criterionforum.org

VOTING CLOSED. RESULTS CAN BE FOUND HERE.

If you are reading this sentence, you are eligible to participate in our forum's latest decades list project exploring the films of the 1950s. If you know anyone adventurous enough--on or off the forum--that you think would also enjoy participating, feel free to invite them as well.

Please PM me your list of what you believe are the top 50 films from this decade toward the end of the project. I will send confirmation that I have received your list after I have tabulated it. If you haven't heard from me within a day, you should follow up with me to make sure that I received your list. You may feel that you could compile a list of 50 favorite films from this decade much earlier than the deadline, but it's still highly recommended that you engage in the discussions here. Don't keep your favorites a secret, and always be open to suggestions from others!


THE RULES

1) Each individual list is to comprise no more or less than 50 films, ranked in your order of preference (with no ties). If you haven't yet seen 50 films from this decade that you think are genuinely great (or even if you have), please take advantage of the resources listed below and participate in the ongoing discussions to find films that you can be proud to put on your list.

2) Anyone participating in this project should plan to submit a list by the Round 1 deadline. After this point, I will publish some preliminary results that will not reveal how each film has performed, but will at least make it apparent which films are orphans (i.e. those that have received only one vote, and so receive no points in the tabulation process). During the two weeks that follow (Round 2) all those who are interested in participating further may seek out the orphaned films (or anything else they didn't fit in before the Round 1 deadline) and make revisions to their lists as they see fit, up until the Round 2 deadline. After this point, I will publish the results.

3) Any feature film, documentary, experimental film, short film, TV miniseries, TV movie, or TV special released during the 1950s (1950-1959) is eligible.

4) The date given on IMDb is the relevant date for determining a film's year of release, even when it's clearly wrong (unless a special case is made below). If the film is not on IMDb and you say it was released during the 1950s, I'll take your word for it.

5) In certain cases, it may be appropriate for films that are technically separate to be combined, or for films that are technically combined to be separated. In such cases, you may vote for either a part or the whole, but bear in mind that all votes will be competing against each other (e.g. a vote for only The Tiger of Eschnapur will not count toward the vote for the entire Indian Epic in the final tally). Generally, if multiple films are allowed to be combined for voting purposes, you should probably vote for them that way unless you are strongly opposed to doing so. The most common cases:

• Single-director multi-part films for which each segment was released separately (e.g. Feuillade's serials, Lang's two-part epics) may be considered as a single film. Films included in trilogies may not be combined.

• Variant edits: For films that exist in multiple versions (e.g. Welles' Mr. Arkadin, Rivette's Out 1), all votes that don't specify a "secondary" version will be counted toward the "primary" version.

• Portmanteau films: Each of the individual segments and the film as a whole are all separately eligible.

We may occasionally need to make a special case related to rule 4 or 5. If you are seriously considering including a film on your list that you have a question about in this regard, bring it up in this thread and we'll iron it out. However, I will not make any further exceptions during the last week of the project.

For more details about rules and procedures, please refer here.

Finally, though it is not strictly required, it is recommended that you include titles for films that you discuss in this thread in bold, as it will help the film titles stick out amidst all of the other information that will inevitably pile up in this thread. Or do something else flashy, like featuring a still from the film. If you particularly like something, you might even highlight the title in a shiny color. See how much that caught the eye? You're going to be thinking about that for days now.


ELIGIBILITY – REMINDERS / SPECIAL CASES

Teleplays, such as those featured in Criterion's Golden Age of Television set, the TV version of 12 Angry Men, or Tragedy in a Temporary Town, are eligible.

Ivan the Terrible, Part 2 is ineligible, as we grouped it with Part 1 and included the pair in our 1940s project.

Whirlpool is ineligible even though IMDb currently lists it as a 1950 film, because it was eligible (and already performed very well) on our '40s list.

Len Lye's Tal Farlow is incorrectly listed on IMDb as a 1950s film. It will not be eligible until the 1980s project.

The following multi-part films count as one film for purposes of this project (this is just a reminder, not an exhaustive list): The Tiger of Eschnapur/The Indian Tomb, The Human Condition (eligible as a whole for the '50s, even though the last part came out in the '60s), Manon des sources/Ugolin

In some of these cases, you may feel strongly that you only want to vote for one part of the whole. You can do this, but again, just remember that all votes will be competing against each other (e.g. for all intents and purposes, The Tiger of Eschnapur, The Indian Tomb, and both parts combined as The Indian Epic are three completely separate films).

The following films may be cited as 1950s releases in some places, but are 1960s on IMDb, and so are not eligible for this list: Une histoire d'eau, The Brain That Wouldn't Die, Cruel Story of Youth, Le Trou, The Savage Eye, Letter Never Sent, Eyes Without a Face, Breathless, The Virgin Spring, Kapò, The Testament of Orpheus, The End of Summer, Le Signe du lion

The following films are cited as 1950s films on IMDb, and so are eligible for this list, regardless of what anyone else might say: Gun Crazy, Orpheus, The Flowers of St. Francis, Stromboli, Stage Fright, The Gunfighter, To Joy, Anticipation of the Night, Jazz on a Summer’s Day, Distant Journey, A Man Walks in the City, The Great War, Side Street, The Law, The Wayward Girl, Shadows, The Sun Seekers, Window Water Baby Moving, Together (Mazzetti), The Nightingale's Prayer, A la Mode, The Overcoat


RESOURCES

A list of all films that received votes during our prior 1950s project

Past Forum Discussions
Discussion from the Forum's Prior 1950s Project
Defending of Sad Pandas from the Forum's Prior 1950s Project
Discussion from the Forum's Genre List Projects
Discussion from the Forum's Shorts List Project

Guides Within This Thread
Do you feel you have an especially informed opinion about the work during this decade from a particular director, country, genre, etc.? Many people here would greatly appreciate your taking the time to prepare a guide for navigating through all that's available. (Though they do not necessarily need to be comprehensive.) Guides are especially welcome for extremely prolific directors/movements, or to summarize availability for films (such as shorts) that are often hidden away on releases for other films or only available on the web. Past examples: Director Guide, Country Guide, Genre Guide, DVD Availability Guide

therewillbeblus on Jean-Luc Godard's shorts, Roberto Rossellini, Luis Buñuel, Joseph L. Mankiewicz, Frank Tashlin's films with Jerry Lewis
Red Screamer on Len Lye
Michael Kerpan on Mikio Naruse

AWAITING FURTHER GUIDES

External Resources

IMDb list of Round 1, Round 2, and Round 3 results (compiled by TMDaines)

Recommended Reading

British Cinema of the 1950s: A Celebration. Edited by Ian Mackillop and Neil Sinyard, published by Manchester University Press. (Recommended by alacal2)

AWAITING SUGGESTIONS


THE MATRIX R. SCHMATRIX HONORARY SPOTLIGHT SECTION

Remember that part in the movie Spotlight where all the reporters sat around and said "Hey, you hold your nose and watch this movie that you wouldn't otherwise want to watch and I guess I'll do the same for you"? Oh wait, that's not how it happened at all. No, those reporters went out and put all their heart into their work and gave long important speeches about it. In honor of their garrulousness, this section is now reserved for links to any and all posts on a particular film that are 500 words or longer. Why 500 words? Because when I used to be in the biz, I remember my editor throwing that number around a lot. Sorry folks, but we're living in a post-Spotlight world now, and the old ways just aren't going to cut it anymore.

All About Eve (Joseph Mankiewicz, 1950) (HinkyDinkyTruesmith)
All That Heaven Allows (Douglas Sirk, 1955) (therewillbeblus)
Anatomy of a Murder (Otto Preminger, 1959) (therewillbeblus)
The Bad and the Beautiful (Vincente Minnelli, 1952) (therewillbeblus)
Bigger Than Life (Nicholas Ray, 1956) (therewillbeblus)
The Black Orchid (Martin Ritt, 1959) (knives)
The Blue Gardenia (Fritz Lang, 1953) (therewillbeblus)
The Breaking Point (Michael Curtiz, 1950) (therewillbeblus)
Calamity Jane (David Butler, 1953) (therewillbeblus)
Casque d'or (Jacques Becker, 1952) (barryconvex)
Come Back, Little Sheba (Daniel Mann, 1952) (therewillbeblus)
Le Déjeuner sur l'herbe [Picnic in the Grass] (Jean Renoir, 1959) (therewillbeblus)
Diary of a Country Priest (Robert Bresson, 1951) (therewillbeblus)
Early Summer (Yasujiro Ozu, 1951) (therewillbeblus)
Ewa Wants to Sleep (Tadeusz Chmielewski, 1958) (therewillbeblus)
The Flowers of St. Francis (Roberto Rossellini, 1950) (barryconvex)
Les Girls (George Cukor, 1957) (senseabove)
The Goddess (John Cromwell, 1950) (barryconvex)
Gun Crazy (Joseph Lewis, 1950) (therewillbeblus)
I Confess (Alfred Hitchcock, 1953) ( therewillbeblus)
I Love Melvin (Don Weis, 1953) (therewillbeblus)
Johnny Guitar (Nicholas Ray, 1954) (therewillbeblus)
A Kiss Before Dying (Gerd Oswald, 1956) ( therewillbeblus)
Kiss Me Deadly (Robert Aldrich, 1955) (therewillbeblus)
The Ladykillers (Alexander Mackendrick, 1955) (alacal2)
Li'l Abner (Melvin Frank, 1959) (therewillbeblus)
Lili (Charles Walters, 1953) (therewillbeblus)
Lola Montès (Max Ophüls, 1955) (therewillbeblus)
The Man from Laramie (Anthony Mann, 1955) (therewillbeblus)
Man of the West (Anthony Mann, 1958) (therewillbeblus)
Member of the Wedding (Fred Zinnemann, 1952) (senseabove)
My Sister Eileen (Richard Quine, 1955) (therewillbeblus)
The Naked Spur (Anthony Mann, 1953) (therewillbeblus)
No Down Payment (Martin Ritt, 1957) (therewillbeblus)
Odd Obsession (Kon Ichikawa, 1959) (bamwc2)
Peyton Place (Mark Robson, 1957) (therewillbeblus) (HinkyDinkyTruesmith)
Pickpocket (Robert Bresson, 1959) (therewillbeblus)
A Place in the Sun (George Stevens, 1951) (therewillbeblus)
Pool of London (Basil Dearden, 1951) (alacal2)
Rebel Without a Cause (Nicholas Ray, 1955) (therewillbeblus)
The Reluctant Debutante (Vincente Minnelli, 1958) (therewillbeblus)
Rio Bravo (Howard Hawks, 1959) (HinkyDinkyTruesmith)
Room at the Top (Jack Clayton, 1959) (barryconvex)
Le Rouge et le Noir (Claude Autant-Lara, 1954) (therewillbeblus)
Saint Joan (Otto Preminger, 1957) (therewillbeblus)
The Searchers (John Ford, 1956) ( therewillbeblus)
Seven Samurai (Akira Kurosawa, 1954) (therewillbeblus)
Some Came Running (Vincente Minnelli, 1958 (therewillbeblus) (HinkyDinkyTruesmith)
Strangers on a Train (Alfred Hitchcock, 1951) (therewillbeblus)
Sweet Smell of Success (Alexander Mackendrick, 1957) (senseabove) (therewillbeblus)
Touch of Evil (Orson Welles, 1958) (therewillbeblus)
Vertigo (Alfred Hitchcock, 1958) (therewillbeblus)
Wagon Master (John Ford, 1950) (therewillbeblus)
The World, The Flesh and The Devil (Ranald MacDougall, 1959) (barryconvex)


***Please PM me if you have any suggestions for additions to/deletions from this first post.***

I assumed the rush of everyone cramming on the board to finally post in this thread now that swo’s opened it was what caused the board outage earlier today

Haha apparently not, but seeing it open as soon as the site went back up changed my plans today.

I sat out writing up my viewings for the 40s List, but I'm tentatively tapping back in for this decade…

Guilty of Treason (Felix E Feist 1950)
Better than average anti-communist treatment of the József Mindszenty trial (the same basis of the later British film the Prisoner, unseen by me but recently released by Arrow), with Charles Bickford bringing his usual gravitas to the role of the Catholic Cardinal railroaded into phony charges by Russian interlopers in the Hungarian government. But this is really Paul Kelly’s movie, and an actor once convicted of manslaughter for drunkenly beating to death the husband of the woman he was fucking is definitely who you want as the voice of moral outrage in your red-baiting flick. The film is about as fun as a movie about this topic can be, largely buoyed by Kelly’s usual laid-back charms as the American reporter snooping around, and there are some decent stylistic touches present throughout. Imagine a world where instead of noir fans falling over themselves to pretend Joseph H Lewis was anything but the beneficiary of extraordinary circumstances with Gun Crazy and the Big Combo, they extended even half as much effort in praise of an actual consistently-interesting director of b-films like Feist… Recommended. [P]

Helen of Troy (Robert Wise 1956)
One of the lamer post-Quo Vadis sword and sandal films to come out of Hollywood, this collection of zero stars (other than a dubbed BB in a bit part) enacting zero thrills offers nothing of interest apart from its rather sympathetic view of Troy, which… is a choice.

How to Be Very, Very Popular (Nunnally Johnson 1955)
Chorines Betty Grable and Sheree North flee a murder scene and end up hiding out in a frat house in what I can only charitably call one of the dumbest movies I’ve ever seen. Marilyn Monroe was smart enough to know this was a piece of shit and opted to take the studio suspension when she refused to play North’s part, and Grable never made another movie. Also features ninety year old Bob Cummings as a college student (no, really) and character actor trio Charles Coburn, Fred Clark, and Alice Pearce all saying the phrase “panty raid” over and over.

Mio figlio Nerone (Steno 1956)
International co-production with Italian comedian Alberto Sordi as Nero, Brigitte Bardot as Poppea, and Gloria Swanson (!) as Agrippina. This is a broad comedy that reimagines the fall of Rome as originating from Nero’s stubborn pride at no one appreciating his awful singing. This is kind of a funny idea in theory, but in practice it’s realized via a typical Italian comedy, with slightly less yelling than usual (ie it’s actually bearable). Vittorio de Sica as Seneca seems to be the only one other than Sordi having a good time here, and he has the only scene that comes close to funny in which he tries to spin “sings like a dog” into a compliment. That’s not much, but it’s a lot better than the endless gags about Nero mutilating or killing various Romans (“These slaves aren’t mute or deaf? They better be by tonight!”— are you laughing yet?)

O Poeta do Castelo / O Mestre de Apipucos (Joaquim Pedro de Andrade 1959)
Two brief docudrama portraits of a Brazilian poet and sociologist, respectively, as they go about their daily business in their homes. Short films like this always make me wonder why the director even bothered to exert enough energy in securing financing, getting a crew together, and so on.

Pull My Daisy (Robert Frank and Alfred Leslie 1959)
Not content to merely ruin literature, the Beats turned their attention to cinema with this waste of time. Narrated by Jack Kerouac with maximum babbling from a play I never want to see or read the rest of, the “film” consists of amateur-hour pantomiming by Alan Ginsberg and crew as the narration bebops and scats all over the story of a visiting bishop encountering some liberated individuals, maan. That my fellow millennials hate Hippies but adore the Beats tells you everything you need to know about Our Society.

the Remarkable Mr Pennypacker (Henry Levin 1959)
An instant relic that could only be made in 1959 when studios were starting to give a little rope to morally scandalous plots, but not enough to actually offend. This turn of the century movie coasts by as long as it can on the legitimate comic notion of Clifton Webb as a virile sex god stud with seventeen children, but sadly the film somehow goes for respectability in its comedy of bigamy rather than embracing the bad taste of the premise. Even perhaps a few years later we might have gotten a film that sides with Webb for prurient reasons rather than the boring wholesome ones we get, but some credit is still due to the studio system for figuring out some incredible pretzel logic for the censors to justify Webb having two simultaneous wives! This film isn’t very funny, but I did think it had one admirably good throwaway line, wherein we learn the progressive Webb wrote an editorial entitled, “Women Seem Like People, Let’s Let Them Vote”

Talk About a Stranger (David Bradley 1952)
A young boy becomes convinced his new neighbor Kurt Kaszznar poisoned his dog and sets off to enact vengeance. Movies like this, where we get a cute dog for twenty minutes brought in solely to be killed for alleged audience investment, are pretty low on my Hollywood manipulation tolerance totem pole. And while I think there’s a degree of accuracy to the depiction of the annoyingly hellbent little kid who angrily lashes out at an obvious innocent on the basis of no evidence, it’s not exactly the kind of thing one volunteers to sit through (and in the end the film flinches and doesn’t even have the twerp suffer for his own actual criminal actions). That said, there is one remarkable plus here: for some reason, John Alton was assigned this film and it looks absurdly good in comparison to the hoary dramatics depicted. Like, I am struggling to think of a starker contrast in form and content from a film of this era. I cannot recommend this movie, but if you ever wanted to show someone why Alton was so good, just look at what he does here— it’s ridiculous how beautiful this dumb movie looks.

Torero (Carlos Velo 1956)
Real life and docudrama blur in this portrait of Mexican bullfighter Luis Procuna. Adored by the Cahiers critics, this entertaining melange of neorealism, documentary, and biopic renders distinctions between its functions futile to parse out. I don’t think much of bullfighting (and anyone looking to avoid depictions of violence enacted against animals would do well to avoid this), but I still found the mixtures of construction, the bleeding of the real and the reenacted, fascinating and highly entertaining. Also, based on this film, bullfighting fans are A+ assholes— at one point, the stadium announcers literally call Procuna a coward over the PA and announce to the violently jeering crowd (who just threw hundreds of seat cushions at him) that he’s been fined 5000 pesos for doing a shitty job and he should have retired early. Recommended.

This decade is where things really get really tough, with Hitchcock, Rossellini, Ray, and Bresson alone taking up a solid chunk. Then you've got two of the best musicals ever, The Band Wagon and My Sister Eileen, Anthony Mann's string of genius westerns that take a disturbingly dark view on humanity, of which at minimum Man of the West will place (in the top five for me), Kurosawa's output, etc. etc.

I doubt anything is going to knock Diary of a Country Priest from my top spot, though Bresson's Pickpocket will surely follow right behind it. While I always loved the latter film, Diary used to be lower-tier Bresson in my rankings until a rediscovery years ago. It's challenging for me to clearly relay all the contemplation that goes into its appeal, when so much is due to the feelings it evokes in me, but I'll try.



Diary of a Country Priest

I see this as the absolute best example of a spiritual film that acknowledges the 'sufferer' in mankind, validates the ambiguity inherent in humanity, and accepts that whatever mystical processes occur to bring us peace, connect us, and contribute to our despair, that they exist divorced from our specific religious beliefs, and yet are dependent upon our spiritual beliefs. Surely this suffering is self-inflicted, but the surrender to a willingness to believe is all that is necessary to access grace. Separating the religious from the spiritual is itself complicated, but the simple answer is that one is fixed on rigid practices and rituals, inflexible in its roots, while the other is an embrace of agnosticism, a practice that admits how unimportant we are, and expands our peripheries to the mysteries of the world, to the interests of other people, and to the belief that there is a force of positivity possible by acting with empathy. Acceptance of suffering gives way to gratitude, and this is a film that doesn't falsify this process as easy or permanent. The priest is not a saint but a human being. His faith is shaken, and yet through his own pain he finds gratitude time and time again. This is almost always in social situations, most of which involve occurrences where he is teased, ridiculed, disrespected, or in which he resents, despises, or feels less than as a result of the presence of the other. The priest's ability to get back on his feet come from the information he finds following these interactions: about himself, his own defects of character, his humanness and how these characteristics can change to fit with his morals in the form of spiritual ideals. In other words, a humility that leads to personal growth, and one that is only possible with a degree of self-awareness and a willingness to play second fiddle to a greater power full of opportunities to turn despair into a positive force. Bresson uses simple camera movements to push-in slowly on the 'action,' and strangely uses an almost sterile approach to clinically documenting interactions, but by using a canvas of an actor he succeeds in allowing the power of the interactions themselves to speak loudly. When the priest does nothing, does not respond with emotion, we feel the spiritual presence of the words spoken and not spoken. The style doesn't undercut, but magnifies the difficulty of taking this position of least harm.

One of the most powerful lines in all of cinema occurs after the film's best scene: the priest as therapist with the old woman, acting as a reflector to elicit her own ability to unlock herself from resentment and towards love. The priest, himself a hopeless sad and sick man, at her funeral says, "What wonder, that one can give what one doesn't possess! Oh, miracle of our empty hands!" I think about this often, the fact that one's presence alone can help another person find meaning and peace. This can be completely unintended, and the assisted party can be unaware of the effect that presence has, even if perceived as negative. This is almost every interaction between the priest and the young woman who taunts him, but he is not afraid to give advice and express his opinion. This upsets her but his loyalty is not to social conventions or even to his own internal human desires to put her down, solely to help, regardless of whether this effect is taken immediately or sinks into one's subconscious over time.

Others have written about how the priest is trying to become a prophet like Christ, suffering with an ulterior unconscious motive to become a saintly figure. This is an interesting point of analysis, but Bresson doesn't seem interested in his psychology as much as action, that which calms the existential woes and offers the psychology a reprieve, without arguing that the mind has anything to 'overcome.' The mind is going to act as any human's does, probably including the ego's will to be important in a roundabout way, but Bresson looks to acknowledge rather than manipulate. To Bresson human beings are flawed and will remain flawed, though this is hardly a cynical view, instead one to treat with acceptance as the antidote to the rabbit hole of despair, nor does this outlook limit a person's potential to growth. The self-destructiveness of the individual is a complicated process, and if anything this humanizes the priest as a man just as afraid and broken as the rest of the people in the film. The difference is that he wakes up every day and devotes his life to selfless focus when in the presence of others, akin to Francis, but unlike Francis we get internal monologues where we get a first-hand opportunity to relate to his neuroses and see a saintly figure stripped down to a relatable man like you or I. He too struggles to hold onto these moments and slips into his own doubt, torn emotional states, and physiological weakness. This is a movie that perseveres through universal experiences of isolation, cynicism, hopelessness, impermanent bouts of peace, connection, tests of belief, and still reaches a state of grace.

For me, this decade is dominated by John Ford, Yasujiro Ozu, and Douglas Sirk. All three produced prolific bodies of work, and as a chronic auteurist, the more I've immersed myself in their oeuvre's, the more I've enjoyed them––late last year, I watched the entirety of Ozu's work, in chronological order, and I wrote my undergrad thesis on Sirk. To be frank, I wouldn't be surprised if three Sirk films ended up in my top ten: Imitation of Life (his most ambitious), The Tarnished Angels (his greatest), and Has Anybody Seen My Gal? (his most entertaining). As for Ford, after three rewatches this year on the gorgeous Olive blu-ray after seeing it once many years ago on that atrocious DVD, The Quiet Man currently stands as most likely to be my number one for the decade. As for Ozu, Early Summer and Tokyo Story are two of the most humane and affecting films this decade, and Good Morning is one of the funniest. The Cranes Are Flying, The Prince and the Showgirl, Tea and Sympathy, Rio Bravo, and Veritgo are a few other films that I can certainly expect to place highly, although I doubt any but the Olivier and Minnelli really need my argumentation to find support around here.

Now, for what I've been watching!



Artists and Models and Will Success Spoil Rock Hunter?
Although I remember thinking, at the start of Artists and Models, that I wasn't quite sure how well I was going to enjoy it, seeing as I felt some of its jokes were dumb, and some of its editing a little too choppy to fluidly and unaffectedly capture the sense of cartoonish hijinks that the film was clearly trying to express––I can no longer empathize with that feeling, for, after the rough first couple of minutes, I was entirely enchanted with this magnificently horny masterpiece. Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis play roommates, one a struggling artist (Martin), the other a comic nerd and writer (Lewis), who get involved, professionally and otherwise, with a comic book illustrator (Dorothy Malone), and her roommate, secretary for the comic book publisher and model for Malone (MacLaine).

Although, as a musical, it certainly isn't the best of the decade, there are few musical sequences that inspire such joy as Shirley MacLaine serenading Jerry Lewis's nerves to shreds; the combination of Lewis's broad comedy, MacLaine's exuberant and shameless vocals, and the cartoon eroticism on display makes for one of the high points of American cinema. This was, actually, my first Jerry Lewis film and it certainly won't be my last. The sequence where Lewis acts as a relay between the phone and Dean Martin in the bath, growing increasingly tired, had me laughing harder than I have at a movie in a very long time, despite it's rather simple and predictable premise. And while the film is perhaps a little dated in its unabashed objectification of women, despite the cartoonish mode of characterization that all the characters are portayed in, MacLaine and Malone's characters are never simply sex dolls: they both get their fair share of erotic agency, especially MacLaine. And while the interpersonal comedy of the first two acts lightens up in the third, the plot developments that do occur are extreme enough to carry the film with an insane amount of energy to the conclusion. Currently my favorite Tashlin of the decade.

Which isn't to say I didn't enjoy Will Success Spoil Rock Hunter?––which for those of you who enjoy satire, is far more biting and sharp than Artists and Models, which was ostensibly supposed to be a satire of the comic book industry although comes off as more of a light-ribbing to all involved. Rock Hunter? is a magnificent meta-comedy, with one of the best opening sequences of the decade. Tony Randall plays an ad agent floundering in mediocrity, engaged to his secretary, who through his starstruck niece, gets involved with superstar Jayne Mansfield, who in exchange for agreeing to a product endorsement, uses Randall to make her ex jealous. It all leads to, you guessed it, Success––or is it? Mansfield's performance is a tightrope walk between parody and transcendence, and the things she does with her voice, including some squeals and . . . chirps? There are simply no words, and frequently I found myself in awe at how someone could make such sounds with so little effort. I'm not quite as convinced of its ultimate argument as some might be––I think a much more effective form of it can be found in Preston Sturges's Christmas in July (1940), but this film does manage to outdo Artists and Models in its visual invention. Speaking of visuals, I couldn't help but think, throughout, that it sure would be funny if the blue fade-outs throughout this film were a big influence on Ingmar Bergman's Cries and Whispers.

The Big Combo
A very entertaining noir, starring Cornel Wilde as a brooding detective trying to bust Richard Conte's menacing Mr. Brown, a mobster to put it simple. The film is limited in its scope, and relies far more on atmosphere than on any sense of economic or social reality. John Alton's work is certainly among the best of the decade, and Losey's direction is clean, efficient, and without fault. The fact of the matter is, however, that the script isn't quite as strong. Not so bad, mind you, that it drags down anyone (although the Honorable Betty Cream, Helen Walker, I found was left with a rather difficult role to fill that no one really did her any favors with). It simply lacks a sense of drive and logic. The type of film I could see myself watching if it were ever on TV again, but not something I have any intention to deliberately revisit any time soon.

Night and the City
A grotesque parade of greed. Dassin works overtime here, overloading his film with textures, faces, sensations, shadows. As fatalistic as noir can be, Richard Widmark's desperation to be someone lacks any value in the sort of world he wants to succeed in. Not completely flawless––Hugh Marlowe's downstairs neighbor is a sort of pointless drip to the proceedings––but brimming with heavy savagery and inspired primitivism. A wrestling match halfway through strips away any sense of modernity or industrialism from noir to get at the simple facts of humanity's violent struggle against itself; Widmark's rushing through the streets late in the night, trying to find some sanctuary, feels similar in its ability to get to the core of what postwar suffering was really about: man hopelessly lost in a world that was out to get him.

HinkyDinkyTruesmith wrote: Sat Nov 30, 2019 7:15 am As for Ozu, Early Summer and Tokyo Story are two of the most humane and affecting films this decade, and Good Morning is one of the funniest.

I somehow forgot about Ozu. I have to revisit Early Summer as I remember thinking it was one of his best dramas, though I haven’t seen it in years. Good Morning and The Flavor of Green Tea Over Rice are locks for my list, and my two favorite Ozu films by a mile.

HinkyDinkyTruesmith wrote: Sat Nov 30, 2019 7:15 amThe Tarnished Angels (his greatest)

I'm happy to see someone else say this... It's the opinion I've been coming around to. I assume Tarnished Angels gets passed by because Sirk is so strongly associated with his use of color, but more and more I think his true masterpieces are it and A Time to Love..., which I assume is passed by because of the awkwardness of the sympathetic lead being in fact, if not in deed, a Nazi soldier. Not to diminish his other lauded films of the decade, several of which will be on my list, but they don't have quite as much room for the individual characters' emotional complexity as these two. So much of the work in the more commonly praised ones goes to outlining the excruciating, broad social circumstances that burden the main characters, and we know mostly where our sympathies should be: the lonely spouses, the conflicted children, the spurned mothers. The narrowed worlds of air racing and wartime seem to focus Sirk's narrative and character development/director-of-actors skills (which never seem to get as much attention as his visual and technical ones), and he gets deeper into the dynamics within a particular group rather than focusing on how those who don't fit in the social milieu are treated. Both certainly still have plenty of that, and it's the source of a lot of the anguish in them, but the "right action" is less apparent or complicated more than in something like All That Heaven Allows or Imitation of Life.

He's got so many others no one ever talks about in this decade, too—I'd appreciate any pointers for ones to check out and the best sources for them. Outside of the Major Works, I've only seen All I Desire and Meet Me At the Fair, years ago and only half-remembered, and both of which I remember liking, but don't remember much else.

Also, I threw together a rough draft list of 50s titles and geez, I hadn't quite comprehended how stacked this decade is...

HinkyDinkyTruesmith wrote: Sat Nov 30, 2019 7:15 am This was, actually, my first Jerry Lewis film and it certainly won't be my last.

I'm envious of your position, as there are so many great Lewis films, many this decade and with Tashlin to boot. I‘ll be digging deeper into Tashlin myself over the next few months, though I have my doubts that anything could top his two best Jerry Lewis vehicles, Hollywood or Bust (also with Dean Martin) and The Geisha Boy, each a nonstop inventive gag factory of top notch comedy.

I’ve also liked most of the 50s work I’ve seen so far outside of the Jerry Lewis collabs, even if not quite as much. Susan Slept Here is a fun one, if slightly tonally unbalanced in the last act. The first half features a joyous series of dynamic interpersonal collisions that signifies what is so appealing about mismatched duos. The gags can range from subtle or exaggerated visualizations, to verbal spats of strange innuendo and passive insults, to absurd and sometimes dry voiceover narration that contrasts the image with a nudge. In short, it’s a mix of what makes a Tashlin film so great. The story slows down at the right times and the screwy content is well-matched with heartfelt emotional connection to highlight the degree of empathy and sensitivity these characters possess. However, the second half felt a bit diluted regarding these elements and I was left wanting more, though undoubtedly due to my own expectations set in the first part. Characters reach an inevitable cohesion but too early and the problems of the film that follow don’t contain the same energy that flooded the senses at the start. I felt less enthused about this when I saw it a few years back for the first time, but now with some Tashlin under my belt it’s grown in my esteem. One of my favorite aspects of the film is the (perhaps unintentional) joke that Powell is portraying a 35 year old at age 50, and the way every character taunts him with judgment over the possible romance with a 17 year old, letting the audience in on the joke while the film fearlessly builds a story around that very idea. Yes, there are problematic sexual politics, but this extra layer of intelligence and audacity confronts that angle head on and elevates the picture quite a bit for me. Strongly recommended.

Not a Tashlin, but I finally caught Kiss Me Kate, and it's every bit as great as its champions declare; a vibrant, extra zany riff on the meta-contextual format, with strong dance numbers in all-around intricate setpieces and Cole Porter music to elevate it to all-time musical status. The film version uses the medium well to allow the play to function as such in embracing rather than hiding its artificiality, while also implementing technique to enhance the action with swooping camera movements, and the humor by focusing closer on details for effect in highlighting subtle gags down to facial tics. The choreography, especially at the end, is among the best I’ve ever seen, and exemplifies why the musical is such a perfect fit for cinematic expression. The form here plays between our own contrasting desires for mastery and voyeurism, in allowing us to join in and move with the dance with simultaneously issuing objective framing so that we can watch the experience from a comfortable distance. It’s a wonderful demonstration of how safety for the viewer can still pack a charge like no other genre.

senseabove wrote: Sat Nov 30, 2019 8:17 pm

HinkyDinkyTruesmith wrote: Sat Nov 30, 2019 7:15 amThe Tarnished Angels (his greatest)

I'm happy to see someone else say this... It's the opinion I've been coming around to. I assume Tarnished Angels gets passed by because Sirk is so strongly associated with his use of color, but more and more I think his true masterpieces are it and A Time to Love..., which I assume is passed by because of the awkwardness of the sympathetic lead being in fact, if not in deed, a Nazi soldier. Not to diminish his other lauded films of the decade, several of which will be on my list, but they don't have quite as much room for the individual characters' emotional complexity as these two. So much of the work in the more commonly praised ones goes to outlining the excruciating, broad social circumstances that burden the main characters, and we know mostly where our sympathies should be: the lonely spouses, the conflicted children, the spurned mothers. The narrowed worlds of air racing and wartime seem to focus Sirk's narrative and character development/director-of-actors skills (which never seem to get as much attention as his visual and technical ones), and he gets deeper into the dynamics within a particular group rather than focusing on how those who don't fit in the social milieu are treated. Both certainly still have plenty of that, and it's the source of a lot of the anguish in them, but the "right action" is less apparent or complicated more than in something like All That Heaven Allows or Imitation of Life.

He's got so many others no one ever talks about in this decade, too—I'd appreciate any pointers for ones to check out and the best sources for them. Outside of the Major Works, I've only seen All I Desire and Meet Me At the Fair, years ago and only half-remembered, and both of which I remember liking, but don't remember much else.

Also, I threw together a rough draft list of 50s titles and geez, I hadn't quite comprehended how stacked this decade is...

There’s Always Tomorrow is superb and, out of the ones I have seen so far, it’s in second place behind The Tarnished Angels.

Mikio Naruse made 23 (and a third) films during the 50s -- and almost all are interesting and many (17 or so) are very good to great. Not sure how many of these are currently accessible, alas.

A plug for Violent Saturday which IMHO is surely one of the unsung great films of all time.

Its Sirk meets Siegel approach probably makes it difficult to classify (and I am guessing advertise) but this is extremely high quality filmmaking IMHO even if that approach is probably not going to be for everyone’s taste.

The first thing that makes you sit up and notice is the expert use of the frame, Fleischer and his cinematographer put on a real show throughout with their blocking and movement. The script has beautifully layered character work and the hard boiled noirish dialogue is lapped up by all of the cast (my favourite performances were Virginia Leith and Lee Marvin).

There are also just all of these idiosyncratic little touches peppered over the course of the film that just add to the pleasure, a great example being the scene where one of the bank robbers gives some candy to a kid who did not realise the danger he was in and had charged the bank robbers.

Eureka and Twilight Time’s blus are from a stunning Fox restoration that is thankfully not too blue like a lot of Fox’s colour restorations in recent years. The colour and detail are just beautiful and really bring home the great camerawork I mention above. The 4.0 audio track was also fantastic.

nitin wrote: Sun Dec 01, 2019 12:31 am There’s Always Tomorrow is superb and, out of the ones I have seen so far, it’s in second place behind The Tarnished Angels.

Yes, I liked There's Always Tomorrow quite a bit. I remember thinking that the scene

Spoiler

where the children confront Stanwyck in the hotel and then she talks to MacMurray again might be the scene I'd point to if I were ever asked to explain what I love about her. She balances the whole thing perfectly, that desire to find something like happiness, without succumbing to fantasy and without hurting anyone else...

It really made me want to revisit All I Desire, as I had only seen Heaven from Sirk and Double Indemnity from Stanwyck when I saw that one, years ago when a brief trip to Berlin happened to coincide with a Sirk retro there (which I keep hoping my local university-affiliated arthouse will run here...).

Anyway, the lesser Sirks I'm curious about:
The First Legion
The Lady Pays Off
Thunder on the Hill*
Week-End with Father
No Room for the Groom
Has Anybody Seen My Gal?
Take Me to Town
Taza, Sone of Cochise (coming from Kino in "early 2020")
Sign of the Pagan*
Captain Lightfoot*
Battle Hymn*
Interlude*

The *d ones, along with All I Desire, have French BDs. Why one of the box-set friendly UK labels with a Universal agreement hasn't put that box out is baffling to me... Maybe Criterion has the UK rights to the big-name money-makers tied up, so no one wants to risk a box of lesser-known Sirk...

I’ll have to dig back through Sirk and fill in the gaps. I like The Tarnished Angels a lot, but it warrants a revisit. Written on the Wind has always been my favorite, as perhaps the rawest, nastiest melodrama he made.

Out of the lesser sensabove listed, in addition to Has Anybody Seen My Gal? which has already been talked about, I saw Thunder on the Hill, Captain Lightfoot and Battle Hymn. The last is the least: distinctly Sirkian spiritual themes, but material that's ho-hum for the most part, and the execution without the director's typical style. Lightfoot was pretty and lightly enjoyable, but nothing remarkable or brilliant. The Colbert was the best of the three for me - content-wise definitely minor, but the staging, acting and cinematography are handled very well and make it a winner.

There's Always Tomorrow and The Tarnished Angels are definitely films I like, but not enough to make them potential list-makers. But I'm planning to revisit four of the other big ones.

Digging through the Lewis/Martin 50s films, I realized I had somehow missed Living it Up. While not a Tashlin, this is one of the better uses of their mismatched dynamic, with Martin getting more opportunities for laughs as a bad doctor. Nothing can beat the opening setpiece centered around the radioactive truck, but Janet Leigh’s presence stirs up enough antics from all walks to keep the narrative moving with energy. We even get a phenomenal jitterbug show from Lewis, as well as many memorable showcases of his physical talents relying on abilities in presence alone, less hinged on integrating into complicated gags, though these still occur as expected. The musical numbers are played for laughs more than usual, and Martin is especially self-deprecating and less of a straight man. Tashlin definitely brings the smooth, well-constructed visual jokes to the table, but this was a lot of fun in its own right. Recommended for fans of the duo.

Making my way through some of the Young Turks’ 50s shorts, including Godard’s five. Opération béton is like a test run for Godard using equipment, about a bunch of guys using equipment, but I suppose one could stretch its value to Godard’s interest in the working class, here focused on the banalities in the process of construction. Une femme coquette initiates the nouvelle vague editing techniques and takes us to women on the streets of Paris, where so many would venture in the years to come. It’s a fun one that lightly addresses the self-consciousness and perceptiveness of the blushing flirt, and the rushes of pleasurable anxiety that makes one feel alive - very briefly emitting what I love so much about the raw skills at capturing humanity in this movement. Tous les garçons s'appellent Patrick adds socialization to the mix and builds on that previous feature to document the playfulness that occurs between the persistent male and the coy female, and then the far more exciting playfulness that occurs between two young female friends behind closed doors. I always enjoy seeing Jean-Claude Brialy flirt, but I could watch Nicole Berger and Anne Collette do a Brigitte et Brigitte for a full feature, and it’s no surprise that this was written by Rohmer.

Une histoire d’eau is Godard implementing his humor via Brechtian technique for the first time (?) as his directorial collaboration with Truffaut swings in his direction due to tampering in the editing room. Godard takes what was likely a much more narratively straightforward story and makes jarring cuts, hilariously absurd voiceover mashups, and abrasively inappropriate sound design to disrupt any sanity Truffaut likely intended. The result is perhaps the first Godardian stamp, and in some ways even more bizarre than his first few features, for better or worse. It’s vibrant filmmaking, and would be the most likely Godard short to find a place on my list, if IMDb didn’t list this as ‘61 since it wasn’t publicly shown for years after filming.

Charlotte et son Jules is the sensible predecessor to À bout de souffle, with Belmondo ranting and raving narcissistically at his girlfriend while he digs himself in a psychological rabbit hole of paranoia that leaves him existentially barren, a self-fulfilling prophecy many of his characters would partake in as they find comfort in the intellectual side, sacrificing the emotional to compensate.

I’ve seen a fair amount of Rohmer’s as well, but only one really has a shot at making my list (although I’ll have to revisit La Sonate à Kreutzer) and that is his first film Bérénice, a strange adaption of Poe, involving a man’s bizarre obsession with his partner’s teeth. It’s been a good six months or so since I’ve seen it, but I recall being unexpectedly overwhelmed with amusement. Recommended to fans of the nouvelle vague and weird shorts in general.

Unfortunately I found Bérénice rather amateurish, and hated Living it Up. No matter how much I like him, remaking Nothing Sacred with Lewis in the Lombard role was starting out behind the eight ball and none of the choices here were improvements. Perhaps the 50s will be the decade where our Marx Brothers mirror act falls apart!

Sirk is so massively, absurdly over-valued these days as a "subversive" director that I hesitate to even go there again, but removing the ridiculous burden placed upon him by those who can only appreciate studio system conventions through a veil of superiority, he could be a very good director and did make his best films in this decade. I doubt I'll have room for Has Anybody Seen My Gal? (though putting it in your Top 10 is the kind of admirable insanity I can approve of), but certainly everyone deserves to see Charles Coburn dance at least once in their life

But I don't want to dwell on negativity. Two of the biggest discoveries for me in recent years from this decade are Spanish-language films: Bunuel's El and Leopoldo Torre Nilsson's La casa del ángel.

Based on a board search, at least, La casa del ángel is the best film virtually none of you have seen. Nilsson's portrait of Catholic guilt is superb, the direction and cinematography stunningly beautiful, and it features my new favorite scene of someone watching a movie: Our young protagonist is sent by an overprotective family member to see a Gish sister movie since they're safely wholesome, only to be shown a Valentino movie. We then see the young girl's sexual awakening in real time unfold as she absorbs the on-screen antics. A tremendous moment. Everything with Elsa Daniel is so good that you can be excused for zoning out during all the stupid political b-story stuff. The last five minutes of this film are, uh, a Von Trier-level choice. Take that as you will. The only circulating copy of this film is rough, but watch it anyways and marvel that there's somehow no money to restore a would-be masterpiece like this (and it looks about one generation away from crumbling to dust like a relic in an Indiana Jones adventure) but labels keep ponying up for Z-grade monster rape garbage and new scans of movies already out on Blu-ray eight times over

As for El, well, here's what a full-throated satiric response to melodramatic conventions looks like, as Bunuel tears apart those couples who self-further their own misery on either side of an abusive relationship. The pair of scenes where each spouse seeks advice from a trusted confidant and immediately discards it belongs in a museum of narrative self-reflexivity-- maybe the single funniest moment of Bunuel's career

Can anyone recommend more great untapped Spanish-language cinema from this decade worth checking out? It's admittedly a collection of (multiple) national cinemas I know little about beyond the major figures

With you 100% on El (have you seen any of his other '50s films?), still need to check out the Nilsson

I've seen about half of the films Bunuel released in this decade, looking forward to patching that up since I couldn't get to it for the Auteur List a few years back

Love El and Nazarin for Bunuel this decade. Ensayo de un crimen and Los Olvidados are terrific too, but after creating a tentative list it’s clear that there are too many great films that’ll be left off. I enjoyed the amateurishness of the Rohmer, which was part of the appeal in matching the ridiculousness of the material! Still, I can’t see it placing now- nor probably any of the Lewis/Tashlins, even the ones far better than something like Living it Up, whose merits come with being surprisingly decent in lieu of the missing pieces- though before you write off our Marx mirror act wait till you hear my passionate advocacy for Peyton Place.

Die Ratten (1955 - Robert Siodmak):

Started off my 1950s viewing with this for an inauspicious start. Set after the Second World War, the film tells the story of a young girl in the Soviet zone who is made pregnant by an unseen lover who had disappeared off to the West. She's destitute and is taken in my someone a woman and her brother who we at first think is doing it to be kind, but we soon learn that there's an ulterior motive: the woman is in a childless relationship and wants to adopt the girl's future baby to cover for her repeated inability to carry a child for a full term. As one might expect, as much as the girl may be placated to partake in this scheme, for the the price of travel documents and money, she soon has regrets and falls into conflict with the woman and her brother.

It's not the greatest film, much of the acting is unconvincing and the plot is all too obvious. It won't be anywhere near my list, but it's largely set at Christmas and New Year though, so save it for a weeks and make it part of alternative festive viewing! If you don't have access to the backchannels, I can share the Arte HDTV rip with fan subs.

domino harvey wrote: Mon Dec 02, 2019 5:39 amBased on a board search, at least, La casa del ángel is the best film virtually none of you have seen. Nilsson's portrait of Catholic guilt is superb, the direction and cinematography stunningly beautiful, and it features my new favorite scene of someone watching a movie: Our young protagonist is sent by an overprotective family member to see a Gish sister movie since they're safely wholesome, only to be shown a Valentino movie. We then see the young girl's sexual awakening in real time unfold as she absorbs the on-screen antics. A tremendous moment. Everything with Elsa Daniel is so good that you can be excused for zoning out during all the stupid political b-story stuff. The last five minutes of this film are, uh, a Von Trier-level choice. Take that as you will. The only circulating copy of this film is rough, but watch it anyways and marvel that there's somehow no money to restore a would-be masterpiece like this (and it looks about one generation away from crumbling to dust like a relic in an Indiana Jones adventure) but labels keep ponying up for Z-grade monster rape garbage and new scans of movies already out on Blu-ray eight times over

Pretty sure you have recommended this before, otherwise someone else did for it to appear on my watchlist. I'll watch this next. Starting with titles with no extras to add to my backlog!

Bunuel's Susana will def be on my list, very possibly Nazarin also.

TMDaines wrote: Mon Dec 02, 2019 2:37 pm Pretty sure you have recommended this before, otherwise someone else did for it to appear on my watchlist. I'll watch this next. Starting with titles with no extras to add to my backlog!

It's on Rosenbaum's list of essential cinema which is the only other place I've seen someone mentioning it. It's nice to see someone else give it some love. I'll second everything domino already said (well put!) including just how bad the only available print looks. Well worth checking out regardless.

TMDaines: I gave a brief recommendation in the thread on South American Cinema in response to a post about Nilsson’s films potentially being restored. I initially sought it out because it placed on Cahiers du Cinema’s year-end List