Johnny Guitar (1954)

 

Diabolique (Les diaboliques) 1954

 

Animal Farm (1954)

 

A Star Is Born (1954)

 

On the Waterfront (1954) ***

Many modern day viewers of director Elia Kazan’s On the Waterfront (1954) don’t really know what the film is truly about because they are unfamiliar with such things as the Red Scare and method acting.  Yet, for students of film history, there is no doubt that On the Waterfront is Kazan’s own personal defense of his naming of names at the HUAC hearings and his belief in the Method acting (although he’d probably not refer to it as such)technique.  Perhaps he and screenwriter Budd Schulberg deserved the derision they received for giving the HUAC Committee the names of their friends and colleagues, but that does not negate the fact that they created one of the best dramatic films of their generation.  The twelve Academy Award nominations that On the Waterfront received were not a reward for Kazan’s being a “loyal American”—they were earned by mesmerizing actors (Best Actor winner, Marlon Brando; nominated Best Supporting Actors, Lee J. Cobb, Karl Malden, Rod Steiger; and, Best Supporting Actress winner, Eva Marie Saint), a visionary cinematographer (Best Cinematography winner, Boris Kaufman), a gifted editor (Best Editing winner, Gene Milford), a creative art director (Best Art Direction winner, Richard Day), an innovative composer (Best Score nominee, Leonard Bernstein), a daring producer (Best Picture winner, Sam Spiegel), a brilliant screenwriter (Best Screenplay winner, Schulberg), and a revolutionary director (Best Director winner, Kazan). Deride and despise Kazan’s personal actions if you must,  but don’t hate the film because it’s an apologetic allegory of Kazan’s actions; instead, embrace it for the striking movie that it is.

The story, based on Malcolm Johnson’s Pulitzer Prize winning Crime on the Waterfront article series that appeared in the New York Sun in 1949, confronts mob corruption in a longshoremen union.  Johnny Friendly (Lee J. Cobb) is a menacing union boss who will stop at nothing to keep control of his cash cow—the longshoremen whom he exploits, bullies, and terrorizes.  When one of the longshoremen, Joey Doyle (Ben Wagner), starts talking to the Crime Commission (Kazan’s stand-in for HUAC), Johnny enlists his lawyer and right-hand man, Charley “The Gent” Malloy (Rod Steiger), to get his brother, Terry (Marlon Brando) to lure Joey unto the rooftop of his building, unaware that Johnny’s goons intend to throw Joey off of it.  A former boxer who seems a bit dim-witted, Terry finds himself filled with remorse over Joey’s death. This remorse is only exacerbated after Joey’s sister, Edie (Eva Marie Saint), becomes the object of Terry’s affection and the local priest, Father Barry (Karl Malden), encourages the men to speak out about the union’s corrupt and murderous practices.  Terry must decide if he should remain D&D (deaf and dumb) or take a stand against what he knows is wrong, even if some of his friends, and even his brother, are brought down by his “ratting”. 

So, obviously Terry’s dilemma is a stand-in for Kazan’s decision to give the names of “known” Communists to the HUAC Committee.  It does irk me a bit that he chose a union organization, be it a corrupt one, to represent Communism, but since unionism is synonymous to some to socialism/communism I suppose it made sense to Kazan and Schulberg (even though Arthur Miller did write the first screenplay, titled The Hook, so maybe this was just a coincidence). Whatever the case may be, the fact remains that both Terry and Kazan “ratted”, but, at least in Terry’s case, for a good reason—Kazan, of course, believed he was justified as well.  Perhaps it was in bad taste to make a film that attempted to justify ruining the lives of friends and colleagues, and I expect that is why Kazan’s name, who’s been dead for over ten years now, is still hissed at today by some.  Yet, there’s more to On the Waterfront than Kazan’s own personal allegory.

On the Waterfront is considered the masterpiece of Method acting.  Kazan, along with Cheryl Crawford and Robert Lewis, founded the Actors Studio is 1947, which followed the teachings of Konstantin Stanislavski, a Russian dramatist. Method acting, as Stanislavski’s teachings later became known as, emphasizes that a performer stay in the moment and that the internal was more important than the external.  There is no room for over-the-top gestures and emoting in Method acting. Instead, actors/actresses draw on their subconscious memories of pain and pleasure to create a character, which they shape with precisely defined mannerisms, voice inflections/tones, and body language.  As such, the performer can develop characters that transcend labels, such as hero/heroine, damsel-in-distress, villain, or clown. While Kazan and two of his earliest students, Brandon and Malden, had already achieved success with A Streetcar Named Desire (1951) both on the stage and screen, it was On the Waterfront which cemented the “new” acting style and convinced many critics that there was a method to the madness—there was a reason why Brando sounded inarticulate and slouched about. 

Clearly, Brando is the star of the film.  No actor played inner turmoil better, and no character had as much as Terry Malloy.  Still, Malden’s turn as Father Barry is probably my favorite performance in the film.  The Jesus on Calvary speech he gives in the hull of the ship after Dugan (Pat Henning) is killed is filled with such indignant rage that it raises the hair on my arms each time I see it.  I also really enjoy the few scenes that we get to see Steiger in—at this point in his career he was still a nuanced actor and not a complete ham, as evidenced by his turn in The Specialist (1994).

My least favorite performances come from Saint and Cobb. For me, Saint’s Edie is just too hysterical in her quest to find out what happened to her brother.  I’ll admit that I have never been a fan of hers, but at least I could tolerate her in North by Northwest (1959).  In On the Waterfront I find her voice to be even more shrill than usual and her uncanny way of making you dislike an otherwise likable character almost criminal.  More surprisingly to me, at least, is that I was not completely enamored with Cobb’s turn as Johnny Friendly.  For me, there is a disconnect from his performance in the first two-thirds of the film and the last third of the movie.  Cobb was a character actor who specialized in playing menacing SOBs, so Johnny was the perfect role for him.  However, his last few scenes in On the Waterfront seem overacted and don’t come off as true to me.

As mentioned above, I thoroughly enjoyed the Christ on Calvary speech and it’s probably my favorite scene in the movie. Of course, the most quoted scene is the one between Terry and Charley in the back of the cab, where Terry says, “I could’a had class. I could’a been a contender. I could’a been somebody, instead of a bum, which is what I am, let's face it. It was you, Charley.”  The resignation that both Steiger and Brando display in this scene is thoroughly engrossing to watch. 

And, then there are the scenes which bear the hallmarks of a Kazan picture.  The wandering camera along the shoreline as Terry talks with Father Barry, a conversation which we are not privy to, and the confession scene between Terry and Edie probably bear the Kazan signature the most.  Throughout the story guilt has been building up inside of Terry to the point that he’s ready to explode, and so when he does come clean to Edie all the audience hears is a squealing steam whistle.  For me, although some may disagree, this squealing whistle can be construed in two ways: 1) it represent Edie’s rage at what the man she loves has done, or 2) it symbolizes the burden of truth being lifted from the core of Terry’s being. Kazan was a fan of ambiguity, so you read the scene however you want, but you do it without any dialogue, as no words could really express the emotions of the characters.

So, let’s get to the elephant in the room: why did I only give On the Waterfront three out of four stars?  Reason number one, I don’t like how Eva Marie Saint plays Edie.  Reason number two, and 95% of why I always leave the film with a bad taste in my mouth, is the ending.  There is a complete disconnect in the last ten minutes of the film. When Terry goes to the dock after testifying and then every last man shuns him, I get it. But, when he confronts Johnny Friendly and all the men seem to be standing around letting Johnny’s goons beat the crap out of Terry and THEN the men refuse to go into work without Terry leading them in makes absolutely no sense to me.  Perhaps this was Kazan’s own personal vindication scene—he spoke out against Communism, found himself ostracized by former friends and colleagues (although it got much worse after people started speaking out about the evils of the Red Scare in the late 1960s), but still had the personal fortitude and courage to continue to stand up for what he thought was right.  Whatever his intent may have been, the ending is sanctimonious and unpleasant to watch—especially after the first 98 minutes had been so terrific.

Seven Samurai (1954) **1/2

Massive is the word that comes to mind when I think of acclaimed Japanese director Akira Kurosawa’s Seven Samurai (1954).  Everything was massive: the set construction, the cast, the battle sequences, and the film’s running time of 207 minutes.  It was Kurosawa’s first samurai picture, and it set the bar for all others that would follow. Not only did it influence an entire generation of Japanese filmmakers, but it was also a blueprint for future Hollywood films like The Dirty Dozen (1967) and The Magnificent Seven (1960).

Set in 1587 Japan during one of its many civil war periods, the story is a simple one: a farming village of peasants are tired of having their crops and women carried off by bandits every harvesting season, so they decide to hire a samurai for protection.  They end up hiring seven samurai to not only defend the village, but to teach them how to do it for themselves.  Kurosawa refused to shoot the scenes in the village inside a soundstage and made his studio, Toho, construct an entire village on the Izu Peninsula. The scale of this endeavor was vast, and it only added to the hallmark of Kurosawa’s gritty realistic style.  The overlooking shots of the village from the surrounding mountains and forest is a testament to how much work went into building it. As a result, So Matsuyama was deservedly nominated for an Academy Award for Best Art Direction.

The cast is comprised of a core group of characters and hundreds of extras—as well as a stable of horses.  The seven samurai are played by Kurosawa regulars. Takashi Shimura (Ikiru, 1952) is Kambei, the reflective leader of the group. Toshiro Mifune (Rashomon, 1950) is Kikuchiyo, the comical but short-tempered wannabe samurai.  Daisuke Kato (Rashomon) is Shichiroji, a stoic man and good friend of Kambei. Isao Kimura (High and Low, 1963), is Katsushiro, a young warrior who wants to learn from others.  Yoshio Inaba is Gorobei, Kambei’s second-in-command. Minoru Chiaki (Throne of Blood, 1957) is Hayashida, a cheerful man who keeps up the group morale.  And, Seiji Miyaguchi (Ikiru) is Kyuzo, the complete badass swordsman of the group.  All seven men represent the different elements of the human personality. While Mifune’s Kikuchiyo is perhaps the most memorable of the seven, due to his character’s over-the-top personality, I think all of the men bring an incalculable amount of humanity to the roles they are playing.  They all embody the samurai code of bushido: frugality, loyalty, honor, and martial arts master. 

It is interesting to watch how the samurai prepare the peasants for the impending siege.  They instruct them on how to build fortifications and how to properly use a weapon.  Along the way they teach them discipline and responsibility.  All of these things are abundantly important for the massive three-day battle that they engage in with the bandits.  Trenches are dug and abatis and cheval de frise are constructed as means of defense, but eventually hand-to-hand combat is required.  Kurosawa’s decision to have the decisive battle scene take place in a torrential downpour was inspired.  Chaotic and frenetic, there is a cleansing element to it as well—by standing up for themselves the peasants have had years of misery washed away from them.  They are reborn.

My biggest complaint with Seven Samurai is that it is way too long. I know many people say the pace is quick, but they must have seen the edited version, because if they saw the film at its original length I can’t see how they would say that.  Had Kurosawa cut about thirty minutes the film would have run more smoothly for me.  Yet, other than it being a complete endurance test, Seven Samurai is a treat to watch.  As mentioned above, the battle scenes are intricately choreographed and shot from varying angles, which gives the viewer a bird’s eye view of the intricacies of battle design and implementation. 

Seven Brides for Seven Brothers (1954) ****

 

(This article is from guest contributor Rick29 and first appeared at http://classic-film-tv.blogspot.com/.  The rating in the title is my own.)

The Oregon Territory in 1850 provides the setting for this high-energy, colorful musical based on a Benet short story (which, in turn, was inspired by Plutarch’s “The Abduction of the Sabine Women”). Adam Pontipee (Howard Keel) is a hard-working “mountain man” who comes to town for supplies—and a wife. After announcing his plans to a storeowner, he adds: “I’m in no hurry…I got all afternoon.” He quickly settles on Millie (Jane Powell), a comely—but sassy—lass who chops wood, cooks, and milks cows. For Millie, it’s love at first sight and the chance to take care of her own home.

The honeymoon gets off to a rocky start when Millie discovers that Adam has six brothers. “Y’all live around here?” she asks. “Not ’round. Here,” replies one of the brothers. After overcoming her initial shock, Millie grows fond of her brothers-in-law…until they listen to Adam and take extreme measures to get their own brides.
The score by Johnny Mercer and Gene de Paul is a tuneful one. “Wonderful, Wonderful Day” and “When You’re in Love” are bright, pretty love songs. But Mercer’s best lyrics are reserved for “Lonesome Polecat,” a woeful lament sung by the lovesick brothers (a sample line: “A man can’t sleep when he sleeps with sheep”).

Michael Kidd’s spectacular choreography provides a perfect complement to the music. Kidd insisted that all the dance numbers derive from what the brothers were doing. Most critics consider the barn-raising scene to be the film’s showstopper. But I favor the dance where the brothers try to outshine their rivals from the town and the aforementioned “Lonesome Polecat,” in which the brothers cut and saw wood in unison with the musical beats.

The cast is uniformly fine, with Powell and Keel generating the required chemistry as the romantic leads. Four of the brothers were accomplished dancers (I think Matt Mattox, who plays Caleb, is the best). Russ Tamblyn, who had no prior dancing experience (he was an acrobat), is quite appealing as the youngest brother. It’s hard to believe it’s the same actor who would later played a key role in the wonderfully weird TV series Twin Peaks.

I first saw Seven Brides on The CBS Late Movie in the mid-1970s. I liked it well enough then, but my fondness for it has grown significantly over the years. See a good print of it, if possible, so you can enjoy the vibrant colors. Seven Brides for Seven Brothers inspired a mediocre, short-lived TV series and a very successful Broadway play.

It has also played in a key role in a running joke between my mother-in-law and me. In one scene in Seven Brides, Jane Powell's character fixes the brothers an incredible breakfast with everything you can imagine: flapjacks, sausage, eggs, biscuits, potatoes, etc. So when visiting my's wife folks, if my mother-in-law asks if I want something to eat in the morning, I always reply: "A Jane Powell breakfast would be nice." I never get one, though. But I do get to hear a lovely laugh in response.

Carmen Jones (1954) ***

In 1954 the Supreme Court and Otto Preminger took two giant leaps forward for the Civil Rights Movement. With Brown v. Board of Education, Topeka, Kansas, the Court overruled Plessy v. Ferguson (1896) which had set up Jim Crow and the mantra of “separate but equal”. Now, all public schools had to become desegregated. By producing and directing Carmen Jones, a major studio production starring African Americans, Preminger showed Hollywood and America that a film comprised mostly of a minority cast could be hugely profitable and entertaining. The fact that he decided to carry on an affair for years with his leading lady, Dorothy Dandridge, is another issue—especially when you consider he was married and she was emotionally troubled. Nonetheless, this is a film that holds major cultural and historical significance and has been preserved by the National Film Registry.

Based on Bizet’s operatic masterpiece, Carmen, this musical stars Dorothy Dandridge in an Oscar nominated performance as Carmen Jones, man-eater extraordinaire. At the start of the film we meet Cindy Lou (Olga James), a sweet girl who goes to say goodbye to her boyfriend Joe (Harry Belafonte), who is leaving for flight school. They decide to get married before he leaves, but a complication arises when Carmen Jones enters the picture. Oozing sexuality and attitude, Carmen is either wanted or detested by every man she comes into contact. One of those who detest her, mainly because she blew him off, is Sgt. Brown (Brock Peters). So when Carmen gets into a fight with a co-worker for reporting her late, Sgt. Brown cancels Joe's leave and orders him to take Carmen to the authorities in Masonville.

On the ride, Carmen makes several passes at Joe, but he rebuffs her advances. This just seems to entice Carmen more—you know the lyrics to “Dat’s Love” right?

You go for me and I'm taboo
But if you're hard to get, I'll go for you
And if I do, then you are through
my baby, that's the end of you

In an attempt to cut the trip short, Joe decides to take a dangerous road to Masonville and the jeep ends up in a river. Carmen suggests they go to her grandmother’s house and catch the train to Masonville later that evening. In a scene reminiscent of Adam and Eve, except this time a peach is substituted for an apple, Carmen lures Joe into bed by brushing mud off his pants and giving him a peach. When he awakens the next morning he finds a note saying she loves him but she’s skipped town because she doesn’t want to go to jail. So instead, Joe finds himself locked up for allowing her to escape. When Cindy Lou visits him she sees a package with a rose inside sent from Carmen and she’s had enough.

While Joe is working in the stockade, Carmen is in Louisiana working at a night club. Bored and growing impatient for Joe’s release, Carmen is tempted by flashy prizefighter Husky Miller’s (Marvin Hayes) offer to take her and her friends Frankie and Myrt (Pearl Bailey and a striking Diahann Carroll) to Chicago and to lavish diamonds and furs on her. Oddly enough, Carmen decides to wait for Joe. I suppose this is the dichotomy of Carmen—she wants to make sure she has Joe before she returns to her usual ways. Anyway, Joe walks in the door the same evening this proposition is made, but Carmen’s joy is short-lived since Joe tells her he must leave immediately for flight school. Oh, no you didn’t! Carmen can’t believe any man would leave her for flight school and flies into a rage. Just then old Sgt. Brown appears and insults Joe, and tries to leave with Carmen. Joe beats him to a pulp, but then has to flee with Carmen to Chicago to avoid going to prison for hitting a superior officer.

Wanted by the military police for desertion, Joe must hide out in a run-down rented room while Carmen can come and go as she pleases. Carmen goes to visit Frankie, who is wearing diamonds and nice clothes, at Husky's gym to borrow some money. Frankie tries to persuade Carmen to leave Joe, but she refuses. When she returns to Joe with a bag of groceries, he asks her how she got the money and they have a heated argument and Carmen leaves and goes to Husky's hotel suite. While playing cards with her friends, she draws the nine of spades. Evidently there is some sort of voodoo omen that says if you draw this card your death is imminent. As such, Carmen decides she’s going to live her last days to the hilt and takes up with Husky and a whole lot of liqueur.

Having had enough of Carmen’s wayward ways, Joe goes to the gym and orders Carmen home. When Carmen refuses to leave, Joe threatens Husky with a knife. Of course, this exposes Joe and leads the military police to start looking for him in Chicago. While Carmen helps Joe evade capture, she’s done with him. This is too much for Joe, and during one of Husky’s fights, Joe pulls Carmen into a storage closet and after she refuses to leave with him he strangles her to death with his bare hands just before the police arrive and lead him off to jail. See, that voodoo stuff ain’t no joke!

Both Belafonte and Dandridge were singers, so it might surprise some to learn that their singing was dubbed by LeVern Hutcherson and Marilynn Horne. This was done because neither Belafonte or Dandridge had the necessary voices to carry off the operatic singing. Yet, rest assured that Pearl Bailey did her own singing on "Beat Out Dat Rhythm On A Drum". All of the music is from Bizet’s original Carmen. Oscar Hammerstein II wrote the modern lyrics for the film.

Dorothy Dandridge is phenomenal as Carmen. She truly deserved her Oscar nomination—even is she didn’t do her own singing. The performance is multi-faceted in that viewers get to see her play both a sensual woman of the world as well as a woman torn by a compassionate nature towards Joe. It must have been dazzling to be the first African American woman nominated as a lead actress. It’s a shame that she had so many problems off-screen and also that she was working at a time in Hollywood when black actresses weren’t given many chances to shine. Though she did get another opportunity with Porgy and Bess, the last few years of her career and life were pretty dreary.

The music is great and the story is compelling. A truly wonderful musical that is entertaining and well-acted. In addition, the historical significance of this film is extraordinary.