Movie Review: Bastards

Wednesday, October 16, 2013

Movie Review: Bastards

Bastards
Directed by: Claire Denis.
Written by: Jean-Pol Fargeau and Claire Denis.
Starring: Vincent Lindon (Marco Silvestri), Chiara Mastroianni (Raphaëlle), Julie Bataille (Sandra), Michel Subor (Edouard Laporte), Lola Créton (Justine), Alex Descas (Dr. Béthanie), Grégoire Colin (Xavier), Florence Loiret Caille (Elysée), Christophe Miossec (Guy), Yann Antoine Bizette (Joseph), Jeanne Disson (Audrey), Laurent Grévill (Jacques).

The opening frames of Claire Denis’ Bastards lets us know we are in the film noir world. A bald man, in a fancy suit looks out into the dark, raining night – looking miserable. Soon, he’ll be on the dead on the concrete – having thrown himself to his death. A beautiful young girl walks naked down the street – wearing only a pair of high heels that click as she walks slowly, a dazed look on her face. A woman blames the police and their apathy for her husband’s suicide, and the state of her daughter. A grizzled older man gets a phone call – a family emergency – which makes him go AWOL from his job at sea, and head back to land to help his family. As with many of Denis’ films, she makes no effort to explain everything from the outset – preferring instead to let events unfold, and the audience to figure them out as they go along.

The second man, we soon learn, is Marco Silvestri (Vincent Lindon). The first man was Jacques (Laurent Grevill), an old friend, and current brother-in-law, married to Marco’s sister Sandra (Julie Bataille). The naked young woman is Justine (Lola Creton), their daughter, Vincent’s niece. Jacques and Sandra run a failing shoe factory, and Sandra blames all of their problems on Edouard Laporte (Michel Subor), an exceedingly wealthy, powerful man – not only does he own most of their debt, he is also the man they have accused of abusing Justine – and when we find out just how abused she was, it is stomach churning. Marco has come back to help out – although it isn’t immediately clear just what that means. What we do know is that he is moving in upstairs from Raphaelle (Chiara Mastroianni), the younger mistress of Laporte, and her young son. He charms his way into her life – and her pants – but maybe charms is the wrong word here. He is an old fashioned type of guy, and his seduction of her is gruff, and almost wordless – she puts up little resistance to his advances.

Marco is a classic noir “hero” – a normal guy who is duped into doing things he would not normally do. He is tough and intelligent – but also almost hopelessly naïve. In classic Hollywood noir terms, he is the type of character Robert Ryan would have excelled at playing. You really cannot call Mastroianni’ Raphaelle a femme fatale – she doesn’t seduce him into doing anything for her – some will even complain that she is too passive. She doesn’t seem too interested in who he is, what he does, or why he is there. Given the sexual relationship we see between and the older Laporte, it may well be that she just wants him for sex. He tries to get under her skin, but she seems impervious to his efforts – she doesn’t judge him – doesn’t want to know why he’s living in an expensive apartment, with no furniture, and yet has pawned his watch and sold his car. Marco is drawn back in by his sister – who has a one track mind of getting even with Laporte – but he doesn’t ask her the right questions – in fact, he doesn’t really ask her anything at all. That something doesn’t quite seem right about everything she is saying seems obvious to the audience – but not to Marco, who just accepts it – and then is shocked as secrets start being revealed. The film gets darker and darker, right up until its shocking final scene – which finally explains what precisely happened in a dirty shack, littered with bloody corn cobs.

In many ways, Bastards is more straight forward than much of Denis’ recent work. Yes, there are flashbacks and forwards, and she never gives the audience all the information they want until the final scene, yet the film is more straight forward than films like White Material or The Intruder. The film’s violence – sexual and otherwise – is strong and shocking, but then given the material it pretty much needs to be. Denis is not just using the violence to shock the audience, its part of her larger narrative arc, inspired by Faulkner’s Sanctuary. It will likely offend some, as the victims in the movie seem passive – almost accepting of their victimization (they certainly do not fight back against it). A character like Lola Creton’s damaged young woman remains an enigma right until the end – a victim of just about everyone else in the movie, but one whose interior world is never explored. Raphaelle is a character who also threatens to be an enigma as well – is she just using Marco, or is there something deeper going on there – right until her final moments, when the character snaps into focus. Sandra goes from grieving widow into something much more insidious as the movie goes along. Laporte, we sense from the outset is sinister – it doesn’t help that he seems to be made to look like Robert Blake in Lost Highway – but just what his character does still surprises. Into this world, Marco comes wholly unprepared. Lindon does a marvelous job in his role – making Marco into a man’s man – the type we don’t see much of in films anymore – but one who ultimately is a lot softer than he first appears. The poor bastard has no idea what’s coming for him.

The Best Movies I Have Never Seen Before: The Strange Love of Martha Ickers (1946)

Friday, May 3, 2013

The Best Movies I Have Never Seen Before: The Strange Love of Martha Ickers (1946)

The Strange Love of Martha Ivers (1946)
Directed by: Lewis Milestone.
Written by: Robert Rossen & Robert Riskin based on the story by John Patrick.
Starring: Barbara Stanwyck (Martha Ivers), Kirk Douglas (Walter O’Neill), Van Hefllin (Sam Masterson), Lizabeth Scott (Toni), Judith Anderson (Aunt).

The Strange Love of Martha Ivers is an interesting film. Some refer to it as a film noir, and it certainly has elements of the genre – a deceitful femme fatale, who tries to draw in the innocent hero into a web of lies and murder. And yet, strangely, director Lewis Milestone treats it more like a melodrama – a tale of a warped marriage between Ivers and her husband. This makes for an odd little film. I didn’t much care what the hell happened to our “hero” – I just wanted to get back to the warped marriage that is really the film’s core.

The movie opens in 1928, where a young Martha Ivers is caught running away from home again. Her parents are dead, and she is being raised by a mean, rich, powerful Aunt (Judith Anderson, doing what she does best). She has run off with ne’er do well Sam Masterson to join the circus, but is caught and brought home. Sam comes looking for her that same night anyway, but when he sees Anderson stalking around the house, he takes off and doesn’t look back. But Walter sees Martha when she grabs her Aunt’s cane and kills her with it – as does Walter’s father, who is employed by the Aunt, and wants money and power.

Flash forward 18 years, and Sam (now played by Van Heflin), stumbles back into his hometown for the first time in years. His car breaks down, and he needs to wait to have it fixed. As he’s waiting, he meets Toni (Lizabeth Scott), and the two plan on leaving town together the next day – that is until she is arrested. Sam happens to notice a poster promoting the re-election of the District Attorney, who happens to be his old friend Walter (Kirk Douglas, in his film debut), and learns that Walter ended up marrying Martha (Barbara Stanwyck). Sam decides to pay a visit to his old friend and see if he’ll do him a favor, and get Toni out of jail. But Walter thinks Sam has something more sinister up his sleeve – blackmail. He was, after all, in the house that night, and may well have seen Martha murder her aunt. And since Walter and his father used this information to blackmail Martha into marriage, and to put her considerable fortune and influence behind Walter’s career, maybe Sam wants something similar.

As the movie wears on, I got tired of all the scenes with Van Heflin’s Sam – which is a shame since he is the leading man - unless they involved either Douglas or Stanwyck. I certainly didn’t much care about his relationship with Toni, that seems to be based on nothing other than the need for the hero to have a love interest, since they don’t know each other, and Lizabeth Scott is rather bland in her role anyway.

But whenever Stanwyck or Douglas are on screen, The Strange Love of Martha Ivers comes alive. Stanwyck oozed sex appeal and danger, and she does a wonderful job here as the ambitious, deceitful Martha, who you can never quite get a handle on. Does she, deep down, really love Walter? Or does she despise him, like she says, and really love Sam? Who is telling the truth about the drifter they framed for her Aunt’s murder? As for Douglas, I always liked him in roles like this – as a sort of slimy, sort of pathetic bad guy. Really, Walter is not much of a man, a lousy drunk, paranoid and sad about his life with Martha. And remarkably, in his debut film, Douglas gives Walter added complexity.

Had the movie focused more on Walter and Martha, it could have been great. As it stands, there are far too many scenes of Van Heflin, who is rather forgettable in the role that although he is the central character, feels underwritten. There are too many questions about his motivation that never really add up. But watching Stanwyck and Douglas together more than makes up for Heflin and Scott’s failings. The Strange Love of Martha Ivers may not be a great film, but it is a good one.

The Best Movies I Have Never Seen Before: The Postman Always Rings Twice (1946)

Friday, March 8, 2013

The Best Movies I Have Never Seen Before: The Postman Always Rings Twice (1946)

The Postman Always Rings Twice (1946)
Directed by: Tay Garnett.
Written by: Harry Ruskin and Niven Busch based on the novel by James M. Cain.
Starring: Lana Turner (Cora Smith), John Garfield (Frank Chambers), Cecil Kellaway (Nick Smith), Hume Cronyn (Arthur Keats), LeonAmes (Kyle Sackett), Audrey Totter (Madge Gorland), Alan Reed (Ezra Liam Kennedy), Jeff York (Blair).

I often find older movies sexier than newer ones, despite the obvious disadvantage that in older movies, you really couldn’t show very much. As a case in point, I show you 1946’s The Postman Always Rings Twice, which is a movie dripping with lust and sexuality, despite the fact that there is no nudity in it. Now, I haven’t seen the 1981 remake with Jack Nicholson and Jessica Lange, which apparently was full of nudity, but I bet you I would agree with what I have heard about it – that despite the more graphic nature of the film, it still doesn’t compare with the sexuality on display in the original. Few movies have.

The film stars the great John Garfield as Frank Chambers, a drifter who happens upon a gas station/restaurant and gets offered a job by the older owner, Nick (Cecil Kellaway). Frank figures this is as good as place as any to stay for a little while before moving on. Than he sees Nick’s wife - Cora (Lana Turner) – and his life will never be the same. These two characters are attracted to each other at their basest levels almost from the moment they first lock eyes, and as they circle each other and flirt, you can feel that tension between them that becomes almost as unbearable for the audience as it does for the characters. When the husband is for a while, they give into their desires. Frank wants Cora to run away with him. But she wants security and money – she has put too much time into Nick to walk away with nothing. But if something were to happen to Nick, she could have everything she wants – money and Frank. But things that seem so easy when you’re planning them, have a way of going wrong when it comes time to actually do the deed – as Cora and Frank find out.

The Postman Always Rings Twice is a classic film noir that has all the necessary agreements. John Garfield is excellent as Frank, who may be a drifter, and a little bit of a lowlife, but who would never become a murderer if he had not met Cora. Turner makes an excellent femme fatale, drawing her everyman co-star down into the depths of depravity with her. Poor Cecil Kellaway is in fine form as the naïve, drunken husband who cannot see what is right in front of his face. And the great Hume Cronyn, who shows up late as a lawyer, has never been sleazier.

And yet, The Postman Always Rings Twice is a little bit different than many film noirs. I felt for the characters a little bit more this time around. Cora is a femme fatale for sure, and yet she is a human one. She is a woman who has been looked at as a sex object by every man she has met since she was 15. She latched onto a seemingly nice, stable guy and has discovered that even that won’t bring her peace. With Frank, for the first time, she feels love. And yet, she cannot go back to being poor. And Garfield, as the dupe, makes his character more love struck than most noir leading men. Even as the plot disintegrates around them, and they are brought into court and the lovers turn on each other, he cannot help but love Cora.

The film was directed with style by Tay Garnett, and based on the great James M. Cain’s novel. Cuts were made because the movie was considered too sexual for 1946, and yet the final cut is still dripping with lust. You feel that tension, that connection right until the final frames of the movie. The Postman Always Rings Twice is great noir.

The Best Movies I Have Never Seen Before: Human Desire (1954)

Friday, February 15, 2013

The Best Movies I Have Never Seen Before: Human Desire (1954)

Human Desire (1954)
Directed by: Fritz Lang.
Written by: Alfred Hayes based on the novel by Émile Zola.
Starring: Glenn Ford (Jeff Warren), Gloria Grahame (Vicki Buckley), Broderick Crawford (Carl Buckley), Edgar Buchanan (Alec Simmons), Kathleen Case (Ellen Simmons), Peggy Maley (Jean), Diane DeLaire (Vera Simmons), Grandon Rhodes (John Owens).

Fritz Lang reteamed with Glenn Ford and Gloria Grahame a year after the trio made one of the best film noirs in history with The Big Heat, to make another great noir, Human Desire in 1954. This film’s reputation is nowhere near as great as The Big Heat, which could be due to a number of reasons. One is that the ending of Human Desire, while wholly appropriate to the story, doesn’t quite pack the same thrill as the ending of The Big Heat. Another reason could be that Jean Renoir had already adapted Emile Zola’s highly regarded novel, La Bete Humaine, in 1938, and while Human Desire is a great film, Renoir’s film is a flat out masterpiece. But for whatever reason, Human Desire has never really been counted as one of Lang’s best films – not even one of his best American noirs – and that’s a shame, because it is a great movie.

The plot involves Jeff Warren (Ford), who has just come back from the Korean War, and wants nothing more than to return to his old job as a railroad engineer, meet a nice girl and settle down. The daughter of an associate, Vera (Diane DeLaire), pretty much throws herself at Ford, but he is hesitant. It isn’t that she isn’t beautiful, or even that she is the daughter of a friend, but more because he knew her as a kid, and he hasn’t quite gotten over that yet. Besides, there is another woman who has her eyes on Jeff. This is Vicki (Gloria Grahame), but she’s already married to the violent, jealous Carl (Broderick Crawford), who works for the same railroad. The two of them meet because Jeff is hitching a ride home on a late night train, that Vicki and Carl are also taking, but for more sinister reasons. Carl has just lost his job, and needs Vicki’s contact with a rich man to get it back. But Carl is not impressed when Vicki spends too much time with the rich man – deducing that more than talk went on. They are on the train so that Carl can take his revenge on the rich man – which he does. He then sends Vicki to distract Jeff, so that he can make it back to his compartment, before anyone catches him with the body. But when Jeff’s eyes meet Vicki, he is lost, and she knows it. She thinks that perhaps she has found her way out of an abusive marriage. After all, Jeff has killed before, in the army, so why would killing Carl be so different?

Lang’s best films exist in a moral grey area. Most films of the era have things in strictly black and white terms – these are the good guys, and these are the bad guys – but in Lang’s films, they get all messed up. His best film may well be M (1931), where a child murderer (Peter Lorre) is on the loose, and the corrupt police and politicians cannot stop him, so the underground does it for them. These are criminals and murderers themselves, but even they are disgusted by a child murderer in their midst. No one is innocent, but some just simply aren’t as bad as others. The same thing is at work in Human Desire. Jeff may be on shaky moral ground for killing in war (it depends on how you see war), but he certainly crosses a line when he begins an affair with Vicki. But will his morals allow him to go a step further, and kill Carl, who after all, is a murderer and a brute himself? While Vicki fits the mold of the femme fatale, she isn’t quite as evil as someone like Barbara Stanwyck in Double Indemnity, who convinces innocent Fred MacMurray to kill her husband for her. After all, Vicki is an abused woman, who was drawn into the murder plot by her husband, and is now being kept by him through violence and cohesion. She isn’t innocent, but you can at least relate to her motives.

The performances certainly help to make the movie great. The whole movie is about the basest of human desires – lust and rage – and yet no one ever talks about either one. It all simmers just underneath the surface. Ford was never the most charismatic of actors – he more often than not was a little stiff and square – but Lang knew how to use him at his best, as he does here. That stiffness works for Jeff, who afterall, is supposed to be an everyman, undone by his desires. Broderick Crawford was an actor of enormous girth, but also the power to go along with it. We need little convincing that he is a brute. Best of all is Gloria Grahame, one of the most underrated of the actresses from the 1950s. To say her personal life was stormy would be an understatement – while married to director Nicholas Ray, she had an affair with his 13 year old son, who she later married (in total, she had four marriages). Yet on screen, in such films as In a Lonely Place (1950), The Bad and the Beautiful (1952), The Big Heat (1953) and here, she was pretty much perfect, playing damaged women, who draw the men in their lives to their doom.

Fritz Lang was one of the best, and most prolific, of all directors. His films are dark and unsettling and stick in your mind for long after they are finished. It is true that Jean Renoir’s La Bete Humaine, with Jean Gabin, is a better film than Human Desire, but that shouldn’t detract from what Lang and company achieved with this film – a masterful noir in its own right.