Love It or Shove It: Classic Movie Edition

In this new occasional feature, we'll make a statement about classic cinema and then ask our panel of movie experts to "love it" (they agree) or "shove it" (they disagree). It should be a fun way to get some different perspectives. This month, our expert panel is comprised of: Connie Metzinger from Silver Scenes, John Greco from Twenty Four Frames, and Cafe staff member Toto.

So, let's get started!

Is Nicholson's film a classic?

1.  The best films of the 1970s--such as One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest and The Godfather Part II--are classic films in every sense of the term.

Connie:  Shove it. I appreciate 1970s films as much as 1940s films, but no matter how stellar the picture may be, it's not a classic in my book.

Toto:  Love it. An important element of classic films is that they hold up over time as evidenced by the powerful performances of Jack Nicholson and Louise Fletcher in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. Classic films also impact us socially. Though personally not a fan of The Godfather saga, it continues to influence culture as evidenced by The Sopranos and parodies on MADtv.

John:  Love it. For me, the classic film did not end with the demise of the studio system.  It continued with many of the 1970s filmmakers, who grew up during the studio heydays and fell in love with Hollywood. Francis Ford Coppola's Godfather films are brilliant cinema. They embody the visual technique of old Hollywood with a modern touch. Coppola and his films are just one example. Others include Brian DePalma, who mixed Hitchcock suspense with modern day visual cinematic techniques (Sisters, Carrie). Martin Scorsese's love of classic Hollywood is well known, and it comes through in Mean Streets, Taxi Driver, and New York, New York. Woody Allen's comedies of the 70s are revisionist takes of Hollywood’s classic romantic and slapstick comedies. Finally, Peter Bogdanovich's The Last Picture Show, Nickelodeon and What’s Up Doc? all pay tribute to Hollywood’s golden years. The filmmakers of the 70s embraced the old Hollywood as much as they rebelled and changed it.

2.  Alfred Hitchcock's best decade was the 1950s, which included Rear Window, Vertigo, and North By Northwest.

Connie:  Love it. It took the master of suspense twenty years to perfect his craft and he reached his directorial prime in the 1950s.

Toto:  Love it. I like every Hitchcock film from the 1950s and that isn't a statement I can say for all directors.

John:  Love it. Alfred Hitchcock made brilliant films in every decade, but few filmmakers, if any, had a run of four masterpieces in a ten year period with Strangers on a Train, Rear Window, Vertigo and North by Northwest. Any other filmmaker would find this hard to beat.  In addition, during that same decade of the 1950s, Hitch made lesser, but still fascinating, films like Stage Fright, Dial M for Murder, To Catch a Thief, The Man Who Knew Too Much and two underrated gems The Trouble with Harry and I Confess. Even Hitchcock’s own 1930s period which is filled with some brilliant work does not match his 1950s output.

Cary Grant at age 62.

3.  Cary Grant retired too soon. He was 62 when he made his last film, Walk Don't Run, in 1966.

Connie:  Shove it. Cary Grant didn't have outstanding acting abilities and if he were to have continued to perform into his 70s and 80s he would have had to rely solely on his talent and not his debonair charm or good looks. Besides, it would have been too sad to see him end his career in a cheap horror film as so many actors did.

Toto:  Shove it. I love Cary Grant! He entertained people all of his life. Retirement at 62, when he became a father for the first time, was well deserved.

John:  Hate it. Retirement was a personal choice on Cary Grant’s part, so it’s hard to argue. He didn't like the limelight. After retirement, he kept himself busy with family and various business dealings (he was on a couple of corporate boards.) As a fan, I don't like it that Grant left the screen so early; that's where the "hate it'" comes from. I felt we were cheated. However, I can understand it on a personal level that he wanted out. He was still a big star, and he left it all behind. That in itself takes some guts.

Sisters Olivia and Joan.

4. Based on the body of her work, Olivia de Havilland was a better actress than her sister Joan Fontaine.

Connie:  Love it. Joan Fontaine was an extremely talented actress, but unlike her sister she didn't have the skill in selecting noteworthy parts that showcased her talent, and that's an important part of being an actress. Joan would often follow a marvelous performance in a great movie by a mediocre role in a mediocre comedy.

Toto:  Love it. From Captain Blood through They Died With Their Boots On, I really enjoyed the eight pairings of Olivia de Havilland and Errol Flynn. She was enchanting in Gone With the Wind and left us guessing in My Cousin Rachel.

John:  Love it. At first, I was jumping back and forth on who I thought was better. However, while Joan Fontaine was excellent in both Suspicion and Rebecca, I am not sure she ever did anything as challenging as sister Olivia's work in The Snake Pit and The Heiress. During her career, Olivia de Havilland either went after more difficult roles than Fontaine or was fortunate enough have them handed to her by the studio. Either way, I ended up leaning toward the older sister.

The Best Movies You May Have Never Seen (Dec 2015)

Recommended and reviewed by Lady Eve's Reel Life

German filmmaker Max Ophuls.

Letter from an Unknown Woman (1948). Max Ophuls, the legendary German-born director most well-known for the films he made in France-- La Ronde (1950), Le Plaisir (1952), The Earrings of Madame de… (1953), and Lola Montès (1955)--also directed four films in America during the post-war era. The jewel among these, and a film equal to his best French work, is Letter From an Unknown Woman (1948).

A romantic drama based on a novella by Stefan Zweig, Letter From an Unknown Woman charts the course of an ill-starred love affair. Such a narrative may seem sheer melodrama, but this film is a genuinely transporting experience. Credit this to Ophuls’ famed mastery of the mobile camera (moving here with the grace of a Viennese waltz) and staging, a polished script by Howard Koch (Casablanca) and strong lead performances by Joan Fontaine and Louis Jourdan.

Joan Fontaine and Louis Jourdan.

Letter From an Unknown Woman opens in elegant turn-of-the-century Vienna during the wee hours of a wet night. A well-dressed man (Jourdan) steps down from a carriage and, saying goodnight to his companions, jokes about the duel at dawn to which he has been challenged. Entering his well-appointed flat alone he tells his manservant that he will be departing again very shortly, "Honor is a luxury only gentlemen can afford," he remarks. The mute servant indicates a letter awaiting him and he opens the envelope and begins to read as he makes preparations to flee:

"By the time you read this letter, I may be dead," it says. The voice of a woman, the letter writer, begins to speak the words she has written, “I have so much to tell you and, perhaps, so little time…” As the man intently reads on, her tale unfolds in flashback.

The woman, Lisa Berndle (Fontaine), recalls how, as a girl, she became enthralled with up-and-coming concert pianist Stefan Brand, the recipient of her letter. Though the suave virtuoso had been completely unaware of her, Lisa privately harbored a deeply held fantasy that their destinies were entwined. And they are, but not in the way she imagined; the brief encounters they do share exact an incredible cost.

Lisa’s letter has come as a surprise and a shock to Stefan and he only finishes reading it as the dawn is breaking.

As the film circles from present to past to present again, it appears that both Lisa and Stefan have been the victims of their own misspent passions; she risking everything for an unattainable ideal, and he wasting himself on a string of shallow affairs. John, Stefan's mute valet, perhaps mirroring the director’s own viewpoint, observes the all-too-human folly around him and serves as a silent, compassionate witness.
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Recommended and reviewed by Richard Finch, co-founder of the Foreign Film Classics Facebook Group 

Douglas Fairbanks Jr. and Paulette Goddard.

The Young in Heart (1938). This Selznick production is a charming comedy about the Carletons, a family of con artists exiled from the French Riviera by the authorities. On the train to London, they are befriended by a gullible and lonely rich old lady named Miss Fortune (!) who has no living relatives, and they quickly concoct a plan to fleece her. She essentially adopts this family of scoundrels, who then set to work subtly persuading her to leave them her money in her will.

Roland Young as "Sahib."

To make themselves more credible, when they reach London they temporarily assume the appearance of conventionality and even get jobs. The more fond they grow of Miss Fortune, the more they unexpectedly find their new lives of respectability growing on them, and she becomes a sort of moral fairy godmother, granting the family not riches but ethics. The movie, released the same year as You Can't Take It with You, is in a sense a Capra comedy turned on its head, with a family of eccentrics finding happiness by forgoing their nonconformist ways and becoming conventional.

The Flying Wombat.

The Carletons are expertly played by Roland Young as the father, a blustering former actor who pretends to be a British colonel retired from colonial India and is called Sahib by his family; Billie Burke as the dithering, scatter-brained mother; Douglas Fairbanks, Jr. as the son; and winsome Janet Gaynor as the sweet-natured and intelligent daughter. The stage actress Minnie Dupree plays the childlike Miss Fortune, and lovely Paulette Goddard is Fairbanks's love interest. The movie also includes an incredible futuristic automobile called a Flying Wombat (actually a 1938 Phantom Corsair) that at several points plays an important part in the film. The typically high Selznick production values (including an elaborately staged train wreck), appealing cast, and plot that balances the roguery of the Carletons with the guilelessness of Miss Fortune, and humor with sentiment, results in one of the more unusual comedies of the 1930's and a very entertaining viewing experience.

Bette and Joan Go Hammering

In the 1960s and 1970s, it wasn't unusual for faded classic film stars to find steady work in the horror genre. Examples include Joseph Cotten (Baron Blood), Ray Milland (Terror in the Wax Museum), and Joan Crawford (Trog). Today, we look at two Hammer films starring classic film icons Bette Davis and Joan Fontaine. Ms. Davis had dabbled with horror earlier when she appeared in Robert Aldrich's black comedies Whatever Happened to Baby Jane (1962) and Hush...Hush, Sweet Charlotte (1964). She made two Hammer films; the second was The Anniversary, but our pick for this post is...

Would you trust this woman?

The Nanny (1965). Frankly, I'm baffled as to why this well-done psychological drama remains little more than a footnote in Bette Davis' distinguished filmography. Hammer regular Jimmy Sangster specialized in this genre and penned several fine suspense films (e.g., Scream of Fear, Nightmare). The Nanny ranks with the best of them.

A nicely framed shot from director Seth Holt.

Bette stars as the title character, who initially comes across as an older Mary Poppins (in fact, one character compares her to the practically perfect Poppins). Nanny (her name is never revealed) is beloved by Mrs. Fane, one of her former charges, but is reviled by 10-year-old Joey Fane (William Dix). Joey has just returned home from two years in an institution, to which he was confined following his alleged involvement with his little sister's drowning death. Joey not only hates Nanny, but believes that she is trying to kill him. He refuses to eat any food prepared by Nanny (for fear of poisoning) and he locks the loo door when taking a bath (for fear of being drowned). Little Joey is an unadulterated brat and, as his former psychiatrist claims, he may be mentally disturbed. But could he be right about Nanny?

Pamela Franklin.

While the plot's outcome lacks surprise, The Nanny works wonderfully thanks to Sangster's sharply-written script and a bevy of strong performances. Young William Dix is excellent as the pouty, bratty Joey (he only made two other films). Wendy Craig expertly captures the childlike nuances of Joey's incompetent mother. Finally, Pamela Franklin adds some bite as a cynical 14-year-old who lives in the apartment above Joey's. It's an impressively natural performance and reminded me how talented she was in films like The Innocents, The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie, and The Legend of Hell House.

In their book Hammer Films: An Exhaustive Filmography, authors Tom Johnson and Deborah Del Veechio claim Ms. Davis "gave what is probably the best performance by an actress in a Hammer film." I wouldn't go that far (Martita Hunt in Brides of Dracula springs to mind immediately). However, Bette convincingly makes the viewer question whether Nanny will be the heroine or the villain. She battled the flu--and director Seth Holt--throughout much of the production. Oddly, she was not the first choice for the role. Writer-producer Jimmy Sangster first met with Greer Garson, but could not convince her to take the part.

Joan Fontaine.

The Witches (aka The Devil's Own) (1966). After recovering from a nervous breakdown, spinster Gwen Hayfield (Joan Fontaine) accepts a teaching position at a school in the rural British hamlet of Haddaby. The village seems idyllic at first, but that turns out to be a facade that masks unnatural behavior and, ultimately, a deep-rooted evil.

Screenwriter Nigel Kneale was one of the most important British television writers of the 1950s and 1960s, his best known works being the Quatermass miniseries and films. His adaptation of Norah Lofts' novel The Devil's Own is ambitious, but also unsatisfying. The opening scenes work well enough and establish a nice sense of unease. One character who is introduced as a clergyman later reveals that he likes to dress that way because it makes him "feel secure." However, the plot grows sillier as it progresses and climaxes in a ludicrous (and lengthy) pagan orgy. The existence of pagan rituals amid modern society is a theme that Kneale would explore later and more effectively in the Quatermass miniseries (1979).

What's on Kay Walsh's head?

Joan Fontaine appears appropriately puzzled as Miss Hayfield, but it's merely an adequate performance. Indeed, she is upstaged by British veteran Kay Walsh, who attacks her role as the villain with such zest that she almost pulls off wearing the silliest high priestess headdress in film history.

I've probably made The Witches sound worse than it is. It's a respectable Hammer effort, but you're far better off watching Bette Davis in The Nanny.

Dial H for Hitchcock: Rebecca

Welcome to Dial H for Hitchcock, a monthly online gathering where we discuss the work of "the Master" (of suspense and quite a bit more). Alfred Hitchcock's first American film, Rebecca (1940), is the featured film this month.

By the late 1930's, Hitchcock's reputation was riding high based on several suspense films he'd made in Britain. He came to Hollywood under contract to producer David O. Selznick. Selznick intended Rebecca to rival his previous film, the award-laden Gone With the Wind (1939). The two men had a contentious collaboration on Rebecca but ultimately produced a critical and commercial success that was nominated for 11 Academy Awards. It won two: Best Picture and Best B&W Cinematography.

Rebecca is a favorite of mine, and here are a few reasons why...

A strong sense of atmosphere that underscores the story's gothic quality and mood of vague but insistent foreboding. Manderley, where much of the action occurs, conveys a cavernous and chilly ambiance of inhospitable elegance.

Multi-layered characters, evocative performances. Joan Fontaine is palpably anxious and apprehensive as the second Mrs. de Winter. She doesn't miss a beat and, late in the film, smoothly portrays the young woman's transition as she gains poise and confidence. Laurence Olivier's Maxim de Winter is guilt-riddled, highly strung and volatile...with aristocratic charm. Judith Anderson creates one of Hitchcock's and the screen's great villains as the unbalanced and eventually dangerous Mrs. Danvers. George Sanders as Jack Favell and Florence Bates as Mrs. Van Hopper both play unsavory types, but with comic overtones. Favell is an oily bounder, but a witty one. Van Hopper is insufferably demanding and grandiose - and more than slightly ridiculous.

A final note...Hitchcock reportedly edited "in camera" to prevent Selznick from re-editing his work. Rebecca strikes me as classic Hitchcock with the Selznick treatment: top-notch cast, the finest writers and technicians - and a big budget that shows.

Those are some of my thoughts...but what do you think? What are your opinions, observations and comments...and, if you've read Daphne du Maurier's novel, how would you compare the film to the book?