Review - Mr. Hobbs Takes a Vacation (1962 - Dir. Henry Koster)

So James Stewart didn't get one of his powerhouse films in his random selection then (Vertigo, Anatomy of a Murder). I wouldn't be too happy going into the semi-final of the FA Cup of Actors with Mr. Hobbs Takes a Vacation, especially being up against Émilie Dequenne. But that's what he's been given so we better get on with it (even though it sounds like some kind of Chevy Chase film).

Banker Roger Hobbs (James Stewart) plans on taking his wife on a lovely holiday, just the two of them (kinky devil). She has other plans and he ends up on a month long holiday with his whole family. Roger is not too pleased. He turns things around by seeing it as a chance to get his family back together and get them to see the true importance of family. Good luck with that mate.

Everything about this film screams the sixties: the supporting cast, the oh-so-polite teenage dance, and the music by Henry Mancini. Not necessarily a bad thing, but this has the feel of an American sitcom from that period where everyone claps when someone enters the room. The comedy for the most part is smile worthy at best. Apart from one moment which had me rolling about laughing (it's a shame that no-one else will).

The scene in question is when Roger goes out on a bird watching trip with his son-in-law's prospective boss, Mr Turner (in a strange interview process, the boss man spends three days with the family on holiday to get a feel for their moral fibre). When Roger begins to tire, Turner picks him up (not literally) on his walking style. He demonstrates how to walk with the knees bent, keeping the head parallel to the ground in a walking version of the economy run. Roger does this walk for a fair while, which had me chuckling away no end. (I did say that no-one else will probably find this funny due to the vastly obscure nature of the 'economy run' reference.)

One worrying aspect of the film is the casting of Lauri Peters as Roger's daughter who is in her early teens. For starters, she was in her late teens when she made this, but far worse is the plasticky quality of her skin and the fact that she has to do this strange gurning smile (all as part of the script admittedly). She ends up looking like a deranged toothless auton.

One of my favourite sequences involves Roger taking his son on a boat trip and getting lost in the fog (you know I can't resist a good mist.) It adds a much needed slice of variety in the middle of the film and although everyone in the whole universe knows that they're going to be fine, it's still enough to be engaging.

But it's got James Stewart in it so it can't be all bad. He's got the amazing super power of being able to raise any film that he's in up to at least average. He does so here, yet sadly it's not enough to knock out the lovely Émilie Dequenne, who only managed 6/10 herself with her entry. 
5/10
evlkeith

If you like this you could also try:
Mr Blandings Builds His Dream House, Magic Town.

Review - The Swimmer (1968 - Dir. Frank Perry)

(Sorry the birthday celebrations are a tad on the late side but I've been mildly poorly the last couple of weeks. Anyway, let's rejoice three years of obscurendure goodness with Doccortex's review of The Swimmer - evlkeith.)

A cult classic and for years a film I thought was my all time favourite. It’s surprising that it’s taken me twenty years to return to a film that I watched many times in my youth, but what we find agreeable in our late teens seldom holds our attention as we enter middle age. So did The Swimmer fill me with a sense of depression in a similar way to watching Billy Liar recently? Or is this a timeless piece of film-making that comes with a free pair of rose coloured spectacles? Well the answer is a bit of both really.

It’s a journey film centred around aging suburban socialite Ned Merrell negotiating his way home via a ‘river’ made up of his neighbours’ swimming pools. As he visits each of the pools he meets characters, friends and acquaintances from his past life, reliving the events and attitudes that have shaped his current situation. There’s a colourful collection of his former golf buddies, girlfriends, baby sitters and even a couple of naturists. Slowly but surely the real story is revealed through these encounters.

Burt Lancaster is suitably gregarious and simultaneously confused. At times he looks like he’s in some drug induced state of bliss and at other times he looks absolutely gormless and I’m not convinced whether he actually intended to represent himself as either. There’s a slow motion scene where he trots around a horse’s show jumping pen in his swimming trunks with an attractive baby-sitter in tow (let’s face it who hasn’t), and it’s hard to tell whether it’s Ned Merrell or Burt Lancaster undertaking the smug middle aged dressage. It’s a great performance, but I’m not sure how much was acting, how much was meant and how much was showing off.

The crux of my confusion with the film lies in the difference of perception between my twenty-something self and my current self in the here and now. In my youth Ned Merrell looked like a avuncular old player, a wide boy who had fallen on hard times, and I pitied him. Now he looks creepy, an old has-been praying on women to boost his own ego, luring ex-baby sitters into his bizarre swimathon plot and he even throws in some mild racism. This is what becomes of the all American capitalist pin up boy, and at the end I feel no pity, just a feeling that he got what he deserved.

Yes, it’s still a great film, but it’s darker and weirder than I remember. Maybe great films grow and mature with us. Perhaps it’s a measure of personal growth or my personal cynicism. Whatever your age, gender or perspective it’s a seductive watch and a stretch of water we should all dip into from time to time.

9/10
Doccortex

If you like this you could also try:
Elmer Gantry, Story of a Love Affair.

Review - Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea (1961 - Dir. Irwin Allen)

When I decided to put Joan Fontaine into the FA Cup of Actors I was expecting to randomly generate a quality black and white offering along the lines of Rebecca or Letter From an Unknown Woman. But no, what turns up but a slice of action from the disputed master of disaster, Irwin Allen.

Admiral Nelson (Walter Pidgeon) takes his new nuclear sub for a test run when, surprise, surprise, the Van Allen radiation belt gets set on fire, causing the Earth to heat up in an alarming fashion. He comes up with a plan to solve this minor problem and in true American style it involves blowing stuff up with missiles. In his quest he is backed up by Captain Crane (Robert Sterling) and Dr. Susan Hiller (Joan Fontaine) who is a guest on the sub, investigating what happens to people's mental health under severe pressure.

Seeing as though I only watched this for Joan Fontaine, it's a bit disappointing where she's concerned. Despite being the film's leading lady she doesn't get a close up for the first half hour. Saying that, there's not much to get a close up of. She spends the whole film looking like a local dignitary opening a new museum of which they have zero knowledge or interest. To say that she is distant is an understatement. 

The film creates a suitably under water atmosphere due to the sets and the miniatures. It shows the magic of film when some dubious model work and shaking the camera around can create the sense of a crew working under the sea. Saying that there is a shocking scene where an octopus attacks a few members of the crew who are out in their diving gear. They basically roll themselves up in its tentacles and look a bit scared. The editing is partly to blame as it lingers for an age on a useless long shot. When it cuts quickly between close up shots of the action, things improve immeasurably and it actually looks fairly convincing.

Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea plods along at an okay pace, throwing new challenges at the crew: a saboteur, other subs trying to scupper their plans, and the sight of Barbara Eden dancing in a slightly deranged fashion. But if you want to watch a film about a fiery end to the world give the superior The Day the Earth Caught Fire a go instead. A disappointing entry for Joan Fontaine, but will Barbara Crampton be able to capitalise on her defensive slip ups and power through to the next round. Find out soon...
3/10
evlkeith

If you like this you could also try:
The Day the Earth Caught Fire, The Towering Inferno, The Poseidon Adventure.

Review - Belle de Jour (1967 - Dir. Luis Bunuel)

(Again seeing as though it's Ladies' Night feel free to play a bit of Kool & the Gang as you read this lovely review by Doccortex - evlkeith)

Catherine Deneuve is the titular Belle de Jour and she has a whole range of marital problems. At the top of the list is the fact that she keeps drifting off into a Mills and Boone fantasy world with whips and chains thrown in for good measure and the Velvet Underground’s ‘Venus in Furs’ playing in the background. Husband, Jean Sorel, although French, doesn’t look the most understanding of types.

Unlike most bored married people in Britain, Séverine doesn’t go to bingo, take up darts or go down to the allotments. Instead she takes up the unusual hobby of prostitution. But sneakily, only in the daytime, so she can be there to cook husband Pierre’s tea in the evening. This seems a tad extreme, but surprisingly, it all goes swimmingly for a while as Severine gets all the seedy action she so desires, but also gets paid into the bargain (a hell of a lot more than writing an obscure film blog I might add.) Obviously it can’t last and things start to get a little awkward in the second half of the film.

The film is all about Deneuve and Bunuel’s infatuation with her, (and often her feet). She is distant, aloof and it has to be said, wooden for most of the film. Only in the latter conflict stages does she come to life and show any signs of life, let alone passion. She is the epitome of French cool and I have no doubts it was the director’s intention to portray her in this ethereal trance state, rather than any slight on Deneuve’s acting. She’s iconic and beautiful, but is too pampered and stylised by Bunuel to be anywhere near likeable or attractive. Consequently, we have no sympathy for her demise and are left with tired apathy. And I had a little chuckle to myself when it all went pear shaped too.

It’s supposedly a classic, and to be fair it’s never less than enjoyable, but if it were made today it would be shown on the Movies for Men channel on Sky. And although that sounds a bit racy, I can assure you it isn’t. If odd, French melodramas are your thing, then this will be perfect, the rest of us may be more circumspect however.

4/10
Doccortex

If you like this you could also try:
Viridiana, That Obscure Object of Desire.

Review - Night of Bloody Horror (1969 - Dir. Joy N. Houck Jr.)

This is the first instalment in an infrequent season that could well take a few years to complete, in fact it may never be finished depending on the availability of the films. So what's it all about? F. Paul Wilson wrote three books in the eighties that were seemingly unconnected: The Keep (made into a disappointing film by Michael Mann), The Tomb and The Touch. He then wrote a further three novels that brought everything together: Reborn, Reprisal and finally Nightworld. These six books form The Adversary Cycle and they're probably the books that I have read the most. 

What's all this got to do with films then? In Nightworld the local television stations run horror/science fiction marathons that fit with the theme of the book. These films are listed at various points throughout. Being a list pervert I just couldn't resist trying to watch all of them, and that's what I'm going to try and do. I've included the full list of 56 films on Letterboxd for your delectation.

And that brings us to the first film on the list: Night of Bloody Horror. For the late sixties this probably was a night of bloody horror but now it's more of an evening of slight grazing. Okay, it's not that tame but the violence won't have the same impact as when it was originally released. There is a quality comedy killing near the start when a lovely lady goes to confession only to be told that her "penance is death!" Eye trauma follows. An axe is used at one point too - always a treat - so this can be seen as a precursor to the slasher films.

When I was watching The Ark of the Sun God recently I was cynically wondering when Raiders of the Lost Ark was released, and yep, it was a couple of years earlier. Here I was thinking that night of Bloody Horror must have been filmed in 1961 or 1962, just after Psycho. Mais non! This was released in 1969. Way too late for a cheap homage. Suffice to say that if you've seen Hitchcock's classic then you'd see the unexpected twist in Night of Bloody Horror coming, even if it set off from the other side of the world. 

Despite some fairly amateurish acting it's enjoyable enough. Wesley (Gerald McRaney - Simon and Simon) plays a troubled young lad who has witnessed something rather disturbing in his childhood. Flashbacks occur in a similar fashion to the ones in Deep Red (1975) accompanied by a tinkly creepy childish tune. Wesley is regularly afflicted by some serious headaches. So serious they are visualised by some some swirly patterns that are overlaid on to his grimacing visage. The police start to suspect Wesley of some minor misdemeanours due to the fact that his girlfriends keep turning up dead. He doesn't help his case by generally being violent and having some slightly worrying dreams. In one he is met by an attractive reporter who hops into bed with him for some slap and tickle. As they caress and rummage, Wesley looks down and the attractive brunette has changed... to his mum. Not good. Oedipus and Freud would stroke their chins in ponderment.

Just as Psycho is an example of a western giallo, so too is this, even down to the leather murdering gloves. It has some style: freeze frames are used to good effect and the camera goes completely bonkers in a nightclub scene, flicking between negative and positive versions of the film. Added to that is the way the camera operator constantly zooms in and out in time to the music. It all made me feel a little bit on the murdery side. 

Ultimately, it's not a Dario Argento giallo or a quality Hitchcock thriller. But what you do get is a slice of sixties murder and mayhem all filmed in Violent Vision that may or may not have influenced Mr Argento. Best for people who've never seen Psycho though.
3/10
evlkeith

If you like this you could also try:
Psycho, Peeping Tom.

Review - Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (1964 - Dir. Stanley Kubrick)

The title gives a big clue to the tone of this film. I'm not that big a Kubrick fan and this hasn't done much to change my opinion. Full Metal Jacket is a classic and The Shining is enjoyable enough. Apart from that, I'm not too bothered. I can see how good his films are technically, the compositions, the transitions and all that business, but I don't find them that enjoyable or fun.

Dr. Strangelove (can I stick with an abbreviated title, please?) tries to be fun. And succeeds at times. Some of the lines had me chuckling away like a baboon that's just seen a You've Been Framed clip of a gibbon falling into a liquidiser. My favourite quote, by the President of America, has something to do with a war room and fighting. Other attempts at humour fall suspiciously flat. The titular Dr. Strangelove in particular was really tiresome with his barely restrained nazi leanings.

As you may know, or have guessed from the title, Dr. Strangelove is about nuclear war. Brig. Gen. Jack Ripper (looking at the photo above, does he remind you of anyone else?) decides it's about time to teach those naughty commies a lesson and so, without Presidential authorisation, makes a pre-emptive nuclear strike on Russia. The planes make a bee line for their targets and prepare themselves for mass slaughter. One pilot even dons a cowboy hat. The President is miffed about the state of affairs and takes advice from his advisors and military (in the form of George C. Scott) who react in a typical militaristic fashion.

Having the eighties as the playground for my teenage years meant that the threat of nuclear war was all too real for me. Threads and When the Wind Blows didn't help matters and neither did the video for Frankie Goes to Hollywood's 'Two Tribes' that was initially shown in all it's glory on late night Channel 4 (preceded by the brilliantly seedy- but sadly not available on YouTube - 'Relax' video). All of these jolly songs and films led me to think that a crispy death was imminent. But strangely, I'd much rather watch any of these again rather than Dr. Strangelove despite their depressing nature.

It's partly down to Peter Sellers. Like Kubrick, I've never seen the fascination with Sellers. Here he plays three characters. And he's basically showing off (in true Doccortex fashion, any display of real talent is classed as "showing off"). Admittedly there's only Dr Strangelove who's irritating but I spent a fair portion of the film thinking about Sellers' acting skills and wondering whether he'd pop up as another character. Grudgingly, I would say that's he's pretty handy as an actor and maybe a comedy is the best place to play multiple roles. It still brought me out of the film though.

Whether you enjoy Dr Strangelove - or love it, as many people do - comes down to whether you like the humour or not. For me, it was a bit hit and miss, but I'll leave you with a quote: a character is talking about how he was tortured by the Japanese in WWII and thinks that they did it just for laughs, but he finishes with, "Strange thing is they make such bloody good cameras."
4/10
evlkeith



If you like this you could also try:
Kind Hearts and Coronets, Threads, When the Wind Blows, The Mouse that Roared.

Review - The Flight of the Phoenix (1965 - Dir. Robert Aldrich)

Everything is going swimmingly, apart from the fact that a plane piloted by Frank Towns (James Stewart) and co-piloted by Lew Moran (Richard Attenborough) has hit a sand storm and both engines have stopped. The tension has been built up slowly to maximise the impact of the crash. But then we are treated to a bizarre Are You Being Served style credits  sequence. The characters all get a beautiful mid-grimace freeze frame - just as they about to be smacked in the face by some hurtling loose luggage - accompanied by the actor's name. This completely kills any excitement but is pretty funny. Besides it's what happens after the crash that leaves them stranded in the desert, that is the source of the real drama.

In virtually all air crashes someone has to die and this is no exception. But lets take a closer look at a couple of people who bite the bullet. One of them is seen reading an adult specialist magazine in an earlier scene. The dirty little pervert has to die. As for the next villain, thoroughly deserving of his grizzly death, his crime was to play music of an ethnic nature. Good job Doccortex doesn't fly too often.

Another character refers to the aforementioned music in a slightly more racist way. In fact, he refers to most things in a slightly racist way. But it's only the one character who's a racist so it must just be part of his character, although he doesn't get any comeuppance or have a change of heart to complete a character arc. He's just a big racist. The film doesn't do itself any favours either by including a German plane designer, Heinrich Dorfmann (Hardy Kruger), who is rather efficient at his job, to say the least. In its defence it was made in 1965. (Chorlton and the Wheelies was made in 1976 and is also pretty racist, so we'll give it a break.)

Let's get the last negative out of the way: Borgnine. Not the attractive Borg lady from Voyager but Ernest Borgnine (decide which is better using the handy photos below). Overacting is his speciality and his performance here is exemplary. But this isn't too much of a problem. (Watch the film to find out the reason why.)

Despite being fairly studio bound the heat of the desert and the danger of their predicament is all too apparent. One scene deals very intelligently with the obvious idea of walking back to civilisation. It's something that I'd probably think I'd give a go but this shows just how stupid the idea is. They come up with a craftier plan: make a new plane out of the wreckage and fly out of there. Not stupid at all. Regardless, they crack on and work through the night and kip in the day. Slightly better plan.

I doubt that it's much of a spoiler to say that they manage to build an aircraft. My big problem with it though is that the passengers don't have lovely seats to sit on, they have to hold on to a metal pole welded on to the top of the wing. Surely Health and Safety would have something to say about that. Couldn't they have made some kind of harness or at least a little seatbelt. (NB Alton Towers: Air would be a lot safer if it had a little seatbelt too, like Nemesis. Sort it out.)

Flight of the Phoenix is all about the drama between the three main characters. Stewart is great, as always, in the role of the not-so-heroic Frank Towns. He is such a flawed hero that he's almost not a hero at all. Yet you're with him every step of the way. Dorfmann is a right little show off and, as Towns points out, is always right. Hardy Kruger is spot on in this role, making every line believable. Richard Attenborough is stuck in the middle of these two. When all three of them come together at a major plot revelation it must be one of my favourite scenes in any film. It's drawn out for so long but all three actors sell it completely. Some of the expressions on Stewart and Attenborough's faces are priceless.

It's quite a long film but worth watching for a Spanish Doctor who looks a bit like Shatner. If that's not a recommendation, I don't know what is.
7/10
evlkeith



If you like this you could also try:
Flight of the Phoenix (2004), Ice Cold in Alex, Anatomy of a Murder.