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 The principal characters include: an emotionally-withdrawn tycoon (Richard Burton); his ignored wife (Elizabeth Taylor), who plans to leave him; her lover (Louis Jourdan); a businessman (Rod Taylor) fighting a hostile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

Who Is Nina Van Pallandt?

In the Ellery Queen episode "The
Adventure of Colonel Nivin's Memoirs."

Recently, we were watching an episode of Jim Hutton's TV series Ellery Queen (1975-76) and one of the guest stars was Nina Van Pallandt. I remembered her instantly, but wondered how many people were familiar with the occasional actress's intriguing life story.

Born Nina Moller in Denmark in 1932, she first gained fame as half of Nina & Frederik, a singing duo. The two specialized in folk and calypso songs, though their first big hit was the Christmas carol "Little Donkey." It reached #3 on the United Kingdom record charts in 1960 and their debut album, Nina & Frederik, hit #9 in the UK. While the duo was popular in Europe, they failed to find an audience in the U.S.

Frederik van Pallandt was a baron, so when the couple wed in 1960, Nina became Baroness van Pallandt (she later capitalized the "V"). Nina and Frederik had three children, but separated in 1969 and eventually divorced in 1975. In the meantime, Nina became romantically involved with author Clifford Irving.

Irving had gained some fame with a 1969 book called Fake!, which was appropriately subtitled The Story of Elmyr De Hory, the Greatest Art Forger of Our Time. That may have given him the idea for one of the greatest hoaxes of the 20th century. In the early 1970s, Irving convinced his publisher McGraw-Hill that he was working with Howard Hughes on an autobiography. Irving had forged documents which backed up his claim--and which were confirmed as genuine by handwriting experts. The hoax eventually unraveled and Irving and his accomplices, to include his wife Edith, confessed and were sentenced to prison. (Interestingly, both Irving and De Hory appeared in Orson Welles' pseudo-documentary, and final film, 1973's F for Fake.)

Nina Van Pallandt was not involved with the hoax, but her connection with Irving thrust her into the public spotlight. A 1972 article in LIFE magazine called her the "radiant survivor of the Hughes hoax." It also noted: "When the Hughes storm broke, she blushed becomingly and agreed with her manager who called it the 'opportunity of a lifetime.'" She wrote a 1973 autobiography, starred in her own nightclub act, and revived her acting career (she had appeared previously in a handful of Danish films and on British television).

With Elliott Gould in The Long Goodbye.

Her most substantial role was as the female lead in Robert Altman's The Long Goodbye (1973). She played Sterling Hayden's trophy wife, with Elliott Gould on hand as Raymond Chandler's Philip Marlowe. She followed it with TV guest star roles, to include Ellery Queen.  Her later film appearances included Quintet (1979), another Altman film that starred Paul Newman and Bibi Andersson, and American Gigilo (1980), with Richard Gere. She retired from films in the late 1980s.

It's worth noting that in 2006, Gere played Clifford Irving in The Hoax, a film adaptation of Irving's book about his Hughes scam. Julie Delpy played Nina Van Pallandt in the film.

Nina Van Pallandt, who turned 82 last year, keeps a low profile these days. In researching this article, I was surprised to learn that comedian Richard Lewis had a four-year relationship with her. In his 2000 autobiography The Other Great Depression, he calls her "the most stunning, sensual, earthy-looking woman I had ever seen."

Sadly, life didn't turn out well for Frederik van Pallandt. He and his second wife were murdered in the Philippines in 1994. According to some sources, he had become involved with an Australian crime syndicate.

From the Café's Bookshelf: "My Lunches With Orson"

The most addictive film book in recent memory, My Lunches With Orson portrays Orson Welles at his unvarnished best during his twilight years. From the cinematic splendor of Citizen Kane to his Paul Masson wine commercials, Welles was always an enigma--a brilliant filmmaker, theater producer, and actor who appeared in his share of dreadful movies (e.g., 1967's Casino Royale) and even considered a Love Boat appearance. This new book, edited by Peter Biskind, consists of highlights of recorded conversations between Welles and independent filmmaker Henry Jaglom between 1978 and 1985. Talking off the record, Welles provides rare insights into his own works, amusing anecdotes, frank assessments of other films and performers, and the reasons why some of his projects never came to fruition.

In his pithy introduction, Biskind describes how Welles and Jaglom met while the latter was writing and directing his first film, 1971's A Safe Place. After learning from mutual friend Peter Bogdanovich that Welles was in NYC, Jaglom tried to convinced his filmmaking idol to appear in his debut film. Jaglom piqued Welles' interest by offering him a role as "The Magician" (Welles was fascinated with magic in his youth). After several questions, Welles asked his most important one: "Can I wear a cape?" When Jaglom responded yes, Welles agreed to appear in the young man's film.

The two men reconnected in 1978 when Jaglom ran into Welles at Ma Maison, a French restaurant in West Hollywood. Welles and Jaglom met almost weekly for lunch for the next seven years, until Welles' death in 1985. With Welles' permission, Jaglom began recording the conversations in 1983 and those discussions are the basis for My Lunches With Orson. The conversations are not 100% Welles; editor Biskind notes that he added or subtracted phrases "for the purpose of making the conversations more concise and intelligible" and that he altered some of Welles' comments "with an eye to furnishing context."

Readers who expect a series of in-depth interviews focusing on Welles' films, like Francois Truffaut's Hitchcock, will be disappointed. These are literally "lunch conversations" that jump from topic to topic--it just happens that one of the men talking ranks with the greatest filmmakers in cinema history. A running thread throughout the conversations is Welles' inability to gain financing for a new film. By this point in his career, his friend Jaglom had also become his de facto agent.

With Jaglom's encouragement, Welles wrote a screenplay for a political drama called The Big Brass Ring. He even secured $8 million in financing with a guarantee of total control of the film. There was just one caveat: He had to get a major star--from a list of "six or seven A-list actors" to agree to play the lead. Unfortunately, Welles was rebuffed, for various reasons, by Robert Redford, Clint Eastwood, Burt Reynolds (!), and even his friends Warren Beatty and Jack Nicholson. (Interestingly, The Big Brass Ring was eventually made in 1999 by another director, with a revised screenplay, and starring William Hurt.)

Although the conversations portray Welles as a frustrated artist, he rarely sounds bitter. That doesn't mean that he holds back on his assessments of other films and performers. His unadorned comments are surely the most entertaining aspects of My Lunches With Orson. Here's a sample:

Joan Fontaine: "She's just a plain old bad actor. She's got four line readings, and two expressions, and that's it."

John Ford: "I recently saw what I've always been told was Jack [Ford's] greatest movie, and it's terrible. The Searchers. He made many very bad pictures."

Jean Renoir's The Grand Illusion: "Probably one of the three or four best ever. I burst into tears at Grand Illusion every time."

W.C. Fields: "Nobody who didn't see him in the theater will ever know how great W.C. Fields was. He was a shadow of himself in films. A shadow! A tenth as funny as he was on stage."

John Huston: "His first picture, The Maltese Falcon, was totally borrowed from Kane. It was made the next year, you know."

The Third Man: "It's a hell of a picture."

Rear Window: "Everything is stupid about it. Complete insensitivity to what a story of voyeurism could be. I'll tell you what is astonishing. To discover than Jimmy Stewart can be a bad actor. But really bad."

In addition to his introduction, editor Peter Biskind includes a descriptive list of Welles' unfinished projects (e.g., King Lear), brief biographical sketches of selected people, and an epilogue written by Jaglom. There are a handful of photographs of the two filmmakers. Unfortunately, there is not an index, which is perplexing.

My Lunches With Orson is a must-read for any film buff. You may not agree with what Welles has to say. In fact, sometimes you may think that he's just being contrary for the fun of it. But there is no denying that these conversations are highly entertaining and never dull. In short, this book is the next best thing to being one of Orson's guests at Ma Maison.

Metropolitan Books provided a review copy of this book.

Keeping a Really, Really Close Eye on the TV

One of the most peculiar movie-watching experiences I’ve had took place when I was in college, somewhere between three to 30 years ago. My very last semester was over, I’d more or less passed my finals, and I was packing my things to move out of my apartment. My apartment was slightly smaller than a hole in the wall, the rooms -- living area, bathroom and bedroom -- only accessible by dancing the grapevine. The offset that was deemed “the kitchen” by the assertive landlord had likely been conceived by an M.C. Escher fan, a convoluted, seemingly impossible design in which opening the refrigerator door would result in your left elbow banging against the right side of your head.

Despite the apartment’s miniscule size, packing everything up was a grueling task. I was only there for two years, but I never discarded anything, shoving all my papers and notes into drawers and inside the closet and underneath furniture. I could have been a participant on a spin-off of the A&E show, Hoarders: The College Years. On my final evening, anticipating a ride the following morning (with a stipulation that everything be ready for stockpiling the car), I realized that I was nowhere close to finishing. I decided to forego sleep and work through the night and early morning hours.

The problem with that plan was my eyesight. I see no greater than 20/400, which means that any person or object in my line of sight is nothing more than a blur. If my vision couldn’t be corrected, I would be legally blind. I’ve worn contact lenses for years, but back then, I didn’t have a pair of glasses for backup, at least nothing with a strong enough prescription. You can wear many contacts overnight, but my contact lenses in college were not the overnight variety, so I had to remove them and keep them out for about four hours. Consequently I worked blindly, in the literal sense. It was all a blur, but by this point, I was perusing stacks of papers and throwing away most of it. I was relatively safe. Walking outside to run up and down dilapidated, somewhat misshapen steps and launch a hefty trash bag over a railing when I could barely see a foot in front of me, now that was fairly stupid.
I had turned on the TV for noise, not because I couldn’t work in quiet but because I was trying to drown out my neighbor’s perpetually thumping bass. Then, at three o’clock in the morning, a station started running Orson Welles’ 1946 movie, The Stranger. Orson behind the camera. Orson in front of the camera. Edward G. Robinson and Loretta Young. That sounded good to me. Unfortunately, even sitting on a park bench with scratchy butt comforters (aka the couch) and leaning close, I was still only seeing an illuminated gray. So I knelt in front of the television, as if in prayer, the TV an altar. I planted my face mere inches away from the screen to watch Edward accuse Orson of being a Nazi and participating in war crimes. My eyes watered frequently, not so much from the dramatic engagement as from my ill-advised proximity to the TV and the cathode ray tube searing my corneas. During commercials, I would stretch my legs with a series of grapvines around the apartment, like a drunken Electric Slide (although, let’s be honest, anyone who dances that looks drunk). I also performed some blinking exercises and kept looking at my hands to verify that I could still see something. I think it’s a testament to the movie’s preeminence, that I would willingly suffer through all of that just to watch it.

By the morning, I was fully prepared for my departure with my contact lenses amending my poor vision once again. I loaded my driver’s car with no help and only requested a stop at a gas station, where I proceeded to fill an industrial-sized mug with strong coffee. I’m an avid fan of Orson Welles and his movies. While The Stranger may not be his best, I have fond memories of it, as I will always remember the first time I saw it. My eyes were glued to the TV, or at least they would have been, had I not already packed the glue. I’ve watched The Stranger since then and was happy to see that it was just as good, even when you aren’t in the TV’s personal space.

“Citizen Kane” Ultimate Collector’s Edition on Blu-ray and DVD

This month, fans of Orson Welles’ renowned classic, Citizen Kane (1941), can celebrate the film’s 70th anniversary with the release of Warner Bros.’ Ultimate Collector’s Edition, available today, Sept. 13th, on Blu-ray and DVD. The three-disc set arrives in a sharply packaged design with numerous extras and features.

Citizen Kane is the story of newspaper tycoon Charles Foster Kane (Welles). Sent away as a young boy, Kane is signed over his fortune at the age of 25 and buys a small newspaper publication, converting it into a tabloid with searing headlines to capture readers’ attention and a flourishing circulation. In time, he has a family, a home, and political aspirations. Though he succeeds as a businessman and a public figure, Kane’s indulgence and his inability to recognize or nurture personal relationships fundamentally leads to a descent as outrageous as his newspaper headlines. Alone in his vast estate, Xanadu, Kane lies on his deathbed and speaks the word that’s apparently a mystery to all who knew him: “Rosebud.”

At the time of its initial theatrical release, Citizen Kane performed poorly at the box office, typically accredited to Hollywood’s fear of an adverse reaction, as Kane is patently based on newspaper mogul William Randolph Hearst. Hearst threatened both Welles and Hollywood in general should the film see the light of day, and he refused to run stories or advertisements of Citizen Kane in any of his newspapers. Those in the film industry were reputedly unhappy with Welles, as he’d evidently antagonized the noted businessman. The movie was nominated for nine Academy Awards, including awards for Picture, Director, Actor (Welles), Art Direction, Editing, Cinematography, Score, Sound Recording, and Original Screenplay, with only Herman Mankiewicz and Welles winning in the writing category. Reportedly, Citizen Kane was booed when its nominations were read during that year’s ceremony.

The American Film Institute (AFI) has twice voted Citizen Kane as #1 in its list of the 100 greatest films. Regardless of what viewers may think of the movie in terms of drama, its technical achievements are unquestioned. One of its most popular aspects visually is the accomplished deep focus photography, in which items or characters prominently displayed in the forefront are as clearly visible as ones in the far background. Welles considered cinematographer Gregg Toland’s efforts so significant that Toland shared a title card with the director.

Welles was part of a radio troupe he co-founded with John Houseman, the Mercury Theatre, most notable for its legendary broadcast of H.G. Wells’ The War of the Worlds. Members of the Mercury Theatre had roles in Citizen Kane and continued with careers in film and TV, including Joseph Cotten as Kane’s friend, Jedediah; Agnes Moorehead as Kane’s mother; Everett Sloane as Mr. Bernstein, another of Kane’s friends and employees; and Ray Collins as Gettys, the incumbent governor and political opponent to Kane. Ruth Warrick also got her start in Hollywood with this film, portraying Kane’s first wife, as did famed composer Bernard Herrmann and Robert Wise, who was editor on Citizen Kane but would step behind the camera for films such as The Day the Earth Stood Still (1951), The Haunting (1963) and The Andromeda Strain (1971).

The Ultimate Collector’s Edition from Warner Bros. is highlighted by a beautiful restoration of Citizen Kane, enhancing the already elegant deep focus and an impressive soundtrack in HD mono. In addition to the main attraction, the first disc contains interviews with Wise and Warrick, deleted scenes (presented as sketches or photos), commentaries by Peter Bogdanovich and Roger Ebert, storyboards, call sheets, a trailer, and featurettes. The second and third discs include, respectively, an informative documentary and a well made HBO film, RKO 281. The documentary is a presentation of the PBS series, American Experience, entitled “The Battle Over Citizen Kane” and recounts the lives of Orson Welles and William Randolph Hearst before and after they intersect. The HBO movie is essentially a dramatized version of these events (the title taken from the production number assigned to Citizen Kane), with Liev Schreiber portraying Welles and James Cromwell as Hearst. The box set also features a glossy 48-page booklet with photos and details of the movie, a reproduction of the 1941 souvenir program, lobby cards, and recreations of production memos. The entire set is offered in separate Blu-ray and DVD packages (only the first disc is Blu-ray in the former option), and the movie is conjointly available in digital formats, On Demand and as a download.

For further details or to purchase the collector’s edition from the Warner Bros. website, click here. For On Demand, check your cable or satellite provider, and the digital download is available at various online retailers (iTunes, Amazon, etc.).

Warner Bros. provided a copy of the Blu-ray edition for review at Classic Film & TV Cafe. Photos courtesy of Warner Bros.

Losing Control to "The Lady from Shanghai"

The following review is a collaboration between Rick and Sark.

After saving a beautiful woman from three would-be attackers, Michael O'Hara (Orson Welles) is offered a job by the woman, Elsa (Rita Hayworth). Although apparently disappointed that she is married to a prominent defense attorney, Arthur Bannister (Everett Sloane), Michael agrees to pilot her husband's yacht. At sea, Michael not only witnesses the rather unusual relationship between husband and wife, he also meets Bannister's law partner, George Grisby (Glenn Anders). Grisby makes a peculiar offer: the lawyer is planning on faking his death, and he wants Michael to confess to the "murder," so that Grisby can collect the insurance reimbursement. Michael agrees, because by this time, he and Elsa have started an illicit affair, and he needs the money so that they can leave together. The stage is set for various double crossings and multiple plot twists!

The Lady from Shanghai is clearly a film about control, or the lack thereof. From the beginning, it seems, Elsa is controlling Michael. She draws him in with her beauty, and although he initially appears upset that Elsa is married, Michael still accepts the job offered by Mr. Bannister. Does he need to money? Perhaps. But the audience (and Elsa) knows why he really wanted to go sailing. Elsa controls everyone, and by extension, she controls everything. Elsa manipulates all three men and has them playing against one another. For example, one could maintain that she kissed Michael knowing fully well that Grisby would see them. One of the movie's best lines belongs to Elsa (when first offering the job to Michael): "I'll make it worth your while." This is the essence of Elsa. Would a man do something he didn't want to simply because she asked him to do it? Most likely, yes. And there's absolutely no question as to what she's referring, by the breathy and seductive manner in which she speaks the line.

Elsa even controls the camera. One scene in particular is a great example of her visual control. Elsa is lying on the ship's deck with Grisby sitting nearby, and Bannister is discussing money with Michael. While Bannister is talking, the shot lingers on Elsa as she hands her cigarette to Grisby and asks him to light it (for the audience, her dialogue dominates and momentarily overrides Bannister). Another shot shows Michael lighting the cigarette, and then a crane shot follows the smoldering cigarette from Grisby to Elsa, who indifferently puffs away. Michael desires Elsa, Bannister is speaking about money and happiness but seems to be alluding to his beautiful wife, and retrospectively, it's known that Grisby is planning on killing Bannister for Elsa. Three men -- three fools -- all controlled by the magnetic woman dreamily staring at the sky. Likewise, the shots of Elsa lying on the deck and posing on the rocks are seductive images. Grisby spies on her, and Michael watches her, too. The two men cannot look away.

The theme of "control" is intriguing. Welles wrote the screenplay (with a small credit for the story and novel), produced, and directed. He also famously had his wife cut and dye her trademark red hair. So while Hayworth's character was in total control on the screen, Welles wielded it behind the scenes -- until the studio took it away. Welles had trouble maintaining control of his films after Citizen Kane (1941). The Magnificent Ambersons (1942) was completely recut without his consent, as was The Lady from Shanghai. Welles' original cut was reportedly 150 minutes, so that means there's an hour of missing footage. The studio reeling Welles in was quite possibly beneficial, as it is difficult to imagine the film at two hours, let alone in excess of that. As Alfred Hitchcock once said: "The length of a film should be directly related to the endurance of the human bladder."

Welles' films always benefit from rich characters, and The Lady from Shanghai is no exception. Ironically, the most sympathetic character may be Bannister. He knows Elsa is bad (he starts to tell the story of how they met... but cuts it short) and know that he's under her control. He's even willing to pimp for her; isn't that what he's doing when he goes to the docks to hire Michael? He's willing to let her cheat on him, as evidenced by stating that he doesn't mind that Michael loves her (and he likely means "love" in the physical sense). All he asks is that she stay with him, which makes him sympathetic or pathetic or both?

Then again, it's a fairly sad lot of people from which to find sympathy. Bannister seems to accept things the way they are, and he deals with life as it comes along. This is in contrast to Michael, who constantly looks ahead, hoping for everything to turn out one way but knowing it'll likely go somewhere else. I think the most unsympathetic person might be Grisby. Any type of control he has or thinks he has is highly evident, because he acts in the manner of a child, especially in the scene with Michael on the boat and Elsa is on the rocks. He also sweats incessantly, so perhaps Welles wanted the audience to view him as the "greasy" character. But, at the very least, Grisby is honest with himself. Michael wants Elsa, but he has to find excuses to be with her. Elsa would lie in a blink if it meant self-preservation. Grisby is transparent: he is greedy, he is jealous of Michael, and he wants Elsa, too. He doesn't try to hide his intentions or present himself as anything other than the greasy weasel that he is.
Orson Welles was perhaps a better director than actor. While he's very good in Touch of Evil (1958), he was too exaggerated as the evil cop, and even in Citizen Kane, he hams it up. Although, he was always theatrical because of his work on radio, in which voice is the most important tool (it's similar to the theatre, where an actor has to overdo it a bit because he/she has to project the voice). Welles is sometimes too theatrical, but Michael in Shanghai is underplayed to great effect. Michael is a brooding man and an emotional punching bag. With a lack of presence, he's really only there for Elsa to unload upon. In short, he's the complete opposite of other Welles' characters, like Quinlan in Touch of Evil and Charles Foster Kane. Rita Hayworth gives a smashing, memorable performance, and she and Welles are complemented by the supporting cast, especially Sloane (who played an equally cynical employer in 1956's Patterns, scripted by Twilight Zone creator/narrator Rod Serling).

Though it's easy to see why The Lady from Shanghai is a cult film, it's undoubtedly flawed. Even at 90 minutes, it's an indulgent film, sometimes quirky just for the sake of it -- such as the over-the-top courtroom scene with Bannister cross-examining himself. Welles gives himself the best dialogue, though everyone has a memorable line or two. Technically, it alternates between shoddy (some of the rear screen shots) and dazzling (the location scenes in San Francisco, the incredible mirror hall climax). But one thing is clear: it's not an easy film to forget!

Cafe du Cinema Society Discusses Carol Reed's The Third Man

Welcome to our second Cafe du Cinema discussion group. Each month, we're selecting a film that's showing on TCM, giving everyone about a week to watch it, and then sharing our views on the movie in this forum. This month, we picked The Third Man, starring Joseph Cotten and Orson Welles, which TCM broadcast last Wednesday, 21 October. I'm going to omit a plot synopsis because I assume all discussion participants have seen the movie. My goal is just to get the discussion started.

Rather than lead off the discussion with my views of the film (which might surprise you), I wanted to kick it off with this quote from Danny Peary in his book Guide for the Film Fanatic: "Reed conveys a world out of order, where good men do evil deeds, where the British and the Russians work side by side, where betrayal is more moral than loyalty (which I believe the film's major theme)."

Do you agree with Peary on the film's major theme? What was your assessment of The Third Man?

31 Days of Halloween: College Politics Take a Unexpected Turn in Burn, Witch, Burn

The film's alternate title is NIGHT OF THE EAGLE.

Richard Matheson and Charles Beaumont were frequent contributors to The Twilight Zone, being responsible for some of that series’ most memorable episodes. So, it should come as no surprise that their adaptation of Fritz Leiber’s novel Conjure Wife is a thoughtful, genuinely spooky excursion into the world of contemporary witchcraft.

Janet Blair as Tansy.

Peter Wyngarde plays Norman Taylor, an up-and-coming professor at Hempnell Medical College in a small English town. In fact, Norman appears to be the favorite to take over as chair of one of the most important academic departments. His male colleagues don’t seem to mind—they like Norman, some even admire him—but the wives of his peers are not pleased at all. They resent Norman and his attractive, intelligent wife Tansy, whom they dub “the newcomers.” Tansy (Janet Blair) is acutely aware of this resentment, noting that she doesn’t enjoy the weekly bridge night with “petty scholars and jealous bickering wives.”

But that’s the least of Tansy’s problems. You see, she dabbles in witchcraft—just a little here and there to protect Norman and bring him luck. Unfortunately, she has become aware of “other forces”—powerful, evil ones—intent on bringing harm to her husband. As for Norman, he is oblivious to all of this, having started his last lecture by scrawling on the blackboard: “I do not believe.”

For most of its running time, Burn, Witch, Burn (known as Night of the Eagle in Britain) places the viewer in the shoes of Norman: We start out as non-believers, but gradually encounter inexplicable events that compel us to re-evaluate whether or not we do believe. The only flaw in this otherwise intelligent exercise in suggestive horror is a climax that shows too much (and not in a convincing way as in Curse of the Demon).

Janet Blair, as the sympathetic heroine, anchors the film. She’s a marvel in my favorite scene, which takes place after the bridge party. As Norman plays frivolously with a deck of cards, Tansy senses the presence of evil in the room. She begins to search the den, slowly at first and then more frantically, explaining (badly) that she’s looking for a lost grocery list. When she finds a hidden evil charm, her subtle look of horror is perfectly realized.

The wonderful Kathleen Byron.

The rest of cast lends exceptional support, especially Margaret Johnson as a professor who is married to one of Norman’s colleagues. I only wish that Kathleen Byron, so brilliant as Sister Ruth in Black Narcissus, had more to do.

The academic setting, with the campus’s cold stone statues, contributes nicely to the atmosphere. One suspects, too, that Matheson and Beaumont were injecting some dark humor into the proceedings by suggesting that successful academic careers are a result of witchcraft.

Other versions of Conjure Wife pale beside this one. Lon Chaney, Jr. starred in Weird Woman (1944), an okay entry in the Inner Sanctum film series. Witches Brew (1980) was played for laughs, with Teri Garr as the bewitching spouse.

(Note: The U.S. version includes a prologue against a black screen in which Orson Welles discusses the history of witchcraft and casts a spell to protect the audience during its viewing of the film.)

Moby Dick, Ahab and I

From the first line -- "Call me Ishmael" -- to the last -- "I only am escaped, alone, to tell thee" -- Moby Dick haunted my imagination and my dreams.  Warner Brothers' 1956 production, directed by John Huston, with screenplay by Huston and Ray Bradbury, captures the soul of Herman Melville's 1851 novel about obsession and the demigod-complex that feeds it.  There are some differences between the movie and the book, but nothing that damages Melville's vision.  The poetically supernatural writing of Bradbury is evident in the screenplay and only adds to the power of the story.

Gregory Peck portrays Ahab, captain of the whaler Pequod, a surprising choice to many, including Peck himself.  John Huston's father, Walter, was the first choice to play Ahab, but died before the movie was made.  Peck was 40 years old at the time, younger than Melville's Ahab, but the marvelous makeup and costuming transformed the handsome, debonair Peck into the unforgiving, scarred Ahab.  Peck's acting reveals Ahab's scarred soul and rage against God and nature perfectly.  The cast includes a very young Richard Basehart as Ishmael, a wanderer who signs onto the Pequod with his south sea island friend, Queequeg (Friedrich von Ledebur).  The wonderful Leo Genn is the stalwart Starbuck, first mate, with Harry Andrews and Seamus Kelly as 2nd and 3rd mates Stubb and Flask.  Most famous of the supporting cast is Orson Welles, who appears a the unrelenting New Bedford minister, Father Mapple.  His cameo role preaching a thunderous sermon to the outgoing whalers is a powerful performance.

From the beginning, we see that even to his crewmen, Ahab is a god-like figure.  In answer to Ishmael's question about what Ahab is like, mate Stubb says simply "Ahab's Ahab", mirroring the Bible in which God describes himself to Moses -- "I am that I am."  Biblical references abound in Moby Dick.  The ragged man on the wharf who speaks to Ishmael as he goes to the ship calls himself Elijah, prophecying --

"A day will come at sea when you smell land where there be no land, and on that day Ahab will go to his grave, but he will rise again and beckon, and all save one shall follow."  This is one of Bradbury's contributions to the novel, in which Elijah only says something bad will happen.

Ahab's plan for this whaling voyage is not to hunt whales for their oil, but to hunt vengeance upon the white whale, Moby Dick, who took off his leg in an earlier encounter.  Ahab challenges the heavens in his quest, is obsessed with revenge and will take no refusal from anyone in his cause.  He wins the admiration and loyalty of the crew with his hypnotic speech and promises, convincing them with his own unrelenting leadership -- "You be the cogs that fit my wheel, the gunpowder that takes my torch."  Through storms and doldum, Ahab chases Moby Dick -- "I'll follow him around the Horn and around the Norway maelstrom and around perdition's flames before I give him up."

Starbuck is Ahab's conscience, endeavoring always to turn his captain away from his impious desire for vengeance, to no avail.  As Starbuck sees the men come under Ahab's spell, he is horrified -- "Where is the crew of the Pequod?  I see not one man I know among 30.  They are gloves, Ahab fills them, Ahab moves them. 

Moby Dick is so much more than a story of whaling in the early 1800's.  It is a portrait of obsession, vengeance, excitement and tragedy.  I have never forgotten the beautiful language, stirring music by Philip Sainton, and incredible ending of this great movie.

So go down to the sea, stand on the ship with Ahab and experience something very special. 

A Weekend Recommendation: The Long, Hot Summer

It's Saturday night and you just watched Point Blank as part of the Cafe du Cinema Society. It turned out to be grim and more violent than you expected. Hey, why not stay turned to TCM and chill out watching Paul Newman romance Joanne Woodward in The Long, Hot Summer?

This engrossing trip into William Faulkner's South stars Newman as drifter Ben Quick, the son of a barn burner (which makes one instantly unpopular). Ben arrives in the small hamlet of Frenchman's Bend, Mississippi, where bigger-than-life Will Varner (Orson Welles) owns just about everything. Varner, who recently recovered from a heart attack, is obssessed with getting "some more Varners" in the way of grandchildren. His weak-willed son Jody (Tony Franciosa) isn't making much progress with his pretty, but somewhat flighty wife Eula (Lee Remick). So, Varner is determined that his smart, headstrong daughter Clara (Woodward) get married. And if it's not to her long time, would-be suitor Alan...than it may as well be to that ambitious "big stud horse" Ben Quick.
 

The near-perfect cast bring these colorful characters to life, to include Angela Lansbury as Varner's mistress. The lively exchanges between Newman and Welles are a joy to behold (Varner to Ben: "I've been watching you. I like your push, yes. I like your style. I like your brass. It ain't too dissimilar from the way I operate.") But the heart of the film is the sparkling chemistry between Newman and Woodward; they were married the same year the movie was released. My favorite scene between them:  an exhange in the general store, which goes from playful to enlightening.
 

The Long, Hot Summer is an immensely entertaining, surprisingly rich film. It's got great music, too, to include the Alex North-Sammy Cahn title song.