Albert Finney Hunts Wolfen in NYC

Albert Finney and friend.

For years, I felt an irresistible impulse to indulge in Albert Finney's two 1980 horror/sci fi films whenever they were available. I finally got over the urge to watch Looker after reviewing it for this blog a few years ago. It's a terrible movie and I think that documenting that in writing "cured" me. That brings us to Finney's other 1980 film, Wolfen, which I recently discovered on Vudu...and ended up watching, of course.

The film opens with the vicious early morning murders of a rich industrialist, his wife, and their chauffeur in a New York City park. A high tech security firm and the police suspect that it's the work of a terrorist group. However, detective Dewey Wilson (Albert Finney) is puzzled by the nature of the savage wounds, missing body organs, and a hair from an unidentified animal. When a similar hair is found on the body of a dead bum in the slums, Dewey concludes that the two crimes must somehow be related.

A rundown church is the setting for one of the best scenes.

Wolfen unravels effectively for most of its 113 minute running time as Dewey gradually connects the pieces of the puzzle. There are plenty of red herrings along the way, including a group of Native Americans suggesting that shape-shifters may be at work. But make no mistake, Wolfen is not about werewolves. To its credit, it has loftier ambitions--even if it ultimately fails to achieve them.

The film's biggest challenge is its gaps in narrative structure. This is not surprising considering that director Michael Wadleigh delivered a 4 1/2 hour cut of Wolfen and was promptly removed from the post-production process. It may explain why we never learn the destiny of a dog that accompanied the couple in the opening scene or why Dewey goes to a bar to have Edward James Olmos painstakingly explain the film's premise to him. The latter is especially awkward; I felt ripped off being given the answer after spending so much of Wolfen trying to figure out what was going on. Still, things like that are bound happen when you leave over two hours of edited footage on the cutting room floor.

Gregory Hines.

Finney and his co-star Diane Venora never flesh out their characters and their one-night stand is superfluous to the plot. Perhaps, the blame can once again be attributed to the lost footage and not the actors. Gregory Hines, on the other hand, is excellent as a potato chip-eating medical examiner whose decision to help Finney's detective results in more bloodshed. Incidentally, one of the first victims is played by Anne Marie Pohtamo, who won the the Miss Universe title in 1975 (she was Miss Finland). She only appeared in one other film role.

Director Wadleigh avoids showing the Wolfen for most of the film. Instead, he relies on the old trick of showing us what the creatures see. To inject some additional visual interest, he uses a process similar to thermal imaging. It's an effective technique at first, but wears thin about the fifth time he employs it. To Wadleigh's credit, though, when we finally see the Wolfen (after about 80 minutes), it's a tense scene and the creatures are impressive-looking.

Anne Marie Pohtamo.

The screenplay was loosely based on Whitley Streiber's 1978 debut novel The Wolfen. Streiber's story is more streamlined (no terrorist plot) and I suspect it works better than the ambitious, but flawed, film adaptation.

Wolfen is the the only fictional film directed by Michael Wadleigh. His other films are documentaries, though one is pretty famous. It's called Woodstock.

A Double Case of Murder on the Orient Express

Albert Finney as Hercule Poirot.

The 1974 adaptation of Agatha Christie's controversial mystery Murder on the Orient Express spawned a string of theatrical and made-for-TV films based on her works. I recently revisited Orient Express and, for comparison purposes, also watched the 2010 version starring David Suchet as Hercule Poirot. It was an interesting exercise in which each film boasted certain strengths. In the end, though, it came down to which Poirot was the best and, for me, the choice between Suchet and Albert Finney is a no-contest.

The plots of each version closely mirror Christie's 1934 novel. While aboard the Orient Express en route back to England, Poirot is approached by a wealthy, distasteful man named Ratchett, who fears for his life. Ratchett tries to hire Poirot to protect him, but the Belgian detective refuses. Two nights later, Ratchett's bloody corpse--which features, significantly, twelve knife wounds--is found in his compartment. The obvious solution is that the murderer disposed of Ratchett, then departed the train. However, Poirot quickly makes a connection to the kidnapping and subsequent death of young Daisy Armstrong, which occurred five years earlier (an obvious nod to the real-life Lindbergh case).

The snowbound train.

The 1974 Murder on the Orient Express boasts a running time of 128 minutes, which surprisingly works to the plot's advantage. First, it allows director Sidney Lumet to open the film with a well-constructed montage that encapsulates the Armstrong kidnapping and its aftermath. This sequence not only piques the viewer's interest from the beginning, but its eliminates the need for lengthy flashbacks later or incorporation into Poirot's explanation. The second advantage of the long running time is it affords Poirot time to reveal the mystery's solution in detail (indeed, the "reveal" scene lasts almost 25 minutes).

Wendy Hiller.

The casting of big-name stars as the suspects may be entertaining, but it actually adds little to the mystery. I suppose one could argue that it's easier to tell the suspects apart, because they're played by performers such as Lauren Bacall, Sean Connery, Jacqueline Bisset, Ingrid Bergman, and others. However, with the exception of Wendy Hiller as the elusive and deathly pale Princess Dragomiroff, no one has enough screen time to add any depth to their character.

Ingrid Bergman.

Albert Finney, as Poirot, dominates Murder on the Orient Express and that's unfortunate because he's a poor choice to portray Christie's sleuth. Finney may have mastered Poirot's manners, but there's no passion in his interpretation. I also have no idea what accent he was using--it certainly didn't sound Belgian French. Apparently, I hold a minority opinion of Finney's portrayal; he received both Oscar and BAFTA nominations for Best Actor. (Incidentally, Ingrid Bergman won those two awards for supporting actress, though I think it was more for her career than for her performance in this picture.)

Eileen Atkins as Princess Dragomiroff.

The 2010 Murder on the Orient Express, made by Britain's ITV network, lacks the grand scale of the 1974 version. Still, it looks expensive for a made-for-TV movie. In lieu of an all-star cast, many of the suspects are played by actors familiar to fans of British drama: Hugh Bonneville (Downton Abbey), Eileen Atkins (Doc Martin), and Toby Jones (Midsomer Murders). Perhaps, the most recognizable face for U.S. audiences is Jessica Chastain (Zero Dark Thirty), who was still relatively unknown in 2010.

At a zippy 89 minutes, this adaptation moves almost too quickly, making it difficult for viewers to differentiate among the large number of suspects. In lieu of the 1974 film's opening montage, Poirot explains the connection to the Daisy Armstrong case as part of his climatic "reveal." It's a lot of information to absorb at one time and I wonder if individuals unfamiliar with Christie's plot will be able to fully follow Poirot's explanation.

David Suchet as Poirot.

Despite these minor misgivings, I probably prefer this version for one reason alone. David Suchet is--as always--superb as Hercule Poirot. One of Suchet's great gifts was being able to find the humor in the Poirot character, while never mocking the detective nor making him intentionally funny. Thus, we may smile when Suchet's Poirot measures his eggs to ensure they're the same size, but we never laugh at him. (In contrast, when Finney races down a train car to question a suspect, he looks like Charlie Chaplin).

The 2010 version also ends on a stronger note with the religious Poirot pondering the impacts of a personal moral dilemma. Interestingly, the same theme is explored at the conclusion of Curtain: Poirot's Last Case, the excellent 2014 film that marked the last of Suchet's 70 appearances as Hercule Poirot.

Saturday Night and Sunday Morning

Albert Finney as Arthur.

Saturday Night and Sunday Morning is one of the many working-class social dramas that proliferated throughout British cinema during the late 1950s and the 1960s. These films were inspired, in part, by the "angry young men" genre that began with John Osborne's 1956 stage play Look Back in Anger. That play was adapted for the screen by Tony Richardson, with Richard Burton in the lead role, in 1959. The following year, Richardson produced Saturday Night and Sunday Morning, which earned numerous awards and made a star of Albert Finney.

Rachel Roberts with Finney.

Finney plays Arthur Seaton, a young factory worker in Nottingham, who escapes his mundane existence by routinely getting drunk on the weekends and sleeping with a married woman named Brenda (Rachel Roberts). Arthur scoffs at colleagues who try to further their careers and admires co-workers who "know how to spend money like me." He still lives with his parents and occasionally goes fishing with his cousin. He also takes delight in making life miserable for a straight-laced neighbor (to the point of shooting her in the bum with a BB rifle).

Doreen and Arthur flirt.

Two events occur that nudge Arthur off the road to nowhere. First, Brenda gets pregnant--which is a serious problem considering she and her husband (who have a son) have not engaged in sexual activity for several months. Around the same time, Arthur meets an attractive young woman named Doreen, who also works in a factory.

Screenwriter Alan Sillitoe, who adapted his own novel, creates a memorable--if not always likable--character in Arthur. His young protagonist is filled with self-importance and considers himself something of a rebel without a cause. Yet, he's not quite the uncaring, fun-loving bloke he thinks he is. He gives part of every paycheck to his Mum to cover lodging and food. He genuinely cares about Brenda, although he certainly doesn't love her. And, in a rare moment of true reflection, he admits: "God knows what I am."

Rachel Roberts as Brenda.

It's easy to see why Albert Finney's energetic performance catapulted him to fame. However, Rachel Roberts dominates much of the film. She hits all the right notes as the carefree Brenda who cavorts with Arthur when her husband and son are away. That sets the stage for a remarkable transformation when her life is turned upside down with the unexpected pregnancy. Crestfallen and looking as if the weight of the world is upon her, Brenda confesses to a befuddled Arthur that her best course of action is to tell the truth to her husband and hope for the best. It's a remarkable scene and no doubt helped secure her the 1960 Best Actress Award from the British Academy of Film and Television Arts.

Saturday Night and Sunday Morning also won as Best Picture that year. I can see how its realism, social criticism, and stark black-and-white world (the cinematographer was the great Freddie Francis) seemed like a breath of fresh air. Personally, while I found it a worthwhile viewing, I prefer other "angry young man" pictures such as Room at the Top (1959) and another one based on an Alan Sillitoe work, The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner (1962). I also have a soft spot for the more cynical British satires of the 1960s, such as Georgy Girl (1966), Nothing But the Best (1964), and I'll Never Forget What's'isname (1967).

By the way, be forewarned some of these films end rather abruptly by conventional standards.