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 The principal characters include: an emotionally-withdrawn tycoon (Richard Burton); his ignored wife (Elizabeth Taylor), who plans to leave him; her lover (Louis Jourdan); a businessman (Rod Taylor) fighting a hostile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.

The Deadly Affair and Harper

James Mason as Charles Dobbs.

The Deadly Affair (1967). James Mason stars as Charles Dobbs--a renamed George Smiley--in Sidney Lumet's moderately successful adaptation of John Le Carre's novel Call for the Dead. The plot is more mystery than espionage as Dobbs tries to discover whether a diplomat (recently cleared of spying) committed suicide or was murdered. While the authorities are content with an explanation of suicide, Dobbs can't rationalize why the dead man requested a wake-up call the night of his death. Director Lumet creates a visually compelling tapestry filled with dark rainy days and shadowy characters. Mason makes a respectable Dobbs/Smiley, but Harry Andrews almost steals the film as a recently retired police detective concerned only with the facts (he falls asleep whenever Dobbs starts to speculate). Simone Signoret is also fabulous as the dead man's widow, a Holocaust survivor whose political allegiances are less murky than they appear. A subplot involving Dobbs' serially unfaithful wife Ann was added for the film. Interestingly, it foreshadows a critical plotline in Le Carre's later Smiley novel Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy. You can currently stream The Deadly Affair on Rumble for free by clicking here.

Newman as Lew Harper.

Harper (1966).  George Smiley wasn't the only 1960s protagonist to undergo a name change en route from novel to film. Ross Macdonald's private eye Lew Archer became Lew Harper when Paul Newman agreed to star in an adaptation of the novel The Moving Target. Allegedly, Newman requested the name change because of his previous success in films with titles starting with "h" (e.g., The Hustler, Hud). Harper is a slick, star-infused mystery that finds the titular detective searching for a missing millionaire at the bequest of the man's bitter wife (Lauren Bacall). The case quickly turns into a kidnapping and pretty soon dead bodies start appearing. Newman is well-cast as the cynical, gum-chewing private eye intent on pursuing every possible lead. Screenwriter William Goldman provides Harper with an estranged wife (Janet Leigh), perhaps in an attempt to give Harper a backstory. It doesn't add much, though, as Lew Harper serves mainly to guide the audience through the labyrinthian plot. What elevates Harper are the splashy locales in and around sun-drenched Los Angeles and the star-packed supporting cast that includes Bacall, Leigh, Robert Wagner, Julie Harris, Shelley Winters, Pamela Tiffin, Arthur Hill, and Strother Martin. Newman reprised the role of Lew Harper in the inferior 1975 sequel The Drowning Pool. If you enjoy Harper, I recommend checking out James Garner's turn as Philip Marlowe in Marlowe (1969). You can currently stream Harper on Rumble for free by clicking here.

MOTW: "Honeymoon With a Stranger" and "Along Came a Spider"

I never missed the Movie of the Week as a teen growing up in the 1970s. After all, each week the announcer reminded us that it was "the world premiere of an original motion picture produced especially for ABC." The Movie of the Week (fondly known as MOTW by its fans) featured entertaining films from all genres. Today, we take a look at two of its best suspense pictures.

Honeymoon With a Stranger (1969). Shortly after Ernesto and Sandra spend their wedding night in his Spanish villa, Sandra (Janet Leigh) reports his disappearance to the local police. When a man claiming to be Ernesto suddenly appears, Sandra claims he's not the man she married. However, his sister, a lifelong friend, and even an old servant from the villa all confirm Ernesto's identity. Is Sandra crazy? Is she the victim of an elaborate deception? Or is something else afoot?

Honeymoon With a Stranger is an appealing puzzler that steadily holds one's interest, though it never reaches the heights of, say, So Long at the Fair or Bunny Lake Is Missing. However, it does provide a doozy of a twist near the climax. And, with one minor exception, it plays fair with the viewer--which is essential for this kind of movie (i.e., at several points in the plot, I questioned the actions of one character--but all is explained later). 

Janet Leigh gives one of her best post-Manchurian Candidate performances. She gets solid support from Rossano Brazzi as a police inspector, Eric Braeden (before The Young and the Restless) as a devious attorney, and horror film favorite Barbara Steele as Ernesto's sister.

The teleplay is based on a French play called Piege Pour un Homme Seul (Trap for a Man Alone), which is typically described as a comedy! Its protagonist is a young man whose wife disappears while the couple is honeymooning in the Alps.

She deserved better roles!

Along Came a Spider (1970). I'll never know why Suzanne Pleshette didn't have a bigger movie career. She seemed to get stuck in a lot of underdeveloped supporting roles in films like The Power and Blackbeard's Ghost (both 1968). When she did get a good part--as in The Birds--she excelled at playing strong-willed women who masked their inner vulnerability.

In  Along Came a Spider, Pleshette portrays Anne Banning, the widow of a research physicist who poses as a student at a Berkeley university. She makes a strong impression on a physics professor (Ed Nelson), who finds her combination of beauty and brains irresistible. As their romance develops, the reason for Anne's deception gradually becomes clear--and that doesn't bode well for her new boyfriend.

In the hands of a filmmaker like Alfred Hitchcock, Along Came a Spider could have become a chilling examination of the depths that a person will go to for revenge. Pleshette hints at the complexities of her character, but I think Hitch would have allowed her to delve more deeply into Anne's inner turmoil and the cause and effects of her actions.

But this is a Movie of the Week and not Vertigo, so what we get is a clever suspense film that aims solely to entertain. It succeeds quite well on that level. Indeed, the film's only significant flaw is its length. When a big twist is resolved with 20 minutes remaining, it's indicative that there's still another revelation to follow.

Like Honeymoon With a Stranger, Along Came a Spider was based on a stage play. Leonard Lee wrote Sweet Poison in 1948. Lee was a prolific writer and also penned screenplays, such as the 1953 film noir The Glass Web starring Edward G. Robinson and John Forsythe. Pretty Poison was adapted previously for British television in 1959 on the ITV Play of the Week. That's not a movie of the week...but it's close.

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.

Eleanor Parker, Janet Leigh, and a Very Long Swordfight--Good Times for Stewart Granger in "Scaramouche"

MGM, the home of big splashy musicals, pretty much ignored historical adventure films in the 1930s and 1940s, leaving that genre to rivals Warner Bros. (The Adventures of Robin Hood) and 20th Century-Fox (The Mark of Zorro). That changed in 1950 when the unexpected worldwide success of King Solomon’s Mines convinced studio executives to relook the genre. They promptly cast Solomon’s Mines star Stewart Granger as the dashing hero of Scaramouche. No expense was spared on the film and it shows—Scaramouche is, simply, one of the finest swashbucklers in the history of the cinema.

Granger plays Andre Moreau, a carefree rascal who is more interested in the pretty actress Lenore (Eleanor Parker) than in the soon-to-begin French Revolution. That changes when Andre’s closest friend Phillipe (Richard Anderson), a revolutionary activist, meets his demise in a duel with the Marquis de Maynes (Mel Ferrer). Andre vows revenge, but knows he is no match for de Maynes, the most renowned swordsman in France.

Now branded a revolutionary himself, Andre takes refuge in an acting troupe. He assumes the stage role of Scaramouche, a buffoon who wears a pink-cheeked mask. To his surprise, Lenore turns out to be the small troupe’s leading lady. Her anger with him over their hot-cold romance generates laughs on the stage and Scaramouche’s fame begins to grow—but Andre’s heart is still filled with vengeance. He secretly takes fencing lessons from de Mayne’s tutor in preparation for his eventual showdown with his enemy.

There’s much more to the story. Screenwriters Ronald Millar and George Froeschel do an excellent job of condensing the rich plot of Rafael Sabatini’s entertaining bestseller (well worth reading). Sabatini loyalists may quibble with some of the key changes from the book, but I think they actually work for the best. And no one can argue with the witty dialogue. When the fencing instructor has to unexpectedly terminate the lessons, Andre inquires about the next best fencing instructor: “I can no longer be taught by the man who taught my enemy. So what is more fitting in a mad world than to be taught by the man who taught the man who taught my enemy?”

Stewart Granger is marvelous in a role that Errol Flynn would have played ten years earlier. Mel Ferrer makes a fine villain and Janet Leigh, who has never looked lovelier, exudes charming innocence as Andre’s other love. But the best supporting performance belongs to Eleanor Parker as the fiery red-headed Lenore. She and Granger have a natural chemistry that makes their scenes together sparkle.

The famous MGM production values are very much on display in Scaramouche. The colors are vivid, the costumes ornate, and the set design impeccable. You’ll swear that the thrilling climactic swordfight (possibly the longest in film history at 5:35 minutes…and my personal favorite) was filmed in a real Parisian theatre draped in gold, red, and white.

Stewart Granger followed Scaramouche with a colorful, though somewhat unnecessary, MGM remake of The Prisoner of Zenda (it may be the most faithful remake ever). I wouldn’t say Granger was a great actor, but he was an immensely likable and dependable star. And he was fortunate enough to find in Scaramouche the perfect role and in Eleanor Parker the perfect co-star. In a mad world, what more could an actor ask for?

The Friday Night Late Movie: Kirk and Tony Fight Over Janet in "The Vikings"

Two years before they appeared in Spartacus, Kirk Douglas and Tony Curtis teamed for this colorful 1958 costume epic about the Norsemen.

Kirk stars as Einor, son of Viking leader Ernest Borgnine, who leads continuous raids against the bickering British nobles. Tony, as a slave whose secret past is quickly revealed, plays Kirk’s despised enemy. He and Kirk spend much of the film vying for the affections of the lovely kidnapped Princess Morgana (Janet Leigh).

Certainly, The Vikings lacks the emotional depth of the superior Spartacus. One problem is that it’s hard to like the Vikings—they’re portrayed, probably accurately, as chauvinist pigs devoted to plundering and drinking ale. Still, there’s an underlying sense of honor to the proceedings and the action scenes are superbly staged. The violence, though, must have been considered shocking in the late 1950s--especially when a hawk attacks Kirk and when Tony is brutally punished for helping an enemy. By the way, in the scene in which the Vikings ran across the tops of their ship’s oars, Kirk Douglas refused to use a double...and fared better than the stunt men.

In terms of craftsmanship, The Vikings is first-rate in all departments. Famed cinematographer Jack Cardiff (Black Narcissus) lensed the Norwegian locales in brilliant color. Italian film composer Mario Nascimbene's score, especially the “welcome home” call on a Viking horn, may stick in your head for several days.

Director Richard Fleischer teamed with Kirk four years earlier in Disney's lavish 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. Fleischer would work with Curtis again in 1968's The Boston Strangler.

Tony and Janet, who were married when they made The Vikings, also co-starred in The Perfect Furlough that same year. The couple appeared in five films together: the two already mentioned, plus Houdini (1953), The Black Shield of Falworth (1954), and Who Was That Lady? (with Dean Martin).

 No, it's not a Ricola commercial. A Viking plays
a catchy tune to signal the arrival of ships.

12 Days of Christmas: Holiday Affair (1949)

Holiday Affair (1949) is a light romantic comedy film starring Robert Mitchum and Janet Leigh. One of my favorite Christmas films, it's directed and produced by Don Hartman who wanted Mitchum to expand from his roles in film noir and war films.

The movie begins during the busy Christmas season with Connie Ennis (Janet Leigh) working as a professional comparison shopper, who is required to purchase an expensive electric train set. Connie in a hurry and does not have time to ask questions, which sends a red flag to sales clerk Steve Mason (Robert Mitchum). After purchasing the train, Connie rushes home to be with her six year old son. She believes that Timmy will not see the train, so she brings the electric train home with her. Timmy's curiosity gets the best of him, and he takes a peek inside the box with the train in it. Thrilled, thinking he is getting a train for Christmas until Connie, who is unaware that he has seen it, tells him the train is for the store. That night, Connie's boyfriend, lawyer Carl Davis (Wendell Corey), asks Connie to marry him. Connie then talks it over with Timmy, who is not happy about sharing his mother.

The next day, when Steve sees Connie bringing back the train for a refund, he threatens to report her to the store detective. Connie explains to him that she is a war widow with a son to support. Steve, in the Christmas spirit,refunds her money, but he is soon fired for not turning her in. While spending a wonderful afternoon together in Central Park, they talk about his future plans to build sailboats with his friend in California.

Later, while comparison shopping, Connie and Steve become separated in a crowd. Steve, with some detective work finds Connie's apartment and discovers Carl there. Carl is questioning Steve's presence and has an awkward moment with Timmy, who is still upset from the night before. Carl thinks it is best to leave before things get worse. Steve angers Connie, by saying that she should stop trying to make Timmy into the image of his father. Thinking he has worn out his welcome, he stops in to say his good bye's to Timmy. Timmy tells him about the train. As he is leaving, Steve gives Connie a passionate kiss.

On Christmas morning, Timmy opens the apartment door and finds the gift wraped train set outside. Excited he runs to thank his sleepy mother. Connie puts two and two together where the train came from and goes to confront Steve. Connie finds Steve in Central Park, and although she offers to pay him for the train, he refuses her money.

Who will Conny and Timmy be stringing popcorn on the Christmas tree with? Wendell Corey, a wonderful, stable man who is a little condesending, who wants to marry her. Or... Robert Mitchum, the drifter. Watch this charming Christmas film to find out...

The movie didn't do so well at the box office at the time of its release, but it has gained charm over the years.

According to Robert Osborne, Howard Hughes, the head of RKO, had Mitchum take the part to repair his image after his arrest for marijuana possession.