Film Review: CAPE FEAR (1962, J. Lee Thompson)

Stars: 5 of 5.

Running Time: 105 minutes.

Notable Cast or Crew:  Gregory Peck, Robert Mitchum, Martin Balsam (PSYCHO, DEATH WISH 3), Telly Savalas (KOJAK, VIOLENT CITY), Polly Bergen (THE WINDS OF WAR, CRY-BABY), Lori Martin (THE CHASE, NATIONAL VELVET the TV series), directed by J. Lee Thompson (THE GUNS OF NAVARONE, DEATH WISH 4: THE CRACKDOWN).  Screenplay by James R. Webb (HOW THE WEST WAS WON, THE BIG COUNTRY), and adapted from the novel by John D. MacDonald.

Tag-line: "Their ordeal of terror triggers the screen's most savage war of nerves!"

Best one-liner:  "I got somethin' planned for your wife and kid that they ain't nevah gonna forget.  They ain't nevah gonna forget it, and neither are you, counselor.  Nevah!"

If you haven't seen CAPE FEAR (the '62 original), then by all means, see it immediately.  It's a brutal, Hitchockian thriller (with a nightmarishly evocative Bernard Herrmann soundtrack) that contains one of filmdom's great villains and possesses a jaw-dropping mean streak that's somehow only amplified by the production code's constraints against explicit sex or violence.  Now, today's review is going to mostly be a screen capture tribute dedicated to the sleaze and sadism of super-scary Bob Mitchum, but I have a little housekeeping to do first.  

First, a note about the director:  J. Lee Thompson was an English playwright and filmmaker-craftsman whose most respected productions are probably CAPE FEAR and THE GUNS OF NAVARONE, both from the early 60s.  He went on to direct the latter two of the five original PLANET OF THE APES films, and in 1976, with ST. IVES, began a treasured nine-film collaboration with the one and only Charles Bronson.  His career ended with a stint as a resident director at Cannon Films, and eight out of his nine final films were released under the glorious Cannon banner.  He went out with the bang that was KINJITE: FORBIDDEN SUBJECTS.

Second, I have to point out the wonderful piece of trivia that Ernest Borgnine was the first choice for the role (the villainous Max Cady) which would ultimately go to Mitchum.   We totally could've been looking at this:

(as seen in FROM HERE TO ETERNITY)

instead of this.  Now, I think Mitchum is the right choice, but make no mistake– I'd watch the hell out of a Borgnine CAPE FEAR.

Third, there's a conversation between newly-sprung convict Mitchum and the lawyer who testified against him (Gregory Peck) whereupon Mitchum begins to muse about exactly how much money each incarcerated year of his life might be worth.  Fans of the first season of TWIN PEAKS will recognize it as near-verbatim inspiration for a similar scene between Hank Jennings (Chris Mulkey) and Josie Packard (Joan Chen) as they discuss his post-prison future.

But that's enough talk– onward to a pictorial collage of Bob Mitchum guaranteed to curdle your blood and curl your hair.  I call it, "THINGS ABOUT WHICH BOB MITCHUM GIVES A DAMN AND THINGS ABOUT WHICH BOB MITCHUM DOES NOT GIVE A DAMN ."

BOB MITCHUM DOES NOT GIVE A DAMN IF HE WRECKS YOUR BOWLING SCORE

BOB MITCHUM DOES NOT GIVE A DAMN IF YOU ARE MARRIED

AND BOB MITCHUM  DOES NOT GIVE A DAMN ABOUT INSINUATING THAT YOU ARE A PROSTITUTE


BOB MITCHUM DOES NOT GIVE A DAMN ABOUT SECOND-HAND SMOKE

BOB MITCHUM DOES NOT GIVE A DAMN IF HE MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE BY WEARING NOTHING BUT GIANT OLD MAN UNDIES AND A PANAMA HAT

BOB MITCHUM DOES NOT GIVE A DAMN ABOUT KILLING YOU WITH HIS BARE HANDS, SLOW

AND HE DOES NOT GIVE A DAMN ABOUT YOUR PRETENTIOUS INSULTS

BOB MITCHUM DOES NOT GIVE A DAMN ABOUT PERFECTING HIS BAR SLOUCH

BOB MITCHUM DOES NOT GIVE A DAMN ABOUT LYING TO AIRLINE EMPLOYEES



BOB MITCHUM DOES NOT GIVE A DAMN ABOUT CHECKING OUT YOUR TEENAGE DAUGHTER


AND BOB MITCHUM DOES NOT GIVE A DAMN THAT HIS BEER IS WARMER THAN ROOM TEMPERATURE

BOB MITCHUM DOES NOT GIVE A DAMN IF YOU DON'T LIKE BEING DROWNED

AND HE DEFINITELY DOES NOT GIVE A DAMN ABOUT GETTING WET

BOB MITCHUM DOES NOT GIVE A DAMN, IN GENERAL

 HE JUST DOES NOT GIVE A DAMN.

Interesting. Oh, so I guess my title was a bit of a misnomer, since Bob Mitchum does not appear to give a damn about anythin–

BOB MITCHUM GIVES A DAMN ABOUT PEANUTS

Five stars.  And I'll grab some salted peanuts for you, Bob– in the shell.

-Sean Gill

Film Review: VIOLENT CITY (1970, Sergio Sollima)

Stars: 3.9 of 5.
Running Time: 100 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Charles Bronson, Jill Ireland, Telly Savalas, George Savalas, Michel Constantin, Umberto Orsini. Music by Ennio Morricone. Screenplay co-written by Lina Wertmüller (SWEPT AWAY, SEVEN BEAUTIES).
Tag-line: "The Godfather" Gave You an Offer You Couldn't Refuse. "The Family" Gives You No Alternative." Classic.
Best one-liner: “You shouldn’t tell daddy lies.”

Sergio Sollima’s VIOLENT CITY is a fairly standard Eurocrime flick full of the standard revenge seekers, codes of honor, jealousy, femmes fatale, mob bosses, and absurd dubbing. But there are a few elements- including the squinty, stoic presence of Charles Bronson; the New Orleans locale; the freaky patchwork of flashbacks, hallucinations, and psychedlia; the unnverving, animalistic, avant-garde Ennio Morricone score; and a shocking, stylish, expressionistic, take no prisoners finale- which really push this thing over the edge. It's no REVOLVER, but it's certainly well worth a watch. (In fact, at times it almost seems to be a loose remake of my all-time favorite noir, OUT OF THE PAST?!) But as in many (Italian) films of this type, it's not the big car chases or the big shootouts that win you over-


Though the shootouts and chases are by no means bad– note the use of frightened children.

-instead it's the bizarro subtleties, eclectic performances, and screwy flourishes. So here's 11 reasons why Sollima's VIOLENT CITY is a place worth visiting:

#1. Bronson is not scared of tarantulas. Or at least mind-blowingly outré tarantula puppets (its unsettling movements must be seen to be believed). In a display of raw machismo, he allows the monster spider to slowly walk past his crotch as he ponders the meaning of his life from the confines of a jail cell.


What's even more ridiculous is that this scene is really well done. The Morricone score drones with suspenseful foreboding; Bronson's cell-mates watch in jaw-clenching horror– and the scene ends with a masterfully jarring *WHOMP* of a finale.

#2. Morricone twangs. I don't care if Lee van Cleef is unbuttoning his saddle to reveal an arsenal of guns or Bronson is revealing that his picnic basket is full of weapons- Morricone will provide a booming, thunderous TWANNNG-G-G! to accompany it. His sense of humor is often apparent in his scores, and VIOLENT CITY is no exception- but he'll quickly wipe away that smirk and replace it with a sonorous growl if he has to...

#3. Telly Savalas. As a suave New Orleansonian mob boss, Savalas gets lots of massages and dispenses fatherly advice to Bronson ("You shouldn't tell daddy lies").

In fact, he's always making references to how Bronson is some greenhorn who can't remember the good ole days (“You wouldn’t understand, you’re too young").

Well, for starters, Bronson is a year older than Savalas; but secondly, Bronson looks like a well-grizzled war vet shitkicker who's no stranger to the insides of a coal mine (well...that's because it's all true), whereas Savalas kinda looks like Mr. Potato Head.

I think it's the glasses that really pull it all together.

In all seriousness, though, Savalas is great. He collaborated four times with Bronson, and here, his smooth, skeezy, and hobnobby presence is an excellent foil to Bronson's laconic badass.

#4. George Savalas, Telly's brother. What is this, FORCED TO KILL?

#5. Bronson's disdainful refusal of a girl drink from Savalas- which, in a single moment, perfectly lays out the relationship between the two men.


#6. Lina Wertmüller's work on the screenplay. An interesting choice for co-writer on an action flick, Wertmüller's solo work tackles politics, gender dynamics, and the natural forces which drive men and women alike to act so despicably, again and again. Her influence comes through most clearly in the semi-complex love/hate hate/love relationship between Bronson and Jill Ireland's character.

#7. Sleazy Antonioni. When beautiful Italo-cinematography collides with genre cinema, a sort of seedy, art house aesthetic emerges, which I clearly like quite a bit.



If Bronson were in L'AVVENTURA, it'd probably look a lot like this.


#8. Bronson's lawyer is hitting on him the entire movie. I'm not sure that Bronson was aware of it- in fact, I'm certain he wasn't, but there's an extremely awkward, one-sided homoerotic dynamic at play here.

Umberto Orsini: unrequited love at the tennis court.


Bronson: flattered, but possibly unable to even fathom the concept of same-sex attraction.

#9. Bronson passive-aggressively stomps on Jill Ireland's photos a full 32 years before Asia Argento would aggressive-aggressively stomp on photos of Vincent Gallo in SCARLET DIVA.


#10. Bronson as a sicky.

I'm not sure I can exactly pinpoint it, but there's something extremely clichéd and surreal about this image, which is fantastic. Get the man an ice pack, please.

#11. Not exactly part of the film, but in an interview with Sollima on the Anchor Bay DVD, he is reminiscing about how Jon Voight was originally considered for the Bronson role. Only he doesn't say "Jon Voight"– he says "Angelina Jolie's dad."

Annnnd on that note... nearly four stars.

-Sean Gill