The V.I.P.s and The Fog

Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton.

The V.I.P.s (1963).  A fogged-in London airport provides the setting—and serves as the catalyst—in playwright Terence Rattigan’s The V.I.P.s. This collage of mini-dramas shares the same structure as films such as Grand Hotel and Rattigan’s own Separate Tables. The principal characters include: an emotionally-withdrawn tycoon (Richard Burton); his ignored wife (Elizabeth Taylor), who plans to leave him; her lover (Louis Jourdan); a businessman (Rod Taylor) fighting a hostile takeover of his company; his secretary (Maggie Smith) who secretly loves him; an elderly, financially-strapped dowager (Margaret Rutherford); and a blustery filmmaker (Orson Welles), who stands to pay a hefty tax bill if he can’t leave the country by midnight. As expected, some subplots are engrossing (Rod Taylor’s dilemma), while others are filler (the plight of Welles’ filmmaker). The standout performances come from Richard Burton and Maggie Smith. Burton’s initially one-dimensional character gains depth as the film progresses, while Maggie Smith shines brightly from start to finish. A scene between Burton and Smith toward the end is a master class in acting. Dame Margaret Rutherford won a Best Supporting Actress Oscar as the befuddled dowager. She’s good, delivering a more reserved portrayal than usual. However, I would have given that award to the luminous Maggie Smith. 

Adrienne Barbeau in the lighthouse.

The Fog (1980). In his theatrical follow-up to Halloween (1978), John Carpenter opts to create a different kind of horror film with a supernatural tale set in an atmospheric Northern California coastal community. The premise is set up with a nifty recounting of a local story in which a clipper ship’s crew of six died in a crash against the rocks after mistaking a campfire for the lighthouse on a foggy night. A hundred year later, as Antonio Bay prepares to celebrate its centennial, a glowing fog engulfs the town—and brings forth the vengeful ghosts of the ship’s crew. But why are the murderous spirits seeking the lives of six town residents? The answer is somewhat interesting, but therein lies the problem with The Fog. It’s a middle-of-the-road effort that rarely lives up to its potential. The ghosts aren’t frightening, the characters lack interest, and Carpenter fails to generate adequate suspense (a surprise coming on the heels of his superbly-crafted Halloween). The cast—which includes real-life mother and daughter Janet Leigh and Jamie Lee Curtis—is game, but just doesn’t have enough quality material. One suspects Carpenter recognized these flaws as he shot additional footage after viewing the rough cut. The director certainly rebounded, with his next two movies, Escape from New York (1981) and The Thing (1982), ranking among his best.

Bad Movie Theatre: Liz and Dick in "The Sandpiper"

Richard Burton dominated the silver screen in the mid-1960s, delivering several of his finest performances in films such as: The Night of the Iguana (1964); Becket (1964); The Spy Who Came in from the Cold (1965); Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf (1966); and The Taming of the Shrew (1967).

Then there’s The Sandpiper.

After the disappointing Cleopatra and the banal The V.I.P.s, Burton and then-wife Elizabeth Taylor were due for a successful pairing. Unfortunately, they chose a mushy, poorly-written soap set in Big Sur. Perhaps, they just wanted an expense-paid vacation on the beach.

Liz plays Laura Reynolds, a free-spirited artist who lives in an ocean-front cabin with Danny, her nine-year-old son. The home-schooled Danny has “issues” that prompt Judge Thompson (Torin Thatcher) to place the boy in a boarding school run by Episcopalian priest Dr. Edward Hewitt (Burton).  Laura and Edward clash immediately, with her shouting that Danny is “a healthy normal boy who hasn’t been brainwashed yet.” Keep in mind that this is the same lad who went before Judge Thompson three times for offenses such as killing a yearling.

From their first meeting, it’s apparent that the married Edward is very interested in the young, single mother. Even Laura’s beatnik friend (Charles Bronson) notices Edward’s frequent gazes when he asks her: “Are you gonna seduce him?” Still miffed at having her son taken away, she retorts: “It would serve him right if I did.”

Along the way, though, she falls in love with Edward and the couple spends a blissful week cavorting on the beach. Are we supposed to feel happy for these characters and then sad when—inevitably—they are torn apart? Surely not, because Edward is cheating on his dutiful wife (Eva Marie Saint) and devoted mother Laura seems to have forgotten about her son. Indeed, the weakest aspect of The Sandpiper is that it’s built around two characters that never gain audience sympathy.

The poster makes the film look steamier that it is.

The film’s failure is surprising given its pedigree. Vincente Minnelli directed from a script written by former blacklisted writers Dalton Trumbo (Spartacus) and Michael Wilson (Lawrence of Arabia). One can blame them for the dreadful pacing and the stilted dialogue (poor Robert Webber has to end almost every sentence with “baby” to show he’s a “player”). 

Still, everyone involved in The Sandpiper needs to share the blame for the general air of disinterest and gaps in logic. For example, Laura and Edward are having a clandestine affair, but gaze lovingly at each other in a local, very public restaurant. Laura’s “shack” on the beach turns out to be a charming private cabin with an amazing view—perfect for a starving artist. Finally, I assume that the little bird (a sandpiper) with a broken wing was supposed to be symbolic—though I’m not sure what of.

As for the cast, Burton walks through his role and Liz alternates between being mellow (in a groovy way) and going into histrionic mode. Eva Marie Saint isn’t in enough of the movie to make a difference. Charles Bronson probably comes off best as Liz’s cynical fellow artist (supposedly, Liz wanted Sammy Davis, Jr. cast in that role).

The Flight of the Sandpiper, as it was originally called, was intended as a vehicle for Kim Novak. She allegedly had a falling out with producer Martin Ransohoff, but it also could be that she felt the ill-fated affair plotline was too similar to her earlier (and far better) film Strangers When We Meet (1960).

Of course, before I dismiss The Sandpiper altogether, I need to point out that it received a well-deserved Academy Award for Best Original Song with “The Shadow of Your Smile.” It beat out “What’s New, Pussycat” and “I Will Wait for You” (from The Umbrellas of Cherbourg). It just goes to show that watching a bad movie can be like panning for gold. There may be a lot of wet sand, but sometimes there’s a nice little nugget hiding in there.

Ivanhoe and The Black Shield of Falworth: A '50s Swashbuckler Double-feature

Ivanhoe (1952)

Robert Taylor as Ivanhoe.

MGM mounted this colorful adaptation of Sir Walter Scott's tale of a noble Saxon knight trying to restore the throne of England to King Richard, who has been kidnapped by his brother Prince John. This popular, trendsetting film earned a Best Picture nomination and fueled other 1950s medieval actions films. The impressive action scenes include a thrilling jousting tournament, a large-scale assault on a castle, and a brutal climatic duel in which Robert Taylor and George Sanders whale on each other with axe and mace, respectively.

Elizabeth Taylor and George Sanders.

But what separates Ivanhoe from its peers is its low-key realism: Ivanhoe may be a nobleman, but he can't read; Ivanhoe's father is a kindly lord, but his servants still wear metal collars; and Elizabeth Taylor's Rebecca is shunned by Saxons and Normans alike because she is a Jew. The cast is in fine form, except for Joan  Fontaine--she brings no fire to her character, leaving one to wonder why Ivanhoe prefers her over the intelligent, gorgeous Rebecca.

Elizabeth Taylor as Rebecca.

Sanders provides surprising depth to his villain, whose lust--and eventual love--for Rebecca causes him much internal conflict. Emlyn Williams, who gives a delightful performance as a servant-turned-knight's squire, was also a successful playwright with stage hits such as Night Must Fall.  Robert Taylor and director Richard Thorpe teamed up for two other 1950s costume dramas, Knights of the Round Table (1953) and Quentin Durward (1955), also based on a Scott novel. The latter is the more entertaining of the two and features a nifty swordfight with the opponents swinging on ropes in a burning bell tower. Anthony Andrews played Ivanhoe in an above-average 1982 made-for-TV movie.

The Black Shield of Falworth (1954)

Tony Curtis and Janet Leigh.

This modestly-budgeted, by-the-numbers swashbuckler was clearly intended as a training ground for rising stars Tony Curtis and Janet Leigh (appearing in the second of their six films together). The radiant Leigh, draped in stunning gowns, is clearly more at home than Curtis. He struts around in tights like he was getting ready for a Brooklyn rumble. Still, he gets ample opportunity to display his athletic prowess and, considering that the film's hero is a hothead, his vigorous performance ultimately gets a passing grade.

Torin Thatcher and Curtis.

Set in England during the reign of Henry IV, the plot follows Myles (Curtis) and Meg (Barbara Rush), two peasant orphans who don't know that their noble father was unjustly branded a traitor. The local vicar sends them to live in the castle of the Earl of Mackworth, with Meg to attend the earl's daughter Lady Anne (Leigh) and Curtis to be trained as a squire. Once Mackworth realizes Myle's true identity, he hatches a plot to use him to defeat the evil Earl of Alban--who is plotting to overthrow the king and also happens to have been responsible for the death of Myle's father.

David Farrar (right) as the villain.

The Black Shield of Falworth gets a huge boost from an outstanding supporting cast:  Herbert Marshall as the fatherly Mackworth; Dan O'Herlihy as Prince Hal, who plays the fool to deceive the bad guys; David Farrar as the villainous Alban (decked out in black from head to toe); and Torin Thatcher as the eye-patched, staff-wielding taskmaster that transforms Myles into a valiant warrior.  One wishes that these fine performers received more screen time, but their presence is reason enough to spend 99 minutes with The Black Shield of Falworth. Plus, at the risk of sounding shallow, the two leads are easy on the eyes.

Classic Movie Dogathon: Courage of Lassie

A litter of beautiful Collie puppies is running around and playing in a forest that borders on a lake. They are fearless and happy and occasionally kept in place by their mother. A boat arrives, driven by Frank Morgan, and collects the mother and pups, taking them away with him, except for one who has gone off on an adventure of his own. We follow this little guy as he plays with other animals and then realizes he has been away from his pack for a long time. We share his angst as he realizes they are traveling far away on the boat and he cannot get to them. This begins to instill the courage that the pup will need to survive.

Courage of Lassie was the second of three Lassie films helmed by Fred M. Wilcox. It is fascinating in that it is truly a dog's tale, as opposed to being a story that focuses on people who happen to have a dog. This work introduces us to a remarkable pup who ends up being tried in court. Wilcox had a gift for focusing on the visual aspect of film. The opening scene is devoid of people and dialogue for several minutes until Morgan arrives. Then the dialogue ceases again until the pup has grown over a few months, is almost drowned, and is shot by two boys. This is when the Collie meets a lovely young girl named Kathie, Elizabeth Taylor in her second Lassie film, who nurses him, loves him dearly, and names him Bill.  Kathie's family is hard working and she trains Bill to herd the family's sheep.

This dog's life is not an easy one and he undergoes many harrowing moments including making rescues in a blizzard and on a battlefield (he has been renamed Duke at this point). Courage of Lassie is a movie that draws the viewer in and keeps him firmly planted in his seat. It is frightening to see the Collie's actions on trial when he cannot speak for himself. Frank Morgan tries to speak for him but doesn't know or understand many of the circumstances that have brought Bill to this point.

Courage of Lassie tugged at my heartstrings especially in two ways. First, in many scenes in which the dog couldn't just say "My name is Bill and I live with Kathie. Won't you take me home, please?" Had anyone put a collar on him with a phone number or address it would have communicated this for him. Second, it highlighted the fact that war dogs can suffer Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder just like human veterans.

Pal is the wonderfully talented male Collie who played Bill/Duke. He starred in all seven Lassie films and played Lassie in four of them. In The Painted Hills he was named Shep. Pal actually played Laddie in The Son of Lassie.


Be sure to check out the rest of the films in the Classic Movie Dogathon. Click here for the full schedule.