Beau Hunks (1931)

LOVE COMES: MR. HARDY IS AT LAST CONSCIOUS OF THE GRAND PASSION -- MR. LAUREL ISN'T EVEN CONSCIOUS OF THE GRAND CANYON.

We return to early days, the year 1931 to be specific, for another look at a film from comedy legends Laurel & Hardy. As you may (or may not remember), the only time we’ve looked at a film from this pairing before, Be Big!, turned out to be something of a damp squib… in my opinion. Timing was off, ideas were short, and laughs were, as a result, thin on the ground. Well, today’s venture sees us looking over a film the pair produced in the same period/year, still working under contract with Hal Roach. Fortunately, there seems to be a bit more potential in the set-up for this one. This is Beau Hunks (also known as Beau Chumps).

Ollie (Oliver Hardy) is in love, smitten, all aflutter with feelings of amore. He informs his friend Stanley (Stan Laurel) of his plans to be married to his sweetheart, Jeanie Weenie. However, within minutes of this announcement, he receives a letter informing him that the relationship is over. Heartbroken and disillusioned, Ollie decides to join the French Foreign Legion to forget his heartbreak, and he’s bringing Stanley with him. Once there, though, in the harsh arid heat of the desert, the pair very quickly find themselves in over their heads.

There should be an immediate moment of recognition with this film for anyone who is familiar with Laurel & Hardy, even if they’ve never seen any of their films. There are effectively three (arguably four) images of the comedic duo that have become somewhat iconic for them. One is them in their classic garb of suits and bowler hats; one is them dressed in police uniforms; and the third is Ollie & Stan dressed as a pair of soldiers in the Foreign Legion (in case you’re wondering, the fourth would be them as hobos). You’d certainly think that the film that presented the world with this image would be worth the watch, and not just some kind of excuse to put them in a funny costume. Well, it was, but that can work out quite well sometimes.

And fortunately enough, it worked. Beau Hunks is a solid outing from the pair, with a good pace, good gags and a pretty good story that runs through the whole to keep things moving. Sure, perhaps some may consider it a bit of a leap that a guy would go off to an inhospitable foreign land to serve out the rest of his days as a soldier for an army he can’t leave all because he was so heartbroken… but then it’s not really too much of a leap given the context. Hollywood movies relied on the idea of the French Foreign Legion being populated by men of desperation, the troubled ones, the wronged ones, and they made a great use of it. This is kind of a spill-over from literature, predominantly the novel Beau Geste, where this film gets its title. Besides, even if you do find it somewhat difficult, it’s a Laurel & Hardy comedy from the early 1930s, which puts it not too far above a Bugs Bunny cartoon. We can give them some leeway for shenanigans.

And the set-up is handled very well, and gives them some pretty good gags. Even moments separate from the plotting are a fine trove of visual gags, callbacks and physical gaffs, which come off much better here than they did in Be Big! because they don’t feel like they’ve been stretched out past breaking point. The opening few minutes of this film has a much better hit ratio. Aside from showing off Ollie’s actually rather sweet singing voice as he serenades (from afar) his loved one, Jeanie, Stan accidentally cuts a square of fabric out of the seat of armchair, and tries to cover it up. After Ollie finishes his song and confesses his intentions to marry, Stan says he doesn’t believe him, asking who would marry Ollie. His answer, “A woman, of course. Have you ever heard of someone marrying a man?” Stan says he has. A little surprised, Ollie asks who. Without missing a beat, Stan replies, “My sister.” Classic.

Once the pair arrive at the fort of the Foreign Legion, things start to get under way. Stan flubs the roll call, they both get on the wrong side of the commanding officer (who they constantly refer to as a different rank every time they address him), and Ollie discovers a truth about his beloved Jeanie Weenie. From the beginning, Ollie has clutched a picture of his true love close to his heart, and it’s only in this picture that we ever see her… it’s an autographed picture of Jean Harlow. When they arrive at the barracks, whilst Ollie looks forlornly at her image, Stan looks around the other new recruits, and every one of them is also tearfully clutching an autographed picture of Jean Harlow. So, it turns out that Ollie has perhaps had nothing more than an unrequited crush on a beautiful movie star, literally just like everyone else. That he received a letter from her breaking off their relationship seems to be neither here nor there, since, it would seem, so did every other guy. This theme then becomes one of the better running gags of the film.

The direction of Beau Hunks actually feels stronger, more visually coherent thanks to director James W. Horne (on viewing this, we would have to surmise that Parrott was the one responsible for the directorial flatness on Be Big!). The first time we find ourselves introduced to the communal sleeping quarters of the new recruits, we see it through an extended rifle rack, presenting an apparent image of these men being behind bars… made of guns. That’s a pretty strong and striking image of the world our pair now find themselves in, where these men are now effectively trapped in a life of military servitude from which there is no escape. When you think about it, that’s kind of a harsh image to put in a Laurel & Hardy comedy. Later, as the troop are marching in the desert, on their way to their first real assignment, we get what is basically handheld camerawork, with the camera bobbing and shaking in front of out intrepid duo, marching along with them and heightening the difficulty of their effort. And this was in 1931, before the camera advances that came from World War II news reporting made such manoeuvres less cumbersome. Visually, Beau Hunks is a kind of a treat.

There may be some issue with Beau Hunks as concerns the depiction of Arabs in the film, being that they are the villains of the piece, all barefoot and Allah-praising. That said, I’m not entirely sure how much of a problem it really is. They aren’t actually as hideously stereotyped as they could have been, certainly when considering the time period of the film. Nor are they overly evil, or regarded as any kind of godless heathens or savages. They are painted pretty broadly as simple bad guys for our heroes to fight. Bad guys that would, given the temporal and geographical setting, would make sense to use. It’s probably not good that they would have been just straight up used as the bad guys, nor is it necessarily the best defence to say that they aren’t as badly portrayed as they could have been, but they aren’t really demonised, either. It’s perhaps just a point of note.

Again, speaking from a personal perspective, there are some moments where I think a couple of jokes go on a bit long, the one that springs instantly to mind is when Stan gets his rifle caught in Ollie’s belt and can’t get it loose. However, that’s kind of just getting picky at this point. Plus, that’s just my own personal taste.

Beau Hunks is a good and worthy use of the comedic talents of Laurel & Hardy, showcasing some of their best skills in a variety of comedy disciplines, not to mention being a fine show for the acting and singing talents of Oliver Hardy. On top of that, it offers some surprisingly deft use of camerawork and visual metaphor that you wouldn’t necessarily equate with this kind of picture, particularly for its time, thanks to Horne. Beau Hunks may in fact be the longest Laurel & Hardy film, but it’s certainly up there with their best.

Excellent. Good to find the guys back in a good place for me.

Be Big! (1931)

MR. HARDY IS A MAN OF GREAT CARE, CAUTION AND DISCRETION. MR. LAUREL WAS MARRIED, TOO.

Today, we going to be going back into the long, long ago… well, the early 1930s. We’re going to look at a comedy short from the early days of the “talkies” from one of the most legendary comedic duos ever… Laurel & Hardy, classic combination of the skinny Limey and the fat Yank. Though both began as established actors in their own right, they ultimately began officially working together under the roof of Hal Roach’s studio in 1926, where they stayed for 14 years, becoming one of the most beloved comedy treasures that Hollywood has ever given the world. During their time under Roach, they released the film that we look at today - Be Big!

Just about to leave for the train station for a vacation in Atlantic City with their wives, Stanley (Stan Laurel) and Oliver (Oliver Hardy) get a phone call from a fellow lodge member who tells them a surprise stag party is being held in their honour that evening. Initially hesitant because of their plans, they accept and Oliver feigns illness to get out of leaving that day, suggesting Stanley stay to look after him and sending the wives on ahead by themselves. What follows is a series of physical pratfalls as the pair attempt to get ready for their big night.

What’s that rule about comedy? You know, the famous one. The one about how important something is to the telling of a joke. It’s only one word. It’s the key to comedy. Why can’t I remember it? Well, I suppose I shouldn’t feel too bad about not remembering that one rule, since it seems that Laurel & Hardy and most other people involved in Be Big! had forgotten it, too. There’s something ver-TIMING! That’s it! The most important thing in comedy is timing! Thank God, that would have annoyed me for a long while. Anyway, what was I saying? Oh right…

There’s something very laborious about this venture from the guys in the bowler hats, like they're just going through the motions because it's time to make another film. The premise itself is actually a pretty decent set-up for physical gaffs and energetic clumsiness. Two guys want to go to a party with their friends, but have already made plans with their wives. As such, they invent some scheme whereby they can get out of the plans they already have and do what they want, all without their respective spouses being any the wiser. Let’s be honest, it smacks of crazy shenanigans, which is exactly what Laurel & Hardy were all about.

And probably the best thing going for the film was the general conceit that gives the film its title. As Olly himself says, "No man is bigger than the excuses he makes to his wife. So... Be Big." It all ties to that idea that in order to have a successful marriage (read as: fool their wives and get away with their scheme), they need to lie… a lot. This idea is actually a pretty common one: if you make up a lie, the smaller and more convincing it sounds, the less likely it is that people will believe it. As such, the best way to go is to have an excuse be so big and ridiculous and implausible that it would have to be true, so they would have to believe it. One guesses that this idea has been of greater use to comedy writers over the years than people who actually are trying to lie effectively. I actually remember this idea being the basis behind an episode of Cheers ("Let Sleeping Drakes Lie") involving Norm, Tom Skerritt and a swarm of bees. And to be honest, Cheers did it better.

What really gets in the way of Be Big! being good is the incredibly clumsy way in which the central conceit has been handled, and it’s all down to a combination of bad direction, poor timing and simply not knowing what to do with that idea. The film itself is just under a half hour long, around 27 minutes or so. I’m not kidding when I say that around 12 of those minutes are given over to one single joke: the pair accidentally put the other’s boots on, Oliver becomes stuck in Stan's boots and they try to get them off… almost half of the film’s duration sees the two clumsily, awkwardly, utterly failing to free old Olly from these boots. He tries pulling them off himself, Stan tries to pull them off, they try using a bootjack, they try using brute force, all without success. In doing so, they break a chair, a mirror, some curtains, Olly sits on a nail, and they each get their foot caught in the other’s sweater. This may sound all zany and the like, but it feels like it goes on forever. I understand they’re going for the hilarious notion of so much bother caused by such a simple task, as is the mainstay of physical comedy, but it’s just tiresome. And it’s all just basically one joke, repeated over and over and over and over again. It constantly aims for silly and hits stupid almost every time instead. As an example, there is a moment when Olly tries to explain to Stan just how simple this process should be. He has Stan put on one of his (that is, Olly’s) boots just so he can take it off and show the ease with which they should be able to the same for Olly. However, this is just kind of ridiculous considering we know the boot will come off Stan’s foot easier because it’s too big for him. In fact, we previously saw him literally jump out of one earlier, so this whole bit is just nonsense. And yes, I know that part of their dynamic was that Olly would try to explain to Stan how simple some things should be with disastrous consequences, but that doesn’t mean it always works.

Another problem comes from a trademark of both men: Olly’s looking into the camera with consternation; and Stan’s looking awkwardly confused. They, of course, do this several times throughout the film, but all it does here is get in the way, stretching out the gaps in action and killing what little momentum they managed to build. If the film were better paced, or the physical gaffs were better, these moments would add to the moment, as they do with the pair's other movies. Directors Horne and Parrott really drop the ball in this instance since there was a way of bridging the gaps between these gags without constantly stopping things. When the wives arrive at the train station, they find out they’ve just missed their train and there won’t be another one until tomorrow. As such, they get back in their taxi and head home, saying how they can’t wait to see the look on their husbands’ faces. That’s the last time we see them until the end. We could have cut back to them, just once or twice, showing their progress, maybe giving them an obstacle to draw out the journey a little, just to build a bit of tension and allowing quicker set-ups between Olly and Stan’s boot-pulling attempts.

Of course, it’s all well and good me saying this 80 years after the fact. Besides, there would have been some constraints to deal with, the biggest of which likely being a reluctance to cut away from Laurel & Hardy, who were the stars of the picture and the thing people wanted to see. It’s doesn’t really excuse the problems, but does at least explain some of them. The fact that they have only one comedy idea for the whole film which just gets repeated again and again is the thing that remains without explanation or excuse.

Be Big! isn’t really one of the pair’s better efforts and not a good place to start for those new to Laurel and Hardy, mostly just feeling inane thanks to flat direction, rather choppy editing and what feels like a complete lack of ideas given the golden ticket of the titular idea. Given that almost half of the film’s running time is taken up with a single extended gag, which runs out of steam very quickly, it would seem that this film was made as a piece of filler rather than anything that was meant to last. Had the film been half as long, it would likely have been greatly improved. As it is, it’s a rather untoward bump in the golden comedy road for the duo.

Bandits (2001)

TWO'S COMPANY, THREE'S A CRIME

Today, we reach a milestone… the 100^th review on this poky little blog, so let’s get on with it. Yesterday, we looked at Bande à part, a story about two young wannabe criminals who coerce a girl they know into assisting them in robbing the house where she lives, with the situation becoming complicated when both guys try to woo the girl. Today, we’re looking at Bandits, a story about two career criminals who wind up taking a strange woman along on bank robberies, with the situation becoming complicated when both guys try to woo the girl… it’s a funny old world we live in, isn’t it?

Two escaped convicts, the charismatic Joe (Bruce Willis) and the hypochondriac Terry (Billy Bob Thornton), begin a bank robbing spree under the plan of kidnapping bank managers the night before, then going with the managers in the morning to rob the banks. When a getaway goes wrong, they wind up bringing a bored housewife, Kate (Cate Blanchett), along with them, which only complicates things further when an awkward romantic triangle develops between them.

Of course, I’m not actually suggesting that Bandits is some sort of remake of Bande à part. The original conception of the project was actually to adapt the novel Bandits by Elmore Leonard, to which Bruce Willis owns the film rights. However, it was apparently deemed that it was too weak a story to adapt, so they simply kept the title and brought in a new writer to come up with a completely new concept. The writer they brought in was Harley Peyton, known best for working on Twin Peaks in the early 90s, with the bulk of season two coming from him. His other work was sporadic after the end of that show, and Bandits was his first film of the 00s. There may have been some degree of influence going on with Bande à part, but perhaps it’s just sheer coincidence that I happened to see both of these films one after the other, thereby making it seem way more relevant than it actually is. Certainly, it’s no stretch of a writer’s imagination to have a story of two thieves whose work gets compromised when a third party comes between them.

As it is, Bandits is a relatively clever script, although it actually does have just as many downfalls. The characters are pretty well drawn, distinctive and fairly memorable. Joe is the doer of the team, possessed of confidence, charisma and a willingness to get the job done, although he’s also got a bit of a problem with anger management. Terry is the thinker, a very smart guy, but often crippled (sometimes literally) by an array of insecurities, allergies, fears and neuroses. Of the two, Terry is the better character, primarily because he has more potential for comedy and drama, given that he’s more prone to bouts of mild hysteria and panic than his cooler partner. Joe can still fly off the handle, but it never comes at a time that would cause untoward conflict. The character of Kate is somewhere between the two, a woman of great spirit and passion, though it’s buried under so much domesticated unhappiness and boredom. When she runs into the criminal pair (well, one of them, anyway), she rather quickly jumps on the opportunity for some excitement and thrills in her life. The reasons for her domestic hell is obvious when we see a news broadcast featuring her husband. With everyone believing she has been kidnapped, his plea to get her back includes the point, “I’m going to Spain next week, so if your kidnappers would like to contact me, they can get in touch with my people, and you know who they are.” Classy guy. Like I said, these characters are pretty good and all have decent motivations behind them.

There are a handful of other characters to proceedings, of varying degrees of importance, although they are more hit-and-miss in the overall picture. Joe and Terry’s lookout/getaway driver is Harvey, Joe’s cousin. Harvey is a stuntman with a penchant for pyro work. He’s also an idiot. Honestly, Harvey is one of the ‘miss’ characters mainly because of that last point, since he does stupid things that are a bit infuriating, like leaving the getaway vehicle because he sees a girl he likes, though I’ll get to this in a bit. On the other side, one of the ‘hit’ characters would be Mildred, a bank manager who is genuinely thrilled to meet the famous bank-robbing duo, but refuses to go along with their plans because she can’t take them seriously. She tells Joe that everyone knows that he wouldn’t hurt anyone, so she isn’t that frightened. A point on this, though, since we have seen that Joe has anger management issues, you’d expect more of a reaction than a frustrated sigh.

As to the actual story of the film, it’s got an interesting central premise around which to build some good stuff. The romantic triangle dynamic can yield some fine conflict on its own, but that it’s set within the context of a series of bank-jobs does give it an extra boost. What does create something of an imbalance is that there’s never a definite tone struck in the picture, which makes things feel a bit uneasier than they should, though this is as much the fault of director Barry Levinson as it is Peyton. Levinson has normally shown himself to be quite adept at nimbly juggling tonal shifts without problem, but there’s the odd fumble here and there. And I swear, the first time Terry and Kate spend time together being intercut with Joe taking his frustrations out on a makeshift punch bag is similar to something done in Double Impact, a Jean-Claude Van Damme film from ten years prior.

This is where Harvey’s own romantic subplot could have had the most direct effect. With the primary love triangle, the problem in tone comes from what seems to be the indecision of the filmmakers as to whether or not it’s mainly comedic or mainly dramatic. The amount of time spent on it would suggest the latter, but the lack of real engagement would suggest the former. If they wanted to make it more comedic, they could have easily cut back on the three leads and given a bit more time to Harvey’s time spent chasing a blonde hitchhiker in pink boots. Like I said, this is in need of further development if we’re to believe in it more. As it is, there’s a couple of moments (not scenes, moments) where Harvey doesn’t pick the girl up, then eventually one where he does, and then suddenly they’re living together as a couple… wait, what? That’s a lot of off-screen relationship building for us not to be in on it. That this relationship does have some importance in the final 20 minutes or so just puts more strain on the already thin link. With just a bit more time spent here, the relationship between Harvey and the pink boots girl would feel more authentic, and put less weight on the leading trio to cover all generic bases.

You’d maybe think that this all amounts to a pretty lacklustre film, with good moments and bad fighting each other for supremacy. As it is, the film is more enjoyable than not mainly because of the fine performances given throughout. Bruce Willis still has a great line in wry smirks and easy charm, coupled with a solid physical presence, so Joe is ably handled. Billy Bob Thornton is on great form as Terry, showing off an array of tics, twitches and fast-talking that makes his feeling of simmering panic ever so slightly infectious. Cate Blanchett goes for Kate with a great abandon, offering bad dancing and singing without a hint of shame because it’s finally about her character being free to do so. And, as much the character can occasionally annoy, Troy Garity does give Harvey some kind of humour, which he needs so as not to be completely off-putting. That all of the performances are strong and that the characters are (for the most part) likable goes a long way to raising the game of the whole film. It doesn’t solve all of the problems, but it makes much more enjoyable.

Bandits is a bit messy when it comes to finding the right overall tone to the picture, and the script has its share of drawbacks, like a secondary romantic subplot that’s so underdeveloped it could qualify as a sub-sub-subplot. That said, there is enough fun there to keep it entertaining, it is pretty brisk for a two-hour film and the central performances are thoroughly enjoyable, especially in Billy Bob Thornton. It certainly could have been much better, but it’s far from a complete disaster.

At the Circus (1939)

KEEP THE WORLD LAUGHING

Today, we return to the films of the Marx Brothers. Their career in film had begun back when they signed a contract with Paramount, producing their first feature in 1929, The Cocoanuts. The four brothers (Groucho, Chico, Harpo and Zeppo) stayed on with Paramount until 1933, when they left the company over creative differences. After this, Zeppo left the act to become an agent with his brother Gummo, so the other three ended up signing with Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. Towards the end of their tenure at MGM, they made At the Circus.

Young circus owner Jeff Wilson (Kenny Baker) owes a considerable sum on his business, but is on the cusp of repaying it. However, the man he owes doesn’t want the money; he wants the circus. He enlists the help of the circus strongman and the circus midget to steal the money, forcing Wilson to give up his circus. But two people wants to help - the strongman’s assistant Punchy (Harpo Marx) and circus hand Antonio (Chico Marx). So they hire Antonio’s old lawyer friend, J. Cheever Loophole (Groucho Marx).

There’s actually something of an interesting history behind the conception of At the Circus, which is attached to what would some would regard as something of an injustice within the ranks of Universal Pictures in the mid-30s. Carl Laemmle was one of the founders of Universal, and acted as executive and producer in the company, bringing his son Carl Laemmle Jr. on as head of production in 1928. Under the guidance of the Laemmles, Universal enjoyed quite a bit of success. One of their projects from 1929 was a partial-talkie adaptation of the novel Show Boat, though Laemmle Snr. was never satisfied with that version, so the pair embarked on a project to make an all new, all sound version, adapting from both the novel and the musical written by Jerome Kern and Oscar Hammerstein II. Looking for money for the project, a financier by the name of J. Cheever Cowdin, representing a group of investors, loaned the Laemmles $750,000 towards the production. However, after the film was completed but before it was released, the investors demanded their money to be repaid in full, which the Laemmles could not do yet. Due to their inability to repay the money, Cowdin was able to force the Laemmles out of their position and assume control of Universal, which he did and remained in charge until 1946. Had the loan not been recalled until after the film’s release, there would have been the money to repay it without any such takeovers. As it is, both Laemmle Snr. and Jr. left the business and never worked in film again. Sadly, Hollywood is actually full of stories like these.

Such was the reality of what had happened at another studio only a few years before, and so it became a loose inspiration for At the Circus, with a financier trying to force an indebted circus owner into handing over control of his business because of a loan he couldn’t repay. However, it was somewhat restructured to have the good guys come out on top, thanks to the intervention of the three anarchic Marx Brothers, one of who bears a name similar to the real life transgressor, J. Cheever Loophole (Groucho always did love a ridiculous name). Given the nature of the true events, and the influence of MGM producer Irving Thalberg, the story is a well-structured piece. It does occasionally lapse, making concessions to the public’s expectations of a Marx Brothers film, but it is, for the most part, a nicely controlled work. If you actually took out the musical pieces, it would probably be a much cleaner ride.

However, to remove the musical pieces would be to remove one of Groucho’s great signature songs, Lydia, the Tattooed Lady. It’s still a great and funny song, sang well (for Groucho) and very well choreographed as a full song and dance number in a train car. One of the other good moments is Harpo’s big musical scene, Swingali. It comes completely out of nowhere, and has a touch of the ignorant racial attitudes of the period (again), but it has some superb energy to it. This then segues into Harpo’s required harp recital, which becomes something of a mash-up of Swing Low, Sweet Chariot and Blue Moon. Other songs are less enjoyable, occasionally even a bit grating, such the love theme Two Blind Loves. Still, there was always this kind of problem with movies of the time, not just Marx films. And besides, you don’t really watch a Marx film for the songs.

The comedy scenes are very well handled, certainly more so than Animal Crackers, which you may remember me not liking much. Not long after that film, they had found their filmic style, and been given directors more suited to their comedy, so by the time At the Circus came along, their work was much firmer. Director Edward Buzzell, clearly having learned the best way to work with the Marx Brothers by watching their earlier work, spaces out the comedy pieces well, giving a more balanced play overall. Buzzell also keeps the pace and energy up very well, so it rarely feels slow or plodding. He’s also managed to get some great images and camera movements in there, like in the Swingali number, or the banquet scene, or the big finish at the circus. It’s always great to see the director actively engage with the world they create, moving through it with confidence.

Groucho continues his subversive streak here, again addressing the audience directly, but adding an extra twist. When trying to retrieve the stolen money from one of the bad circus stars, Peerless Pauline (Eve Arden), Groucho sees that she has slipped it down her top. Seeing this, Groucho turns to the camera and says, “There must be some way of getting that money back without offending the Hays Office.” And if you read my reviews of Angels with Dirty Faces and The Asphalt Jungle, you’ll know what that was all about. There is also the great Margaret Dumont later in the film, and both she and Groucho continue to bounce off each other beautifully. That Dumont doesn’t arrive until about two-thirds into the film gives things an extra jolt, as you know it will lead to the joy only those two can provide onscreen.

Scenes between Chico and Harpo are also just gold. After Wilson is attacked for his money, Antonio and Punchy try to figure out what happened. Unsurprisingly, this leads to Punchy repeatedly attacking Antonio. When Antonio tries to explain that they are just pretending, “you know, like in-a da movies,” Punchy shows that he understands by laying a series of over-exaggerated kisses up Antonio’s arm before picking him up throwing him down in some hay before being thrown off by Antonio. God, that’s funny, and it’s the sheer speed at which it happens that just makes it funnier.

Another scene of comedy gold comes when the three brothers are together, trying to interrogate the circus midget, Little Professor Atom, about the whereabouts of the missing money. Professor Atom is played really very well by a little boy with a moustache drawn on his upper lip and chomping a cigar (yes, the kid actually smokes it) and the whole scene takes place in Professor Atom’s little private house, which is too small for the Brothers to stand up in. The physical dimensions are ridiculous and the dialogue is hilarious, with Groucho occasionally dropping character and just trying to make the kid laugh. The fact the kid doesn’t corpse constantly just shows how professional he is. This scene also holds the one and only time in any of their films where you, sort of, get to hear actual sound come from Harpo when he sneezes. He sneezes so hard that he literally blows the furniture, and everyone else in the room, over completely.

Whilst it’s certainly not the best work of the Marx Brothers, At the Circus is still a great one. The script is well-written, the direction assured and dynamic, and the cast are on top form. There’s a great energy throughout, and the Brothers have some superb moments, particularly Harpo’s bizarre physical gags, which director Buzzell knows well enough to not get lost in fray. After the feeling of despondency that I was left with by Animal Crackers, this was a most welcome and needed return for my love of the Marx movies. And all it took was a smoking child, some upside down walking and a giraffe licking a women’s neck… that’s right.

The Asphalt Jungle (1950)

THE CITY UNDER THE CITY

There’s a collection of short stories by Raymond Chandler called The Simple Art of Murder, which is also the title of his essay on noir fiction. Amongst the short stories is one called Trouble is My Business, in which appears this quote: “The streets were dark with something more than night.” That sentence captures just the right kind of city-born oppression that is a big part of film noir. There’s always a sense that the city setting in most noirs are not just a setting, but another character, perhaps the most important one. Indeed, a common recurrence in these stories is that is a living, breathing, corruptive influence on everyone else and that the people that walk its streets are as rotten as the city itself. In 1950, John Huston brought to life a fine example of the kind of city that corrupts everyone that live there.

Doc Riedenschneider (Sam Jaffe) is notorious crime brain. He’s just out of prison and has a plan for a million-dollar jewellery heist. To pull it off, he recruits Louis (Anthony Caruso), an expert safecracker; Gus (James Whitmore), a getaway driver; and Dix Handley (Sterling Hayden), a strong-arm man. However, the plan suffers a series of small accidents, compounded when the man financing the operation, corrupt lawyer Emmerich (Louis Calhern), plans a double-cross.

Like many noir films, The Asphalt Jungle was adapted from a hard-boiled crime novel, in this case by W.R. Burnett. Burnett enjoyed a great deal of success from the adaptations of his work, and was even able to make a successful run as a screenwriter. His stories were highly influential in developing some of the archetypes that helped define noir as a genre, dealing with widespread city corruption, the anti-hero, pessimism and a sense of fatalism in the world. The source novel for this film was published in 1949, which was picked up for adaptation almost immediately, thanks to his prior success and connections. The script was written by Ben Maddow and John Huston, with Huston set to direct. The script itself maintains the abject hopelessness of the source as it brings the different characters across, complete with the neuroses and flaws that become their downfall. Beyond the characters, it’s a wonderfully plotted piece, with a very simple plan becoming tainted and ruined by the various motivations at play. Riedenschneider merely wants to pull off the job and retire to Mexico, in the same way that Dix just wants to return to his Kentucky farm, but Emmerich wants to make off with all the jewels because he’s broke, now surviving on what esteem and fear he can. He strong-arms a bookie, Cobby, into fronting him the money for the job on his word, but the bookie is in dire straits himself, trying to hold off an imminent raid from a corrupt cop, who is himself trying to keep from being found out. And this is to say nothing of what happens when the job goes bad, with the necessity for alibis and calm heads becoming stronger. It is some very fine conflicts at play.

What’s also great is that this also marked one of the first films where the criminals were treated as sympathetic characters, which caused some level of controversy at the time. This had never really been considered before, with criminal action generally just being motivated by money or greed or just being bad. Here, influences are the same as those of regular people, like dreams of a simple life or the need to provide for a family. Amazingly, this hadn’t really been considered before in Hollywood films. This also rather marks the beginning of the heist movie sub-genre.

The dialogue itself is also very sharp, pointing out how corrupt the city is, and how well every character knows it. When Riedenchneider speaks to Cobby about his corrupt cop shadow, Cobby tries to assuage his fears, but Riedenschneider is having none of it, saying, “Experience has taught me never to trust a policeman. Just when you think one’s all right, he turns legit.” In this city, legitimacy is just another turn of dishonesty, since it remains the single most dangerous act a dishonest person can commit. There’s also a semi-recurring notion of the old meaning of left-handed, it being seen as sinister or dishonest. An early discussion about baseball holds a remark about a left-handed pitcher being untrustworthy, with a similar, more chilling sentiment expressed by Emmerich when playing cards with his sick wife, May:

May: When I think of all those awful people you come in contact

with - downright criminals - I get scared.

Emmerich: Oh, there’s nothing so different about them. After all, crime is only a… left-handed form of human endeavour.

Here, Emmerich shows that he holds little distinction between criminals and everyone else, with criminals simply using a way of getting things done that it doesn’t occur to others to use. That he no longer sees anything wrong with criminal enterprise shows just how far he’s fallen.

This film was the last of Huston’s noir films, and his direction is as strong here on anything here ever made. Many called The Asphalt Jungle a sort of docu-noir, and for good reason, given its focus on the individual details of planning the heist, the build up of different elements, the controlled tension of the heist itself, and the procedural manner with which it is investigated and broken down. Huston also maintains a far more naturalistic style over the film, rarely if ever resorting to the standard visuals tics of the genre. There is little in the way of expressionistic backdrops or tilted angles. Even the cinematography, provided by Harold Rosson, holds a less stylised sharpness typical of other noirs. It still retains the contrast of the light and dark, but does so in a much more naturalistic manner. There are other details scattered throughout that show the kind of quality visualisation in Huston’s direction. For example, there are only a few times when we actually see people out walking in the streets, and the place is always deserted of other people. I’ll be honest and say that I initially considered this to be somewhat off, since it removes from the sense of a living, working city, where you would expect people to be everywhere. The only people we ever see actually on the streets are cops and criminals… however, that’s exactly the point. This city is so dangerous (as attested by a chatty taxi driver) that regular folk don’t walk these streets. The only time we see these regular people is indoors, like Louis’ family or Dix’s lady friend, or in cars, like the taxi driver. These streets aren’t safe for normal people. And look how Huston establishes some sense of what drives these characters. Again, look at Louis, whose sole reason for doing what he does is to make money for his wife and child. Whenever he’s home, he always shares the frame with his wife, his baby or both. They’re never gone from his mind, so he’s never by himself in these shots. It’s a superb way underlining this.

A great move is also to have the film be almost completely free of musical underscore, which only exists at the beginning titles and the closing few minutes. The utter silence of the rest of the picture makes things very tense, and allows us to better hear the sirens as they approach the gang. The only other times music plays comes from either a radio or a jukebox, and lasts only so long.

Performances throughout are good, with Sterling Hayden suitably playing the former-farm boy who turned to crime in the big city, and now only wants to go home. The best work of the film comes from Sam Jaffe as Riedenschneider and Louis Calhern as Emmerich. Both Jaffe and Calhern capture the ‘seen it all’ cynicism of their roles, but project the faults of each brilliantly. There’s also some excellent work from Marc Lawrence as Cobby, Barry Kelley as Lt. Ditrich, and Brad Dexter as Bob Brannom. There’s also a notable shot from Marilyn Monroe in the minor role that really got her noticed properly.

What makes The Asphalt Jungle especially interesting is considering it within the period in which it was made. By 1950, the infamous House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC) was nearly in full in swing, hunting suspected Communistic influences wherever they could find them, including within the highly influential recesses of Hollywood. Anyone found to have suspicious allegiances were questioned, blacklisted, some imprisoned, and some deported. The personnel of The Asphalt Jungle were actually directly affected by these witch-hunts, too. Sam Jaffe was blacklisted after the publication of the governments Red Channels list; Sterling Hayden, a former-Communist himself, was brought before HUAC to testify and did give names of other people to be investigated, which he regretted for the rest of his life; and writer Ben Maddow was blacklisted only about a month after the release of The Asphalt Jungle. Hayden and Huston would then go on to join the Committee for the First Amendment, a group of Hollywood professionals out to fight the targeting of their industry, alongside Humphrey Bogart, Lauren Bacall and Gene Kelly.

The whole HUAC period is one of my favourite topics concerning film industry history, because it’s so interesting to look at the films of the period and consider them as a reflection of the time. Look at The Asphalt Jungle, and its depiction of a broken and corrupted city, where everyone is paranoid that someone else will turn on them and there’s nothing that can be done about your inevitable fate. This is just one of many films that hold this up as an expression of the fear and paranoia felt in the country during the HUAC hearings. Should you happen to watch this film, keep in the back of your mind the fact that some of these people would have a very rough time of things shortly after the film was released. It really adds a whole new level to things.

The Asphalt Jungle is a classic of the crime genre, tense and sternly controlled, and its influence is still felt to this day. The script is wonderfully conceived, the direction is strong and very nicely detailed, and there are some really fine performances on show. It’s the beginnings of a lot of things, and a reaction to a great many things within Hollywood at the time. This makes it a very important and very rich film to watch. If you have any interest in film noir, or film in general, this is one you must watch.

The Amityville Horror (1979)

"FOR GOD'S SAKE, GET OUT!"

In the 1970s, there was something of an appetite for horror films with a supernatural charge, with demonic possession or acknowledgement of the occult as the major basis for the attempted scares. If it was based on a true story, and that productions were themselves haunted, even better. In 1973, The Exorcist was released, which really kicked everything off. The next big one was three years later, with 1976’s The Omen. Three years later, there came another. Based on a book recounting the “true” experiences of the Lutz family, who claimed to be terrorised by a demonic presence in their new home, which was itself the site of a multiple homicide, The Amityville Horror was released.

George and Kathy Lutz (James Brolin and Margot Kidder), a newly married couple with three children, move into their beautiful new house in Amityville, knowing full well that it was the site of a mass murder only a year before. After moving in, they begin to be tormented by an evil force within the house, trying to drive them away.

As a movie villain, haunted houses are rather tricky. Since there’s no actual monster or direct physical threat to centre the terror on, it relies on the careful construction of a malevolent atmosphere within the structure itself, a faceless sense of foreboding that should make the audience uneasy without really knowing why, a gradual building of unbearable tension. It takes a steady hand to work this angle. The Amityville Horror has none of these things.

First off, the script by Sandor Stern is devoid of any legitimate structure. The whole narrative unfolds as if it were a 9-year-old trying to tell a scary story. ‘These people moved into this house and the house was haunted… and one day, there was a lot of flies in a room, but they weren’t there anymore… and then, when everyone was sleeping, there was a noise downstairs, but there wasn’t anyone there… and then the man lost some money and he couldn’t find it anywhere… and then there was a cross on the wall that went upside down… and then the door burst open, but no one did it… and then…’ This is unbelievably juvenile storytelling. Characters are treated with roughly the same amount of respect, given next to no actual motivation or depth, existing only for bad stuff to happen to them. Once the bad thing has happened, they are simply forgotten. The kids may as well be named Boy #1, Boy#2 and Girl for all the character they possess. Father Delaney is given a line about being a psychotherapist, but it’s treated with such tokenism that it’s just insulting. And Sergeant Gionfriddo does nothing. It is a truly woeful piece of writing.

Stuart Rosenberg’s direction is abysmal. It’s all over the place. It’s so clumsy and uneven that it’s amazing to consider that this is the same man who gave us Cool Hand Luke. The horror genre is just clearly not his forte, being that he seems utterly incapable of capitalising on any kind of opportunity for tension. He’s simply stuck on using stock tricks that are just cheap and inept (a jump scare with a cat), stealing ideas from better movies (spot the constant Psycho rip-offs) and constantly looking at things that are a bit weird (like an ugly porcelain dragon by the fireplace or the infamous “evil eyes” of the house). Everything about it shows Rosenberg’s complete lack of control in such a genre. There’s a story that, in order to get a frightened reaction from Margot Kidder when she sees two lights/eyes/whatever outside the house, Rosenberg held up an orange velour pig with glass eyes… what? Never mind why he thought that would scare someone, where did he get something like that? Rosenberg’s use of religious iconography is also incredibly weak. The editing is atrocious as well. An early scene where the couple are being shown around the house by the realtor is punctuated with shots from the previous scene of the murders being committed. It has literally been only a couple of minutes since we saw them, and we haven’t left the house, but they feel the need to remind us of what happened in these rooms. The fact that the murder scene could have been worked in to better effect later on and the realtor scene cut out altogether is yet another problem with the film. And the sound design… in this world, tension is signified by the sound of a live cable left unplugged, so a less than subtle hummmmm rests under, or rather over, moments when you’re meant to be scared. This just feels like rank amateurism.

I have no idea what the cast are doing. Every one of them seems to be working on a different film, or at least at different stages of this one. James Brolin becomes the angry guy so quickly, he’s barely registered on screen before he develops bags under his eyes and his carefully constructed hair loses its body. Margot Kidder must have the shortest memory ever, since her character will completely dismiss something she thought strange only seconds before. ‘What’s that smell? There’s some kind of… ah well, must be nothing.’ Rod Steiger (here looking weirdly like Piper Laurie) is so over-dramatic that he stands out purely because he’s yelling all the time. Honestly, I think that a lot of the problems with the performances stem more from Rosenberg’s awkward direction than the actors themselves, but they still turn in poor work.

Perhaps the reason for the sheer underwhelming nature of the film stems from the possibility that no one working on the film actually believed that the story was true. After the film was released, both Brolin and Kidder were fairly open about the fact that they did not believe any of it. Kidder would later admit that she hated the film. In fact, when you consider some of the scenes of supposed terror, you can actually see how the filmmakers don’t believe it and are perhaps offering very subtle alternate theories as to what really happened. When the money goes missing, the babysitter was there, so maybe she did it. When the babysitter gets stuck in the closet, maybe the little girl really did do it and not some ghost. The house itself could quite easily be riddled with carpentry problems or electrical issues, which could account for some things.

Of course, all of this is moot anyway. The whole story was debunked years ago, thanks to a multitude of investigators and a lawsuit surrounding the authenticity of the events recounted in the original book. Besides, if the purpose of the film was to offer a critique of the legitimacy of the hauntings, then it should have been made clearer. However, it’s not. It was an actual attempt to make a horror film based on true events in an effort to scare people, and it failed miserably at its task.

The Amityville Horror is an incredibly poor film, lacking any kind of atmosphere or tension. The performances are over-the-top and inconsistent, the script unfolds in a manner akin to a child telling a ghost story, and, judging by the constantly ham-fisted attempts to frighten, it’s clear that Rosenberg has no idea as to what is actually scary. The fact that it has a cult appeal based on how laughable it is really should be enough of an indicator.