926, perhaps a fortunate occurrence because who knows if the advent of talkies the next year would have ruined the great lover's mystique.

One thing that I can say for this movie is that it is much more entertaining than its predecessor, owing mostly to the fact that it tells a much simpler story. The titular character falls for a young dancer named Yasmin, but during on of their romantic interludes, he is kidnapped by a band of thieves, led by the dancer's father. They implicate Yasmin in their scheme to extort money from the young Sheik's father, which causes our hero to exact his revenge on her by kidnapping and raping her - yeah, such a nice guy! In typical fashion, he then learns of his mistake and sets out to rescue Yasmin from the clutches of a lascivious member of her father's gang. She forgives the young sheik, and they live happily ever after.

So yes, the plot in this one doesn't really carry any surprises in it, but at least it makes the character motives believable. Unlike the first film, we can understand the heroine still having feelings for the hero even after he rapes her because it's been established that they were lovers before that. Also the hero's motives seem more clear-cut because he has cause to want revenge and he lives a wild dessert life where violence against women is commonplace. It's still brutal, but at least it's not wildly inconsistent. And Valentino is still just as handsome in this film as he was in the one he made five years prior, not that it's much consolation.

I elevate this film to a 5.5 over its predecessor.

Buy on Amazon:

The Sheik / The Son of the Sheik (Special Edition)

Mr. Skeffington (1944)

Every once in a while you come across a film which you cannot decide to like or not. It's not that the movie doesn't have parts that you greatly admire, but there are enough problems to diminish both its enjoyability and rewatchability. Such, of course, is the film Mr. Skeffington, or I would not employ such words to describe my chagrin. Parts of this film are absolutely brilliant, but an almost equal portion of it is a drag.

Covering a span of twenty-five years from 1913 to 1938, the story chronicles the lives of Job and Fanny Skeffington, one of the richest men and one of the most beautiful women in New York, respectively. Most of the scenes focus on Fanny, whose vain and frivolous ways blind her to the things that are really important in her life until she almost loses them all. That makes the film very difficult to watch especially since Fanny is such an unlikable character for much of the film and makes no progress towards growth until the very end. Actress Bette Davis usually brings wonderful nuances to her roles, but for this performance she seems like a straight coquette out of the Scarlett O'Hara mold without out any of the aforementioned character's deep passions or ambitions. Fanny does start out with some humanity since she marries Job Skeffington in order to save her brother from embezzlement charges, but once her brother dies in World War I, she becomes almost like a caricature until the end of the film.

The strongest part of this movie is Claude Raines in the title role. He portrays the self-made, fabulously wealthy Jewish banker Job Skeffington, who falls in love with Fanny Trellis, the prettiest girl in New York, a girl who's already turned down dozens of eligible men. Surprisingly enough, she consents to marry Skeffington, and even though he knows it's not for love, he's content to wait for her to learn to love him. Not surprisingly, the marriage is a rough one, and the couple eventually divorces, leaving Skeffinton to raise their daughter alone. He end up moving them to Europe to look after their business interests, but their Jewish ethnicity makes them the target of Nazi aggression. Eventually Job makes it back to America, but not before having his fortune confiscated and being tortured and blinded by the Nazis. We only hear about this abuse after the fact, but it doesn't detract from the statement about the war and antisemitism .Raines as always does a wonderful job at playing the complex emotions of the character he is given and breaks our heart as he suffers and broods in silence.

Of course we get a semi-happy ending despite these complications. Fanny loses her beauty to diphtheria and has a crisis when she realizes that her days of being an object of desire to men were over forever. Just after all this happens, she hears about Job's plight and that he's willing to reconcile with her, unaware that Job is now blind, she manages to overcome her vanity and agree to meet with him only to discover to her joy that he will never know of her disfigurement. This ending feels a bit of a cop-out because I think it would have been much more character growth for Fanny if Job had been able to see her in her altered state and she could have learned that true love exists regardless of looks. Of course there's a certain poetic beauty in the fact that he will always see her as the beautiful young woman he feel in love with, but I don't know if that's worth the reduction in payoff we get after watching over two hours of Bette Davis being a shallow coquette.

One last thing I would like to note is that this film is quite explicit about dealing with issues of prejudice against Jewish people, which was extremely rare for the 1940s, and I applaud it for that. At the same time, though, they didn't turn this into a race film but kept the reality tragically understated, as if there were nothing to be done for it.

I give this film a 6.5 out of 10. It has great potential and wonderful moments, but it ultimately falls flat from the lack of progress from an unlikable protagonist.

Astaire and Rogers Series: The Barkleys of Broadway (1949)

Ten years after their historic partnership ended, Fred and Ginger teamed up for one last dance in MGM's The Barkleys of Broadway. A lot of people really like this movie because of the verisimilitude and the fact that it was shot in Technicolor, but I personally find it insipid. The dances are fairly good, and Fred and Ginger have four together, which is more than the usual three, but that doesn't make it one of their best. In my previous review, I stated that The Story of Vernon and Irene Castle reminded us of everything we lost with the dissolution of the Astaire/Rogers partnership. This film, however, only seems to intensify that feeling because we see Fred and Ginger when they're older, and because of the lack of quality in the other aspects of the film. MGM as usual makes a lavish production of it, complete with interludes of classical piano by Oscar Levant, but it rings hollow in our ears. In the end it feels like "a tale told by an idiot, full or sound an fury, signifying nothing," to quote the Bard.

Speaking of bards, the real reason this movie falls flat is the movie. Even though they composed several new tunes for this production, the only one that's worth a dime is the reprise they do of "They Can't Take That Away from Me" from from their previous film Shall We Dance. I'm sorry to say this, but even great dancers can't be at the top of their game unless the music is worthy of their talent. I mean, Singin' in the Rain features some of the best dance sequences ever recorded on film, but it wouldn't have been remembered if those dances weren't to a score of hit songs from the '20s and '30s. That being said, the music in Barkleys is still palatable; it just isn't memorable the way songs from other Astaire/Rogers films are.

I also have to say that despite the fact that the plot line is art imitating life, I don't find it to be that good. Yes, I appreciate the irony of  Ginger playing the song-and-dance girl who yearns to be a dramatic actress--Rogers would win a Best Actress Oscar for Kitty Foyle in 1941--and Fred playing the one who gets all the credit for being the genius in the duo, their relationship just isn't enjoyable. I realized while watching the movie again for this review that I don't want to see Fred and Ginger playing a bickering married couple. I want to see Fred as the ardent young lover pursuing his great flame Ginger. But the two of them were too old for that when this film came out--Fred was 50, Ginger was 38 but not aging well. Still, it's more enjoyable to see these two as lovers fighting to overcome misunderstandings and bad luck than an embittered couple ready to abandon their failing marriage. It's the difference between the optimism of young love versus the cynicism of experience. Fred and Ginger are far more suited to the former.

Now let me talk about the dances. Fred does a really nice solo number in "Shoes with Wings On," and the "They Can't Take That Away from Me" reprise is a solidly good routine as is a tap routine without lyrics that Fred and Ginger do, but they're not enough to make up for the badness of the other elements of the film.

So in the end MGM can't really recapture the magic that Astaire and Rogers had in the '30s. It's not a bad movie, but it can't help paling in comparison to its predecessors.

I give this film a 6.9, tied with The Story of Vernon and Irene Castle for the lowest of the Astaire/Rogers films.

Astaire and Rogers: The Story of Vernon and Irene Castle (1939)

Glamor icon Ginger Rogers portrays former glamor icon
Irene Castle in the only biopic she and Fred did together.

You may not think Fred and Ginger are quite suited for a biopic, but when it's a biopic about a dancing couple, you can understand why the heads at RKO didn't think twice about casting them in it. This was also the last film they made in the '30's, and the last one they would do until 1949's The Barkleys of Broadway.

Before Fred and Ginger became America's dancing sweethearts, that title was held by Vernon and Irene Castle. Dancing during the 1910s until Vernon's tragic death in an airplane crash, the Castles popularized many of the different social dances of the era including the tango and the foxtrot, and their celebrity status was unmatched in their day. In fact Irene Castle became such a fashion icon that practically everything she wore became a fad--as Connie Willis  notes in her hilarious study of fads and the herd mentality Bellwether. So yes, as you can see, Fred and Ginger were indeed the perfect choices for these roles.

Largely fictional like most biopics of the day, this film shows how Vernon and Irene met, their rise to stardom, and Vernon's death in a freak plane crash during World War I--that isn't a spoiler; it's historical fact. That's right, folks, you've found the only film out there that dares to kill Fred Astaire.

So why isn't this film fondly remembered by Astaire and Rogers fans? Well, if the ending of the last paragraph didn't make one reason abundantly clear, there's a lot of ways in which it's different from the others they made together. And in straying from that formula, the film loses its charm. For one thing Fred Astaire and his best friend Hermes Pan, who had done all the choreography for the other movies, were stellar and meticulous choreographers, but their influence was restrained in this film do to the fact that they were re-creating other people's work. Secondly, there were no original songs for this film, thus it's the only Fred and Ginger film of the '30s that did not introduce a Jazz standard. While these are the two most important elements, I also think it's important to note that it lacks the Art Deco elegance and the fun boy-chases-girl plot structure that people loved from earlier films too.

Because of these elements, I almost never watch this movie, and really had to study it before my review. One thing I will say is that the supporting cast is strong with Walter Brennan and Edna May Oliver leading it up. Like it's predecessor Carefree however, this film lacks the corps of actors that re-appear in the earlier films, which means that we lose the pleasure that we get of seeing the familiar faces in the other ones. Interestingly enough, we see a scary echo of WWI and a vision of WWII near the end of the film when Vernon, a British citizen, joins the RAF. While countless British soldiers are dying in the trenches of Flanders, Vernon Castle pleads in vain for the Americans to join the war. The irony is that this movie was released in 1939, at the outbreak of WWII where once again Britain would be in dark and desperate straits and once again America would be tragically late joining the fight (Continental Europe completely overrun, and 30,000 civilians killed in the London Blitz, to say nothing of the millions of Jews who lost their lives to the Holocaust).

There's something plaintively tearful about this movie in another way too. Not only does it mark the end of an era for Astaire and Rogers, but it doesn't even send us out with a bang. Instead of reminding us of all the great films that came before it, instead of one last hurrah for the witty banter, the inspired songs of Irving Berlin, Gershwin, and Jerome Kern, and the fabulous dancing of Fred and Ginger, we're left with our favorite dancing duo effacing themselves by doing other people's dances and pointing back at the horror of a conflict past while reminding us of the trials still to come. The innocence of the other films has been lost forever--they are as dead as Vernon/Fred is at the end of the picture, and the final shadowy images of Fred and Ginger dancing into the background as Ginger weeps for her lost love only serve to enforce the feeling of bereavement.

I give this movie a 6.9. It's the lowest score for any film which stars Fred and Ginger, but I still think that fans of the duo should see it.

Astaire and Rogers: Carefree (1938)

Ginger Rogers tries to find out if dancing with Fred Astaire
in reality can be as good as it was in her dream in Carefree.

A standard Astaire/Rogers plot can be summed up thusly: Fred chases Ginger.  It's refreshing, therefore, to see a movie in which she chases him as she does in this film, Carefree. This is also without a doubt the strangest movie they made together, a screwball comedy almost worthy of Preston Sturgess. Actually it's a good thing that the comedy works so well because the only song from this movie that was good enough to become a jazz standard was "Change Partners," and the dances leave you wanting much more.

Let's focus, then, on that wonderfully silly little plot, shall we? Fred Astaire plays Freudian psychiatrist (yes, you read that correctly) Tony Flagg whose old college roommate Steve asks him to psychoanalyze his fiancé Amanda (Ginger Rogers) because she keeps getting cold feet. Of course Amanda is insulted by the notion that she needs a shrink, and feels even worse when she overhears Tony complaining about how sick he is of dealing with "silly, maladjusted females." She gives him the run-around until they finally mend fences and decide to cooperate. Tony voices his concern that Amanda doesn't dream when she sleeps because it makes it impossible to analyze her subconscious. So after Tony makes her gorge herself on rich foods to induce dreams, she has one--a dream of dancing with him!

That dream convinces Amanda that she's really in love with Tony, but she's too embarrassed to tell him that when he asks about her dream in his professional capacity. Instead she makes up a beautiful plethora of neuroses that will ensure her being in therapy for a long time. But when she tries to explain to Steve that she's in love with Tony, he misunderstands her and thinks she's cured and wants to marry him now. Amanda then goes to Tony and confesses that she loves him but doesn't know that to do. His solution is to hypnotize her to love Steve and hate him. But he regrets it immediately afterwards  when he realizes that he's in love with her too. Before he can reverse the process, Amanda escapes while still under hypnosis and tries to go after Tony with a shotgun. He brings her out of the trance, but her conscious self won't let him get anywhere near her to reverse the process. But you figure a guy with a PHD could figure something out. Maybe a dance would help?

I really can't tell you how clever some of these comedic situations are. There's a judge lurking in the background ready to prosecute at the slightest provocation, and Ginger uses this to her advantage to get Fred to do what she wants. There are also two wonderful scenes when Ginger is "under the influence," first of an anesthetic and then of hypnosis, and does come crazy things. Those devices are definitely milked for all their worth, but their not run into the ground, either.

Now onto the dances. Really, they aren't bad in this one, but they all seem short somehow, and unlike the other films they have together, this one boasts no memorable numbers that are simply sung and not danced in order to add more music. The first dance "I Used to Be Colorblind," is quite enjoyable, showing that Fred and Ginger look just as impressive and graceful in slow motion as they do at regular speed, which is more than may be said about most people. Then there's "The Yam," which despite being a horrible name for a song, proves to be a solid number because although it's a group number, it focuses almost exclusively on Fred and Ginger instead of digressing with crowd shots, a major fault of the early Astaire/Rogers films. But the best number has to be "Change Partners," where Fred hypnotizes Ginger with his dancing.  It's beautifully choreographed, with Ginger doing a wonderful job of swaying under his power, and Fred working his arms like a puppet master. At the same time, though, it's very romantic like the rest of their dances.

 So in the end this is a very enjoyable film, making up for what it lacks as a musical with what it has in the way of comedy. Fred and Ginger do not fail to entertain nor to disappoint with their dancing. Even when the music is lacking, they are still memorable.

I give this film a 7.8, a treat for fans of the Astaire/Rogers teaming.

Astaire and Rogers: Shall We Dance (1937)

Fred and Ginger dance on roller skates to
"Let's Call the Whole Thing Off," a song
they inspired by their different ways of
pronouncing the word "either."

Fred and Ginger dance to Gershwin in this 1937 outing. How can you not get excited about the greatest dance team of the 20th century performing to music of the greatest American composer of the 20th century? I personally cannot help loving a movie that features the songs "They All Laughed," "Let's Call the Whole Thing Off" and "They Can't Take That Away from Me," but there are a lot of other things to admire as well. Not only did Gershwin write all the show tunes in this picture, but he also composed all the incidental music as well, all of which is quite wonderful.

Fred Astaire plays Petrov, the "Russian" ballet star (whose real name is Pete Peters). Petrov scandalizes his impresario--played by Edward Everett Horton--by falling in love with musical comedy star Linda Keene--played by Ginger Rogers. Sick of being chased by men, Linda refuses even to consider Petrov's advances. Instead she plans to marry a dull millionaire friend of hers and retire from the stage forever.  In the typical style of these films, however, Fred Astaire's good humor and persistence eventually win her over.

Since celebrity romances were even more a subject of gossip back then than they are today, the two dancers soon find their names plastered all over the papers. And it only gets worse when a rumor surfaces that the two are married and that Linda is pregnant. This does not sit well with Linda's rich fiancé, and when trumped-up evidence is produced for her marriage to Petrov, she realizes that the only way she can silence the papers is to procure a divorce from him. That, of course, requires a marriage, so the two elope for a marriage in name only, but Petrov wants to convince her to make it real. Can he do it? I really can't tell you what a great screwball comedy it is, full of absurd situations and great one-liners. I think it's the best-written movie they did together.

Now, about the dances. First off I have to say something about the "Lets Call the Whole Thing Off" roller skate number. It truly is a sight to behold, a combination of dancing and skating the caliber you'd be likely to see in the Olympics. The trouble is that all the other dances seem to be a let-down after that. "They All Laughed," is a great tune, but the dance is unspectacular, though it does get better near the finale. The only other dance number is this weird ballet hybrid featuring an odd contortionist/ballerina. Although this is a marathon chorus number with several different permeations, Fred and Ginger only dance together for less than thirty seconds, which leaves me feel cheated in that respect.

Despite the comparative lack of dancing, however, everything else in this movie is so strong that I can't help loving it anyway, and it remains one of my favorites in the Astaire/Rogers collection. And if I haven't pressed the point hard enough already, the roller skating number is incredible.

I rate this movie an 8 of 10. Had the dances been better, it could have easily been a 9.

Astaire and Rogers Series: Swing Time (1936)

Fred and Ginger reached the pinnacle of their dance
partnership with the number "Never Gonna Dance"
from 1936's Swing Time

Astaire and Rogers devotees love to argue the respective merits of Top Hat vs. Swing Time when trying to decide which is the best film in the screen couple's prolific partnership. All the dance aficionados, however, concur that Swing Time is by far the superior film in terms of choreography. I believe that should be the deciding factor in the question because after all, isn't the dancing the primary reason we watch those movies? I further support Swing Time's bid for best Astaire and Rogers film because I feel it has great songs, a cute plot, strong acting, and good costumes for Ginger. What else do you need for one of these pictures?

Once again Fred and Ginger get to dance to the superb music of Jerome Kern, and three of the songs in this picture that would go on to become Jazz standards. The plot also doesn't rehash the same mistaken-identity trope used in Top Hat and The Gay Divorcée, even though it does use some elements of mistaken identity. So it gets some points for originality. As always, the supporting cast is memorable with the wisecracking Helen Broderick as Ginger's friend Mabel, and Victor Moore as Fred's compatriot adept at slight-of-hand.

Fred Astaire plays a dancer and high-stakes gambler, who gets tricked into missing his own wedding. Now his fiancé's father refuses to give his consent unless Fred can prove his stability by earning $25,000. So off he goes to New York to seek his fortune. On the way he runs into the lovely dance instructor Ginger Rogers and is instantly smitten. In order to get to know her, he signs up a private lesson with her, pretending to be hopelessly clumsy on the floor. She gets fed up with him, however, and tells him off, resulting in her manager firing her on the spot. Of course the gallant Fred steps in and gets her job back by showing her boss all the fancy steps she "taught" him. This results in the gleeful "Pick Yourself Up" duet, the first of their three historic team-ups in this movie. It's an energetic tap number in which Fred and Ginger famously leap over a short a wall for the finale.

So Fred and Ginger decide to team up for a dance act at a club where Ginger knows the band leader, but Ginger still doesn't trust Fred entirely until he sings her the classic ballad "The Way You Look." Unfortunately the gig still doesn't run smoothly because the band leader at the club is in love with Ginger and incensed at the thought of her dancing with any man but him. In order to get him to play for them, Fred must use his gambling skills to win the band's contract from a mobster and compel their performance, resulting in the "Waltz in Swing Time" number, the second great dance in this movie, which also features quite a bit of tapping, but the moves are more sweeping and lyrical as fitting with a traditional waltz.

Now Fred and Ginger are riding high and have obviously developed feelings for each other, but Fred refuses to pursue her because he's engaged--though he doesn't tell her this. Ginger then memorably expresses her frustration with the song "A Fine Romance (With no kisses)." Things come to a head when Fred's fiancé shows up for the opening night of his new act with Ginger. Fred spots her as he performs his tribute to famous African-American dancer Bill "Bojangles" Robinson, the only black-face routine I've ever seen that doesn't feel demeaning because it's not cartoonish and Fred's demeanor remains extremely reverent. It also boasts a then-amazing feat of special events with Fred dancing with three shadows projected on the wall. It's a beautiful work of symmetry and timing, still mesmerizing seventy-five years later.

At the same time that Fred comes face-to-face with his fiancé, the mobster who formerly owned the band accuses Fred of cheating and demands a re-match to win them back. Of course Fred loses, and when Ginger finds out about that and that sees that Fred intends to honor his engagement, she walks out on him. Before Fred can explain things to her, Ginger gets engaged to the band leader, and her partnership with Fred seems to be ended forever. But before Ginger leaves, Fred lets her know that she is the woman he would have chosen if he'd been free. He sings the mournful "Never Gonna Dance," and then the culmination of their storied partnership occurs seemingly organically as Fred tries to prevent her from walking away. The dance starts slowly, the two of the walking side-by-side, hardly a dance at all until Fred gracefully turns her. A reprise of "The Way You Look" plays, and they are in unison, sometimes an intimate romantic embrace, sometimes apart but so much in unison that it feels like they have a psychic link. The song swells and ends, and Ginger tries to leave, but Fred stops her. The power of their emotions changes the tempo to one of mounting passion and abandon. They dance with wild flourish to a medley of "Waltz in Swing Time" and "Never Gonna Dance," ending with a spectacular series of pirouettes up a grand staircase and Fred twirling Ginger so fast that her skirt flies up nearly to her hips. It's Hollywood lore that this dance was so intense that it made Ginger's feet bleed through her shoes while filming. Seeing as how this was her favorite number from her favorite picture that she made with Fred, I'm sure she thought it was worth it.

I give this film an 8.5 of ten. One of the best dance films ever created.

Buy it now:
Swing Time,Astaire & Rogers Collection, Vol. 1 (Top Hat / Swing Time / Follow the Fleet / Shall We Dance / The Barkleys of Broadway)

Pride and Prejudice 1980: A Review

**As with the last post, this is an excerpt for Pride and Prejudice week. Check out the full review at Worthy of Note**

For sheer accuracy to the book, I still maintain that you can't beat the 1995 BBC version, but surprisingly enough there's a contingency of people that prefer an early BBC adaptation from 1980. I honestly have very mixed feelings about this version. Although they did many things correctly--there's a lot to admire--I still feel like it's not as good as it's successor.

Elizabeth Garvie looks the part of Elizabeth Bennett better than any other
actress to take the role, but she lacks the sparkling personality though she's
certainly wise and reflective enough to fit the changes Elizabeth goes through.

Still, as this film remains largely unknown, I feel compelled to give a fairly detailed review. To start with, the opening credits of this miniseries are a delight to watch because they are a scroll over cartoon renditions of scenes from the episode. The cinematography is not very good, but it beats other Austen adaptations of the era substantially. The music also is unremarkable without being bad, and there's not much of it, either.

First let me talk about the Lizzie in this version, played by Elizabeth Garvie. I think she certainly had the look of Elizabeth, but she lacks the animation and cynicism central to the character. Instead we get a very quiet, reflective Miss Bennett, which makes her transition to greater self-awareness and love for Mr. Darcy more plausible than I've seen in any other version. Despite this I cannot get over how much she feels like of a pale imitation of the vivacious character we know and love in the first half of the film, so the performance ultimately falls flat for me.

Pride and Prejudice Week Special: The 1995 BBC Miniseries, A Response

***As usual, this is an excerpt of a response I did for Alex's blog. to see it in its entirety, go to Worthy of Note ***

Those of you who are regular readers of my blog Seeing Sepia will remember that this adaptation made #1 on my list of Top 10 Most Faithful Movie Adaptations from Novels of All Time. I did not give that award out lightly as a film buff and lover of classic literature. Of course I realize it's not perfect, since no adaptation can be, but I still don't think some of the charges Publius has made against it are entirely fair. Please bear in mind that he esteems it almost as much as I do, and he should by no means be lampooned for daring to find fault with it. It is not my intention to question his right to find fault with it, as indeed he is correct in saying that is overall stellar quality gives us license to concentrate on the minutiae. In that spirit, therefore, I mount my defense.

British-American actress Jennifer Ehle handles the complex character

of Elizabeth Bennett with just the right amount of sweetness and cynicism.

I will start with his slight objection to Jennifer Ehle's portrayal of Elizabeth. In it he says that Elizabeth's cynical streak had been softened somewhat, but I don't think that's so. I think she gives plenty of looks in the film that show just how weary she is of hypocrisy and injustice, especially when Lydia's elopement comes up. Consider during that episode when she hears that Lady Lucas has given assistance several times: "Assistance is impossible and condolence insufferable! Let her triumph over us at a distance and be satisfied!" I think that's about as cynical as you can get. Also, you don't want Lizzie's cynicism to be too prominent, lets she lose the mirth for which we love her.

Astaire and Rogers Series: Follow the Fleet (1936)

Fred Astaire plays a sailor who re-unites with his former girlfriend
and dance partner (Ginger Rogers) while on leave in San Francisco

For this film, the Producers at RKO tried to give Astaire and Rogers a slightly different look. In their three starring roles together, Fred and Ginger had been placed in decidedly upper-class roles, dancing together in tux and evening gown, respectively. As the decade progress and the depression continued, however, the studio decided that their dancing stars would be more relatable to audiences if they portrayed more blue-collar characters. The result was one of their best films together: Follow the Fleet.

As usual, there are a lot of reasons why this film works. Like its direct predecessor, Top Hat, it features a spectacular score by Irving Berlin, including "Let's Face the Music and Dance," "I'm Putting All My Eggs in One Basket," and "Let Yourself Go." As usual we also get a great supporting cast, including Randolph Scott, Lucile Ball, and Harriet Hilliard Nelson. This is also the only film in which Ginger gets a solo dance--whereas Fred almost always does--so it's notable in that regard as well.

The plot is fairly standard but well executed for what it's worth. Fred plays "Bake" Baker, a sailor who tried to re-unite with his former girlfriend Sherry and dancing partner (Ginger Rogers) while on a brief shore leave in San Francisco. Sherry has been having problems with her career since Bake joined the navy because no one wants to hire a female solo dancer--except as a stripteaser, which is completely out of the question for Sherry. Bake tries to help her out with his theater contacts, but his shore leave expires before he can get a hold of any of them or even explain to Sherry what happened. At the same time Bake's best friend "Bilge" Smith falls for Sherry's sister Connie (Harriet Hilliard) but gets scared off when she starts talking about marriage. So will the couples be able to overcome these misunderstandings? Seeing as this is a musical comedy, the answer is obvious, but the film is endearing enough to warrant watching.

Fred and Ginger as usual get three dances together, and they're to the three best tunes in the film, which I mentioned above. "Let Yourself Go" and" "I'm Putting All My Eggs in One Basket" are both fun numbers, with Ginger showing her comedic chops especially in the latter. The former is more a display of technical skill as the couple try to win a dance contest at the night club where Ginger works. Fred also gets to show off his incredible musical prowess by playing the piano in the intro to "I'm Putting All My Eggs in One Basket," much to my delight.

As good as the musical number with Fred and Ginger are, where this film really suffers is with the songs they give to Harriet Hilliard. It seems as if they're trying to revert to the formula used in Roberta with Irene Dunne where she co-starred as a stunning vocal counterpoint to Fred and Ginger's supurb dancing, but this time it doesn't work. Whereas Dunne had an incredible voice and memorable songs to sing, not only Harriet Hilliard's singing material forgettable in this film, but her voice also isn't anything exceptional, making her scenes seem to drag on too long.

So while this musical has great dancing, some good songs, and a cute and different plot for an Astaire/Rogers film, it still cannot be considered the apex of their stint together because of the drag caused by Harriet Hilliard's musical numbers. For the film that I think superlative of their oeuvre, be sure to check out my next review Swing Time.


As for this film, I give it 7.8 out of ten, which means it's still well worth seeing.