Reviews

Affair in Trinidad was a hit of its day, but it suffers from a lukewarm reputation as a late rehash of Gilda.

The plot is reminiscent of Notorious: a girl 'with a past' infiltrates a group of wealthy and amoral expatriates who are planning a terrorist attack on the US. The girl is doing so undercover, helping the good guys following the death of her father (Notorious) or her in-name-only husband (Affair).

Glenn Ford has little to do: we always know more than he does, which is one of the plot weaknesses. Alexander Scourby is excellent as the enamored magnate (the Claude Rains role in Notorious). In smaller roles, Juanita Moore is striking as an omniscient maid with a great island wardrobe: the role is a stereotype, but Moore is magnificent. Obscure Valerie Bettis is also noticeable as a sarcastic lush (she was, in addition, the choreographer for Rita Hayworth's borderline-sleazy dance numbers).

Rita Hayworth is at the pinnacle of her beauty. There is not one angle under which she is less than gorgeous (which cannot be said of some of her earlier hits like Cover Girl, for instance). However, she is also a bit vacant, a bit sad, a bit extinguished. Her performance would appear stronger if the character had been clearly written as a complex girl (like Bergman in Notorious), instead of also making her the hootchy-kootchy queen of the local cabaret. It is a writing problem, not an acting problem. The contrast between the character's inner turmoil and her torrid dance numbers is unmanageable.

Still, this is a very enjoyable movie of its time, and probably Vincent Sherman's best alongside Nora Prentiss. Watch it if you know Notorious well (and you will also notice some similarities with the later North by Northwest towards the end).

An unusual episode. The Chief is alone in his apartment while Mark is taking a class in college (on the unreliability of witnesses), and Eve and Ed are enduring a dull evening at the opera. The Chief receives a threatening phone call, followed by many more: the brother of a young man who was executed following a bloody botched robbery wants revenge. Most of the episode consists of the Chief setting an elaborate trap for his expected assailant, using household items. The three younger police staff return just as the Chief overcomes the unhinged killer. It's all dark and tense, with good music background. Interestingly, it is reminiscent of the last minutes of the movie Rear Window... where Raymond Burr was the heavy, not the victim. The opera scenes are funny, and the college scenes are good too.

George Bernanos, the royalist French writer, prepared in 1947 a screenplay for a film that never was made, Les Carmélites. (Bernanos' screenplay was based on a 1931 historical novel by Gertrud von Lefort, Die Letzte am Schafott.) The old-fashioned word for screenplay in French is "Dialogue." This "Screenplay for The Carmelites," (Dialogue Des Carmélites) was published shortly after Bernanos' death in 1948.

Francis Poulenc wrote an opera, which premiered in 1957, using Bernanos' very words (but not all of them). Poulenc's opera is one of the most important of the XX Century, and it is an intoxicating blend of austere religion and sensuous music. The opera is mostly about fear: the fear of a young girl, Blanche, who enlists as a Carmélite novice to find a refuge from crippling anxiety, just when religious orders are threatened during the French Révolution. The opera is called Dialogues des Carmélites (plural), and it is available on DVD in many versions.

Now, back to the movie. This is NOT the aborted movie that Bernanos wrote his dialogue for. Actually, the text of this screenplay is not faithful to Bernanos' stylized words. This movie - which was shot after the opera's première - is much more realistic than Bernanos' screenplay, or than the opera. This is not a great movie. Seen on its own, it is almost dull. But it helps one appreciate the opera better. One understands more clearly than in the opera why Mother Marie does not join her sisters during the final slaughter, for instance. Where the opera is very much about Blanche, and very much about anxiety, the film is about the loss of religious freedom during political upheavals (less gripping, but interesting too). The idea of "exchanging deaths" which is capital in the opera and in Bernanos' text, is not as primordial in the film.

The movie helps us detect an unfortunate recent tendency to camp up the opera. The atmosphere of the earliest recording of the opera (Dervaux - EMI) is quite similar to that of the film: restrained, dry-eyed. Nowadays, the opera is often closer to the hysterical atmosphere of Queen of Spades, or even Elektra, if you follow me. Nowhere is it more apparent than with the character of the old prioress. In the movie, she is underplayed by sweet and poignant Madeleine Renaud. In a 3,000 seat opera house, she is often played as a hammy grotesque these days (great singer-actresses such as Helga Dernesch and Anja Silja were particularly awful this way). If I were to stage the opera, I would have the cast sit through the movie, for sure, to help them ensure balance.

Back to the movie: Madeleine Renaud is wonderful, as I said. Jeanne Moreau is compelling in the role of Mère Marie (a larger, more fleshed-out role than in the opera). Alida Valli, with her whiskey and cigarettes voice and her sensuous gaze is an odd choice for the new prioress. (Her scenes with Pierre Brasseur bring back memories of Eyes without a Face.) Pascale Audret is not as good as Blanche: too pretty, too sane.

This movie will be of great interest for those who love Poulenc's opera, and for fans of Jeanne Moreau and Alida Valli. Otherwise, it is low-key historical entertainment with a simplistic anti-revolutionary message.

This fine but fairly routine episode is interesting for two reasons. The first is the vintage Boeing 707 interior which is the set for the whole episode. It is interesting to see a cabin with open luggage rack, and how spacious the coach cabin was... but no entertainment. The second is a rare appearance by Norma Crane (Golde in the Fiddler on the Roof movie). Crane plays virtually the same character: a hardboiled but supporting wife. Of course, this time she isn't in a schtetl, but aboard a 707, and her husband isn't a milkman but a shady businessman. Norma Crane was an interesting character actress. Hadn't she died so young, she may have had success on programs such as The Golden Girls.

This is one of the episodes that cast the spotlight on one of the younger members of the cast - this time, Ed. (Mark barely appears in this one, and Eve - most unusually - has only one costume through her many short-short scenes).

So, it seems that Ed spent an evening in Vegas with a doomed chanteuse (Susan St. James with young Liza Minnelli looks and a Rosemary Clooney voice). The songbird acted depressed and fatalistic, and the date ended in violence. Chief Ironside will eventually link the tragic girl with a big mob murder.

This downbeat episode isn't the most polished, but it is remarkable for its depiction of sexual rivalry. Poor Susan St. James is the pretty pawn that various men prey upon. It is not at all like the usual Ironside episode.

If you are (re)acquainting yourself with episodes of Ironside through DVD or on Hulu.com, you can't go wrong with this one. This is from the third season, therefore, the only classic ingredient missing is the old gray wheelchair van.

Tracy Oliver (Dana Wynter) is a rich lady who - long ago - had a dinner date with young Robert Ironside. Since then, she's been accused of her husband's murder. The trial ended with a hung jury, which left a cloud over her reputation. Now, as she is about to inherit her husband's millions, she attempts suicide.

Ironside and his three younger sidekicks delve back in the old murder case, find out why Tracy is acting so mysteriously, and finally clear her.

"Beyond a Shadow" has a clever twist at the end (just when you think you've figured it out), and it allows Raymond Burr to show his loving side. Dana Wynter - the b*tchy wife from Airport - is just right here, the sort of woman you could never forget after a long ago date. And comedian Mort Sahl is great as a muckracking Nancy Grace avant la lettre.

If there were ever to be an Ironside movie, in the loving-sarcastic vein of Starsky & Hutch or The Brady Bunch, this would make a good starting point.

The Serpent's Egg is almost universally panned because it bears the signature of Ingmar Bergman, yet it doesn't feel much like a Bergman movie - except in a couple of flashes.

Most of the movie is set in dark, humid and chilly inter-war Berlin, where the protagonist gets ever closer to a sinister revelation. This side of the movie feels a bit like another bleak 70s artifact, Soylent Green. When David Carradine gets - at last - hired as an archivist in a sinister clinic, the viewer's interest is piqued.

However, Carradine is saddled with a sister-in-law, Liv Ullman, who comes along with a different set of scenes, that recall Cabaret without the acrid verve of the original. Liv Ullman tries hard, but she is truly miscast. Jane Birkin would have been perfect in this role.

The dialog is poorly written and gives the movie the choppy quality that everyone has objected to. The lines sound translated, unnatural, and David Carradine can't be faulted for sounding lost.

The big budget is well spent, and the film is not boring, nor pretentious. Some effects are in poor taste (the opening credits, and an excruciating scene in a brothel).

I suspect that The Serpent's Egg would have a better reputation today if it had been signed by a lesser director, say, George Pan Cosmatos. Without changing a single shot, it would be remembered as an interesting attempt at something different.

First, this film is very sloppy in its narrative. The exposition is very poor, so you never can tell - for instance - how far the provincial town where the action takes place is from Paris. This matters because while one character is allegedly flying over from Paris, another one can go to Paris and back within two hours. Just as the location is vague, so are the characters. Compare the characters of La Rupture to those in variously successful similar movies of the same period (Marnie - Rosemary's Baby - Secret Ceremony - the Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie - the Bride Wore Black, the Naked Kiss), and you'll realize that you know nothing about the characters in the Chabrol film. Stéphane Audran has enormous star quality, but her acting is flat and uninvolving (Constance Towers or Tippi Hedren are like Katina Paxinou compared to Audran). The rest of the cast chews up the scenery shamelessly to disguise the plot gaps. And don't tell me about the critique of French bourgeoisie. There is more of that in Peau d'Ane. La Rupture may have been well received at the time, but it is a dated and lazy piece of movie-making.

Not much to add to what others have already written. Except that Anatol Litvak often tries something weirdly expressionistic in his films (see the wild "Five Miles to Midnight", made immediately following Goodbye Again, also with Tony Perkins).

Here, it's at the end of a scene at the elegant Pre Catelan restaurant. Ingrid and Yves' relationship is floundering. Ingrid rushes away in her little car. Finally alone, she can allow herself to cry. And there follows a long, odd subjective shot, with tears as thick as honey dripping ever so slowly down the lens. Confused, Ingrid turns on the windshield wipers repeatedly until she realizes that she's crying, it's not rain. (The way it is shot, if it had been rain, each drop would have been as large as a pint).

I haven't had the pleasure to read "Aimez Vous Brahms?" but even if the heroine does turn on windshield wipers because she doesn't realize that she is crying, it doesn't translate to film. It has to be seen to be believed.

I finally saw this movie, of which I heard so much when it bombed in my native France when I was 7, shortly before or after the ghastly death of one of the leading ladies.

I am very glad I saw it. I may watch it a second time before I return it. Yet I see also clearly why it bombed.

First, it is no Umbrellas of Cherbourg. Some of the elements that are common to both movies worked just fine in Umbrellas, but not in Rochefort. The colors are rather laughable. The dubbing is conspicuous. The music is, at some moments, unbearably dated (ah, that Legrand scatting, quelle horreur). Also the costumes are hideous, especially the heavy hats. The sisters wear their hair like big stiff wigs. The dancing is erratic: the groups are good, but bedroom-voiced Françoise Dorleac is no Cyd Charisse. Her dance in Gene Kelly's arms is more like Miss Piggy's.

And yet...

The basic theme of Jacques Demy's films is always that it would be very easy to miss the love of your life. As in Lola, we see couples missing each other again and again, and it creates fantastic tension.

Also, some visuals are striking. The ultra modern French fries restaurant on the square, the Pont Transbordeur ferry/bridge, the desaturated music shop...

Danielle Darrieux has a fantastic patter song about a gruesome murder in the paper, That scene is wonderful. Darrieux is divine throughout, and HER costumes are cute.

A whole little cake-cutting scene, is written in Alexandrin verse. A delight!

The best scene is very influenced by the "big" Tonight from West Side Story, where all the story lines converge. The two dancing boys ask the twin girls to help with a number at the carnival. The twin girls offer an Edith Piaf style song about sailors, girls, wet pavements and despair (Dans le port de Hambourg, trois marins Javanais...) The boys laugh at the hoary cliché, so the girls simply sing their silly twin song (Nous sommes deux soeurs jumelles). Then we see all the other characters sing a few moments of their own songs. UNFORTUNATELY, the lovely effect is not perfectly managed by Michel Legrand. The soundtrack fades in and fades out, whereas, in West Side Story, Bernstein took the montage as an occasion for exhilarating counterpoint.

Conclusion...

Rochefort was long seen as a missed (raté) homage to the "great American musicals." But it is not that at all. It is a Pop Art artifact. Pure sixties. Its influence is more felt in museums than on screens, with the HUGE exception of the credits of the first Austin Powers, which are literally lifted off the street scenes of Rochefort.

I don't know if the real Ingrid Bergman was a saint, but she was better than any other actor or actress at conveying the saintly in us.

Bergman positively glows in this simple tale of a maid, who is rejected as a missionary and achieves greatness all the same. She is incredibly moving.

The art direction is also magnificent, and wholly convincing.

The rest of the cast is doing their best, but neither Curt Jurgens nor Robert Donat are very convincing as Chinese characters. Also disappointing is Sir Malcolm Arnold's score. It is certainly not overly Chinese. As a matter of fact, it could be used for any British war film.

I also just saw a very similar movie "The Devil at 4 O'Clock." Sixth Happiness is considerably better, thanks to Bergman, and the decision not to have a subplot for the teenagers. Next to Happiness, Devil seems calculating and a bit cynical too.

This is a very "late '60s" detective drama, and if you're in the mood, it will hit the spot.

What struck me, and it has not been picked up by other posters, is the very visible difference between the majority of the scenes, shot on authentic NYC locations, and a few scenes straight from the Universal backlot, on urbanistically nonsensical streets with no gutters.

The studio shot scenes (and the school-of-Lalo-Shifrin score) increase the impression that you are watching a first class TV movie. It all makes you hungry for a dinner in a foil tray.

Definitely entertaining, in a period way.

The first time I saw undercurrent, I was as disturbed as everyone else by the soporific pacing.

Having just seen it for the second time, I have to say that there is much detail to enjoy. As in most Minnelli pictures, I enjoyed the awkward party scenes, in which elegant extras enjoy themselves while the principals cringe.

Katharine Hepburn is in her "insecure" mode, like in Summertime, and she is very good. The role would have been more natural for, say, Jeanne Crain.

Most enjoyable is Jayne Meadows, as a cold fish you can't quite figure out. She is incredibly beautiful in the ladies'lounge scene. Both her scenes with Hepbburn crackle with 1940s psychological intensity.