TO SIR, WITH LOVE (1967)

During my formative teenage years, I developed a fondness for the British cinema of the mid-to-late 1960s. These films spanned several genres: the serious spy film (The Deadly Affair); social satire (Nothing But the Best); quirky thriller (Bunny Lake Is Missing); and pop culture comedy (Georgy Girl). The only thing they shared was a healthy dose of cynicism and impeccable British casts. So, it seems ironic that one of my favorite films of this period is an upbeat, almost sentimental, tale starring a mainstream American actor.

In a role seemingly tailored for him, Sidney Poitier plays Mark Thackeray, a young engineer looking for a job. Unable to find one in his chosen profession, he accepts temporary employment as a teacher in an inner-city London school. It’s a bleak situation—the students are out of control, most of the teachers are burned out, and the school reflects the poverty of the surrounding neighborhood.

Thackeray’s initial attempts to reach his students fail miserably. He finally concludes that the teens act childish because they’re treated as children. He starts showing them respect and demands the same of them. He tosses out the curriculum and teaches his students about life. In the end, Thackeray becomes a teacher and his students become adults.

Cynics will no doubt criticize To Sir, With Love as simple-minded and obvious. Perhaps, it is, but the story is put across with such conviction and professionalism that it’s impossible to ignore its many charms. In particular, a subplot involving an attractive student (Judy Geeson) who develops a crush on Thackeray is handled impeccably. Its only flaw is that Poitier and Geeson have such a natural chemistry that one almost wishes a romance could work out between them (but then, To Sir, With Love would have been a very different film).

The film’s theme, sung by Lulu (who plays one of the students), became a huge hit. Director Clavell must have recognized the song’s potential—it’s heard multiple times through the picture. In one scene, it’s played over a montage of Thackeray taking his students to a museum. The scene looks very much like the world’s first music video.

Sidney Poitier is one of my favorite actors of the 1960s, with memorable performances in films like A Patch of Blue, Lilies in the Field, and In the Heat of the Night. Judy Geeson went on to play a major role in the vastly entertaining British miniseries Poldark and Poldark II. When my wife and I were in London in 1987, we saw Lulu in a production of the stage musical Peter Pan. She played Peter and she still sounded great.

* Sorry for the re post. Something went screwy when I deleted a video that was no longer available. I' am glad that I did not loose the article to cyber land. *

One-Eyed Jacks: The Only Film Directed by Brando

Movie buffs and Western fans will want to check out Marlon Brando’s flawed, overlong—but always interesting—directorial effort. Brando took over the reins after getting Stanley Kubrick fired as director. It was a rocky production, according to most sources, with an ever-changing screenplay (Rod Serling and Sam Peckinpah worked on early drafts). There’s an even a story that Brando had the cast and crew vote on how to end it. When Brando completed the film, Paramount was dissatisfied with the result and recut it. Brando never directed again.

The plot is a familiar one. After robbing a bank in Mexico, outlaw partners Rio (Brando) and Dad (Karl Malden) are surrounded by a posse. Dad goes for help, but decides along the way that his best chance for survival is to abandon his friend. Rio gets captured and spends five years in a Mexican prison. When he escapes, he heads to Monterey to rob a bank and kill Dad—who has reformed, become the town sheriff, and settled down with a wife and stepdaughter.

To compensate for the tired revenge plot, Brando focuses on the unique setting and the characters’ relationships. I can’t think of another “conventional” Western with a coastal setting. Charles Lang, Jr.’s exquisite photography (he earned an Oscar nomination) captures the beauty of the ocean (even Dad’s house is located on the beach).

And the waves crashing on the shore seem to reflect the inner turmoil of the characters. Rio plays a cruel deception on Dad’s stepdaughter Louisa, but feels remorse immediately afterwards. Dad’s fear of Rio is mixed with guilt over doublecrossing his friend. Louisa’s mother lies to Dad to protect her daughter, even at the expense of losing her husband’s trust.

The ending plays like a hastily-constructed one (which it probably was). But the poetic beauty of the closing scene on the beach reminds one that even when it’s being conventional, One-Eyed Jacks is different. That’s why it’s a movie worth seeing.

MURIEL'S WEDDING (1995)

Before he directed the Julia Roberts hit comedy My Best Friend’s Wedding (1997), Australian filmmaker P.J. Hogan crafted this quirky, charming ode to feminine friendship and the joys of ABBA music. Like Strictly Ballroom (1992), another Aussie crowd-pleaser, Muriel’s Wedding features eccentric characters, dysfunctional families, and actor Bill Hunter. However, Muriel’s Wedding differs significantly in overall tone, effortlessly shifting back and forth between comedy and drama.

The film’s protagonist is Muriel Heslop (Toni Collette), a plain-looking young woman with a severe shortage of self-esteem. Her father, a local politician who fancies himself a bigwig, constantly berates Muriel—even calling her a “deadweight” in front of strangers. Her “friends” call her fat and criticize her hair style, clothes, and preference for ’70s music. She longs to leave the town of Porpoise Spit and get married.

Muriel realizes part of her dream after befriending Rhonda (Rachel Griffiths), a free spirit who shares Muriel’s love for ABBA. The girls move to Sydney and enjoy an interlude of working-class bliss before a series of unforeseen events change both their lives. There is indeed a wedding, but it’s not what one expects—and that surprising quality is what makes Muriel’s Wedding such a delight (well, that plus watching Muriel and Rhonda, dressed as the ABBA girls, lip-synching to “Waterloo”).

Toni Collette, in her first starring role, transforms Muriel from an awkward loner to a confident adult who finally learns what’s important in her life. In later film roles, Collette would continue to display her amazing versatility, acting in costume dramas (Emma), suspense films (The Sixth Sense), and comedy (About a Boy).

Writer-director Hogan displays a sure hand throughout, especially in a crucial scene that goes from funny to serious in a matter of seconds. His clever use of music adds sparkle to several scenes (e.g., ABBA’s “I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do” played during a wedding). Hogan would display his canny use of music again in the underrated Unconditional Love and My Best Friend’s Wedding; my favorite scene in the latter film is when the wedding party joins Rupert Everett as he serenades Julie Roberts with “I Say a Little Prayer.”

Except for Scotland’s Bill Forsyth, Aussie filmmakers had the market for quirky comedy-dramas cornered in the 1980s and 1990s. Check out Muriel’s Wedding and Strictly Ballroom to see why. They’d make a great double-feature.