1958 - Separate Tables

In the intro to my last review, I wrote about my binge of the Mad Max movies. I followed that up with another 80s franchise that has a current sequel. Recently, I rewatched the first three Beverly Hills Cop movies, before tackling the new instalment, Beverly Hills Cop: Axel F.

I enjoyed them all but, as I think seems to be the general consensus, there was somewhat of a decline between each film in the original trilogy. The latest addition to the franchise is, I feel, a perfect example of a nostalgia sequel. It captures the tone of the original while still finding a way to make it contemporary. Eddie Murphy slips back into wisecracking Foley wonderfully, and I loved seeing all the old faces (Reinhold, Ashton, Reiser, Pinchot) as well as the new ones (Gordon-Levitt, Bacon, Paige). Even the soundtrack mixes 80s hits with modern tunes. Sure, it probably won't end up on anyone's top 10 list, but for me it hit all the right nostalgic buttons.

You might also be surprised to learn that this franchise has garnered two Oscar nominations. The original was cited for Best Original Screenplay, and the second film snagged a Song nod.

Now, back to the task at hand. The final stop on our trip through 1958's Best Picture nominees is...


Separate Tables
Director:
Delbert Mann
Screenplay:
Terence Rattigan, John Gay
(based on the play by Rattigan)
Starring:
Deborah Kerr, Rita Hayworth, David Niven, Wendy Hiller, Burt Lancaster, Gladys Cooper, Cathleen Nesbitt, Felix Aylmer, Rod Taylor, Audrey Dalton
Academy Awards:
7 nominations
2 wins, for Best Actor (Niven) and Best Supporting Actress (Hiller)

At the Hotel Beauregard in coastal England, long-term resident Major Pollock (Niven) is well liked, particularly by shy Sibyl (Kerr), until a newspaper article outs him as a fraud and, worse, guilty of sexual harassment. Led by Sibyl's mother, the no-nonsense Mrs. Railton-Bell (Cooper), the other residents discuss what to do with this information, eventually putting pressure on the hotel manager, Miss Cooper (Hiller), to evict the Major.

Meanwhile, Miss Cooper's fiancé John (Lancaster), is visited by his ex-wife Anne (Hayworth). The two argue about their failed rocky marriage, though Anne's lascivious intentions are clear. Well, clear to everyone except John.

At the outset, Separate Tables introduces us to an array of characters and storylines, which had me thinking this was going to be a sort of Altman precursor. However, as the plot moves forward, the story focuses in on the two main threads. As it happens, the film is based on a pair of one-act plays, so this screen adaptation has simply merged those two stories into one. As is often the case with stage adaptations, there is plenty of talking, but it's always captivating, despite sliding into melodrama at times.

Perhaps the most fascinating part, though, is how the picture managed to get some of the content past the censors. I talked about how the same year's Cat on a Hot Tin Roof was forced to obscure some themes to its detriment, but here, the sexual allusions are hard to misunderstand. For example, when the young Charles is studying for his medical school exams, his sweetheart Jean attempts to persuade him to go for a romantic walk in the garden. He rebuffs her by saying, "How can I possibly mix anatomy with romance?" Jean gets a cheeky look in her eye and responds, "Well, that shouldn't be too difficult."

As witty and engrossing as it is, the script also remains relevant to this day. Its exploration of sexual harassment, for instance, feels particularly apposite given the reckoning we've been through as a society in the wake of the Me Too movement. (Though, I'm not sure what it says about our progress knowing that these same discussions were happening 70 years ago.) When the hotel residents come together to consider Major Pollock's fate, there are about as many opinions as there are people in the room, and twice as many questions. By the end, you'll find at least one character's opinion that you agree with but it might not be the character you thought you'd be agreeing with. The characters we assumed were decent seem to have dismissive viewpoints and vice versa. This cognitive dissonance is another master stroke of the screenplay, presenting the uncomfortable truth that nobody is purely good or purely evil. There's a lot of grey area. Indeed, the more uncomfortable truth is that even the accused must be seen in that light, too. That said, the film's ending remains a product of its time and the ambiguity the screenplay had been fomenting is set aside for essentially a clear-cut redemption story, despite the fact that Major Pollock does nothing substantial to warrant such redemption.

The cast handles these weighty themes with aplomb. Burt Lancaster and Rita Hayworth are both fantastic, working well opposite each other. There is some overacting from Deborah Kerr, though admittedly her final breakdown is incredibly moving, and the Academy gave her a Best Actress nomination for it. Two other cast members converted their Oscar nominations into wins. Wendy Hiller deservedly picked up Best Supporting Actress for her turn as the stalwart hotel manager. And David Niven (pictured) is superb, straddling the line between creep and charmer, earning himself Best Actor. Lastly, it would be remiss of me not to mention fellow Aussie Rod Taylor in an early role. He and Audrey Dalton are charming together, providing much of the film's light relief.

1958 - Gigi

In an attempt to fill some embarrassing gaps in my watch history and to avoid being an unpatriotic Australian, I finally got around to viewing a classic Aussie franchise. Yes, shamefully, until last week, I had not seen a single Mad Max movie. (Well, it's possible I saw Beyond Thunderdome as a teenager but I have no recollection of it.) I've yet to see the current instalment, Furiosa, and I fear I may have just missed my chance to see it on the big screen, but I viewed the previous four films in rapid succession and what struck me most is the clear evolution present in the series. Obviously, that's expected between the third and fourth movies since there was a gap of 30 years between them, but even the first three films, which were all released within a six-year period show a distinct progression from one to the next. The budgets evidently matured each time, but so did the filmmaking. Even the stories themselves are quite disparate.

Fury Road is the only one (so far) to receive love from the Academy, taking home six Oscars from ten nominations. One of those nominations was for Best Picture, so it will appear on this blog at some point. I know, I could just write about it now, since I've just watched it, but I'm in the middle of another review year and my organised brain refuses to do things out of order, so it'll just have to wait. 

Speaking of our current review year, next on our trip through 1958's Best Picture contenders is...


Gigi
Director:
Vincente Minnelli
Screenplay:
Alan Jay Lerner
(based on the novel by Colette)
Starring:
Leslie Caron, Maurice Chevalier, Louis Jourdan, Hermione Gingold, Eva Gabor, Jacques Bergerac, Isabel Jeans, John Abbott
Academy Awards:
9 nominations
9 wins, including Best Picture and Best Director

Life in Paris at the turn of the 20th century appears to be full of parties and romance, especially for wealthy young men like Gaston (Jourdan). While his uncle Honoré (Chevalier) encourages Gaston to enjoy his womanising lifestyle, Gaston considers everything to be a bore. With the pressure off, he is happy to keep the company of family friend Gigi (Caron), an irrepressible young woman who, while being taught how to behave like a courtesan, scoffs at the thought of actually becoming one. After a lost bet, Gaston takes Gigi on a weekend holiday, and finds himself questioning whether there might be something romantic between them.

As a modern viewer with modern sensibilities, the first thing that slaps you in the face about Gigi is how casually chauvinistic it is. I mean, I understand it was made seven decades ago and set another five decades before that, but when a film's opening musical number is a 70-year-old man singing about little girls, it certainly raises an eyebrow or two. I also understand that the high society of early 20th century France was spectacularly patriarchal, so the film is merely depicting the norms of the time, but it's somewhat jarring nonetheless.

That said, there were moments towards the end of the picture where I began to suspect the whole point of the story was to critique those misogynistic norms. Gigi is portrayed as an independently-minded woman, intent on bucking traditional courting practices. Rather than accepting her subjugated fate, she spurns her courtesan education and quite literally laughs in the face of the albeit kind man who is pursuing her. And even when she relents and agrees to play her submissive part, Gaston has second thoughts after experiencing a social night out with her. I had hoped that was leading to a moment in which he expresses how he fell in love with the free-spirited Gigi, not this obsequious doormat she was forcing herself to be, so she should return to being her inimitable self, but he stops short of that emotional confession. He does however drop the idea of keeping Gigi as his courtesan, which suggests he at least understands how demeaning such a submissive role can be. Ultimately, though, the Hollywood ending prevails, and rather than applying his newfound understanding to all women, he simply realises that Gigi alone is too good for that courtesan life and should be his wife instead. So, alas, a condemnation of patriarchy it is not. Indeed, Gigi seems to be delighted at Gaston's proposal mere moments after he rather rudely, and without explanation, walked out on her.

Now, if you can look past all that - and frankly, I wouldn't blame you if you can't - you'll actually find a charmingly entertaining movie. The orchestral music is bubbly and toe-tapping. Like fellow nominee Auntie Mame, the sets and costumes are extravagantly gorgeous. It feels like a resplendent Broadway production (and, as it turns out, it was adapted for the stage, somewhat unsuccessfully, several years later). In short, it's simply old-fashioned escapism, designed to put a smile on your face.

With legendary duo Lerner and Loewe in charge of the songs, it's not all that surprising that Gigi is heavily reminiscent of one of their other works, My Fair Lady, which had only opened on Broadway a couple of years earlier (though the film adaptation, also a Best Picture winner, was still to come). In both musicals, Loewe creates memorable tunes, while Lerner masters the art of clever rhyming lyrics. There's a decent amount of talk-singing in Gigi, paving the way for Rex Harrison. The number "She's a Girl" provides a very similar plot device in Gigi as "I've Grown Accustomed to Her Face" does in My Fair Lady. And to top it all off, "Say a Prayer for Me Tonight" was actually originally written for My Fair Lady but removed before it got to Broadway, so the pair reworked it for Gigi instead.

There's no denying the pure charm of Maurice Chevalier (pictured), which is no mean feat considering my earlier observation about "Thank Heaven for Little Girls". His welcoming grin helps to create a character with an air of gentleness and an unabashed love for life. And Chevalier is just one part of a fabulous ensemble, featuring Leslie Caron, Louis Jourdan and Hermione Gingold, all delivering naturally engaging performances. Disappointingly, despite four acting nominations at the Golden Globes (including a win for Gingold), none of the actors received an Academy Award nomination (though, Chevalier did receive a special Honorary Award that year for a lifetime of entertainment). However, in a way, the lack of acting nods helped Gigi to set a unique record on Oscar night. With nine Oscars, not only did it become the most honoured film up to that point, but it secured those wins from nine nominations, a 100% strike rate. It didn't hold the "Most Oscar Wins" record for long as Ben-Hur took home 11 Oscars the following year But its "Highest Clean Sweep" record took 45 years to break. After The Last Emperor merely matched the record in 1987, The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King finally stole the crown in 2003 when it won all 11 of its nominations.

1958 - Auntie Mame

I've been sitting here for quite a while trying to think of something to write about for this intro. I've had a couple of ideas but, after writing a sentence or two, decided they weren't all that interesting. Of course, writing about how I couldn't find anything interesting to write about is undoubtedly even less interesting than if I'd just written about the uninteresting thing, but I'm finished now and I couldn't be bothered rewriting it again. I guess I need to do more interesting things so that I can write about them.

Anyhoo, our review of the nominees from the 1958 Best Picture race continues with...


Auntie Mame
Director:
Morton DaCosta
Screenplay:
Betty Comden & Adolph Green
(based on the novel by Patrick Dennis and the stage adaptation by Jerome Lawrence & Robert E. Lee)
Starring:
Rosalind Russell, Forrest Tucker, Coral Browne, Fred Clark, Roger Smith, Patric Knowles, Peggy Cass, Jan Handzlik, Joanna Barnes, Pippa Scott
Academy Awards:
6 nominations
0 wins

Mame Dennis (Russell) is a vivacious socialite in 1920s New York, famed for her bustling parties. When her brother dies, Mame becomes the guardian of his only son Patrick (Handzlik & later Smith). But as a safeguard against Mame's penchant for excess, her brother assigns trustee Dwight Babcock (Clark) to ensure Patrick is raised conservatively. Mame and Patrick quickly become enamoured with each other but after the stock market crash of 1929, Mame loses almost everything. Forced to find work, she applies every effort to secure a decent life for Patrick, while attempting to foster in him a love of adventure.

Classic Hollywood extravagance is on display in Auntie Mame. The characters are bright and bubbly, the clothes are fancy and the sets are lavish (albeit unnaturalistically stylised). Even the lighting gets in on the action. At the end of almost every scene, the stage lights are completely dimmed except for a single spotlight illuminating Mame's face, which I can only assume is intended to symbolise her constant need to be the centre of attention.

As if to match the title character's own flightiness, the story itself moves around a lot, almost as if it were a series of anecdotes told to us by an outside observer. Despite some farcical elements, it has the feel of a real-life biography, which at first glance, seems to be confirmed by the fact that the author of the source novel is one Patrick Dennis, which is the same name as Mame's nephew in the film. It turns out, however, that's merely a pseudonym for Edward Everett Tanner, and while Tanner had an eccentric aunt, he repeatedly denied that Auntie Mame was based on her.

Rosalind Russell (pictured) delivers an accomplished performance in the titular role, showcasing her comedic ebullience while also finding moments to pull at our heartstrings. In fact, the entire cast all prove to be well versed in broad comic timing, providing plenty of double takes and light slapstick. Peggy Cass, in particular, stands out with her delightfully hilarious portrayal of the mousy Miss Gooch. Both Russell and Cass originated these roles on Broadway and both received Oscar nominations (for Best Actress and Best Supporting Actress, respectively) to pair with their Tony nominations two years prior. (Cass won the Tony, but not the Oscar. Russell lost both.) Along with those two acting nods, the film was also cited for Best Picture, as well as three deserving craft nominations: Color Art Direction, Color Cinematography and Film Editing. But just like fellow nominee Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, it failed to win a single Oscar from its six nominations.

1958 - Cat on a Hot Tin Roof

Recently, I've had the opportunity to twice visit a cinema here in Sydney that I've written about before - the Ritz. On the weekend, I took the whole family to see a special screening of Inside Out 2 (I guess we contributed to the film's immense global box office numbers). And while I'm sure the Ritz's main revenue must come from new releases like that, it's one of the very few movie theatres in town that has a robust classic film program, including many 35mm and 70mm screenings. There's a complete Kubrick retrospective imminent, but it's the year-long Classic Matinees series that will likely see me returning often, as I did yesterday for the following film.

So let's take a look at another picture from 1958's Best Picture shortlist...


Cat on a Hot Tin Roof
Director:
Richard Brooks
Screenplay:
Richard Brooks & James Poe
(based on the play by Tennessee Williams)
Starring:
Elizabeth Taylor, Paul Newman, Burl Ives, Jack Carson, Judith Anderson, Madeleine Sherwood, Larry Gates, Vaughn Taylor
Academy Awards:
6 nominations
0 wins

The wealthy Pollitt family gathers together at their estate in Mississippi to celebrate the birthday of patriarch Big Daddy (Ives). Brick (Newman), a morose and alcoholic ex-athlete, pines for his glory days while neglecting his wife Maggie (Taylor). Consequently, the couple have no children, while Brick's brother Gooper (Carson) and his wife Mae (Sherwood) have five with another on the way. With Big Daddy's ailing health on everyone's minds, the family's long-held secrets begin to emerge.

While my usual gripe about stage adaptations is indeed applicable here, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof finds a way to be captivating despite those issues. There are plenty of long scenes heavy with dialogue, and while some of them test the audience's patience, others contain such high levels of tension that we almost don't want them to end. On the other hand, the theatricality is very apparent in the direction. Brick, in particular, is often seen staring past the camera with his brooding blue eyes as another character pontificates directly behind him. Staging like this might be a necessity in the theatre, where there is no fourth wall, but on screen, perhaps because it is so closely associated with soap operas, it can seem superficial and melodramatic.

Tennessee Williams, esteemed author of the source material, was apparently displeased with what he considered to be a watered down version of his play. Despite my experience with and love of the theatre, I was shamefully not all that familiar with the play, so while watching this film, it wasn't immediately obvious to me why Brick was experiencing such inner turmoil. Reading between the lines, I suspected that there was more to the relationship between Brick and his late buddy Skipper, but that topic of discussion was treated so vaguely, I wasn't sure if I was just imagining it. I'm not entirely sure the blame for that should be with the filmmakers, though. While 1950s Hollywood had begun exploring civil rights (as evidenced by fellow nominee The Defiant Ones), homosexuality on film was still very much in the closet, so to speak, thanks to the draconian Hays Code. And considering how greatly the characters expound on the topic of mendacity, there's an amusingly appropriate irony in the fact that a film about secrets was forced to keep one of its own.

The performances by each and every one of this accomplished ensemble are phenomenal. Everyone has their moment to shine. Paul Newman (pictured) is spectacular, expressing volumes with beautiful subtlety. Judith Anderson is also a standout as the matriarch trying to keep her family life in tact. Others of note are Jack Carson as the oft-dismissed brother fighting for his share, and Burl Ives, reprising the role of Big Daddy from the original Broadway production. Both Newman and Elizabeth Taylor garnered Oscar nominations for their lead performances. The film also snagged nods for Picture, Director, Adapted Screenplay and Color Cinematography, but walked away empty-handed.

1958 - The Defiant Ones

As I begin this review of a film directed by the late, great Stanley Kramer, I am reminded of the time that Kat and I briefly lived next door to his widow, Karen Sharpe. For one year in Los Angeles, we exchanged pleasantries as we ran into each other outside our front doors, but I regret never inviting her over to hear all the stories she must have. I knew she was a former actress, having worked on a vast array of classic films and TV shows, though it wasn't until recently that I discovered she has also won a Golden Globe! Plus, I'm sure she has insight into the making of some of her husband's timeless movies (though maybe not the one reviewed below since it was made before they met). But alas, while she was always very pleasant and kind, I never heard any of those stories. There just never seemed to be enough time. Kat and I were occupied with a one-year-old child at home, and Karen seemed to remain very busy with industry events, so no dinner plans were ever made. Before long, we had another child and moved to a different neighbourhood, and then later again, we moved to a different country, so I suppose the chances of hearing those stories are even more remote now. A missed opportunity, perhaps. 

On that note, let's embark on our journey through the Best Picture nominees of 1958 by taking a look at...


The Defiant Ones
Director:
Stanley Kramer
Screenplay:
Nedrick Young and Harold Jacob Smith
Starring:
Tony Curtis, Sidney Poitier, Cara Williams, Theodore Bikel, Charles McGraw, Lon Chaney, Jr., King Donovan, Claude Akins, Lawrence Dobkin, Kevin Coughlin
Academy Awards:
9 nominations
2 wins, for Best Original Screenplay and Best Black-and-White Cinematography

When a truck transporting prisoners crashes, two of the convicts seize the opportunity to escape. African American Noah Cullen (Poitier) and Caucasian John Jackson (Curtis), chained together at the wrist, already have a sharp disdain for each other, but with a posse led by Sheriff Muller (Bikel) on their tail, they must work together to avoid capture.

Produced at the height of the US civil rights movement, The Defiant Ones makes no bones about its profound social commentary. Many of the sensitive themes remain relevant today, but I'm sure this film must have seemed downright shocking to some when it was released 66 years ago. Surprisingly, however, the story is also peppered with a great deal of humour, dry enough to never undermine the film's sincerity.

Today, of course, the ending (spoilers ahead!) would perhaps be considered overly sentimental and idealistic. Not just because it's unlikely that the two protagonists would both sacrifice their chance of escape for the other, but that it may be somewhat objectionable to wrap up a film exploring race relations with a nice neat bow, as if to suggest they've solved racism. That said, maybe the whole "hey, look, we used to hate each other but now we all get along" trope hadn't really cemented itself yet. Besides, the closing moments are genuinely heart-warming, largely attributable to the superb performances from the leads.

Sidney Poitier and Tony Curtis (pictured together) bounce off each other brilliantly, both displaying great range. The Academy must have agreed since they each garnered a Best Actor nomination. As the compassionate and professional sheriff, Theodore Bikel shines, earning himself a Best Supporting Actor nod. Also worth mentioning is Lawrence Dobkin as the sharp-tongued newspaperman. The film's fourth acting citation went to Cara Williams in her supporting role as the lonely woman with no scruples. Lastly, keep an eye out for horror icon Lon Chaney, Jr. as Big Sam.