1959 - Anatomy of a Murder

On Sunday night, my short film, Clicked, had its screening in competition at the Hoboken International Film Festival, although technically, the cinema at which it screened was actually located in Hoboken-adjacent Jersey City. As could be expected late on a Sunday evening in Jersey City, the turnout was not spectacular, a circumstance accentuated by the large auditorium. Nevertheless, the few movie-goers in attendance seemed to enjoy themselves and, post screening, I was even able to speak to one such attendee, who was modestly complimentary of the film, so I'll take it.

A light rail and four trains later, Kat and I made it back to Astoria, stopping in for an early breakfast at our favorite local haunt, Sanford's. Nothing quite like an egg, bacon and cheese sandwich at two in the morning.

Now we turn to the final nominee from the race to the 1959 Best Picture Oscar...

Anatomy of a Murder
Director:
Otto Preminger
Screenplay:
Wendell Mayes
(based on the play by John D. Voelker)
Starring:
James Stewart, Lee Remick, Ben Gazzara, Arthur O'Connell, Eve Arden, Kathryn Grant, George C. Scott, Orson Bean, Russ Brown, Murray Hamilton, Brooks West, Joseph N. Welch
Academy Awards:
7 nominations
0 wins

In a small town in Michigan, ex-district attorney Paul Biegler (Stewart) has been laying low for a while when Army wife Laura (Remick) requests his services as a defense lawyer for her husband Frederick Manion (Gazzara), who has been charged with the murder of local barkeeper Barney Quill. Manion admits the killing, thinking it might be able to be justified by the fact that Quill raped his wife, but after subtle direction from Biegler, the two settle on an insanity plea. In the courtroom, Biegler contends with the local D.A. (West) who has brought in the big guns in the form of respected prosecutor Claude Dancer (Scott).

With smart dialogue and an even smarter story, Anatomy of a Murder falls cleanly into the gripping legal drama category. Its central case is intriguingly complicated with many ups and downs, full of those clever and manipulative cross examinations that swing the pendulum back and forth between the defense and the prosecution. As one would expect, there's a lot of talking and very little action in the courtroom, yet the mood is never far from sultry thanks to Duke Ellington's inspired jazz score.

Despite the film's captivating charms, there is one relatively large sticking point that leaves a bit of a bad taste in your mouth. While it's easy to get behind the affable defense attorney (and, as played by James Stewart, could he be anything but affable?), the same does not apply to the defendant himself. Ben Gazzara's Manion is a little creepy, but the performance is not the problem. The main issue is that it's clear from the outset that Manion is guilty and that he's essentially inventing the insanity plea just to get off. It's never particularly convincing and, even with all the potent emotion surrounding his motive, the vengeful murder of his wife's rapist remains immoral.

Ultimately, the ending (yes, spoilers are imminent, so if you haven't yet seen the movie, skip this paragraph) confirms our initial suspicions. The jury finds in favour of the defendant, who doesn't even bother to pay his legal fees, leaving Biegler a sarcastic note instead. The implication, of course, is that Manion literally got away with murder. What makes it worse, however, is that Biegler's reaction is somehow inappropriately flippant. He just achieved an acquittal for a guilty man and merely shrugs it off. All that said, I suppose it's a testament to Preminger that the film remains so gripping despite such an unsatisfying conclusion.

Complementing Gazzara's effective portrayal of the devious Manion is Lee Remick as his alluring and enigmatic wife. Her sultry confidence in such unsettling circumstances is fascinating, making it consistently difficult to figure out how she's really feeling. George C. Scott shows his effortless power once again as the lawyer from the big city, earning his first Oscar nomination. Joining him as a Supporting Actor nominee is Arthur O'Connell, natural and amiable as the drunken comic relief. And then there's James Stewart (pictured), with his aforementioned affability, playing the determined and respectable lead, earning himself a Best Actor nod to boot.

1959 - The Nun's Story

It's hard to believe that it's already tech week for The Taming of the Shrew and that we open in three days. If you're in the New York area in the next three weeks, be sure to pop along and say hi.

We now take a look at another Best Picture contender from 1959...

The Nun's Story
Director:
Fred Zinneman
Screenplay:
Robert Anderson
(based on the novel by Kathryn Hulme)
Starring:
Audrey Hepburn, Peter Finch, Edith Evans, Peggy Ashcroft, Dean Jagger, Mildred Dunnock, Beatrice Straight
Academy Awards:
8 nominations
0 wins

The Nun's Story, as its title suggests, is the story of a nun. Gabrielle (Hepburn) is a stubborn young woman who, for some reason, chooses to enter a Belgian convent with hopes of serving as a nurse in the Congo. She endures the brutal identity-stripping training, struggling to keep up with what is expected of her, but thrives during science class as she learns all about tropical diseases. Despite topping the class, Sister Luke, as she is now known, fails to truly embrace a test of humility and is therefore deprived of her desire to be sent to the Congo. Instead, she is sent to assist at a mental hospital. Eventually, however, after proving herself, she is finally sent to the Congo where she is assigned to work alongside Dr. Fortunati (Finch). Her doubts continue to haunt her, though, especially as non-believer Fortunati challenges almost everything she has been taught.

It is perhaps unintentional, but there is a somewhat ominous feeling that pervades the first act of The Nun's Story. One by one, the rules of the convent are laid out and each one seems more cult-like than the last - give up all your possessions that elicit memories of your past, don't talk to the other nuns about anything but official business, make daily confessions about your unworthiness, rat out your fellow nuns when they commit even minor offences. It's like a sorority hazing. The most unsettling part is that it is considered strength to be able to obey all these rules.

The pace is relatively swift as Gabrielle makes her way through the various stages of becoming a nun, and moves from assignment to assignment. Then about halfway into the film, it settles down a little, made all the more watchable due to an affable performance by Peter Finch (pictured) who injects some life into an otherwise sombre picture. In fact, it all gets rather more fascinating at this point as Fortunati's presence affects Sister Luke in challenging and confusing ways.

If you're unfamiliar with this story, I recommend not watching the original trailer (or reading the following paragraph, for that matter). Assuming the viewer's familiarity with the source material, the trailer begins with the final scene from the movie, that of Gabrielle giving up her habit. After struggling for so long with the faith, the final straw seems to be the convent's order to remain neutral as World War II begins, something that Gabrielle finds excruciatingly difficult given her father was just killed by Nazis occupying Belgium. She admits that she's simply not cut out for the life of a nun, which seems to reaffirm that unsettling idea that one needs to be strong to give up one's past life and become a nun. However, as she literally hangs up her habit and walks out the door, there is a clear sense of Gabrielle achieving some semblance of freedom. To me, she proves her strength here by maintaining her identity and thinking for herself. It is a powerful and effective final moment.

The cast of The Nun's Story contains no less than five Oscar winners - Audrey Hepburn, of course, who won a few years earlier for Roman Holiday and was nominated again here; the excellent and natural Peter Finch, along with Beatrice Straight, who both won for Network; Peggy Ashcroft, a Supporting Actress winner for A Passage to India; and Dean Jagger, who had already won for Twelve O'Clock High. Also featured is perhaps the cutest blue-faced monkey I've ever seen.

1959 - The Diary of Anne Frank

Last week, I began rehearsals for Titan Theatre Company's production of The Taming of the Shrew, opening at the end of this month. In an unexpectedly exciting twist, the first read through was held at the historic club known as The Players. Over 120 years old, the club was the brainchild of famed 19th century American actor Edwin Booth, whose bedroom still exists on the upper floors of the club, reportedly untouched since his death in 1893. Quite a step back in time, let me tell you. Along with its incredible roster of famous past members, The Players is also noted for being the location at which Actor's Equity was covertly formed.

We turn now to another of the Academy's picks from 1959 for Best Picture...

The Diary of Anne Frank
Director:
George Stevens
Screenplay:
Frances Goodrich and Albert Hackett
(based on their play, which was based on "The Diary of a Young Girl" by Anne Frank)
Starring:
Millie Perkins, Joseph Schildkraut, Shelley Winters, Richard Beymer, Gusti Huber, Lou Jacobi, Diane Baker, Douglas Spencer, Dodie Heath, Ed Wynn
Academy Awards:
8 nominations
3 wins, including Best Supporting Actress (Winters)

Based on the famous diary itself, The Diary of Anne Frank recounts the story of a young Jewish girl (Perkins) in Amsterdam who spends two years hiding from the Nazis in a small attic above a spice factory. Sharing the cramped quarters with her are her parents, Otto (Schildkraut) and Edith (Huber), and her sister Margot (Baker), along with Mr. and Mrs. Van Daan (Jacobi & Winters) and their teenage son Peter (Beymer). The claustrophobic living space causes many a strained relationship, compounded even further when they also take in Mr. Dussell (Wynn), a sullen old man who seems to get on everyone's nerves. Anne finds solace in her diary, reporting on the disagreements among her cohabitants, the near misses when Nazi officers search the building, and her budding relationship with Peter.

The Diary of Anne Frank is that rare example of a seemingly incompatible genre mash-up, the coming-of-age Holocaust movie. Interestingly, the focus on Anne's adolescent journey makes the story feel somehow less tragic than most films that tackle this subject matter. Not because it's not tragic, because it is, and I'll get to that later, but because there are several moments of sweetness and charm as Anne deals with her burgeoning romantic feelings, as well as the usual teenage angst and confusion.

In fact, the love story subplot is a clever misdirection, aiding in distracting us from the tragedy at hand, as it does for the parties involved. Mind you, it is a little disconcerting how maturely this romance is presented, complete with orchestral themes that seem more appropriate for a sweeping epic love story, full of passion and lust, rather than a teenage flirtation.

Adding to the misdirection is the story's unflinching use of humour, at times approaching downright silliness, provided mostly by Shelley Winters and Lou Jacobi. Not until Life Is Beautiful has humour been used to more effect in a Holocaust picture.

On the whole, however, The Diary of Anne Frank is undoubtedly tragic, despite its periodic moments of light-heartedness. The stakes are constantly as high as they could possibly be, several sequences piling on the tension. The scenes in which the hidden families remain utterly silent as an intruder pokes about downstairs are breath-holding indeed.

Millie Perkins (pictured) as the titular diarist is adorable, which assists in making the story more charming while simultaneously making it all the more tragic. Joseph Schildkraut (a previous Oscar winner for The Life of Emile Zola) brings the perfect blend of authority and compassion as the Frank patriarch. Serving as the comic relief for the majority of the picture are Shelley Winters, earning her first Oscar here for Best Supporting Actress, and Lou Jacobi, both very effective once you get past the oddity of a Dutch couple with New York accents. Ed Wynn was also nominated by the Academy for his curmudgeonly performance of Mr. Dussell.

1959 - Room at the Top

There is one major pitfall of the infrequency with which I've been updating this blog as of late. Too many newsworthy events occur in between posts for me to devote the appropriate amount of space to informing you about each of them. So, here's a brief summary of my news for the past couple of weeks:

Fresh off the New York City premiere of my short film Clicked, of which I wrote about last time, the film has now been selected for the Hoboken International Film Festival, screening in the first week of June. On top of that, I'll be beginning rehearsals later this week for a local production of The Taming of the Shrew, in which I will play Grumio.

If I manage to decrease the delay between each post in the coming weeks, I'll give more details for those events, but in the meantime, the next Best Picture nominee from the 1959 Oscars is...

Room at the Top
Director:
Jack Clayton
Screenplay:
Neil Paterson
(based on the novel by John Braine)
Starring:
Simone Signoret, Laurence Harvey, Heather Sears, Donald Wolfit, Donald Houston, Hermione Baddeley
Academy Awards:
6 nominations
2 wins, for Best Actress (Signoret) & Best Adapted Screenplay

Post World War II, Joe Lampton (Harvey) leaves his small war-torn Yorkshire town for a slightly less small town and the security of a job with the local government. There, he quickly falls for Susan (Sears), the daughter of high-powered executive Mr. Brown (Wolfit), who is consequently far out of Joe's reach. That doesn't stop Joe, of course, who shamelessly pursues both Susan and the upper class life. When Brown thwarts Joe's attempts at courting his daughter by sending her away, Joe instead begins an affair with Alice (Signoret), a French amateur actress who is herself unhappy with her lot in life, particularly her husband.

Assuredly, Room at the Top was considered racy at the time of its release, particularly in comparison with American fare of the late 1950s. Yet, to the modern viewer, there is a strange paradox that occurs while watching it. By today's standards, the film is only mildly risque, so it's amusing to think of the fuss that was probably made over its British sauciness. However, knowing that it was released in 1959, it is slightly jarring to hear the word 'bitch' bandied about so nonchalantly, alongside some rather suggestive dialogue. Perhaps this is only a phenomenon felt by those, like me, who weren't yet alive in the 1950s, and have based their erroneously wholesome image of that era on the mostly profanity-free American pictures of the time.

In any case, the film is a thoughtful exploration of class issues, possessing an interesting grittiness while retaining enough humility to allow for clever conversations in which the characters hint at naughty things without being explicit. Metaphor goes a long way. My favourite line in the movie must, without a doubt, be when Susan asks if Joe likes the way she makes love. Feeling in an unkind mood, Joe replies, "It reminds me of a good set of mixed tennis."

Without spoiling too much of the film's conclusion (although the poster does a pretty good job of that on its own), I will compliment the effectiveness with which the story's message is conveyed. Essentially, it's the ultimate case of being careful what you wish for. Joe's ambition is intense but when he finally achieves his stated goal, there is great dissatisfaction - for him and for the audience. The final moments are awkward, driving home the point, unsatisfying yet inevitable.

Laurence Harvey's (pictured) is not a particularly likable performance, albeit mostly due to his character. Joe initially presents as creepy and somewhat sleazy. His immediate fascination for Susan, expressed with stony glares, appears borderline obsessive and, even though this disturbing aura soon gives way to vulnerability, he never really shakes off that awkwardness. The Academy saw fit to nominate Harvey for Best Actor, however, so what do I know?

Simone Signoret, on the other hand, is positively engaging. Her complex portrayal of the complex Alice is natural and nuanced, earning her a well-deserved Best Actress Oscar. In a tiny but effective role, Hermione Baddeley delivers a memorably eccentric performance as Alice's protective friend, receiving the film's third acting nomination for Best Supporting Actress.

1959 - Ben-Hur

On Monday night, my short film Clicked, which I wrote, directed and starred in, had its New York City premiere as part of the NewFilmmakers Spring Festival Series. A proud moment, indeed. It was quite a thrill to see it up there on the big screen along with a real audience that wasn't just the cast and crew. And there is nothing quite so satisfying to hear a room full of people laugh at something I wrote on a page four years ago. Yes, it took that long to finish the damn thing.

Somehow, it took longer to complete my short film than it did to complete what is perhaps the most well-known epic film of all time, the film to which all other epic films are compared and the first 1959 Best Picture Oscar nominee for us to discuss...

Ben-Hur
Director:
William Wyler
Screenplay:
Karl Tunberg
(based on the novel "Ben-Hur: A Tale of the Christ" by Lew Wallace)
Starring:
Charlton Heston, Jack Hawkins, Haya Harareet, Stephen Boyd, Hugh Griffith, Martha Scott, Cathy O'Donnell, Sam Jaffe, Finlay Currie, Frank Thring
Academy Awards:
12 nominations
11 wins, including Best Picture, Best Director and Best Actor (Heston)

Setting the standard for the historical epic, Ben-Hur centres on a wealthy Jew named Judah (Heston), living in first century Jerusalem. When his childhood pal Messala (Boyd) becomes a Roman tribune, their mutual love and respect quickly degrades due to their political disagreement. After an incident in which a tile on Judah's house breaks loose and injures the Governor during a parade, Messala wreaks his vengeance by sentencing Judah to be a galley slave and his mother and sister (Scott & O'Donnell) to what appears to be the dirtiest, dankest prison in all of the Roman Empire.

The rest of the story follows Judah's ups and downs as he survives his years in the galleys, including a deadly battle with pirates, gets adopted by a Roman Consul, becomes a champion chariot racer and ultimately searches for his family, all the while unaware that he is living in the midst of the messiah.

The phrase that springs to mind as being the most appropriate to describe this film is amusingly paradoxical if taken literally. But metaphorically at least, Ben-Hur is indeed "bigger than Ben-Hur". In fact, it's a testament to the picture's magnificence that it gave rise to that phrase, one that is no longer exclusively used in reference to big-budget movie-making, but is now simply attached to any phenomenon of great extravagance.

And Ben-Hur is certainly extravagant. Impressively colossal sets filled with a massive number of extras, it's hard to view the film without recognising it as spectacular. The special effects, though, are occasionally less than remarkable, but only judged by today's standards. The epic sea battle, for instance, is presented using obvious model boats, such was the norm before the age of CGI.

The now legendary chariot race sequence suffers no such fate, however, using real horses and real chariots in a purpose-built arena, creating an exciting realism. Reading of the enormous time and effort that went in to preparing and shooting this scene (almost a year of work by a thousand crew members, and several thousand more extras), it's no wonder this is considered one of cinema's greatest achievements.

But enough about the spectacle. What about the story? The most compelling element of the picture (perhaps even above all the bells and whistles) is the fascinating personal relationship between Judah and Messala. It's such a clear and concise narrative, both touching and powerful. In fact, this relationship is what keeps the viewer's interest throughout the incredibly long movie. (Even excluding the overture and intermission music, which are included on the DVD I viewed, the running time is still around three and a half hours.)

Unfortunately, once the Judah/Messala story is resolved, there is still about an hour left of the movie. Perhaps it's merely because I didn't identify with the religious elements of the plot (which are by no means minor) that I wished, to some extent, the film had finished earlier. I understand, of course, that, for Christian viewers, the final act is the most important part, but despite the coincidental timing of my viewing (Easter Sunday), I found the miraculous nature of the ending to be a little unsatisfying, irrespective of my belief about miracles. It's always far more satisfying when characters affect their own change, rather than passively receiving redemption.

Charlton Heston (pictured, with Stephen Boyd) conveys the perfect mix of authority and vulnerability as the title character, earning himself the Best Actor Oscar. Alongside him, Hugh Griffith is affable as a sheik with a gambling problem, winning the Best Supporting Actor award for himself. Not nominated but delivering worthy performances are Stephen Boyd as Judah's frenemy, Jack Hawkins as his adoptive father and the delightful Frank Thring as Pontius Pilate.

Out of 12 nominations, Ben-Hur picked up 11 awards on Oscar night, a record that has stood for over 50 years, albeit equaled twice. The only nomination it failed to convert to a win was for its screenplay, a possible result of a screen credit controversy. It also has the ominous distinction of having two posthumous Oscar winners, Sam Zimbalist for producing the Best Picture, and William A. Horning, one of the Best Art Direction recipients.

P.S. It seems somehow fitting that one of my longest reviews ever (if not, the longest) is for this film...