1958


cat-on-a-hot-tin-roof

1958’s Cat on a Hot Tin Roof is a scorching drama of family strife, sexuality, and internal conflict. Based on the Tennessee Williams play of the same name, the film is a masterful assessment of what occurs when a family goes through tragic and frustrating circumstances. Richard Brooks directed the motion picture and also helped adapt the Williams play for the screen, earning Best Writing and Best Director Oscar nominations. The movie was also nominated for Best Picture, Best Actor (Paul Newman), Best Actress (Elizabeth Taylor), and Best Cinematography. Somehow it didn’t win a single Oscar.

Newman stars as Brick, a former high school football star. He has degenerated into an alcoholic and a loser, spending most of his time looking back instead of looking ahead. Brick is in Mississippi with his wife, Maggie (Taylor), visiting his family to celebrate Big Daddy’s (Burl Ives) 65th birthday. Big Daddy is returning home after being at the hospital and is greeted by his eldest son Gooper (Jack Carson) and Gooper’s irritating wife Mae Flynn Pollitt (Madeleine Sherwood).

Gooper and Mae Lynn are attempting to hone in on Big Daddy’s rather significant inheritance, but Maggie isn’t about to let that happen without a fight. She attempts to implore Brick to put up more of a fight, but Big Daddy’s other son has sunken so low into alcoholism that he doesn’t appear to care. In reality, however, the issues plaguing Brick are much more complex. In an alcohol-fuelled discussion with Big Daddy, Brick reveals once and for all what has been bothering him all of these years, how Maggie factors in to it, and how he struggles with the affection of his wife.

The original play contained allusions to homosexuality as being the reason Brick didn’t reciprocate Maggie’s bedroom advances. In the film, a relationship between Brick and a “friend” named Skipper is mentioned frequently as being the catalyst for Brick’s alcoholism. There are several references to Brick, including a moment in which Mae Lynn refers to him as being “big and beautiful” and several segments of dialogue which refer to a “love” between Skipper and Brick.

It is said that Tennessee Williams was less than happy with Brooks’ film adaptation of his play. He apparently told people waiting in line to see it that it would “set the industry back 50 years” and told people to “go home!” Whether or not there is any truth to that is extraneous, as Brooks’ motion picture is among the most powerful and forceful I have seen in quite some time. The dialogue is quick, the performances are remarkable from the top of the cast to the bottom, and the pacing is extraordinary.

Cat on a Hot Tin Roof was originally scheduled as a black and white shoot. Once Newman and Taylor were cast, however, the decision was made to create the movie in colour. This was largely based on the striking effervescence behind the eyes of both Newman and Taylor. In many ways, “the eyes have it.” There are moments of superb beauty from both performers, as they stare holes through other characters and produce marvellous force with only their eyes. The way in which the characters move and physically intermingle with one another is exhilarating. Seeing the colour of their eyes is a substantial part of the bigger picture.

Along with being visually impressive, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof is courageous and exceptionally sharp. We are given characters that pull no punches and go for the jugular. Scenes don’t unfold or unfurl; they explode into the open like a beast in a cage. In the movie’s critical altercation between Ives’ Big Daddy and Newman’s Brick, the dialogue and the physical presence of the two great actors is the stuff of legends. We are given characters laid bare, placed into the open, and cracked apart for all to witness. The heroism of the performers deserves to be recognized.

Cat on a Hot Tin Roof is a movie that doesn’t pander to audiences. It doesn’t patronize either. The characters use “big words” and aren’t afraid to act wisely, which is a bracing scene to see in an industry that can so often produce wonders of mediocrity. Brooks’ motion picture has the confidence to make a prop out of the word “mendacity” and to present alcoholism, family issues, homosexuality (and sexuality in general), and deception as genuine, tangible, adult issues. For its gallantry alone, this is one of the best films of the 50s.

9.7/10

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Vertigo

At the time Hitchcock’s Vertigo came out, the critical response was mixed. Premiering in San Francisco on May 9, 1958, the film performed very moderately at the box office and the critics found the film “too long” and was too “bogged down” in details. Now, almost 50 years later, Vertigo is considered somewhat of a classic suspense thriller and is often mentioned as one of Hitchcock’s finest films. Part of this change of popular critical opinion can be put to the French critics, as they began to re-evaluate Hitchcock and his films in the 1960s. Instead of seeing Hitch as merely a populist showman making films for the masses, the “Cahiers du cinema” began looking for something more.

It helped matters that film scholars started to consider Vertigo to be a significant film. The movie was also one of five owned by the Hitchcock estate that was removed from circulation in 1973. When it was re-released in 1983 to theatres and reached the home video market in 1984, the reviews were significantly different and Vertigo was considered a commercial success. Go figure. In 1989, it was recognized as “culturally significant” and was selected for the National Film Registry by the United States Library of Congress. Sight and Sound recognized it as one of the Best Films Ever Made and it started to show up on many top film lists. So then, is Vertigo one of the best films ever made or has it been influenced by other “smarter” bodies of critics so much so that the tide of opinion changed due to a sort of strange peer pressure?

Hitchcock’s Vertigo is a vision of an ultimately damned romance, a sort of idealistic suspense thriller. It is also an intense psychological study of a man’s twisted psyche and his obsession with romantic longing. The movie is also, as if it needed more layering, a riff on themes of voyeurism, manipulation, and sexual obsession for a blonde heroine. These themes have all been explored before by Hitchcock, of course, and some deem his unofficial trilogy of Rear Window, Vertigo, and Psycho to capture the abovementioned themes better than any other filmmaker. It is true that Hitchcock is the master of suspense, but it is also true that he understood the inner workings of man more than most filmmakers.

James Stewart stars as John “Scottie” Ferguson, a San Francisco cop with acrophobia. His acrophobia causes vertigo, rendering Scottie ineffectual in many situations as a police officer. As a result, he retires and spends a lot of time with a friend, Midge (Barbara Bel Geddes). One day, Scottie is hired by an old college pal, Gavin Elster (Tom Helmore) to serve as a private detective and to follow his wife, Madeleine (Kim Novak). Gavin thinks that Madeleine is suffering from some sort of mental illness or demonic possession because she’s been acting strangely. Scottie reluctantly agrees to follow her and becomes strongly attracted to her. This romantic entanglement leads to some interesting situations, as Scottie and Madeleine become connected in one profound way after another. As usual with Hitchcock films, nothing is quite what it seems. We’ll leave it at that.

The screenplay is an adaptation of a Pierre Boileau and Thomas Narcejac novel, Sueurs froides: d’entre les morts. The script was written from Hitch’s notes on the book by Samuel Taylor, who was used because of his enormous knowledge of the film’s backdrop, San Francisco. Taylor created a few things, such as the character of Midge, to add some depth to the story. Eventually, Taylor pulled a fast one and tried to assume full credit for the screenplay. The Screen Writers Guild determined that everyone deserved writing credit, however, and all was well after a minor hiccup.

Vertigo is a very strong film, filled with images and moments that demonstrate the severe obsession and peculiarity of the situations and characters. Hitchcock conducts the film fearlessly, as he revels in the abnormality of his characters. As we explore the nature of Scottie’s acrophobia and the subsequent vertigo, we learn more of the layering of his issue and his fears become more palpable. What is he afraid of? What causes his dizziness? What causes his fascination with Madeleine? There are many questions that the movie brings about and the answers are not necessarily pretty or gratifying. Instead, the answers are real. As tragedy strikes, ostensibly over and over in this splendid film, the dizziness mounts within.

Vertigo is not Hitchcock’s best film, but its madness and eerie romance set it apart from the rest of his catalogue in a very philosophical and compelling way. The characters resonate well and the performances are marvellous. Novak is gorgeous and Stewart’s maddening descent is always engaging. The direction from Hitch is, as usual, on point and the film’s score by Hitch stalwart Bernard Herrmann is haunting and effective. Vertigo is a tricky film in that it is complex and layered, but it is also one of Hitchcock’s most rewarding films and has one hell of an ending sequence. I highly recommend Vertigo for those wanting to how a suspense thriller should be done.

9.5/10

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The Hidden Fortress

The Hidden Fortress, also known as The Three Villains of the Hidden Fortress, is a 1958 Akira Kurosawa film. This film was Kurosawa’s first to be filmed in widescreen Tohoscope, which would be a format that the director would use for the next decade. The Hidden Fortress was originally presented in Perspectasound, which would thankfully and beautifully recreated for the lovely Criterion Collection DVD I was able to see the film on. Perspectasound was created in 1954 and also used on films such as White Christmas, the 1954 reissue of Gone With the Wind, and Vertigo.

The Hidden Fortress is probably best known among film buffs as being an influence on George Lucas and his Star Wars films. It also marks a definitive moment in Kurosawa’s career, however. The film came about after the success of early films like Seven Samurai and Rashomon, as Kurosawa began to abandon his early interest in modern set films and began to focus more of his energy on period pieces. Kurosawa began to elaborate on elements he presented in his modern set films, but moved them to period locations and built on these elements in the “jidai” settings. This meant Kurosawa used a concentration on moral themes in his period pieces and The Hidden Fortress certainly focuses in on those.

The story of The Hidden Fortress, like most Kurosawa stories, is both elaborate and simplistic. It involves two farmers, Matashichi (Kamatari Fujiwara) and Tahei (Minoru Chiaki), as they have escaped a prison camp and are scavenging the wilderness for gold. Just as they stumble upon a fortune, they are happened upon by General Rokurota Makabe (Toshiro Mifune). The General is secretly safeguarding Princess Yuki (Misa Uehara) in a camp in the hidden valley fortress. He threatens the two farmers and dispatches them to help escort the Princess and the gold through regional battles to regain her rightful throne in another area. On the way, the personalities of the group are tested through elements of fear and greed.

Kurosawa’s films were highly Westernized versions of their Japanese counterparts. When other filmmakers were doing period pieces in feudal Japanese settings, Kurosawa was using those settings and telling a story that more likely represented the films of John Ford or Sam Peckinpah. Kurosawa broke the mold in a lot of ways, setting up plot devices that are now familiar to modern filmgoers. In The Hidden Fortress, he utilizes humour to draw the audience further in to the adventure story, which is clearly a common device used now. Kurosawa certainly wasn’t the first to do this, but it does demonstrate more than a passing fancy with Western filmmaking for the gifted director.

The Hidden Fortress is a type of epic morality play. When the General, played elegantly by Mifune, says of the two scoundrel farmers that he can “rely on their greed,” he means it. These two farmers are as greedy as can be, putting the group in danger through their stupidity but, at the same time, salvaging hope for the General and the Princess to get the Princess back where she belongs on the throne. Without the two scoundrels, all might be lost. With the two scoundrels, it’s more of the same. Princess Yuki also grapples with a morality of her own, dealing with a sort of tomboyish exterior while becoming crippled with the emotional weight of her duty internally. This is shown best during a rare superimposed double image in which she is shown sobbing within the vision of her flag.

The look of The Hidden Fortress is beautiful, too. Using the widescreen filming techniques, Kurosawa’s gifted hand draws us in to the action with clarity and excitement. The action and adventure sequences are broad in scale and the characters leap off of the screen with vigour and intensity. While The Hidden Fortress does not have the sweeping scope of a film like Kurosawa’s later masterpiece Ran, it still packs a wallop when it comes to setting the scene for fun adventure. With the widescreen technique, Kurosawa expertly moves the action from the back of the screen to the front or from the far side to the near side, giving the audience a raw sense of the action approaching.

Another aspect of beauty with The Hidden Fortress comes with the use of Kurosawa’s quick editing techniques. Action sequences are done with succinct cuts and slices, making things move fast and clean on the screen. When the General fights four soldiers on a charge through the forest back to the headquarters of the villains, Kurosawa moves the camera and the film at a rapid yet gentle pace and allows the action to work as the chase works. With this frenetic energy, Kurosawa’s quick edits come more forcefully into play as faces gleam in and out and the General chases the villains down. Another example of this comes with the brilliant spear fight later in the same portion of the film.

The Hidden Fortress delves into Kurosawa’s normative moral questions, putting human beings in constant conflict with fate. The imagery within the film depicts mankind as being slaves to fate or pawns in a giant chess game of life. This gives what would seem, on the surface at least, to be a normal adventure film a gracious quality of life-affirming passion. Kurosawa’s film moves and breathes on the screen, but it’s also a wonderfully vibrant fun adventure. The characters are rich and bold, giving engaging life to the action around them. Even the scoundrel farmers have a quality of life to them that reflects in their shattering and hilarious greed. As they chase down lost fragments of gold, putting lives at risk, one can’t help but want to scold them.

The Hidden Fortress is so much more than just an inspiration for Star Wars and George Lucas. On the lovely Criterion Collection DVD, Lucas appears in an introduction and ventures to distance himself from the more direct influences. This does the film and Kurosawa great favour and shows the type of honour among thieves that the two shared. With trailblazing sensibility for the screen, Kurosawa’s The Hidden Fortress functions as another masterpiece from this bold and brilliant talent.

10/10

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