Working Girl and The Verdict

Melanie Griffith and Harrison Ford.

Working Girl (1988). Mike Nichol's R-rated update of a familiar comedy formula, Working Girl earned six Oscar nominations, made a star (albeit briefly) of Melanie Griffith, and transformed Harrison Ford into a romantic lead. Griffith plays Tess McGill, a hard-working, ambitious young woman who thinks she has landed the perfect job when she becomes the personal assistant to business executive Katherine Parker (Sigourney Weaver). Katherine listens to Tess's ideas. It turns out that she also steals one of them, which Tess discovers while Katherine is in the hospital recovering from a skiing accident. Rather than confronting her boss, Tess passes herself off as one of Katherine's fellow executives. She uses her smarts to set up a big business deal, but will she be able to pull it off before Katherine discovers the charade? Kevin Wade's script offers no surprises, so Working Girl relies heavily on Griffith, Ford, and Weaver. Fortunately, they deliver whatever is required: Griffith's plucky heroine is vulnerable yet tough; Ford provides a charming romantic foil; and Weaver delivers a deliciously funny performance as the film's villain. Director Mike Nichols makes fine use of the New York City locations. However, his inclusion of three brief nude scenes (including two of Griffith) seems unwarranted in a film about female empowerment. Carly Simon's song "Let the River Run" earned Working Girl its only Oscar despite those six nominations. (Personally, I think a more deserving Carly Simon song was "Coming Around Again" from Mike Nichols' 1986 movie Heartburn.) 

Paul Newman as Frank Galvin.

The Verdict (1982). Paul Newman earned the seventh of his nine Best Actor Oscar nominations as Frank Galvin, an alcoholic, washed-up Boston lawyer. When a friend tosses a medical malpractice case his way, Galvin chooses not to settle it out of court. Instead, he ignores his clients' wishes and takes the case to trial. The reasons for his decision are unclear. Has Frank rediscovered his passion for law? Is he trying to prove to himself that he can still be a successful attorney? Is he solely concerned with justice for the comatose victim? David Mamet provides no clear answers. In his original draft of the screenplay, the verdict was never even revealed (the movie does include it). While I admire Mamet's intent, I find the The Verdict to be ambitious without being fully successful. There's a twist involving Charlotte Rampling's character that's obvious from the moment she is introduced. James Mason, a fine actor, struggles to find any nuance in his high-powered defense attorney who will do anything to win. On the plus side, Paul Newman breathes life into Galvin and convinces the audience to root for this self-pitying attorney--who may or may not have found his self-respect at the film's conclusion. I know many fans of The Verdict and I encourage them to make their case in the comments below or on Twitter (I'm @classic_film). I have made my final summation.

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.

The Five Biggest Movie Stars of the 1960s

We love making lists at the Cafe, so why not create one for the five biggest movie stars of the 1960s? I know...how does one define "biggest"? Is it based on boxoffice power, critical acclaim, or enduring popularity? The answer is all of the above, plus a large dose of subjectivity. But that's half the fun of making lists like this. We also enjoy reading contrasting opinions and I'm sure many of you may have different ideas about who belongs on this list.

1. Sidney Poitier - It's hard to think of an actor who had a better decade from start to finish. He earned critical raves for his powerful performances in films like A Raisin in the Sun (1961), A Patch of Blue (1965), and In the Heat of the Night (1968). He starred in two classic "feel good" movies which regularly pop up on television: To Sir With Love and Guess Who's Coming to Dinner (both 1967). Yet, his finest work may have been as a drifter who finds purpose in an unlikely place in Lilies of the Field (1963).

2. Paul Newman - The popularity of Newman's "H films" (The Hustler, Hud, Hombre, Harper) would have secured him a spot on this list. However, the 1960s also featured two of his most iconic roles as a nonconforming prisoner in Cool Hand Luke (1967) and as a charming, small-town outlaw in Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969). 

3. Sean Connery - Prior to 1962, Sean Connery was a little-known Scottish actor. By the end of the decade, he was one of the biggest stars in the world. That will happen when you catapult to fame by playing the most famous secret agent in cinema history. In addition to his five James Bond films, Connery's 1960s lead roles included the well-reviewed POW drama The Hill (1965), cult favorite A Fine Madness with Joanne Woodward (1966), and Marnie (1964), perhaps Hitchcock's most underrated film (and a personal favorite).

4. Doris Day - The first half of the decade spotlighted five of of her best comedies: the superb Lover Come Back (1961) along with That Touch of Mink (1962), The Thrill of It All (1963), Move Over Darling (1963), and Send Me No Flowers (1964). Unfortunately, poor career choices (possibly attributed to her then-husband and business manager Martin Melcher) derailed her career. She even turned down the role of Mrs. Robinson in The Graduate (I love Doris, but Anne Bancroft was perfect).

5. Hayley Mills - It's easy to forget that Ms. Mills was a huge star in the 1960s, thanks to her sparkling performances in two Disney classics: Pollyanna (1960) and The Parent Trap (1961). The former earned her a special Oscar while the latter featured a Top Ten song sung by Hayley ("Let's Get Together"). She appeared in several other Disney hits while also starring in more prestigious films such as The Chalk Garden opposite Deborah Kerr and Whistle Down the Wind (which you should truly see if you haven't). Plus, she starred opposite her father John Mills in the winning sleeper The Truth About Spring (1964)--yes, another personal fave.

Honorable Mentions:  Jack Lemmon, Steve McQueen, Elizabeth Taylor, John Wayne, and Elvis Presley.

Paul Newman Gets Wet in "The Drowning Pool"

Harper arrives in New Orleans.

It probably sounded like a good idea at the time: Send Paul Newman's California private eye Harper to New Orleans and get him involved with a former flame, corrupt cops, a devious oil man, a dangerous young woman, and a whole lot of water. It took three screenwriters--typically a sign of trouble for a movie--to try to combine these elements into a coherent mystery. "Try" is the operative word here and, to the defense of the writers, I don't think Billy Wilder could have made a decent movie out of The Drowning Pool--though his version would have been more fun.

Newman first appeared as Lew Harper in the 1966 boxoffice hit Harper. That film was based on the Ross MacDonald novel The Moving Target, which featured private eye Lew Archer. There are several stories explaining the name change from "Archer" to "Harper," but--whatever his name--audiences loved Newman in the part. Still, sequels weren't as common in the 1960s as today, so it was something of a surprise when Newman decided to revive Harper nine years later in The Drowning Pool.
 

Joanne Woodward as Harper's client.

This time around, the easygoing detective goes to The Big Easy at the request of an old flame (Joanne Woodward) who has received an anonymous blackmail letter. Harper has barely walked into his motel room before a young woman (Melanie Griffith) tries to entrap him and he's arrested by an overprotective police detective (Tony Franciosa). He spends most of the film asking questions and getting beat up. There are two murders and a suicide along the way, but, to his credit, Harper eventually figures out the identity of the killer.

The Drowning Pool is a sluggish affair peppered with dull characters. It's hard to fault the actors. After all, Newman, Woodward, and Franciosa all appeared in another Southern drama, The Long, Hot Summer (1958), and that turned out marvelously. In The Drowning Pool, though, even Mr. and Mrs. Newman don't seem to have any chemistry in their scenes. It doesn't help that their tender moments are inexplicably underscored by a sappy instrumental version of "Killing Me Softly With His Song."

Newman and Gail Strickland in the best scene.

As for the title of The Drowning Pool, that brings us to the movie's best scene. Murray Hamilton, sporting a stylish red, one-piece jumpsuit, strands his wife (Gail Strickland) and Harper in a hydrotherapy room in an abandoned mental institution. Not wanting to face Hamilton's goons the next day, Harper decides to flood the room so he and his companion can float up to the ceiling and escape. It doesn't work as planned, but Harper still breaks free.

Of course, it could also be that The Drowning Pool refers in some esoteric way to the films's characters who are emotionally drowning in a swamp of apathy. Frankly, though, I think it refers to the angst experienced by unfortunate viewers who sit through this vapid mystery for 109 minutes.

Hemingway's Adventures of a Young Man

Ernest Hemingway wrote two dozen stories about his alter ego, Nick Adams, throughout his literary career. Playwright and novelist A.E. Hotchner, a Hemingway friend who later penned the biography Papa Hemingway, combined several of the Nick Adams stories into the 1962 film Adventures of a Young Man. Hemingway liked the idea and wrote the movie's opening and closing narration. It was his intent to record it, but he died in 1961.

The film opens in a small northern Michigan town in 1916 with Nick (Richard Beymer) feeling frustrated with a life already laid out for him by his parents. He loves his father (Arthur Kennedy), the town's physician, but can't cope with his domineering mother (Jessica Tandy). Nick sets out on "the road" to discover his place in the world and perhaps become a writer. On his odyssey, he encounters a punch-drunk former boxer (Paul Newman) and his caring friend, an alcoholic small-time promoter (Dan Dailey), and a newspaperman who admires Nick's spunk--just not enough to give the inexperienced young man a job.

Richard Beymer.

Nick ends up working in a restaurant in New York City, where he volunteers for the Italian Army (despite not being able to speak Italian). Once he joins his unit overseas, he is assigned to the medical corps where he befriends a fellow American (Eli Wallach) and an Italian officer (Ricardo Montalban). The horrors of war, a serious injury, and the death of two loved ones change Nick's outlook on life--leaving him more experienced, perhaps sadder, but also better prepared for the challenges that await him.

The idea behind Adventures of a Young Man is both interesting and worthy. The opening scenes, set during a colorful autumn and accented by Franz Waxman's score, have an almost lyrical quality. It's a shame that the rest of the film--which clocks in at almost 2 1/2 hours--can't sustain it. Instead, it tries to mask its obvious flaws: a bland protagonist, miscasting, and a lack of cohesion.

Having never read the Nick Adams stories, I can only comment on the character presented on screen. He's a self-centered, incredibly naïve, and uninteresting young man until much too late in the movie. Even in his final scenes, when he's supposed to have undergone a transformation, Nick's focus seems to be on his own needs. It would have been nice to see him show some interest in what became of his jilted girlfriend (Diane Baker) and loyal friend (Michael J. Pollard).

Paul Newman in makeup.

It doesn't help that Nick is played by Richard Beymer, best known for starring as Tony in the 1961 film adaptation of West Side Story. Beymer's All-American looks may work to his advantage as Nick, but his limited acting range becomes more apparent as the movie progresses. His later scenes opposite seasoned pros Eli Wallach and Ricardo Montalban are almost painful to watch. (Surprisingly, though, Paul Newman gives the film's worst performance as "The Battler," a former boxer who mumbles incoherently and stares open-mouthed into space. It just goes to show that anyone can have a bad day--but when A-list actors do, it's captured on celluloid for posterity.)

Other than sequencing Hemingway's stories, screenwriter Hotchner makes no attempt to connect them. As a result, Adventures of a Young Man unfolds like a string of disjointed TV episodes featuring a single continuing character.

Still, I suspect that Hemingway fans will want to see Adventures of a Young Man. For those readers who admire the Nick Adams stories, here are some of the titles interwoven into the plot: The Doctor and the Doctor's Wife, Indian Camp, The End of Something, The Three-Day Blow, The Battler, and Now I Lay Me.

CMBA Blogathon: "The Prize" and Rodgers & Hammerstein's "Cinderella"

Paul Newman as a cynical novelist.

The Prize (1963). Ernest Lehman adapted this mixture of North By Northwest and Grand Hotel from Irving Wallace's 1963 novel. If Lehman's name sounds familiar, it's because he also penned North By Northwest. Lehman keeps the basic structure of Wallace's multi-character story about a gathering of Nobel Prize winners in Stockholm. However, he gives the film a definite Hitchcock treatment.

Newman and Elke Sommer.

Paul Newman stars as Andrew Craig, a hard-drinking, cynical, but charming author who has won the Nobel Prize for his little-known, critically-acclaimed novels. He considers turning down the honor, but decides that $50,000 "ain't hay." While he is checking into the hotel, he meets an atomic scientist (Edward G. Robinson) who politely chastises him for his unpatriotic attitude. The following day, Andrew meets the scientist again, but the elderly gentleman doesn't recognize him--and makes disparaging remarks about the free world to the press. It's almost as if he's a completely different person. And, of course, he is!

Edward G. Robinson and Diane Baker.

The Prize will never be mistaken for a Hitchcock classic, but it's still satisfying escapist fare headed by a game cast. The subplots involving the other Nobel Prize winners--a scientist who thinks a rival stole his discovery, a wife who wants to make her cheating husband jealous, etc.--provide some humor and, in one case, are tied into the kidnapping. Elke Sommer adds glamour and sass as Newman's eventual ally. Diane Baker keeps the viewer guessing whether she's actually good or bad. And Hitch favorite Leo G. Carroll adds the perfect touch as the fretful head of the awards ceremony.

Journeyman director Mark Robson knows how to keep the plot rolling along. He lacks the Hitchcock touch, but let's reflect for a moment. The Prize is a superior film to Torn Curtain, a European-set thriller about a physicist involved with spies, which was made the following year and starred Paul Newman. That misfire was directed by Alfred Hitchcock.

Stuart Damon and Lesley Ann Warren.

Cinderella (1965). Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein II originally adapted the famous fairy tale as a television musical in 1957. That version was broadcast live on the East Coast and earned Julie Andrews an Emmy nomination. However, we baby boomers harbor fond memories of the 1965 version starring Lesley Ann Warren as Cinderella and Stuart Damon as the Prince.

Shot on studio sets, it's essentially a filmed play, though that never detracts from its charms. Running just 77 minutes, Cinderella features a lovely score comprised of catchy tunes like "In My Own Little Corner," "Impossible," "Ten Minutes Ago," and the incandescent "Do I Love You Because You're Beautiful?"

Eighteen-year-old Lesley Ann Warren got the lead role after she was turned down as the oldest Von Trapp daughter in The Sound of Music (1965). Her clear, melodious voice and youthful innocence led to a contract with Disney and plum parts in The Happiest Millionaire (1967) and The One and Only, Genuine, Original Family Band (1968). She had a long career on television and film, eventually receiving an Oscar nomination for Best Supporting Actress in Victor, Victoria (1982).

Her co-star, Stuart Damon, had appeared on Broadway in Irma La Douce in 1960. Despite a fine singing voice, he spent most of his career in non-musical roles. He starred in the 1968-69 British television series The Champions as a government agent with extrasensory powers. In 1977, he was cast as Dr. Alan Quartermaine on the daytime drama General Hospital. He played the role for 30 years, earning nine Emmy nominations and two wins along the way.

Ginger Rogers and Walter Pigeon.

The supporting cast in Cinderella consists of screen veterans Walter Pigeon (the King), Ginger Rogers (the Queen), Celeste Holm (the fairy godmother), and Jo Van Fleet (the stepmother). Alas, Ginger doesn't get a big dance scene!

There have been several other versions of this Rodgers and Hammerstein musical. The most notable ones are a 1997 television version with Brandy and Whitney Houston and a big budget 2013 Broadway adaptation. Both of these musicals added songs that expanded the show's running time. For me, though, I'll just stick with the original...well, the original remake with Lesley Ann and Stuart.


This post is part of the Words, Words, Words! Blogathon hosted by the Classic Movie Blog Association. Be sure to check out all the outstanding posts by clicking here.

An Interview with Ron Harper on Garrison's Gorillas, Planet of the Apes, and George Burns

When Ron Harper was performing in plays for fun at Princeton University, Professor Albert Einstein made an impromptu backstage visit. The famous physicist asked Harper about his future career plans. The young man said he planned to be an attorney. Einstein replied: "You'll have a good life if you decide to do what you love." Inspired by Einstein, Harper changed his career aspirations to acting and the rest is history. Ron Harper was one of the busiest actors in television in the 1960s and 1970s. He starred with Connie Stevens and George Burns in the sitcom Wendy and Me. He headlined the first-rate World War II action series Garrison's Gorillas and co-starred with Roddy McDowall in the Planet of the Apes TV series. He was also a regular in 87th Precinct, The Jean Arthur Show, and Land of the Lost. At age 79, he is still acting (and looks great). I had the pleasure of interviewing him recently at the Western Film Fair and Nostalgia Convention in Winston-Salem, NC.

Café:  I always watched Garrison's Gorillas as a kid. It's often described as "inspired" by The Dirty Dozen--but it debuted within months of the movie and the characters are different. So, was the similar premise just coincidental?

Ron Harper at the Western Film Fair
and Nostalgia Convention.

Ron Harper:  I would have thought The Dirty Dozen came out well before Garrison's Gorillas. The Dirty Dozen was a very successful movie, of course. I knew that we were "suggested" by it, although it was never written and never talked about. The characters were different.

Café:  Garrison's Gorilla's World War II sets looked very impressive. Was it shot on a backlot?

RH:  It was filmed on the backlot at MGM, which was very large and spacious. We did one or two episodes at the beach, but, for the most part, the backlot was big enough for us to do all the work we needed to do. Of course, most scenes were shot so that we could talk and interact, so there wasn't a need for many long shots of people shooting cannons.

Café:  It was a great ensemble cast. How did you get along with your fellow cast members?

Ron Harper (kneeling) and
the "Gorillas."

RH:  My four guys! Brendon Boone, Christopher Cary, Rudy Solari, Cesare Danova, and I got along very well. I would hate to think of doing a series with somebody if you didn't get along with them. Cesare (who played "Actor") was a little upset, though, that he wasn't such a major second star. But it was a great group.

Café:  Despite good acting and tight plots, Garrison's Gorillas only lasted one season. Why do you think it was cancelled?

RH:  It was a well-done series and we had good stories. We had very nice ratings. I think there was a mood prevalent in our country at that time about too much violence on TV. There was criticism about too much shooting and people killing each other on television. We were starting to get affected by that. When you do a war series, there's going to be violence and crime and shooting. It's not just a situation comedy where you tell a joke. The producers were very aware of this criticism about violence and we had to be very careful about it. I remember that once or twice, the director had one of my comrades departing somewhere and turning around and shooting somebody. After we shot the scene, I said: "We don't want to show that. That's exactly what some of the critics are talking about--unnecessary violence. We have to cut down the violence to what's required for the plot. We can't haphazardly shoot somebody."

Café:  I find it interesting that Garrison's Gorillas was one of the first U.S. television series shown in China, where it was very popular.

RH:  I remember that. In fact, I was invited to China and went there to promote it.

Café:  The Planet of the Apes series showed some promise initially, but quickly faltered in the ratings. What do you think led to its downfall?

Roddy McDowall, James Naughton,
and Ron Harper.

RH:  It became very repetitious. Each week, either Roddy McDowall, Jim Naughton, or I would get captured and the other two would rescue him. I had several talks with the producers, stressing this is not reality--apes really do not talk, wear clothes, and shoot guns. We have infinite room to explore more stories than taking turns being rescued from the apes. I knew it would be harmful to the longevity of the series if we didn't start using more imagination. I did a series called Land of the Lost and we did much more interesting stories each week. There was more science fiction--strange things would happen in the plots. Planet of the Apes didn't take advantage of its premise. It was the same routine each week and the audience quickly became aware of that.

Café:  I assume it was a challenging series to film.

RH:  Yes and a lot of hard work, particularly for Roddy McDowall. He had to get there three hours before the rest of us, who arrived a little after dawn. Poor Roddy had to have two hours to put on his make-up. I was so impressed with his ability to stay alert for the rest of the 10-12 hour days. I remember that, after we had done five or six shows, that his make-up had made his skin very sore and red. He had to take off about twelve days before his face returned to normal.

Café:  Was it hard to act opposite the apes given their limited facial expressions?

RH:  No, you use your imagination as an actor. Our actors were very good, so what they missed facially, they did vocally.

Café:  You once told a great story about a gift that Roddy McDowall gave you. Can you recount that for our readers?

RH:  I enjoyed working with Roddy. He had a nice sense of humor. Around Christmas time, he gave me a gift of a director's chair with my name on it--misspelled. (laughs). It read "Rin Hooper." I said: "Oh, that's very nice." And he said: "I do hope I spelled your name correctly, Ron." I said: "Almost, you just missed it by one or two letters." He said: "Oh, good, I'm so glad you like it." So, Rin Hooper became my trademark.

Café:  What was it like starring with George Burns and Connie Stevens on Wendy and Me?

Harper, Connie Stevens, George Burns,
and James T. Callahan.

RH:  It was delightful to a certain extent because Connie and I were very fond of each other. I think we worked well together. George was a whole different story. We were a half-hour sitcom and the stories were about the domestic life of the characters played by Connie and me. George introduced the stories and provided commentary between the scenes. His routine would take up about five minutes of the show, but it kept growing longer and longer as the season progressed. In a half-hour sitcom, you need 18-20 minutes of story and George was writing about ten minutes of funny dialogue for his own scenes. He was a producer, so I remember talking with the associate producers about George using up too much of the time--we were down to twelve minutes to tell our 20-minute story. I don't know if one of the other producers or the network discussed it with him. But someone told him that he needed to cut down his part, that the show wasn't just a monologue for him.

Café:  In addition to the aforementioned series, you also starred in Land of the Lost, 87th Precinct, and The Jean Arthur Show. Of all your TV series, which one was your favorite and why?

RH:  Garrison's Gorillas. The cast was strong and the actors were very good to work with. It had a lot of action and interesting stories. We also had very good writers.

A young Ron Harper.

Café:  You were Paul Newman's understudy in the original 1959 stage version of Sweet Bird of Youth. Did you ever get to play the lead opposite Geraldine Page?

RH:  Yes, I did, for about four performances one week when Paul wasn't feeling too well. In my last performance of it, I saw Paul in the audience. If he was not feeling too well, he was feeling a little bit better. He was a wonderful, sweet guy. I think he probably felt generous enough to say: "Let Ron do one or two of the performances."

Café:  That's a juicy role.

RH:  It's a wonderful role. I was the understudy, so I was doing it every week in rehearsal, but never before an audience. I was a little bit nervous the first time because it was with a live audience and I was doing this Tennessee Williams play. It turned out to be OK. I had some nice comments about my performance and it may have lead to one or two other jobs.

Café:  Do you have any other upcoming projects that you want to share with your fans?

RH:  I just completed a movie for TV about two months ago called Kidnapped: The Hannah Anderson Story (which was shown on Lifetime). It's a true story about a teenage girl that gets kidnapped by this older family friend. I play her grandfather and I mobilize some people to go and rescue her. It was on the air within two weeks of when I did my last scene. Modern technology is amazing.

Café:  Thanks for taking the time to talk with me, Mr. Harper.

RH: It was great talking with you, Rick. You're a very good interviewer.

Dial H for Hitchcock: Torn Curtain (1966)

Under the pretense of attending a conference in Copenhagen, Michael Armstrong (Paul Newman), an American physicist, defects to East Germany. His fiancee and assistant, Sarah (Julie Andrews)--confused by his suspicious activities in Copenhagen--follows Michael behind the Iron Curtain. He tries to persuade her to return to the U.S. It is only when Sarah refuses that Michael reveals his true intent: to steal information about an atomic formula from a Communist scientist and somehow escape.

Hitchcock hatched the idea for Torn Curtain after reading about the defection of two British diplomats. In Hitchcock, Francois Truffaut's superb book of interviews with the Master of Suspense, Hitchcock said that he began to wonder what the wife of one of the diplomats thought of the defection. The premise of a wife questioning her husband's true motives can be seen as a variation of Suspicion. The difference is that Torn Curtain dispenses with this plot in the film's first third. All that is left is the quest for the MacGuffin (the secret formula) and the escape. This is familiar Hitchcock territory, but it comes off as uninspired and weary in Torn Curtain. The result is a suspense film that generates very little suspense.

In Truffaut's book, he writes that "Hitchcock was never the same after Marnie, and that its failure cost him a considerable amount of self-confidence." That lack of confidence is magnified in Torn Curtain, in which the studio influenced Hitchcock's decisions on the cast and music.

Eva Marie Saint in 1966 in The
Russians Are Coming. 

By the mid-1960s, most of Hitchcock's favorite stars--James Stewart, Grace Kelly, Cary Grant--had either retired from show business or moved on to different roles (i.e., instead of romantic leads, James Stewart begin playing fathers). Hitchcock had also failed to create new stars, the most famous example being Tippi Hedren, whom he once envisioned as one of his classic "blondes" (personally, I think Hedren's performance in Marnie is widely under-appreciated). According to some sources, Hitchcock wanted Cary Grant and Eve Marie Saint to reunite for Torn Curtain. However, Grant felt he was too old for the part and the studio nixed Saint for the same reason. In the end, the studio convinced Hitch to cast two hot, young talents in Newman and Andrews.

Unfortunately, neither seems comfortable in their roles and, as is apparent in their opening scene in bed, they dearly lack chemistry. Hitchcock implies to Truffaut that Newman's "method acting" approach hindered him in key scenes. Certainly, Newman desperately wants to make us understand Armstrong's motivations, a serious approach at odds with a movie composed of a thin framework (e.g., Armstrong undertakes this incredible mission on his own without the government's sanction). Julie Andrews tries hard as Sarah, but the script makes her character extremely naive (the audience is always ahead of her) and she is relegated to an accessory in the final the final two-thirds of the film.

Sadly, Hitchcock was also convinced to jettison the original soundtrack composed by long-time collaborator Bernard Herrmann for what was considered a more commercial, upbeat one by John Addison. I find Addison's title theme to be almost playful, more appropriate for a black comedy. In contrast, the Herrmann theme is punctuated and more disturbing. 

Trying to kill Gromek.

Yet, despite its flaws, there are flashes of the typical Hitchcock brilliance in Torn Curtain. The film's most famous scene is the death of Gromek, an amusing but dangerous enemy agent played by Wolfgang Kieling. When Gromek confirms that Michael is a spy after following him to a rural farmhouse, Michael and the farmer's wife are forced to murder him. It's a lengthy, brutal struggle involving kitchen utensils and ending with Michael forcing Gromek's head into an oven as the gas is turned on. Earlier in the film, there's a visually stunning scene--reminiscent of Vertigo--in which Gromek trails Michael through the streets and buildings of East Berlin.

Hitchcock left a scene with Gromek's brother on the editing room floor, a decision based solely on the film's running time (a too long 128 minutes). Truffaut's book contains a description of the omitted scene: Michael visits a factory where the dead Gromek's brother (also played by Kieling) is a foreman. Gromek's brother picks a kitchen knife (like the one used in the farmhouse fight), cuts off a piece of sausage, and tells Michael: "My brother loves this kind of sausage. Would you be kind enough to give it to him in Leipzig?" It sounds like a classic Hitchcock gag, similar to one from Young and Innocent.

It's interesting to speculate what Torn Curtain might have been with a better script, more compatible actors, and perhaps a more engaged Hitchcock. Unfortunately, all that remains is a misfire with just enough interest to make one depressed over the reality that it isn't a very good film. 

The Towering Looker from San Sebastian

I'm often surprised by what's available among the free on-demand movies offered by my cable service. Recently, I had an opportunity to revisit three films, one each from the 1960s, 1970s, and 1980s: Guns for San Sebastian, The Towering Inferno, and Looker.

Guns for San Sebastian (1968) is often described as a Spaghetti Western, though it was made in Mexico and none of the four stars are Italian. But, hey, Ennio Morricone composed the score, so it sounds like a Spaghetti Western. Anthony Quinn stars as an outlaw who seeks sanctuary in a church to avoid capture. When the priest (Sam Jaffe) who protects him is exiled to a remote desert village, Quinn accompanies him. Shortly after their arrival, the priest is killed and the villagers--and bad guy Charles Bronson--mistakenly assume that Quinn is the new priest. I thought this was a spiffy premise with lots of potential, but, alas, Guns for San Sebastian squanders its opportunities and settles for being a routine action film. Quinn seems to be willing to do more with his role, especially during the film's first half. Bronson, whom I've always liked, and Jaffe are respectable, though their characters are pretty one-dimensional. As Quinn's quasi-love interest, Anjanette Comer is dreadful and appears to own an impressive stash of cosmetics for a peasant girl. Our on-demand grade: C.

Newman and McQueen discuss how
to extinguish the big blaze.

The Towering Inferno (1974) has an interesting backstory: After Irwin Allen's The Poseidon Adventure cleaned up at the box office, Warner Bros. bought the rights to The Tower, a novel about a burning skyscraper. Around the same time, 20th Century-Fox obtained the rights to The Glass Inferno, which featured a similar plot. Concerned that their competing movies would cancel each other out with moviegoers, the two studios opted to co-produce The Towering Inferno and put the film in Allen's hands. It features an all-star cast of screen vets (William Holden, Jennifer Jones, Fred Astaire), then-current stars (Paul Newman, Faye Dunaway, Steve McQueen), and even one of the The Brady Bunch kids (Mike Lookinland). It's as if The Towering Inferno wants to offer something for viewers of every age. What it lacks is a strong narrative, which is odd considering that Stirling Silliphant (The Poseidon Adventure, In the Heat of the Night) penned the script. Poseidon worked well because it focused on one group's quest to survive and featured a dynamic performance from Gene Hackman as its leader. In contrast, Inferno comes across as a series of vignettes and we never spend long enough with any of the characters to really care about their fates. There are some suspenseful sequences, especially when Newman and Holden are trying to evacuate party guests from a top floor. But, in the end, the film doesn't gel and we're left with lots of 1970s orange-colored decor and Maureen McGovern singing "We May Never Love This Way Again" (a limp variation of "The Morning After"). Believe or not, Fred Astaire--who looks mostly bored--earned his only Oscar nomination for The Towering Inferno. Our on-demand grade: B- (I like orange...and Fred)

Susan Dey and Albert Finney.

About once every ten years, I feel compelled to watch Michael Crichton's Looker (1981). When it's over, I always wonder:  Why did I waste my time watching it again? I think the problem is that I remember the premise (intriguing) and forget the execution (which is ludicrous). Albert Finney plays a plastic surgeon whose latest clients are beautiful women seeking minor facial changes so they'll look "perfect." When a couple of these women end up dead, Finney begins an investigation (while he comes under suspicion by the police). Finney's sleuthing leads to a mysterious company called Digital Matrix, a sneaky politician played by James Coburn, and something called Light Occular-Oriented Kinetic Emotive Responses (hey, it spells "looker"!). He also meets a model played by Susan Dey in the horrible period in her career between The Partridge Family and L.A. Law. She and Finney have negative chemistry! Plus, they appear to be in different kinds of movies: he's doing a serious suspense film and she's acting in a playful mystery. Ultimately, intriguing ideas are spewed all over the place and I'm never quite sure what the heck the movie is about. Sadly, though, I'll probably watch it again in about ten years. Our on-demand grade: D.

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.