Mike has been adding movies to the top of the Netflix queue again. The less said about "The Witch's Mirror," the better all our lives will be, although I do need to remember to"The Sands of Iwo Jima." But first, while it's fresh in my mind, "Border Incident," a 1949 movie directed by Anthony Mann and starring a young Ricardo Montalban as Mexican special agent Pablo Rodriguez. A timely film, it teams Montalban with George Murphy as an American immigration agent. Together, they attempt to break a Mexican farmworker smuggling ring operated by the ruthless, yet civilized and genteel, Howard Da Silva. The movie also illuminates and celebrates the little-known Bracero guest worker program, in force from 1942 through 1964, which was designed to alleviate agricultural labor shortages due to WWII.
The film begins slowly and, frankly, badly. As was not uncommon at the time, the first 10 minutes or so are strongly reminiscent of educational films of the day, as the narrator provides information about the farmworker situation that verges on propaganda. In an unintentionally humorous scene, farmworkers are massacred in the Canyon del Muerte (yes, I know, that's not humorous) and their bodies dumped into quicksand. The bodies disappear in mere seconds beneath what looks like moist sawdust.
The next 10-15 minutes continue the exposition, this time with a cast of extras who make a valiant effort, but have a tendency to mumble their lines. Once Montalban and Murphy take center stage, the action -- and the acting -- improve. We are also introduced to the ringleader on the Mexican side of the border, Hugo Wolfgang Ulrich, played by Sig Ruman in a very different role from those he played in the Marx Brothers' films. Veteran actor Arthur Hunnicutt will be immediately familiar to fans of . . well, just about any 1960s and 70s television show, this time playing against type as one of the Hugo's murderous thugs.
Despite a tendency to preach, the film does an admirable job of attempting to portray the exploitation of the farm workers and the ruthlessness of those who are using them. The illegal braceros are paid one-third the legal rate; 20% of their pay is taken by the foreman and another 40% withheld for meals. One of the workers notes that he would have made more working in Mexico.
As the beginning scenes demonstrate, it does not shy away from violence. The ending, however, is so utopian and so patriotic that I had to salute. Braceros are once again working under the watchful and protective eye of two governments, in safe and sanitary conditions, and earning their full due. The movie was made before opposition from organized labor brought the program to a close, primarily because it served depress wages and decreased the number of domestic farm workers.
Filmed in and around El Centro and Mexicali, the setting and scenery are as much a part of the cast as any actor, thanks to cinematographer John Alton's deft handling. Much of the film takes place at night, and the moon, car headlights, porch lights -- all kinds of light -- are used to great effect, as, of course are shadows.
It is not, however, as many on IMDB would have it, a film noir. Yes, it is in black and white and many of the cinematic effects are derived from that style, but the essence of film noir is the decent man caught in a web of circumstance beyond his control. Noir, is at heart, cynical; the ending of this film is anything but. Oh, yeah, and there's no femme fatale. There's a bleached blonde floozy, but that's not the same thing at all.
It's not a psychological drama, either; not really. It's a propaganda piece made by two very skillful and experienced movie makers.
Saturday, August 31, 2013
Thursday, August 15, 2013
Simon, King of the Witches
After a "long wait" and a broken DVD, we finally settled down to watch what we thought would be a delightfully campy 1970s horror film. Unfortunately, it was neither delightful nor campy, and the only horrible part was the length, although it is guaranteed to offend every Wiccan out there, except maybe those with a sense of humor. They'll still be offended -- but amused at the same time.
And it reminds us of how far we've come in terms of depictions of gay men.
According to something I read somewhere, but of course cannot find now, this was either written or produced (or was it directed?) by a true believer in witchcraft who wanted to make a movie about how it "really is," and that's exactly what this movie feels like -- a low-budget documentary. Simon indulges in long, pedantic explanations of what he is doing and why, and the scenes of magic are played not only straight but sincerely.
According to IMDB it's a "cult classic," but I don't think that's quite true. It's not quite over the top enough to be a cult classic. It's more like a "cult curiosity."
I won't bore you with the plot, which you can find on IMDB. I will say that it's a real trip back to the 70s, with macrame, chokers, dashikis, and psychadelica galore. The "Wiccan" ceremony includes a priestess played by Ultra Violet, skulls, nudity and a live goat. But it is a good 30 minutes too long, which is saying a lot about a movie that is barely an hour and a half.
And it reminds us of how far we've come in terms of depictions of gay men.
According to something I read somewhere, but of course cannot find now, this was either written or produced (or was it directed?) by a true believer in witchcraft who wanted to make a movie about how it "really is," and that's exactly what this movie feels like -- a low-budget documentary. Simon indulges in long, pedantic explanations of what he is doing and why, and the scenes of magic are played not only straight but sincerely.
According to IMDB it's a "cult classic," but I don't think that's quite true. It's not quite over the top enough to be a cult classic. It's more like a "cult curiosity."
I won't bore you with the plot, which you can find on IMDB. I will say that it's a real trip back to the 70s, with macrame, chokers, dashikis, and psychadelica galore. The "Wiccan" ceremony includes a priestess played by Ultra Violet, skulls, nudity and a live goat. But it is a good 30 minutes too long, which is saying a lot about a movie that is barely an hour and a half.
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
Two Maltese Falcons and a Lady
One of the dangers of being confined to the house after bunion surgery is that Mike gets to go shopping by himself. A recent trip to Sam's Club for milk, eggs, and bread resulted in a 2-disc special edition of "The Maltese Falcon," which includes the 1931 and 1941 movies by that title and the 1936 version, "Satan Met a Lady." Or should I say, one of the benefits?
We're watching them in chronological order, so first a review of the 1931 film, with Bebe Daniels as Ruth Wonderly, Ricardo Cortez as Sam Spade, and Una Merkle as Effie. The title was changed to "Dangerous Female" when it was sold to t.v. in the 1950s, so it's no wonder that most of us were not aware of this version.
My first reaction was that the film was woefully miscast. Bebe Daniels, while quite the looker, did not have the depth to play an international woman of mystery. Her character is only ever called Ruth Wonderly, which is emblematic of the simplification of the role. This is particularly notable when Spade mocks her for having a "throb in your voice," which could not be further from the truth.
Ricardo Cortez also lacked the necessary depth and complexity. He played Spade as a slick ladies' man, not to say gigolo. His smile was too broad, his deliver too light, his reactions too studied. Of course, he was cast for the role because the film makers were trying to produce a sophisticated, romantic film, not a gritty, hardboiled detective story. Spade's office bright, clean, and well-appointed; his apartment is large and opulently-furnished. Una Merkle was a bright spot as Sam's Girl Friday, with too much good sense to become involved with him romantically. Dudley Digges' Caspar Gutman is more a small-town crime boss than a dreaded power-behind-the-scenes; Dwight Frye looks the part of Wilmer and does a credible job with what little he's given to do; Otto Matieson was surprisingly good as Joel Cairo; he is precise rather than prissy. Probably because of the focus on Sam's exploits, the homosexual undercurrents among those three are considerably toned down, although they are still present.
The script eliminates most of what would later become iconic lines, in favor of focusing on Spade as a womanizer. When we are first introduced to Spade, it is as one half of a silhouette seen through his outer office door, of a man and woman kissing. The door opens, and the camera focuses on the woman's legs, as she adjusts her silk stockings (the ones with a seam up the back). Archer returns from a business trip, he is in time to catch his wife and Spade in an intimate conversation on the phone. In this pre-code film, very little is left to the imagination, unlike the later versions, which had to make due with insinuation and suggestion. When Spade offers to sleep on the couch and give his bed to Miss Wonderly, she replies, "I wouldn't want to put you out," and in the next scene, is coming out of his bedroom in a negligee and kimono. Iva Archer arrives not long after, forces her way into the room, sees Miss Wonderly, and demands to know, "Who is that woman in my kimona?" Next morning, we see Miss Wonderly sleeping in Sam's bed, and a very distinct impression on the pillow next to her; later, she is taking a bath and talking to Sam through the door. Later, he strip searches her in his kitchen, when the $1000 bill goes missing. He orders her to remove her clothes, and we see her throw her gloves and coat at him. Later, we see her listening at the kitchen door, bare-shouldered, her clothes clutched to her chest.
As with "Baby Face," an awkward ending is tacked on to please the censors. First, Spade presents a witness to Wonderly's killing of Archer, a Chinese man with whom he had spoken in Chinese when he went to view the scene of the crime, so that there is no doubt about her guilt. Of course, this means that he knew that she was the murderer all along, which begs the question of why he became romantically involved with her. Then, he Spade visits her in prison, to tell her that he's joined the D.A.'s office. She mocks him and sends him on his way, then looks after him with tears in her eyes. He tells the Matron to treat her well and give her anything she wants, and to send the bill to the D.A.'s office where, he laughingly says, "I'll OK it!" I'm still trying to work that one out; the best I can do is that it is an attempt to provide a happy ending and to possibly justify his relationship with her as being based on love, but they do it at the cost of corruption in the D.A.'s office. Strange.
We're watching them in chronological order, so first a review of the 1931 film, with Bebe Daniels as Ruth Wonderly, Ricardo Cortez as Sam Spade, and Una Merkle as Effie. The title was changed to "Dangerous Female" when it was sold to t.v. in the 1950s, so it's no wonder that most of us were not aware of this version.
My first reaction was that the film was woefully miscast. Bebe Daniels, while quite the looker, did not have the depth to play an international woman of mystery. Her character is only ever called Ruth Wonderly, which is emblematic of the simplification of the role. This is particularly notable when Spade mocks her for having a "throb in your voice," which could not be further from the truth.
Ricardo Cortez also lacked the necessary depth and complexity. He played Spade as a slick ladies' man, not to say gigolo. His smile was too broad, his deliver too light, his reactions too studied. Of course, he was cast for the role because the film makers were trying to produce a sophisticated, romantic film, not a gritty, hardboiled detective story. Spade's office bright, clean, and well-appointed; his apartment is large and opulently-furnished. Una Merkle was a bright spot as Sam's Girl Friday, with too much good sense to become involved with him romantically. Dudley Digges' Caspar Gutman is more a small-town crime boss than a dreaded power-behind-the-scenes; Dwight Frye looks the part of Wilmer and does a credible job with what little he's given to do; Otto Matieson was surprisingly good as Joel Cairo; he is precise rather than prissy. Probably because of the focus on Sam's exploits, the homosexual undercurrents among those three are considerably toned down, although they are still present.
The script eliminates most of what would later become iconic lines, in favor of focusing on Spade as a womanizer. When we are first introduced to Spade, it is as one half of a silhouette seen through his outer office door, of a man and woman kissing. The door opens, and the camera focuses on the woman's legs, as she adjusts her silk stockings (the ones with a seam up the back). Archer returns from a business trip, he is in time to catch his wife and Spade in an intimate conversation on the phone. In this pre-code film, very little is left to the imagination, unlike the later versions, which had to make due with insinuation and suggestion. When Spade offers to sleep on the couch and give his bed to Miss Wonderly, she replies, "I wouldn't want to put you out," and in the next scene, is coming out of his bedroom in a negligee and kimono. Iva Archer arrives not long after, forces her way into the room, sees Miss Wonderly, and demands to know, "Who is that woman in my kimona?" Next morning, we see Miss Wonderly sleeping in Sam's bed, and a very distinct impression on the pillow next to her; later, she is taking a bath and talking to Sam through the door. Later, he strip searches her in his kitchen, when the $1000 bill goes missing. He orders her to remove her clothes, and we see her throw her gloves and coat at him. Later, we see her listening at the kitchen door, bare-shouldered, her clothes clutched to her chest.
As with "Baby Face," an awkward ending is tacked on to please the censors. First, Spade presents a witness to Wonderly's killing of Archer, a Chinese man with whom he had spoken in Chinese when he went to view the scene of the crime, so that there is no doubt about her guilt. Of course, this means that he knew that she was the murderer all along, which begs the question of why he became romantically involved with her. Then, he Spade visits her in prison, to tell her that he's joined the D.A.'s office. She mocks him and sends him on his way, then looks after him with tears in her eyes. He tells the Matron to treat her well and give her anything she wants, and to send the bill to the D.A.'s office where, he laughingly says, "I'll OK it!" I'm still trying to work that one out; the best I can do is that it is an attempt to provide a happy ending and to possibly justify his relationship with her as being based on love, but they do it at the cost of corruption in the D.A.'s office. Strange.
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