1950s Discussion and Suggestions (Lists Project Vol. 2)

[HerrSchreck]

Speaking of the glut of horror/sci flicks: so what year is THE BRAIN THAT WOULDN'T DIE? It was made in 59 but released in 62 owing to censorship problems (it couldn't even get released in the UK). The "Chickie" tease routine in the "club", along with the high school football-type 50 yard dash with the head wrapped in a blazer (with jarringly, accidentally surreal handheld cam), as well as the catfight.. sheesh. If a Frenchman made that film it'd be regarded as an avant garde fringe masterpiece of "Fantastic cinema".

So much of this stuff in addition to colin's list in

Beyond the beginning of the Hammer films, only the sci-fi tinged films spring to mind like Body Snatchers and I Married A Monster From Outer Space. The It! films - It Came From Beneath The Sea (and the other Harryhausen films like the skeleton-fight sequence from Jason and the Argonauts, which must have caused a few nightmares in its time!), It Came From Outer Space and It! The Terror From Beyond Space.

Not exactly a horror, but there is Gerd Oswald's version of Screaming Mimi with Anita Ekberg.

The Fly. The Tingler, with its brief colour sequence with the bath of blood, which looking back feels very Diabolique-inspired.

Perhaps the most important one to discuss in addition to Diaboliques and Hunter would be Jacques Tourner's Night Of The Demon.

Maybe also the 1959 take on the Burke and Hare body snatcher story with Peter Cushing and Donald Pleasence, The Flesh And The Fiends (though that is classed as 1960 on imdb).

Perhaps people were too cheerful in the 50s?

You have the formal birth of Japanese sci-fi & Kaiju, fringe american sf masterpieces like INVADERS FROM MARS, THE INCREDIBLE SHRINKING MAN, THE MOLE PEOPLE, THE THING, the very real & sincerely cinematic delights of ROBOT MONSTER & Ed Wood Jr, plus quirks like ASTOUNDING SHE-MONSTER TEENAGERS FROM OUTER SPACE, the baffling MESA OF LOST WOMEN.. we could just go on and on here forever. CREATURE FROM THE BLACK LAGOON. George Pal produced gems like WAR OF THE WORLDS & WHEN WORLDS COLLIDE (don't miss the new dvd on this-- PARAMOUNT doing as fine a job as usual for a pittance $).

Working up to the more celebrated stuff: THIS ISLAND EARTH, FORBIDDEN PLANET, THE DAY THE EARTH STOOD STILL.

Christ there's so much of this stuff, just in the "fantastic" genre alone. I could write a few more pages on this genre, and a book each on noirs, A-list melodramas, westerns, French, Japanese, etc. Italians. A fabulous decade finding the Japanese in particular crafting their own place of immortality in global cinematic terms for the first time as artisans like Ozu, Naruse, Kurosawa, Mizoguchi, Ichikowa, Kobayashi-- to varying degrees among them of course-- began, post-RASHOMON, forging their own corresponding individual "brand" via iconic representative works which would forever and for better or for worse be stylistically identified.

Quite a ten year stretch, and quite a busy cinematic decade. Somebody say "musical"?

[Michael]

Kiss Me Deadly - now that's one hell of a movie.

ABSOLUTELY! Someone from this forum (I can't remember who) recommended me to check it out when it was being featured as the Retro Night dish at the Florida Film Festival last year. I never forget stumbling into the night air out of the theater in a total daze. It was a dreamy stroll through the surreal world of shady people and dark buildings. People, especially the women, in the film are very interesting. Unforgettable faces and personalities. Even the buildings such as the brooding hotel sitting atop a cliff and the lonely beach cottage have personalities.

It's one of the most stylish, jarring and entertaining movies ever made. Also an easy contender for having the best opening and closing ever. I love this stuff. One of the top 3 of my list for sure.

[Michael]

And please don't leave out Baby Doll. This one along with Kiss Me Deadly, All That Heaven Allows, Night of the Hunter , Ugetsu, Sunset Blvd., A Man Escaped, Early Summer, Un chant d'amour and Les Diaboliques reign my 1950s list.

[sevenarts]

Good call on Night of the Hunter, which coincidentally I just watched last night. Man now that's an odd and unsettling film, and totally unlike anything else I've ever seen, which is really saying something considering that it's a wildly popular 50-year-old film. But even with all its acclaim, it seems like nobody's quite managed to ape its weird vibe. Part horror story, part fairy tale, part religious allegory, it's just such an odd stew and it really shouldn't work, but it gloriously does. Mitchum's performance is creepy as hell, especially when you see him turning on the charm when he needs to. And Lillian Gish, as the light to his darkness, is simply radiant in a very difficult part that walks right along the edge of camp without falling over. That scene where the two of them are facing off singing hymns over each other in the darkness... that's not an image that'll be leaving me anytime soon. Laughton has perfectly blended elements of gritty Depression-era realism into a distorted child's-eye fantasy world to tell an absolutely gripping modern fable. The boat trip, with its shades of Huck Finn and obviously stagey scenery, signals the dazzling transition from a claustrophobic chamber horror piece into something entirely new and stranger. What a wonder.

I also recently watched Un chant d'amour, which was beautifully filmed, but I'm not sure I connected with it any further than that. Not much to say either.

I feel like Joseph Losey's Time Without Pity, his first British feature under his own name post-blacklist, should have been a lot better than it actually was. The premise is fantastic -- a bitter, self-centered alcoholic recovers from his latest drinking binge to discover that while he was binging, his son was tried for murder, and he goes to him only to find that he's scheduled to hang the next day. It should be a taut thriller, finding clues and tracing facts to free the son -- except that the real murderer is revealed in the (very well-done) first scene, and the father's investigation is nonsensical and slack. The ending is a great twist and pretty much redeems the film, but it feels like Losey didn't much know what to do between his striking opening and the powerful finale -- so rather than construct a tight mystery or really let the story unfold naturally, it's like the whole body of the film is just biding time in between two great scenes.

Also saw Bunuel's Los Olvidados, which was really wonderful. This is the first film I've seen from Bunuel's Mexican period, and it's amazing in its own right, as well as being very interesting to watch in relation to his later work. I found it particularly interesting to see the subtle ways in which he subverts the otherwise solidly neorealist aesthetic of the film with some surprising surrealist touches. Not least, of course, is the stunning dream sequence, but there are also smaller touches. Like that wonderful, shocking moment when Pedro throws an egg, and it hits the camera and slides down the lens. Even more subtly, Bunuel incorporates his usual off-kilter sensuality into this peasant milieu, as when the blind man rubs the sick woman's bare back with a pigeon, or the famous scene of the girl pouring milk down her legs. It's good to see Bunuel's foot fetish was intact even in so early a film. Heh.

Finally, Le Plaisir by Max Ophuls. Gorgeous camerawork throughout, but I would've been much happier if the first segment was just a short on its own. That's the best one by far -- that swirling, rotating ballroom sequence, followed by an elegaic denouement that provides understated commentary on aging and life and pleasure. The rest are equally beautiful to look at, but there's no set piece to match the justly famous dance scene, and they just ultimately felt fairly slight.

[zedz]

Don Lope and zedz, I am curious to hear, what impresses you so about Le Amiche. I first saw a number of Antonioni's films at a retrospective at the DFI a very long time ago; Le Amiche was the only of his early films that I saw at the time, and I admit that it did not make a great impression on me in comparison with L'Aventura, La Notte and BlowUp. In fact, I remember very little of the film, aside from the print being not very good. Maybe it was just too early in my viewing experience of Antonioni's films for me to completely embrace it…?

In general, I find Antonioni's 50s output operating at a level well below that of the trilogy (or at least either end of it - I'm a little lukewarm on La notte as well), so my preference for Le amiche may need to be taken with a grain of salt. It's my favourite Antonioni of the decade (of those I've seen), but it's still touch and go whether it will end up in my top 50.

I first approached Antonioni's 50s work in an archaeological frame of mind - looking for stylistic signposts to the trilogy - and while this is a feasible approach, it doesn't really do the films any favours. I've since found it more productive to look at this body of work as a discrete unit, as a kind of Sirkian project, with Antonioni taking on melodramatic conventions and hollowing them out to see what new kinds of meaning can find a place there. Of course, there are still traces of this approach in the trilogy, but Antonioni goes much further with it, to the point that the traditional melodramatic form becomes only vestigial.

Anyways, on those terms, I think Le amiche is the most successful example (though Cronaca may be the sharpest and clearest). I think that partly this is because I find Antonioni a much more interesting and persuasive director of women than of men. Most of the men in his films seem to be makeshift figures. For me, this works in the specific plot dynamics of L'Avventura and L'Eclisse, with their weak and superficial male protagonists, and in The Passenger when the comparative strength of the lead actors nicely balances things out, but when a film is built around the male lead - Il grido, Blow-Up - those performances tend to be inadequate, and the characters look like constructs of convenience.

This is sort of defending Le amiche in purely negative terms, but I do like it a lot. It maximises the strengths of Antonioni's early period while minimising its weaknesses, and it's the only chance we get (unless my memory is badly failing me) to see Antonioni work with a female ensemble, something to which his particular talents are well suited.

[tryavna]

I feel like Joseph Losey's Time Without Pity, his first British feature under his own name post-blacklist, should have been a lot better than it actually was. The premise is fantastic -- a bitter, self-centered alcoholic recovers from his latest drinking binge to discover that while he was binging, his son was tried for murder, and he goes to him only to find that he's scheduled to hang the next day. It should be a taut thriller, finding clues and tracing facts to free the son -- except that the real murderer is revealed in the (very well-done) first scene, and the father's investigation is nonsensical and slack. The ending is a great twist and pretty much redeems the film, but it feels like Losey didn't much know what to do between his striking opening and the powerful finale -- so rather than construct a tight mystery or really let the story unfold naturally, it's like the whole body of the film is just biding time in between two great scenes.

I wonder if perhaps you went into this film expecting a more traditional thriller, which is something that Losey almost never gives you -- at least not once he left Hollywood. (Think of his immediately preceding film, The Intimate Stranger, or later ones like Secret Ceremony.) The real pleasure in these "thrillers" for me comes from the way Losey subtly deconstructs the genre and from the irrational behavior of the characters, who generally are disturbed or suffer from an affliction of some sort. In Time Without Pity, the father's "nonsensical and slack" investigation of his own son's case makes perfect sense once you consider that he's a hopeless alcoholic -- though I wonder if you have to know how non-functioning alcoholics behave in order to realize that Redgrave's performance is more or less accurate.

At any rate, I wouldn't say that Time Without Pity is a masterpiece or even ranks alongside Losey best work, but there's more to this film than immediately meets the eye. I enjoy it quite a lot.

[sevenarts]

I wonder if perhaps you went into this film expecting a more traditional thriller, which is something that Losey almost never gives you -- at least not once he left Hollywood. (Think of his immediately preceding film, The Intimate Stranger, or later ones like Secret Ceremony.) The real pleasure in these "thrillers" for me comes from the way Losey subtly deconstructs the genre and from the irrational behavior of the characters, who generally are disturbed or suffer from an affliction of some sort. In Time Without Pity, the father's "nonsensical and slack" investigation of his own son's case makes perfect sense once you consider that he's a hopeless alcoholic -- though I wonder if you have to know how non-functioning alcoholics behave in order to realize that Redgrave's performance is more or less accurate.

You could be right, and I got that Losey was going for a confused hero -- I guess I just came away from it feeling like the slack plotting was more from the film's writing than from the character's alcoholism. Like, why does the wife send him to visit her husband's secretary? I'm sure she didn't suspect the secretary of having anything to do with the investigation, so why waste his very small amount of time that way? And the whole long business with the blue-paper note that's ultimately dropped unceremoniously as a loose end -- not that it seemed like a particularly credible idea in the first place. Anyway, I much prefer the later Losey films I've seen, where his deconstruction of genre seems tied to much clearer and more focused writing and direction.

Tonight I watched Otto Preminger's Where the Sidewalk Ends, a tight, atmospheric noir that manages to build up quite a bit from a pretty small plot. Preminger gets most of the twists and turns out of the way fairly quickly -- a pair of murders, a bit of a romance brewing, and an arrest -- all the more to focus in on character and the pure moody darkness of the visuals. It's a taut character study in guilt, honor, and (unusually for noir) redemption.

I also watched Hitchcock's Rear Window, which has instantly become my favorite Hitch. Really funny and daring, with a great slow-burner of a plot and some dazzling, inventive visuals as the camera wheels and hovers around the small enclosed courtyard. Just a total blast to watch from beginning to end. And I re-watched Vertigo because it's been a long time since the first time I saw it. It struck me this time that the movie practically works as a silent film -- the visuals are overpowering and iconic, and communicate everything you could possibly need to know. The camera even draws entirely silent connections between Madeleine and Carlotta by focusing on the bouquet of flowers or the spiral of their hairdos. The dialogue is all but extraneous, in sharp contrast to the quick-tongued Rear Window. It's pure visual brilliance that carries the film, but not the kind of empty Technicolor pageantry of too much Hollywood film, but real visual meaning, visual communication of the highest order.

[souvenir]

I watched Chaplin's A King in New York this week and would love to hear opinions from others who've seen it recently. I've always been under the impression that it was mostly a failure artistically, but I found it often brilliant, if frustrating. The hidden camera scene was very funny, as was Chaplin trying not to laugh after his cosmetic surgery. The spraying of HUAC was great too, though more admirable than hilarious. I think watching the Chaplin Today piece with Jim Jarmusch on the DVD made me understand and appreciate the film more, though I still found it uneven at times. It might have been better if the two stories, the commercialization of the King and his dealings with the boy, had been split into two movies while expanding the plot of each. Otherwise I was impressed with the film. Like Jarmusch mentions, that ending is devastating and especially bold for Chaplin.

[sevenarts]

More 50s viewing. In a Lonely Place clearly deserves every ounce of its reputation, and then some. What a dark, moody, perfectly pitched examination of rage and desire, and what perfect central performances from Bogey and Grahame. It's a great film because it's so many things at once, and it keeps the viewer entirely off-balance as to which of these elements will ultimately win out. Is it a harsh Hollywood satire? Is it a tragically doomed romance? Is it a murder mystery with a devilishly charming lead killer? The truth, ultimately, is somewhat stranger and less typical than any of those -- it's an unflinching character study of a fascinatingly complex man who may very well be capable of murder but who is nonetheless incredibly compelling.

Sam Fuller's House of Bamboo was a kind of odd inclusion in the Fox Noir series, seeing as how it's in bright, garish color, with little in the way of recognizable noir except for the crime theme and the pulpy dialogue. It wasn't all that great either, other than some bravura set pieces like the opening train robbery and the tense, stylish finale. Otherwise, the blunt dialogue didn't really work for me here, and the characters were totally bland and featureless.

Tonight I watched a pair of experimental shorts, Len Lye's Rhythm and Joseph Cornell's Gnir Rednow. The former was a sort of deconstructed industrial short, a solid minute of auto factory footage chopped up into fragmented frames that are set to percussive music and form repetitive visual "beats." The latter was a great one, a sort of remix of Stan Brakhage's film The Wonder Ring, which I haven't seen. But Cornell uses this footage of the New York el-trains to create an elegaic silent study of light, color, and superimpositions. The roots of Brakhage's budding interests are obvious here, though the pacing is much slower and more graceful than anything I associate with Brakhage -- and not having seen the original, it's hard to know who to attribute that element to. Either way, definitely a wonderful film.

Also recent was two more UK Free Cinema shorts. Robert Vas' Refuge England was a nicely done meditation on immigration and adjusting in a foreign culture. It's clearly an intensely personal film, as Vas' voiceover relates his experiences arriving in England for the first time, unable to speak the language, struggling to find his only contact in the country. It's very funny, as well, as a now-adjusted Vas clearly sees both the humor and the pathos in his former self. Lorenza Mazzetti's Together is an interesting experiment, an attempt to capture the hermetic world of two mentally disabled men who seem only able to communicate with each other. On a formal level, it's an utter success -- the film really captures the feeling that these men are living in a world truly accessible only to each other. But not much actually happens, and the ending seems a pat and unearned bit of tragedy that doesn't add much of substance to the film.

[zedz]

Sam Fuller's House of Bamboo was a kind of odd inclusion in the Fox Noir series, seeing as how it's in bright, garish color, with little in the way of recognizable noir except for the crime theme and the pulpy dialogue. It wasn't all that great either, other than some bravura set pieces like the opening train robbery and the tense, stylish finale. Otherwise, the blunt dialogue didn't really work for me here, and the characters were totally bland and featureless.

The thing that catapults this film way out of 'bland and featureless' for me is Robert Ryan's dazzling portrayal of the gay gangster. He and Fuller bring a (homo)sexual subtext to the film that makes it electric, and makes the 'blandness' of the surrounding performances (Stack has no idea what's really going on) work brilliantly in the overall scheme of things.

Tonight I watched a pair of experimental shorts, Len Lye's Rhythm and Joseph Cornell's Gnir Rednow. The former was a sort of deconstructed industrial short, a solid minute of auto factory footage chopped up into fragmented frames that are set to percussive music and form repetitive visual "beats." The latter was a great one, a sort of remix of Stan Brakhage's film The Wonder Ring, which I haven't seen. But Cornell uses this footage of the New York el-trains to create an elegaic silent study of light, color, and superimpositions. The roots of Brakhage's budding interests are obvious here, though the pacing is much slower and more graceful than anything I associate with Brakhage -- and not having seen the original, it's hard to know who to attribute that element to. Either way, definitely a wonderful film.

My vague recollections of Wonder Ring is that it's rather lyrical and graceful Brakhage. It sounds like Cornell preserves and expands upon the tone of the original.

Lorenza Mazzetti's Together is an interesting experiment, an attempt to capture the hermetic world of two mentally disabled men who seem only able to communicate with each other.

Correction: they're deaf. The film has extremely impressive sound design, but I agree with you that the last-minute intrusion of PLOT is awkward. Nevertheless, it's one of the most formally inventive of the Free Cinema films and has been grotesquely overlooked.

Meanwhile, I watched Rififi again, and it's better than ever. Tony's fractured, climactic drive now puts me in mind of Maldone and They Caught the Ferry, two films I hadn't seen the last time I watched this gem.

[HerrSchreck]

Meanwhile, I watched Rififi again, and it's better than ever. Tony's fractured, climactic drive now puts me in mind of Maldone and They Caught the Ferry, two films I hadn't seen the last time I watched this gem.

Nice conceptual connection. Certainly one I hadn't thought of.

One thing I love about Dassin which, along with the spectacular mise en scene and livid cinematography is his insistence on charismatic characters, who sparkle so much that they nearly jump off of the screen. Some films benefit from the usage of archtypes, but I love the way his films are filled with snappy moments of goofing & joking, grabbassing & inside jokes. This is one of the things that makes THE NAKED CITY so much more than just a dry procedural-- the wry comments of goodnatured ballbusting between characters as one heads out of a room, the witticisms i e as the female lead heads out of the room, Muldoon (not MALDONE) comments to a colleague: "Nice pair of legs she has on her," "She sure does," says his colleague. "Keep looking at them," sez Muldoon. Another film might have said sternly, in typical noir fashion "Keep a round the clock watch on her."

Another great example is when the old crackpotty woman comes in claiming to have the solution to the murder, fills the room with oddball nonsequitors, then exits with a "Bye now," the younger detective turns to Muldoon & imitates her, "Bye now," in drippy tones.

The film is filled with this sort of stuff, providing an early illustration that detective work is not a stylized world of cigar smoke, strippers, dark alleys filled with reflective puddles, fatalistic whispers in the dark, and shadowy excitement of stetsons & tommy guns... but a dry, morbid, repeptitive excercise of endless mistakes, false leads, more repetition, paperwork, a sterile group effort in suits and ties, endless interviews, boring research in files files files, and that the way the officers survive the doldrums, repetition and morbidity of the job is ballbusting & jokes over the most tragic & bizarre elements of human life.

[sevenarts]

The thing that catapults this film way out of 'bland and featureless' for me is Robert Ryan's dazzling portrayal of the gay gangster. He and Fuller bring a (homo)sexual subtext to the film that makes it electric, and makes the 'blandness' of the surrounding performances (Stack has no idea what's really going on) work brilliantly in the overall scheme of things.

Huh. I didn't get that at all. I guess I see what you're getting at, but that's a REALLY buried subtext. He was definitely the best performance though, you're right there.

Correction: they're deaf. The film has extremely impressive sound design, but I agree with you that the last-minute intrusion of PLOT is awkward. Nevertheless, it's one of the most formally inventive of the Free Cinema films and has been grotesquely overlooked.

Ahh that does make sense, I haven't gotten to reading the box set's booklet yet. But if that's the case, those two guys really overplay their non-comprehension of things. Why does the one guy constantly have to be reminded how to wash his face? Why do they both have to be nudged into eating like that? If they're just supposed to be deaf, that's some borderline offensive characterization, much more consistent with a mental disability. Anyway, the sound design is definitely amazing, and doubly so for the purposeful way its linked to the characters' perceptions of the world (whether they're deaf or simply, as I originally thought, non-understanding). It's a great experiment, and not one I've ever seen repeated with such rigor.

[Don Lope de Aguirre]

In response to your post Scharphedin2 and zedz... Well, I think it is important to strike a balance between looking at a director's works "in context" and looking at each work in isolation. I get the impression that people approach the 50s work with a handicap precisely because they are looking for signs of greatness, of what was to come. (Chatman, if I remember correctly, is very guilty of this in his otherwise excellent book on Antonioni).

If we play a game and pretend that Antonioni died after making Il Grido how would people look at his work? Can say, Fellini (with the notable exception of 8 1\2) claim to have made a finer film than Il Grido? And yet when people talk of the film it seems to always be as the most 'Antonioniesque' of his pretrilogy films... this is a disservice, no?

Let us take, for example, [the very moving melodrama (of sorts) Le Amiche -which I must admit I haven't seen in a while... It is important to start by saying that it is a very funny film, humour being a thing Antonioni is not exactly noted for (though it is evident in several of his later films too). The humour is of a very feminine/gay nature with a jaw dropping amount of bitchiness/nastiness, granted this may not be your thing but how is this compatable with the gloomy, dour existentialist cliche image people have of the director?. As zedz, too has noted he is a very good director of women and this is a perfect example of this, off head he juggles at least 4/5 female characters and 3 males (who act as a couterfoil to the women). Additionally, the camera work/direction is flawless, as are the performances... I would like to write more (coherently) about this piece but my memory is too sketchy for this. However, I challenge any viewer to find a dull moment in this film...

[Scharphedin2]

Moving through 1953, I viewed a very diverse batch of films over the past week or so. Most of them were highly recommendable in their various ways. However, to start on a particularly low note for me personally, I found myself aborting the viewing of a film this past week. I cannot remember ever doing that before, and in a way I was being unfair to the film. However, after viewing a third of Vicki, I realized of course that it was a straight remake of I Wake Up Screaming, and as I did not find anything new or better in the casting, or execution of the story, I lost patience with it. It seemed in all ways inferior to the original. If someone has watched both films to the end, and have a very different impression, I would be interested to hear about it. I may just have to go back and do the film justice.

Next up was Plunder of the Sun; not a film I had great expectations for, but I have to say that after seeing it and His Kind Of Woman, I am basically ready to view anything out of John Farrow's quirky imagination. The eccentricity of the plot and characters involved in this tale of an American drifter (Glenn Ford), who comes into possession of clues that may lead to the recovery of an ancient Mexican treasure, almost rivals some of Huston's and Welles' noirs of the forties. Adding to the atmosphere of the film are the real Mexican streets, cantinas and ruins that serve as the backdrops for the story. This may rank as a minor pleasure, but a real pleasure nonetheless.

Like many people in the forum, I was impressed with Ida Lupino's The Hitch-Hiker. However, I was at least as impressed with The Bigamist, which she directed the same year. The subject of a man living a double life as husband to two different women, told with the sincerity that Lupino and her cast brought to this film, would be controversial even today. I am amazed that it would have been made in the early fifties. And then, there is the way that the story is told, only gradually revealing the kind of life that the Edmond O'Brien character is living. The scene about half an hour into the film, when an elderly agent from an adoption bureau turns up on O'Brien's doorstep at his alternate address is staged to perfection. Then there is the depiction of the loneliness of the traveling salesman (O'Brien), and the equally isolated Phyllis (played by Lupino herself), whom he meets by chance on one of his extended business trips – again, staged with real understanding and genuine sympathy. This is a very brave and noble film on an exceedingly difficult topic. I viewed the Alpha release of the film, and to be fair the disc is a mockery of the film, but how else will you ever get to see it?

And then, I viewed the absolutely wonderful Little Fugitive. This was made as a real independent film at the time, and apparently it served as a strong inspiration for several of the French new wave directors. What story there is concerns two young brothers (12 and 6 years old, I believe), who are left home alone for a day and a half. The older brother and his pals trick little Joey into thinking that he has shot and killed his brother. Being a real little cowboy, Joey at once realizes that he has no other option but to go on the lam, and so, with his six-shooter strapped to his waist and a couple of bucks in his jeans, Joey runs off to Coney Island. The rest of the film follows Joey's experiences at the boardwalk; there is hardly any dialogue, we just see how Joey passes his time trying out the various amusements, eating a wiener, buying candyfloss to discover that it is really just a bunch of fluff, trying his arm at hitting baseballs, knocking down cans, and riding ponies. Morris Engel and his crew truly got inside the head of this little boy, and captured this film almost as the boy's memory of the incident. Thanks to Schreck for pointing out this unique little film in the Kino Catalogue thread a while back!

Years ago, I went through a real ‘50s sci-fi binge, but somehow I never got around to Byron Haskin's War of the Worlds. I think, I figured that the story was so familiar to me that it could not be that exciting to view as a film. Seeing it now, the things that I probably enjoyed the most was the whole ‘50s vibe that the film has, and the Americana that creeps into the film at odd moments, like the square dancing early in the film, the almost “lover's laneâ€

[sevenarts]

Still going too. Anatomy of a Murder continues my Preminger binge, and I continue to be incredibly impressed. I'm sure this one is old news to almost everyone, but damn this film just sparkles. And that's not easy to accomplish in a nearly 3-hour courtroom drama about a man on trial for killing his wife's supposed rapist. But Stewart is absolutely amazing, totally relaxed in his role and able to perfectly handle the shifting tones of humor, mystery, and suspense. And the rest of the superstar cast is at a similarly high level too, even down to the bit players who could've otherwise been cliched, like the old alcoholic lawyer, who winds up a surprisingly nuanced and touching character. Preminger uses this material to explore the arbitrary nature of justice, and the disconnect between justice and the courtroom proceedings supposedly dedicated to reaching it, and the unsteady boundary between truth and lies, and the impossibility of truly knowing what is in another person's heart or mind. It's a remarkable film, and as I've come to expect as par for the course in Preminger, it hides a significant depth and complexity behind its surface entertainment and suspense.

Louis Malle's Crazeologie. Well, that was stupid.

Sunset Boulevard is another of those classics I probably should have seen before now. Really great. Gloria Swanson was incredible, hamming it up and clearly having a ball. Her Nosferatu-like clawing and grasping movements and widened eyes are all she needs to evoke silent-era glories, and her early line about the movies getting small seems perfectly apt. She plays a woman way too big for her world, too grand and grandiose for both the world and the film she's in here, her powerful performance stealing every scene. She's sad and hilarious and silly and overblown all at once, and it's wonderful.

[Michael]

I'm having a hard time ranking the French noir gems of 1950s. The ones I've seen: Rififi, Bob le Flambeur and Touchez pas au grisbi. How would you rank them? I think I love Bob the most.

[colinr0380]

I'm having a hard time ranking the French noir gems of 1950s. The ones I've seen: Rififi, Bob le Flambeur and Touchez pas au grisbi. How would you rank them? I think I love Bob the most.

The same for me, although I've not yet seen Touchez Pas Au Grisbi. I'd put Bob Le Flambeur first then Rififi just behind.

[Michael Kerpan]

In just did a brief survey -- and decided I have well over 30 Japanese favorite films from the 50s. ;~}

My absolute essentials

Naruse's "Repast", "Flowing", "Sound of the Mountain", "Lightning", "Floating Clouds", "Late Chrysanthemums"

Ozu's "Early Summer", "Tokyo Story", "Tokyo Twilight", "Equinox Flower", "Floating Weeds"

Mizoguchi's "Life of O-Haru", "Crucified Lovers", "Gion Festival Music", "Street of Shame"

Uchida's "Bloody Spear at Mt. Fuji" (if you can read French at all -- please watch the French DVD of this woefully under-appreciated masterpiece)

Toyoda's "Gan" (Mistress / Wild Geese)

Kurosawa's "Idiot", "Lower Depths", "Throne of Blood", "Seven Samurai"

Gosho's "Where Chimneys Are Seen", "Banka"

Ichikawa's "Burmese Harp"

Imai's "Story of Pure Love"

An extraordinary outpouring of creativity (and genius).

[Michael]

Thanks for the very helpful survey, Michael.

Back to the French crime / noirs, I'd place Bob le Flambeur ahead of Rififi because Bob has such a beautifully designed array of lost souls that are so easy to love and embrace like best friends - not much different from PT Anderson's own family of characters. Bob - what a guy! I could watch him walking in silence for hours without getting tired. And Melville's women are something else - very strong, independent and luxuriously realized. Is it possible to forget the 16 year old Anne in the tallest stilettos I've ever seen? Or that bar owner - brief scenes but wonderfully memorable?

Rififi is great but it moralizes too much for my taste .. and also way too cruel with its characters.

[Scharphedin2]

Michael Kerpan -- I just viewed Twenty-Four Eyes last night, and was deeply moved. It was my first Kinoshita film, and I could not help sending you a thought and wondering what you think of the film, and this director's work in general.

I remember Donald Richie being very enthusiastic about Kinoshita in his book on Japanese film history, and I of course find it sad that this is more or less the only accessible film of his that is available to an English subtitle dependent audience.

[Michael Kerpan]

I have grown more and more disenchanted with Kinoshita's films the more I've seen. I think I've seen about 12 of his films by now, and have little interest in seeing any more of them.

On first viewing of "24 Eyes" and "Carmen Comes Home", I rather enjoyed them (and was moved by 24 Eyes). But they haven't worn well. I find Kinoshita too blatantly manipulative for my taste. And I don't think he has a very strong visual sensibility (lots of visual gimmickry in his later films). My favorite Kinoshita film is his war-time "Army" -- due to its great final sequence.

Kinoshita's socio-political heart was in the right place -- so I would like to enjoy his work. But I don't.

Takamine's performance in 24 Eyes is fine (so far as it goes), but is far less subtle than the work she did for Naruse. Similarly, Hara's one Kinoshita role (in Ojosan kampai) is much less distinctive than her work for Ozu, Naruse and Kurosawa). Sugimura is impressive in "Morning for the Osone Family", but the film itself seems pretty stagey (and dramatically a bit preposterous). I absolutely loathed his "Ballad of Narayama" -- which I felt wasted the talent of Kinuyo Tanaka.

Obviously lots of other people have liked Kinoshita's films -- but he is my least favorite (second) golden age director. I like Tadashi Imai and Hideo Oba's films more -- not to mention other better known peers like Ichikawa and Kurosawa (and elders like Ozu, Naruse, Mizoguchi and Gosho). And, I much prefer Yoji Yamada's more recent handling of sentimental and didactic material (a director Richie ignores in his book -- despite his immense and enduring popularity).

Note: "24 Eyes" is definitely worth seeing -- because of its cultural significance -- and because it is always worthwhile seeing Takamine at work.

[zedz]

In just did a brief survey -- and decided I have well over 30 Japanese favorite films from the 50s. ;~}

I agree with you on the strength of Japanese cinema in this decade (and wish I'd seen all the films you mention), but for me it's the sixties where this gets especially ridiculous. I could already put together a rock-solid '50 best' list for the decade without leaving Japan. Not only have you got the influx of New Wave geniuses (Oshima, Imamura, Hani et al), but you've got the tail end of the grandmasters (Ozu, Naruse) and continued high achievement by the generation in between (Kurosawa, Ichikawa, Shindo), plus various wild cards like Suzuki and Masumura doing their best work.

[Scharphedin2]

In just did a brief survey -- and decided I have well over 30 Japanese favorite films from the 50s. ;~}

I agree with you on the strength of Japanese cinema in this decade (and wish I'd seen all the films you mention), but for me it's the sixties where this gets especially ridiculous. I could already put together a rock-solid '50 best' list for the decade without leaving Japan. Not only have you got the influx of New Wave geniuses (Oshima, Imamura, Hani et al), but you've got the tail end of the grandmasters (Ozu, Naruse) and continued high achievement by the generation in between (Kurosawa, Ichikawa, Shindo), plus various wild cards like Suzuki and Masumura doing their best work.

Not to mention Masaki Kobayashi, who would certainly have 3 or 4 films on my all Japanese '60s list.

[zedz]

Not to mention Masaki Kobayashi, who would certainly have 3 or 4 films on my all Japanese '60s list.

And Teshigahara, and Shinoda. It's an incredibly rich period. It may partly be ignorance on my part, but there seems to be a really stark contrast with the 1970s, when so many of these filmmakers were drastically less active (or deceased). Actually, did any of the filmmakers mentioned maintain the same level and quality of output in the following decade?

Maybe we should leave this discussion until the 1960s List Suggestions thread starts up in June?

[Michael Kerpan]

As to the 60s, probably discussion can be deferred a bit.

As to 70s, do we need a new thread? ;~}

Short answer -- most giants of earlier years had died or retired -- or had retreated (or been pushed) into a lower level of activity. And the 70s films that were made have been relatively unavailable in the West.