John Frankenheimer's Black Sunday

Having recently watched John Frankenheimer's superb Seven Days in May again, I became interested in revisiting his 1977 thriller Black Sunday. I saw it during its original theatrical run--and that may have been the one and only time. To my surprise, my assessment of the film has not deviated over the last 48 years.

Based on Thomas Harris' bestseller, Black Sunday centers on Michael Lander (Bruce Dern), a mentally-unstable U.S. Navy veteran who is exploited by a member of a middle eastern terrorist organization (Marthe Keller as Dahlia). Their goal is to capture attention for their cause by killing thousands of people at a large-scale event in Miami. The movie unfolds as if the audience doesn't known the precise nature of their massacre. However, the movie's poster gives away the plot so there is no element of mystery in regard to the terrorist plans.

Robert Shaw.

What remains is a cat-and-mouse game between the good guys, led by an Israeli commando (Robert Shaw), and the villains. It's a structure similar to the earlier The Day of the Jackal (1973), in which an assassin meticulously plans to assassinate French president Charles de Gaulle. The difference is that Jackal director Fred Zinnemann and star Edward Fox manipulate the audience into rooting for the assassin for most of that film's running time. 

Bruce Dern as Lander.

In contrast, the screenwriters and cast in Black Sunday let down Frankenheimer by failing to create involving characters. We should feel sympathy for Lander and, to a lesser degree, Dahlia. However, Dern’s acting is so wildly over the top that he loses the humanity in his character. Keller doesn't even get the chance to express or explain Dahlia's motives; they're provided by a Russian spy during a quick conversation with Shaw. Her character remains an enigma, killing with efficiency in one scene and crying for no apparent reason in another. Robert Shaw fares better as the film’s hero, but it’s almost by sheer will. His role is underwritten as well, especially when reacting to the murder of a long-time friend. 

Marthe Keller as Dahlia.

To Frankenheimer's credit, the final 45 minutes ratchet up the thrills effectively as the terrorist plot reaches its crescendo. Producer Robert Townsend worked with the National Football League to film an actual football game. Frankenheimer incorporates that footage seamlessly, adding an authenticity to the climatic disaster. His purposefully chaotic direction--especially as crowds pour out of the stands--creates an almost cinema vérité effect. It's a shame that an exciting sequence involving a blimp includes some unconvincing rear screen shots.

It's too bad that Black Sunday never reaches its potential as a nail-biting suspense film. The climax delivers the goods, but a weak script, uneven acting, and a bloated running time (over two hours) keep it from providing a growing feeling of tension. It's a far cry from Seven Days in May and just goes to show that a fine director can only do so much with the material and cast that he's given.

John Frankenheimer: Interviews, Essays, and Profiles

In his new book John Frankenheimer: Interviews, Essays, and Profiles, editor Stephen B. Armstrong lets his subject largely speak for himself. The result is a fascinating look inside the mind of a filmmaker whose career ranged from bonafide classics--such as The Manchurian Candidate and Seven Days in May--to unmitigated disasters. Frankenheimer discusses his work in unflinching terms, defending some critical failures (e.g., Prophecy) while acknowledging that others were made to pay the bills (e.g., The Extraordinary Seaman). His realistic approach to his craft can be summarized in this marvelous quote: "Every movie you make is a compromise."

Twenty-six of the thirty-one chapters are either interviews with Frankenheimer or essays penned by the director. The remaining five chapters are written by Frankenheimer's family, colleagues, and the editor. Armstrong has done a masterful job in selecting the articles, which were originally published between 1964 and 2010. The chronology of the articles allows the reader to learn how the acclaimed director viewed his films at different points in his life.

Frankenheimer fondly discusses his early career in live television in several articles ("I look back on that as the highlight of my life"). He directed over 125 television dramas, earning Emmy nominations for five consecutive years, starting in 1956. In this "Golden Age of Television," he worked with established stars (Robert Mitchum, Claudette Colbert, James Mason, etc.) and actors destined to become stars (e.g., Paul Newman, Ben Gazzara, and Lee Marvin).

Frankenheimer was just 26 when he made his first theatrical film, The Young Stranger (1957), which he describes as "a lousy movie" and a terrible experience with the crew and studio. He credits David O. Selznick with reviving his interest in a theatrical film career. He and Selznick collaborated on the script for F. Scott Fitzgerald's Tender Is the Night (which Selznick abandoned). After making The Young Savages in 1961, the first of five films with Burt Lancaster, Frankenheimer directed Birdman of Alcatraz and The Manchurian Candidate (both 1962)--and sealed his place among the great directors of the 1960s.

Lansbury as one of cinema's worst mothers.

Some of Frankenheimer's best anecdotes focus on the casting choices in his films. Frank Sinatra wanted Lucille Ball to play the maternal role made famous by Angela Lansbury in The Manchurian Candidate. In Seven Days in May,  Frankenheimer originally wanted Paul Newman to play Colonel Jiggs Casey with Kirk Douglas as the scheming General James Mattoon Scott. Douglas eventually played Casey instead and Burt Lancaster gave one of his best performances as Scott. The race-car drama Grand Prix was written for Steve McQueen and James Garner was cast only because McQueen was unavailable. And in Seconds, Frankenheimer had convinced Laurence Olivier to play both the old and "young" versions of the film's protagonist. When the studio insisted on Rock Hudson as the star, the director decided to cast two actors, with John Randolph playing the middle-aged Arthur Hamilton and Hudson as the transformed Hamilton.

Burt Lancaster in Birdman of
Alcatraz.

Frankenheimer excels at capturing the frustrations and challenges of making movies. For example, his 1971 film, The Impossible Object starring Alan Bates, was never released. Even Birdman of Alcatraz proved to be a difficult shoot. Frankenheimer reveals that the first cut ran four hours and ten minutes, with the birds not appearing for the first two hours. Deciding that there was no way to cut the film, Frankenheimer convinced the producer to let him rewrite and reshoot the first half: "We put the film together and it is what it is. But we shot (it) one and a half times."

Editor Stephen B. Armstrong, a professor at Dixie State University in St. George, Utah, includes a comprehensive filmography, a bibliography, and an index. His book is a must for any library with a film reference collection and for anyone interested in what goes on behind the scenes in the making of a motion picture.


Scarecrow Press, an imprint of Rowman & Littlefield, provided the Cafe with a review copy of this book.

John Frankenheimer Counts Down "Seven Days in May"

John Frankenheimer followed his classic The Manchurian Candidate (1962) with this equally original political thriller. Rod Serling’s taut screenplay interweaves the stories of three men: President Jordan Lyman (Fredric March), whose popularity has plunged as a result of pushing for a nuclear arms treaty with Russia; General James Mattoon Scott (Burt Lancaster), the influential, egotistical head of the Joint Chiefs of Staff; and Marine Colonel “Jiggs” Casey (Kirk Douglas), a key member of Scott’s staff.

The still-timely political debate is neatly conveyed in the opening scene of protestors marching outside the White House. One group is holding up signs that proclaim: “Peace on Earth or No Earth at all!” The other protestors wave posters with slogans like: “Don’t ban the bomb Stupid—Ban the Treaty.”

The President.

After this prologue, Colonel Casey sets the plot in motion when he learns of a top secret message involving a Preakness Stakes betting pool. Later, he meets Colonel Henderson, an old friend, who makes an odd comment about his Army unit: “It’s funny…we spend more time training for seizure than prevention.” Casey continues to collect more unusual clues—none of which means much individually. However, they slowly lead him to a stunning realization that has ramifications upon the very nature of our democracy.

Part mystery, part suspense film, Seven Days in May is a rare motion picture in which the outcome is always in doubt until the climax. That uncertainty is a testament to Frankenheimer’s craftsmanship as a filmmaker. He also excels in making excellent use of his settings and in making time an important element in the film. Frankenheimer gives us a complete tour of the nation’s capitol—from the Pentagon’s chambers to the President’s study to dark alleyways where deals are made. And, after cueing us into the fact that something will happen on Sunday, he counts down each day, leading his characters to their inevitable confrontation.

The General.

In Serling's screenplay, President Lyman and General Scott initially appear to be polar opposites. Scott comes across as a strong, charismatic leader convinced that a nuclear threat is the only way to hold the Soviet Union in check. Lyman, on the other hand, seems bland, weak, and unpopular (his approval rating is a disasterous 29%). Lyman can't even convince his own military leaders that peace is the best option. However, as events unfold, these initial perceptions are put to the test. One realizes that Lyman's conviction to stay his course despite an onslaught of criticism is a testament to his inner strength. In contrast, Scott's impatience and ego propel him to attack the very foundations of our country, using its best interests--as interpreted by him--as an excuse.

The man in the middle.

Though March and Lancaster are compelling as the protagonists, Kirk Douglas grounds the film with his excellent performance as Jiggs. It's a great role, as Jiggs is the man in middle whose compass shifts from one man to the other--as the audience moves along with him.

Seven Days in May represented a career peak for director John Frankenheimer. He continued to make interesting movies in the 1960s with The Train (1964), the cult classic Seconds (1966), and Grand Prix (interesting from a technical standpoint). However, his career faltered in the 1970s, with critics drubbing Prophecy (1979), an entertaining monster film with an environmental message. Toward the latter part of his career, he earned recognition again with well-reviewed made-for-cable films.

Ironically, Seven Days in May was remade as the 1994 cable movie The Enemy Within, but it was not directed by Frankenheimer. The cast featured Sam Waterston as the President, Jason Robards as the general, and Forest Whitaker as Casey.

Wanted: Fans of John Frankenheimer's "Prophecy"

To be frank, you won’t find many people who have actually seen this famous misfire and even fewer folks willing to confess they liked it. I proudly admit I have an affection for Prophecy, but heck, even the film’s director disowned it. Some films just don’t get any respect.

The film’s lead, Robert Foxworth, was pretty much pigeon-holed as a TV actor. His greatest success, from a commercial standpoint, was as the vanilla hero of the 1980s prime-time soap Falcon Crest. However, he was much better as an super-intelligent android in the underrated TV movie The Questor Tapes (an unsold pilot, I think). He also starred in several TV movies with Elizabeth Montgomery—they were a real-life couple for many years, until her death.

Unfortunately, there’s no Elizabeth Montgomery in Prophecy, only a bland Talia Shire as a pregnant cellist named Maggie. That leaves Foxworth to carry the load as Maggie’s intense physician husband Robert. After years of caring for poor inner-city patients, Robert gets an opportunity to resolve an environmental dispute between a paper mill and the local Indians in upper Maine. (A friend says he can easily explain to Robert—who’s a physician, not a government intermediary—what to do.)

Talia wonders: "Where's Rocky
when you need him?"

Shortly after their arrival in the wooded northeast, Robert and Maggie hear about a legendary Indian creature called Katahdin that guards the land. They also discover that several lumberjacks are missing, many Indian children are being born dead or deformed, wild animals are going crazy, and tadpoles are growing to the size of bass. To top it all off, they encounter this huge monster resembling a mutant grizzly bear that doesn’t like humans. Hmm…maybe the big city life wasn’t so bad after all!

I suspect this all sounds very hokey, but the setting (actually Canada) works well and there are several memorable scenes. The best is Katahdin's second major attack, in which our protagonists huddle in an underground tunnel and are forced to hear Katahdin brutally slaughter helpless victims. There’s also a surprisingly cruel scene in which a young boy in a banana-shaped sleeping bag tries to hop away from the lumbering beast. Surely, we think, a child will be spared. That’s about the time that Katahdin swats the kid against a tree and sends feathers from the sleeping bag scattering into the night.

Foxworth: "Sinatra gets a Frankenheimer
classic...I get Katahdin!"

Alas, after a gripping climax, the film comes to a convoluted end. A major subplot involving Maggie’s unborn baby is never resolved. Katahdin's demise seems rushed (there’s a thematic link between Maggie’s baby and the beast, though it’s never fully explored). It looks as if the studio tampered with the film’s ending or Frankenheimer tired of the project and just wanted to be done with it.

I first saw Prophecy in a Bloomington, Indiana theatre that was showing second-run movies for $1. I liked it then, but enjoyed even more when I saw it on cable in the 1990s. I eventually bought the tape and watched it with my nephew. He said he liked it. That’s two of us, at least.