Reviews

"Mr. Arkadin" represents sort of a low point for Orson Welles - certainly a commercial one, and arguably an artistic one as well. Presumably exhausted by his four-year ordeal of producing "Othello" and far removed from his Hollywood glory years, he attempted a comeback with this hodgepodge re-working of the "Citizen Kane" theme. The rich and mysterious Mr. Arkadin hires an investigator to research his past, presumably to keep his secrets away from his enemies. However, everyone interviewed by the private eye mysteriously dies! (This idea was realized more effectively in Alan Parker's 1987 film "Angel Heart"). Although this film showcases' Welles unique style far better than, say, "The Stranger," its utter lack of production values make the experience somewhat grueling. Welles shoots with a manic energy, but fails to reach the giddy heights of "The Lady from Shanghai" or the visual eloquence of "Othello." Fortunately, Welles gets some entertaining performances from his supporting cast, particularly Michael Redgrave as an effeminate shopkeeper and the ubiquitous Akim Tamiroff ("Touch of Evil's" Uncle Joe Grandi) as the kooky Jacob Zouk.

Welles aficionados will yet find much to admire about "Mr. Arkadin." The elements of Welles' trademark style are mostly here, even if they fail to add up to a cohesive work of art. As French New Wave critic Andre Bazin famously remarked, "Mr Arkadin" is "completely the work of Welles."

Kenneth Branagh's "Hamlet" hits all the marks. The acting is magnificent, the 70mm cinematography is gorgeous, the Oscar-nominated costumes and sets are stunning, and Patrick Doyle's score (also Oscar-nominated) is sensitive and moving. Oh yeah - the screenplay, by some guy named Will S., isn't too bad either. Film critics ribbed Branagh for receiving the films' fourth Oscar nod for "adapting" the screenplay, but his decision to use the full text was a gutsy one. I can't think of many better ways to make four hours fly by.

Nearly every decision Branagh makes works brilliantly: the use of England's Blenheim Palace for exteriors, the Edwardian dress, and the staging of "To be or not to be" in a hall of mirrors, to name a few. The casting of Hollywood luminaries such as Robin Williams, Billy Crystal and Jack Lemmon in minor parts can be distracting, but that's nitpicking. The principal cast excels: Derek Jacobi captures the conflicted nature of Claudius; Kate Winslet acutely depicts Ophelia's descent into madness; Julie Christie brings passion to her portrayal of Gertrude; Richard Briers is pitch-perfect as the conniving Polonius; and Nicholas Farrell elevates the potentially thankless role of Horatio to the apotheosis of true friendship. Every speech, every line, every word is delivered with passion and conviction; there isn't a wasted moment in the entire film. The final scenes magnify the extent of Shakespeare's tragedy in a way not possible with theatrical adaptations.

Branagh's "Hamlet" is a bold, ambitious, and ultimately successful attempt to match the grandeur and poetry of Shakespeare's language with equally eloquent imagery. It's arguably the greatest Shakespearean adaptation ever filmed – strong praise, but well deserved.

"Sudden Fear" is a suspense classic from 1952: an enjoyable, tightly written, well-paced thriller starring a trio of past, present, and future Oscar winners: the incomparable Joan Crawford (Best Actress, 1945, "Mildred Pierce"); a young Jack Palance (Best Supporting Actor, 1991, "City Slickers" - remember the push ups?) and Gloria Grahame, who won Best Supporting Actress for another 1952 film, "The Bad and the Beautiful." Crawford portrays a playwright who, in the movie's first scene, gets Palance fired from her play for not looking like a traditional leading man. Palance storms off in anger, but later meets up with Crawford on a train and - irony of ironies - manages to seduce her. They engage in a whirlwind romance, get married, and move into her San Francisco home. All seems to be going smashingly, until... well, I can't say more without giving too much away! Crawford is a natural fit for the role. She gets to suffer the way she did in "Mildred Pierce" (albeit a tad more histrionically), and earned her third and final Oscar nomination in the process. Palance demonstrates surprising dramatic range, and Grahame shows up in the tough-as-nails femme fatale role she would go on to perfect in the following year's "The Big Heat." The film is more noir in tone and style than in milieu. Director David Miller makes effective use of light and shadow, and the San Francisco locations add local flavor to the film. The late, great composer Elmer Bernstein contributes an evocative score.

"Sudden Fear" isn't the most original thriller of its era, but it's skillfully done. While somewhat manipulative and predictable, "Sudden Fear" generates enough authentic suspense to satisfy the classic movie buff.

An often bewildering parody of film noir in particular and Hollywood conventions in general, Columbia relegated "The Lady from Shanghai" to B-movie status due to objections over Orson Welles' manipulation of soon-to-be-ex-wife Rita Hayworth into a ruthless femme fatale. However, Hayworth's metamorphosis is the most superficial of the caricatures that populate the film, among them Everett Sloane (Bernstein from "Citizen Kane") as a leering, corrupt, crippled lawyer, and show-stealing Glenn Anders as the giddily inscrutable Grisby, whose machinations drive what passes for a plot. Amidst this gallery, Welles' own sublimely ridiculous presence, as a hopelessly idealistic sailor with a phony "Black Irish" accent, becomes the most obvious tip-off that the proceedings are anything but serious fare. Once the comic tone is established, the film lurches forward with manic energy, throwing plausibility to the wind as it careens toward the climax in the expressionistic Crazy House and its Hall of Mirrors. The flattering close-ups of Hayworth (inserted by the studio to "save" the picture) clash marvelously with Welles' vertiginous camera angles, adding to the film's discontinuity and enhancing its satirical nature. My favorite line: "I came to in the crazy house, but for a moment there, I thought it was me who was going crazy!" My advice: forget the plot and enjoy "The Lady from Shanghai" for its many guilty pleasures.

In 1946, Orson Welles' career was in a tailspin. His battle to get "Citizen Kane" released branded him a troublemaker in Hollywood. RKO heavily cut Welles' follow-up to Kane, "The Magnificent Ambersons," while Welles himself was in South America, directing the ill-fated documentary "It's All True" (which wouldn't see the light of day until after Welles' death). To jump-start his directorial career, Welles agreed to direct "The Stranger," a modestly enjoyable thriller that bears few of Welles' stylistic hallmarks.

Edward G. Robinson pursues the title character (Welles), who may or may not be an escaped Nazi, through a sleepy Connecticut town. Complicating matters is that Welles has charmed the town's residents, including Loretta Young, whom he marries. "The Stranger" illustrates Welles' concerns that World War II did not spell the end of fascism, and is significant for being the first Hollywood film to include actual footage from Nazi concentration camps. But by Welles' own admission, "The Stranger" was more of an attempt at profitable Hollywood product than an artistic statement. The trademark Welles style does surface in the South American prologue and the drugstore scenes, and the film achieves genuine suspense during the paper chase scene and the grand finale atop the town's clock tower.

"The Stranger" did not re-establish Welles as a force in Hollywood; he directed two more American films ("The Lady From Shanghai" and "Macbeth") before departing for Europe, where his genius was better appreciated. But "The Stranger" remains a well-paced thriller, more enjoyable when considered apart from Welles' more distinctive work.

"Fahrenheit 9/11" is one of those films, like Michael Moore's earlier "Bowling for Columbine" and Oliver Stone's "JFK," that polarizes audiences along political lines. If you like George W. Bush, chances are you'll hate "Fahrenheit 9/11;" if you can't stand Bush, you'll probably love it. There's little room for middle ground in today's sharply divided American electorate.

Many critics of "Fahrenheit 9/11" claim the film is factually inaccurate. However, very few details of the film have actually been refuted. What really angers many about this film is its premise: that Bush ignored the threat of terror before the tragedy of September 11, 2001, and then used the attacks as an excuse to advance a radical right-wing agenda that included an ill-advised invasion of Iraq (which had no involvement in the September 11 bombings).

Not exactly a cut-and-dried documentary, "Fahrenheit 9/11" is more of an essay film that relies on documentary footage to underscore Moore's hypothesis. The footage and facts are expertly woven into a devastating indictment of Bush's policies. You may disagree with the way Moore connects the dots, but his evidence does come from the public record (including actual quotes from Bush and his administration).

For all the political weight it carries, "Fahrenheit 9/11" is entertaining as heck. Most of the comedy occurs in the film's first half. There are montages of Bush vacationing to (you guessed it) the Go-Go's "Vacation" and of Bush Sr. schmoozing with Saudis to REM's "Shiny Happy People." Moore examines the "Coalition of the Willing," finding that our allies include "superpowers" like Pulau, The Netherlands, and Costa Rica. (My favorite line: "Afghanistan? ...Oh, yeah. They had an army. OUR army!") Moore also milks the Patriot Act for laughs, hijacking an ice cream truck to announce its provisions to members of Congress (who admit they didn't actually read it).

As events draw nearer to the invasion of Iraq, the tone grows darker, and Moore gradually dispenses with humor in order to focus on the story of military mother Lila Lipscomb, whose son goes to serve in the war. Moore's delicate, sensitive handling of Lipscomb's heartbreaking story belies his reputation for guerrilla film-making.

Near the end of the film, Moore offers this profound observation about our troops: "They serve so that we don't have to. They offer to give up their lives so that we can be free. It is, remarkably, their gift to us. And all they ask for in return is that we never send them into harm's way unless it is absolutely necessary. Will they ever trust us again?" Unfortunately, conservatives refused to address this and other valid questions raised by "Fahrenheit 9/11", instead focusing on discrediting Moore himself. They must have felt vindicated when Bush narrowly won reelection in 2004. But the election results do not invalidate the hypothesis of Moore's film. Rather, as our troops remain in Iraq, as American casualties mount, and as Bush's rationale for war fades into obscurity, "Fahrenheit 9/11" remains all too relevant.