1950s List Discussion and Suggestions (Lists Project Vol. 3)

[Michael Kerpan]

One of the aspects I liked _best_ about Naruse's Late Chrysanthemums was the adapt juggling of the story lines (almost like musical counterpoint). FWIW -- these originally started out as separate stories.

[Michael Kerpan]

I watched Walsh's The Sheriff of Fractured Jaw (1958). This Anglo-American musical-comedy-western was lots of fun, but not going to make it onto my list. At times, it seemed like a precursor to F Troop (despite the non-military setting).

[Tommaso]

I was quite impressed by Heinosuke Gosho's Where chimneys are seen (1953). This was the first film I've seen from this director, but if the rest of his work is of similar quality, then Western audiences are in for another major discovery. This is a lyrical film set in the poorer quarters of Tokyo, revolving around the lives of a couple and their lodgers, another younger couple. When the woman of the older couple is forced to take care of the child of her ex-husband (who she always said had died in the war), tensions and mistrust arise, and former perspectives on life need to be reassessed. Storywise, this sounds a little like Ozu, but the handling is quite different. Gosho's filmmaking seems much more influenced by Western approaches; some of the film reminded me a lot of Italian neorealism. It's a very 'fluid' film, very touching and marvellously acted by Ken Uehara and Kinuyo Tanaka in the main parts. And Gosho's use of the four chimneys of a nearby industrial factory which - depending from where they are seen - appear as if there were only one, two or three of them is a strikingly simple device - and one which feels never forced - to illustrate the incompleteness of the individual character's perspectives. Highly recommended, and definitely on my list. There's only an unsubbed Japanese dvd available, but fine English fansubs are floating around.

[Michael Kerpan]

I was quite impressed by Heinosuke Gosho's Where chimneys are seen (1953). This was the first film I've seen from this director, but if the rest of his work is of similar quality, then Western audiences are in for another major discovery.

Chimney's is one of Gosho's best films. He is a bit more uneven than some of his contemporaries who I love more overall -- but, at his best, he is very good (I much prefer his work to Kinoshita's).

Apparently Gosho's favorite director was Rene Clair. There is a very good book in English about Gosho -- Arthur Nolletti's The Cinema of Gosho Heinosuke: Laughter Through Tears. A good review of this is here: http://voicethrower.wordpress.com/2012/ ... ugh-tears/" onclick="window.open(this.href);return false; .

It's a shame so little of his work is available, even in unsubbed form.

[knives]

The Garment Jungle
This is a weird one in auteur terms since the two directors are so similar. There are moments when it seems like Sherman or Aldrich, but for the most part the film seals together as a distinctive whole. Either way the film is a stylish beast that deserves to be looked at with other worker noirs. Infusing that language onto a regular sort of union drama allows for a great deal of complexity as the shadows darken the owner and boss in equal measure. The workers are sidelined as if they ultimately don't matter to those calling the shots. In a weird way it reminds me of how Ivan the Terrible removes the ordinary man. The politics are shown to be ugly selfish things like a lonely game of chess. Even our out of it hero is trying to make sense of the situation in a personal way that ultimately makes who's right and wrong not matter. The human element may be front and center, but nobody cares.

Serenade
Well this is a weird one. Domino really hit it on the head with the actors really overrunning the film making more for the film than the fact that Mann is directing. There's a few elements distinctly him abounding, but it's really an outlier for his '50s output (it is to my understanding he has a few similar films at the start of his career). Though something he forgot to mention is that one of those overwhelming personalities is Vincent Price in an especially juicy villain role like he was taking over for Clifton Webb in Laura. I'm unfamiliar with the lead actor, but he does a good job even if it's well tread territory. The insistence on some Edward James Olmos type stuff like the opening scene which falls straight through camp into something almost touching. The whole film plays like something Fred Dekker said about campy stories only working if everyone is blind to that. The film is pure melodramatic soap opera, but the direction, script, and performances go opposite of Sirk with something almost as satisfying. Fontaine especially gives a good showing brightening the film as much as Price gives it the right sinister edge for propulsion (it really makes me wish he had worked with Mann on a western).

Stars and Stripes Forever
The musical biopic is usually for me at least one of the most dull and useless genres so even with the usually acceptable Koster at the helm and the always fun Webb in the lead I was seriously considering not watching this. Thank god I chose otherwise as it stands with Yankee Doodle Dandy in terms of making the film more than just a history or worse yet white washing. Firstly despite the military form of its lead the film is crooked as all hell with neat little excursions blowing up the world of these characters a little at a time until it starts to become a tapestry of character and setting. It makes me wonder how as an immigrant Koster dealt personally with the patriotism of the story. Perhaps it shot a personal cord which explains the odd emotional cadence from a director who usually seems distant from his material in the same way as Curtiz. Though with his band the film goes beyond country based patriotism to a world sort focusing on humanity (so much is this a melting pot movie I'm almost shocked it didn't open with the Statue of Liberty's poem). It also has a wicked sense of humour naturally represented by the youth, but even Sousa gets his moments in. The film eventually turns into a domestic Casablanca with the dark history of the then recent past being dealt with silently of which the height is the choir scene which while leaving everything to subtext becomes as crushing and hopeful as Le Marseillaise in that former film with the ultimate end result being just as good.

[puxzkkx]

Saw The Ghost of Yotsuya (the Nakagawa version) recently which I really liked. Very creepy and formally audacious in a way that anticipates the New Wave which was to really kick off just a year later (some of the expressionistic editing here is really incredible). Loved the way it began as a sober jidaigeki before morphing halfway through into a total horror bonanza - in form, not just in content.

[puxzkkx]

I saw and greatly enjoyed Aldrich's Attack!, an atypical war picture and in some respects a 'film of two halves' - the first half is quite dry with a strong focus on logistics (which will appeal more to war film buffs - I am not one) but in its second half this film unfolds into a striking morality play with a piquant, shadow-heavy visual style and a strong cast (excepting Eddie Albert who is cartoonish, but given the film's fablelike nature this is not necessarily an unwelcome distraction). Further proof that Aldrich was a director who could find a niche in any genre.

[Dr Amicus]

Been meaning to get round to posting on this thread for ages - and finally managing now by highlighting a few interesting British films that I'm pretty sure haven't been mentioned yet.

Hammer's pre-Quatermass efforts aren't well regarded, but I've enthused about The Glass Cage / The Glass Tomb (Montgomery Tully, 1955) before. It's a cracking little thriller about the murder of a showman starving himself over several days whilst living in a glass cage - and all set in the key post-war British liminal zone, a bomb site. Barely an hour long this is a fascinating marker of that period between austerity and affluence in Britain. Worth tracking down (it's on the 5th set in VCI's Hammer Film Noir series), as is Yesterday's Enemy (Val Guest, 1959), one of a series of war films Hammer made at the time. Although rather schematic at times, it's well shot in scope and offers good meaty acting by some British stalwarts. Incidentally, I had the good fortune of seeing both of these in excellent prints at a Hammer day a few years back - the Guest in particular looked absolutely stunning.

Elsewhere, war films were standard issue for the period - I'm not an expert on these and hope to catch a few before the end of this part of the project, but I can heartily recommend Ice Cold in Alex (J Lee Thompson, 1958). I have no idea how well known this is outside the UK, but over here this has become probably the key war film of the period - probably thanks to its use in a Lager commercial in the 1980s. A wartime, desert based Wages of Fear (pretty much) it comes from the stage of Thompson's career before he ended up making Bronson exploitationers. Not the least of its pleasures is an atypical performance from John Mills as the alcoholic driver desperate for a drink in their destination of Alexandria (hence the title).

The Boulting Brothers are best known nowadays either for the original version of Brighton Rock (1947) or their run of very lightly satrirical comedies from the end of the 50s and early 60s. In truth, these haven't aged terribly well, but the likes of Private's Progress (1956), Lucky Jim (1957), and I'm All Right Jack (1959) are at least fun and offer quality performances from reliable comic performers, notably Peter Sellers, Terry Thomas and Ian Cuthbertson. None of these are going to trouble my list, but one that probably will is their best film, Seven Days To Noon (1950), when my mother's cousin, Barry Jones (I never met him, but my mum did on several occasions) threatens to blow up London with an atomic bomb unless the UK stops production of nuclear weapons. Family connections aside, it's gripping in a low key way - and the scenes of mass evacuation must have carried distinctive echoes of the war. If you hunt it down, make sure it's in the correct ratio - a pre-2010 release was release in 1.77 to 1 instead of the correct academy ratio.

[Sloper]

the likes of Private's Progress (1956), Lucky Jim (1957), and I'm All Right Jack (1959) are at least fun and offer quality performances from reliable comic performers, notably Peter Sellers, Terry Thomas and Ian Cuthbertson.

You mean Ian Carmichael, right? Cuthbertson is a different actor. I have very fond childhood memories of I'm Alright Jack, and think it's a lot better, and more cutting, than the rather dull Private's Progress. Anyway, the tour of the sweet factory had me in stitches when I was ten.

Just to follow your lead by recommending another little-known British film, Thorold Dickinson's Secret People (1951) is a messy, flamboyant near-masterpiece. A failure at the time of its release, the film was obviously a labour of love for its director, and that's both its greatest strength and its greatest weakness. It's a weakness because the film's message (concerning the use of violence in the pursuit of ideals) is so insistently spelt out, especially towards the end, that the vividly drawn characters end up being reduced to mouthpieces, and the plotting becomes rather chaotic. The message itself may also come across as well-meaning but naive - I couldn't help thinking of Melville's more ambivalent take on this same subject in Army of Shadows.

But take the film on its own terms and these problems won't bother you. Dickinson's passionate love of telling the story, his ability to involve us in his characters' emotional lives, his masterful use of suspense (there's a nail-biting flashback scene involving a cigarette case that is just begging to be called 'Hitchockian'; echoes of Sabotage), and a cinematic inventiveness to rival Lean or Reed - it all adds up to 91 minutes of bliss. The performances are first-class, especially Serge Reggiani (at his charming, reptilian best), and a very touching pre-fame Audrey Hepburn.

I mentioned Hitchock, Lean and Reed just now; Dickinson is an obscure contemporary of theirs who, I hope, is now being rediscovered as the genius he was. He shares several qualities with those other directors, especially Hitchcock's ability to thrill and horrify, and Lean's visual sense and command of atmosphere. I'm not sure I can put my finger on what sets him apart from them. His work has a very personal, offbeat, sometimes uncompromising quality, and indeed he always said the reason he made so few films was because he had trouble finding projects he really liked. He seems less concerned with pleasing and manipulating his audience than with the sincerity of his own performance - this makes him sound solipsistic, but what I really mean is that his films come across as extremely earnest and deeply felt, and I suppose this will either alienate the viewer or draw them in more deeply. It certainly makes watching a Dickinson film an extraordinary and unique experience.

I can't really participate in the spotlight/swapsie business, as I can't guarantee to watch other people's choices, but I guess Secret People would be my spotlight title if I had one. The R2 Optimum disc is very nice, and pretty cheap at the moment.

[swo17]

Showdown: High Noon vs. Silver Lode (including some spoilers)

These two films are of course ripe for comparison since they are both Westerns that are about 80 minutes long and other people have compared them. Though there are also other similarities, like how they both begin with a wedding and take place in real time as the protagonist's wedding day is ruined by the intrusion of a violent man from the past and the people of the town are only willing to go so far to help him. In Silver Lode's case, the wedding day also happens to be the 4th of July, so the slight is also against America.

Silver Lode is undeniably the more fun of the two. John Payne's character is a sympathetic, resilient protagonist who does all he can with the two hours granted him to prove his innocence, getting involved in some terribly clever twists and turns along the way. Gary Cooper in High Noon takes a more relaxed approach, writing letters, getting a shave, and presumably taking a couple of naps throughout the film to allow plenty of time for scenes of supporting characters recounting the backstory and for numerous cameo appearances by a family of clocks. (Though in Cooper's defense, he has half the time to prepare for his comeuppance--perhaps he's just clamming up?) I presume the message of High Noon is supposed to be that we the people should be stepping up to defend our communities without having to be asked but this point might have come across a little better if a) Cooper had put anything resembling gusto into his pleas for help, so we could sympathize more with him when he's refused, or b) the point were not violently disproven by the film's finale, where the community is shown to be defended just fine thanks without anyone from the town stepping up to help.

Silver Lode also has a point, I think, even if it's primary aim seems to be to entertain. The villain is an obvious stand-in for Joe McCarthy, and the film is clearly critical of him, though it also bleakly suggests that noble efforts to fight against such tyranny are doomed to failure. Speaking of villains, Dan Duryea is fantastic in this (his best role?) and, like John Payne, is given a lot to do. Contrast this with the villains in High Noon, the majority of which spend the duration of the film waiting politely at a train station. When the big bad finally shows up, he gets, what, three lines? (The final gunfight plays out in near silence.) I wouldn't go anywhere near as far as to say that the film ruined modern cinema, but it strikes me as a merely solid to average programmer whose perceived virtue as a film will likely vary inversely with the number of Westerns that you have seen. If nothing else, it benefits from allowing the viewer to lay eyes on Grace Kelly for twenty minutes or so, even if nothing she does in the film makes any sense whatsoever.

Conclusion: Despite having all odds against it, High Noon surprises in the end by somehow singlehandedly wiping out its competition. Silver Lode, martyred with a bullet in the heart, lives on in our memories.

Some viewing notes: High Noon does look stellar on the new Olive Blu-ray. As in, one of the sharpest B&W transfers I've ever seen. Silver Lode was filmed in glorious Technicolor, though on DVD it looks like a faded pair of once vibrant Levi's. Still, make sure to get the Special Edition that VCI put out a couple years ago. It could use a lot of work, but it's still a hundred times better than the nearly unwatchable original release (the one you'll likely get if you rent from Netflix).

[Shrew]

I was one of those who had never seen High Noon and was inspired to push it up the queue thanks largely to Domino's vitriol. I can understand both why people would love this film and why they would hate it. Personally, I liked it but didn't think it was a "great" film, and not without some major problems.

The good: Editing--kinda. I understand the teeth-gnashing the editing of this film causes, but the hideous flashy cinema-ruining edits all belong to the fight scenes. The non-fight scenes are actually pretty well constructed, managing the several (way too many and unfocused) threads of the story in a way that makes them congeal into an almost palatable whole. And the credits and opening sequence are particularly striking in creating forward momentum out of a bunch of dudes waiting on horses. And then there's the sequence right as the train arrives. The shots linger just enough for the composition to sink in but not overstay the welcome, but build to a rhythm in conjunction with the oddly haunting theme song.

Which is another of the good points, particularly the way it continuously fades in and out during Cooper's stomping about town. I'm assuming the popularity of the song was what led to so many Westerns adopting their own corny themes that just kept getting more and more ridiculous (Seven Men from Now, The Man from Laramie, and my favorite from The Magnificent Seven: Seven... SEVEN... SEVEN!!)

And the scene in a church gets close to the heart of what makes this teeter but ultimately tumble off the great movie line: the screenplay's struggle between its desire to criticize (and even demonize) the townsfolk for their cowardice and award Cooper's quiet bravery, and the democratic ideal of open debate (and giving everyone their own logical reasons) which in part reveals that Cooper's refusal to leave is a matter of foolish pride and the arrogance of righteousness. Here and in a few other places, like Cooper's march into the saloon, it's clear that Cooper's not quite perfect and this is to some extent his own battle, but the film just keeps undercutting all the proffered reasons for the town's reluctance and making Cooper more and more into a saintly martyr. And the ending, while powerful in its abrupt closure, thinks (to paraphrase Peckinpah) that it's so god damn right about Cooper's decision that it totally erases what tiny shreds of ambiguity were left.

Of course, as much as people like to complain about flawless characters being boring, there's still something comforting and moving about seeing that come to life (i.e. Atticus Finch or Juror No. Whatever). The trouble here is that the film keeps introducing legitimate complaints about Cooper's conduct and self-righteous attitude only to sideline them because they threaten to tarnish the pointed silver needle of THE MESSAGE.

The bad: Got into some of this above, but I think the scene where the film really goes off the rails is that awful fistfight. Not only is it a poorly motivated excuse to liven up the film partway through, it is a jumble of an editing mess. And then Cooper's annoying deputy just never shows up again, as if he never mattered in the first place except as yet another blockade Cooper had to cross. Oh wait... The final shootout is a mess too, but it's not nearly as bad.

[GringoTex]

It's been several years since I've been around, but I would like to share three short films by the Italian Vittorio de Seta that I plan on selecting in this poll:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ETSDeV0-XaA" onclick="window.open(this.href);return false;

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dmnElKdBTfI" onclick="window.open(this.href);return false;

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R7wMPcVorzI" onclick="window.open(this.href);return false;

[knives]

Thanks for those links.

[knives]

In a similar vein the works of Bert Haanstra, especially Glas, is important to check out. I believe there's a Netherlands DVD though I don't know if it is english friendly.

[Tommaso]

I've watched two more Japanese films recently, and they're both great.

A Japanese Tragedy (Keisuke Kinoshita, 1953): This one was really impressive, especially as it was made directly after the second Carmen film, which left a little to be desired for me. A hopeless but captivating film about the realities of post-war Japan, it centres around a widowed mother who becomes a geisha for the sake of her two children who however soon become ashamed of her mother and the way she has fallen in life. The son wants to be adopted by a rich family so that he can open a doctor's practice, and the daughter also seeks for escape with an English teacher (whose wife is one of those spoiled, formerly rich people who do manage to completely ignore the changed times). This is also a film about great love, and love rejected; Kinoshita, however, motivates the children's decisions very well, and there is a clear non-judgemental stance towards all the characters. It becomes obvious that they are all victims of the war, and Kinoshita very effectively intercuts the film with documentary material about the immediate post-war politics. Still, the ending is tragic. Kinoshita thankfully abstains from overly intrusive camera gimmicks like the tilted camera in Carmen's Pure Love or the white framing in She was like a wild chrysanthemum and instead uses a very effective and bafflingly simple method for the occasional flashbacks to earlier days: they are presented without any ambient sound, only with the dialogue. A great way to represent how the 'filter of memory' works. The film is available on an excellent, though barebones dvd from the Austrian Polyband label, with German subs only. English subs are floating around, though.

The second film I watched was Heinosuke Gosho's Dispersed Clouds (1951), which totally confirmed my very positive impressions of this filmmaker, whose Where Chimneys Are Seen I already praised before. This film is about a young woman who falls seriously ill during a trip to the mountains with some friends and has to stay in some remote village to get better. This stay transforms the city girl and makes her come to terms with her past, not least with her step-mother whom she rejects, but it also opens new perspectives to her in the form of a subdued attachment she develops to the doctor who treats her. This sounds like pretty harmless material, but Gosho manages to make a surprisingly complex, multi-layered film of it, and does it in a way which seems completely effortless. He simply gets everything right, be it the acting or the very beautiful landscape photography. The film has a great flow and a strangely uplifting character, and I enjoyed it thoroughly. Wonderful to discover this - for me - unknown director. And I'm glad I've already secured a third one by Gosho, Banka, and I hope it won't disappoint either. I'll report back...

[swo17]

A little bit of housekeeping: I'm going to be out of town for most of the week of the currently scheduled deadline, so I'm going to propose pushing it off another week to September 16th. Is this fine with everyone? That would make it exactly eight weeks from today.

[knives]

I'm fine with that.

[the preacher]

I have no problem with the deadline... but I'm gonna need a bigger ballot (58 titles at the moment, and counting).

[Michael Kerpan]

Tommaso --

How did you get Gosho's Dispersed Clouds?

As I recall, the HK version of Japanese tragedy was certainly passable. I didn't love this film -- but found it worthy of respect. Certainly one of the best Kinoshita films I've seen.

[the preacher]

Kerpan, several Gosho's subtitled films come from Spain. Spanish cinephiles got unsubtitled copies and made subtitles (first in Spanish and then in English) with the help of a couple of Japanese girls working in Spain (!!)

[Michael Kerpan]

preacher -- What other Gosho films got subtitled this way.

[the preacher]

As far as I know: Dispersed Clouds (1951), Where Chimneys Are Seen (1953), An Inn at Osaka (1954), Banka (1957). Plus the other 4 films of the 30s previously subtitled.

[Tommaso]

I'm not sure whether we should go too much into details in a place like this, but yes, these Goshos are floating around.

[Michael Kerpan]

Never managed to see Osaka inn either.

I thought Banka was pretty impressive.

[Wu.Qinghua]

Thanks for your comments on Mexico and Argentine, dear preacher.

Here's a short addition: Jorge Ruiz' Vuelve Sebastiana! (1953), a short ethnographic documentary, which portrays living in the Bolivian highlands and is said to be the first indigenous film made in Latin America. I doubt it will make anybody's Top 100 here, but at the moment it can be streamed with English subtitles for free here.