The 1940s List: Discussion and Suggestions (Decade Project Vol. 4)

[therewillbeblus]

The Devil and Daniel Webster: Faust as told through a more sympathetic route in the throes of economic hardship vs. ambition for Jabez, though ambition is a thematic interest as well and this film works in expanding the scope of a simple idea. Walter Huston is having fun as the devil, and so are we watching him. The rest of the ensemble are quite good, creating relatable characters worth the investment of a familiar tale. Consequences arise and are felt hard during this version of the story, with more characters to inhibit different angles and perspectives of the common man giving into or resisting temptation. I was surprised at how much I liked this given its stock status.

So Proudly We Hail!: This was absolutely brilliant. I don’t have much to add to domino’s writeup but I’ll second this as a very moving war film with complex characters at the center, riveting scenarios and setpieces that place us right in the thick of it with these women, perhaps even more than Bataan! This film not only features, but writes such well-developed female characters and uses patience, care, and restraint to give them particular direction to grow and change through many dimensions. As domino says, Lake steals the show, and that’s an absolute shock not only because she doesn’t usually flaunt those acting chops but because she’s so good here, exercising abilities I haven’t noticed before now. It’s one of the best dramatic acting performances I’ve seen by a woman of this era period, in a role seemingly designed to uproot all rules of Hollywood leading ladies, to the point where on more than one occasion I realized I was viewing it as a modern film shot in black and white. There is a lot to praise here but these boldly conceived characters and their faithful execution by writer Allan Scott and director Mark Sandrich is at the forefront of my accolades. What a find- thank you domino for the recommendation.

The Lady Eve: A bit of a change of pace for Sturges, this sexy light screwball is complex in its twists and seemingly aimless as to where it’ll end up, asking us to take a leap of faith and trust the charm of the characters and script as it transitions occasionally in expected directions but more often unexpectedly, but never without a sense of grace. I didn’t find this to be very funny the first few times, and even still while it’s certainly humorous, the qualities that stand out are its charismatic atmosphere. The attractiveness of every performance, line of dialogue, interplay between people, and the placement of the characters in their surroundings, lend themselves to a richness that needs to be noticed and soaked in to be truly appreciated. As I become accustomed to these characters, their dynamics, and Sturges’ flow of comedic energy here, the laughs pour out, especially as the film progresses and becomes funnier in part because of the jokes stacked in these places, but also because of the adjustment to that flow. The more I take this leap of faith the more I get out of this film and the more I notice just how complicated a task Sturges takes to craft this sense of magical ease and lowkey vibe so packed with subtle pizzazz that the jokes either slide by you or kick you in the teeth.



The Curse of the Cat People: Yet another example of a film that once did nothing for me but has since unveiled a blooming sense of warmth and appreciation in revisits. One reason for this may be that after the first watch I knew not to expect a horror film, which was certainly holding me back in my initial viewing as I didn’t know what to make of the film and was waiting for the horror to kick in. However, even after that first viewing I’ll admit that it took careful attention and interest to acclimate to what the film was really offering, which only struck me on this last watch.

The magical atmosphere of a child’s fantastical perspective and subtle meditations on loneliness, identity, and sense of self-worth (and rejection of that worth from dismissive adults) are held together comfortably, a difficult feat for such diverse atmospheric moods to coexist as if woven from the same cloth. That is not to say that these themes are not otherwise capable of overlapping, but a lesser film would have explored each element in uneven chapters of mood shifts within the same film. Here they are effortlessly complementary, blended into a thick thematic density that is far more layered than it appears, or at least that it appeared to me the first two times I saw the film.

For a film apparently half-directed by two separate people (though I’m curious to learn more about how much Wise re-shot, as this feels very much like the work of a unified vision) the ambiance is magnificent, with a mystical mise en scène and extravagant photography. The acting also mirrors the intent of each character’s role perfectly. We get loud and charismatic performances from the fantasy characters to counteract the flat and restrained ones from the parents and ‘real’ adults. The show belongs to Ann Carter though, who gives an incredibly subdued and complicated performance as she navigates a world - or two worlds, the real and the fantasy - neither of which she is able to fully grasp at this latency stage. Lost in a middle ground of childhood emerging from the comfort of innocence, but not yet able to achieve any sense of mastery or understanding of life, she is trapped in a state of powerlessness over herself and her environment, drawn to look to the fantasy for comfort while forced to exist in the real, repeatedly pulled back into it by the claws of maturity.

I love how the weather corresponds to our young protagonist’s internal state, warm and calm at the start, while she plays and remains content in her fantasy, but becoming colder, culminating in a door-busting snowstorm as her dysregulation escalates, relationships dissolve, and worldviews shatter in waves. The storm calms, of course, as she finds peace with her ghost tormenter and embraces her as a friend before reconciling with her father as well, who ultimately validates her perspective on the world in the closing moments, thus providing her with a sense of safety in the real world for the first time in the film. The use of weather is significant in that it, along with ‘time,’ often serves as the default reminder of our lack of omnipotence and inability to control our world, emulating the film’s thematic interest in the process of engaging in this realization and the confusion over how to, or rather ‘where we can,’ gain control in a primarily powerless existence. The existential woes of psychological development.

The state of living with a desire for social connection while not yet possessing the skills to achieve this connection is drawn so authentically that it demands empathy in the relatability of its pathos. That the film retains a continuous beauty in its magical fantasy interlaced through this drama weighs lightness and darkness on a balanced scale and reminds us of the nostalgia in make-believe, a defense mechanism perhaps, but one of the most enjoyable we’ve ever had, when creativity came naturally before our innate defaults turned banal with age and we had to seek this creativity through others means, like the movies.

Needless to say I am finally starting to see what all the fuss is about, and after criticizing the merits of the film for so long I’ll call myself out and gladly contribute to the praise. Sometimes the films you least expect are the ones that need several re-evaluations to click, and I never suspected this to be one of them. I’m glad I gave it a third go, which prompted the rare impulse to immediate rewind for a fourth viewing, solidifying the changed impression and convincing me I hadn’t seen a ghost. What a film.

How Green Was My Valley: It’s hard not to like, or at least admire, a Ford film. This ranks farther on the ‘admire’ side of the spectrum, but there’s such a well-rounded implementation of craft in all areas that establishes a poetic rhythm in the way all of these elements fuse together to create an epic story that feels tight-knit and intimate. Some aspects work better than others, particularly the preacher’s relationship with the daughter and his general attitude as he breathes empathy and compassion into his role in the community.

The Woman in the Window: With a cast like this and a director like Lang, you can hardly lose, but this has never struck me as anything other than a mediocre noir. There is still value in some original qualities to the performances and story structure that are worth noting and earn the picture its status as an important film if not a particularly great one. As excellent as the always dependable Robinson and Duryea are, it’s Bennett who walks away with the movie, not so much for her range of femme fatale emotions, which are fully on display here, but in the way she lurks in the background like a cat, sly, unpredictable, and unknowable. She embodies the ultimate kind of dangerous, devoid of any clear aims or intent common in most femme fatales, at least for a good chunk of the runtime.

As for the structure, the film is divided into three distinct acts that are given a roughly even amount of attention. The choice to spend the first third of the film cleaning up a crime scene in real time is a unique choice and allows for Robinson to play his part with a range of authenticity for a person in such a predicament, while also giving space for Bennett to exhibit her mysterious nature in a variety of forms. The second act places Robinson feeling the burn of the case and keeps him close to the action as he attempts to play it cool during heart pounding moments. Again, the choice to spend so much time stewing in these scenes is a very deliberate and risky choice, and Lang trusts (and succeeds) in his abilities to pull this off without losing the viewer.

The final act is, well, a mix of tense interactions and plot elements that stick their landing and some that don’t cut it. A significant barrier to accessing this film for me is knowing the ending going into a revisit, which paints the entire narrative as meaningless. I know there are plenty of people who think of this as one of the only examples of this kind of ending done right, but I’ve never felt anything but offense from it and disrespect for the investment. I “get” it, and the purpose works better in revisits when you can see the film through this lens, but I still find the choice troubling at worst and ineffective at best. Before that moment comes, there are plenty of elements to like and admire but nothing to love.

[therewillbeblus]

Day of Wrath

A film about the systemic barriers embedded in society that prevent the achievement of an authentic identity. Dreyer presents us with a world that embodies fear and weakness to combat this strength. It’s a visually striking film with detailed characters and their relationships to one another, society, and themselves; and so well documented in visual language we hardly need anything spelled out for us in dialogue. Dreyer takes his time to celebrate the beauty of nature around, and harmonious spaces between, people; setting up a dissonance between these shots and the hopeless death and rape of the self that these women suffer in the society constructed within this nature. The juxtaposition is harsh and spending time with the persecuted as they await and experience death as others watch exemplifies the destruction of the other. Do we fear what we don’t understand or that which threatens our fixed roles? And is the emerging of independence of women in a patriarchal society the source of these burnings, indicating no witches? Or do they exist as ‘witches’ but only as a metaphor for their disruption of norms for engagement in a process of self-actualization? These are important questions to ask for both historical and sociological reasons, relevant to past and present, and I’m glad the film uses the manipulation of the image to create a mood that causes us to ask the questions ourselves rather than spoon-feeding them to us.

The use of claustrophobic inside spaces indicate our heroine’s feeling of being trapped as her sense of self clashes with cultural norms. We continually see Anne staring outside of her cramped room, the camera capturing the low ceilings and darkness behind her as the lighting shines through the window onto her face. Sometimes the camera frames her from the outside with a physical sheet of glass blocking her from access to the freedom on which her eyes are fixated, all of these moments inferring her ability to see the true possibilities in this world kept just out of reach. Lisbeth Movin is exceptional, convincingly exhibiting the development of her character from complacent to persistent. Her confidence and comfort cannot be mistaken for the evil she will be accused of, despite certain moments that may point to questionable selfishness on paper. The success of this exposition hinges on her performance and Dreyer’s subtle decisions to keep us in her court, while simultaneously realizing how her behavior could be alarming and spark a witch hunt in the film’s climate.

The best and most interesting question the film poses is whether the men in this patriarchal society are perhaps less ‘free’ than the women, despite holding all the external power. Each of them is so explicitly weighed down by fear and allegiance to a socially constructed role that Dreyer slyly exposes as meaningless while painting them as weak sheep. It appears that Dreyer is intending to separate physical forms of freedom from freedom of the soul, arguing in favor of the spiritual while cynically presenting that the optimal achievement we can have in self-actualization is impossible in our societies as we’ve built them so far. It’s an interesting thesis and an audacious proposal, but using the fear of the unreal imaginary (represented by magic and witches, and a sense of autonomy) to expose the fear of the unreal symbolic (cultural norms), we are revealed the real, or Real, in self-understanding and acceptance, authenticity of the spirit clouded by these fake truisms we live by, personified by Anne.

Watching the lone strong wolf abandoned in the end as she surrenders to her restraint provides a sense of tragic yet serene nirvana in this process of acceptance. Through forfeiting any investment or hope in achieving symbiosis, understanding, or any thread of a relationship with the milieu of her world and life as she knows it, she becomes free. It’s brutally beautiful.

[dustybooks]

Shadow of a Doubt: I never understood why so many considered this up there with the best of Hitchcock until this viewing, and boy is it wonderful. Forfeiting expectations is key in soaking up the technical prowess and thematic interest here. Rather than a twist, we get a twisted dynamic, and a juxtaposition between nuclear family life, trusting community members, overall societal virtue, and the evil lurking not in the darkness of shadows but right out in the open light, with as much romantic exuberance as cynical bite.

This film plays as the most ‘Lynchian’ Hitchcock, though with a very important difference: as opposed to the jarring switch from good and evil co-existing anxiously in Lynch’s worlds, never has a film elicited such a harmonious reflection on the symbiosis of these elements to life as the Hitchcock. I understand the purpose to Lynch’s to be different in its aims, but this understanding and spiritual acceptance of these elements not competing but existing side by side is both comforting and terrifying, and the fact that the film is so lovely throughout this dancing act of integration amplifies both feelings to their polar limits, while allowing them to exist in the same world.

I've been reading all your posts in these threads with great enthusiasm but wanted to single this review out as explaining particularly well why I find this film so beautiful and disturbing. I think many approaching it for the first time with the foreknowledge of it being Hitchcock's personal favorite (a distinction he sort of rebukes in the Truffaut interview) are thrown by its veneer of calm domesticity in the first half, and can't properly appreciate on the first goround how much Hitchcock is working to question and deconstruct that environment, while not being flippant about the idyllic pleasures of that kind of protected suburban life. Nearly every element of the picture is complex and rewarding in its nuance, from the relatively innocent early scenes and the way they darkly foreshadow what's coming through young Charlie's ambivalence and the black smoke from the train as her uncle arrives, to the brilliantly unresolved finale in which Wright's Charlie is still essentially forced to live with her secret as the rest of her family mourns. Hitchcock always talked about understatement, and everything about Shadow demonstrates its effectiveness, up to and including the admirably subtle ways in which the war is acknowledged, which I think indicates how much Hitchcock wanted the film to read as something happening "now," which is why -- looking to the future -- he kept it in the background rather than strongly emphasizing it: the War Bond signs on the wall in the library, Patricia Collinge's comment about "current events," and the soldiers bustling around in the restaurant where the two Charlies have their confrontation.

And what an ingenious setting Hitchcock and the studio found in Santa Rosa. I visited last year and while most of the locations are gone, the house in which much of the action takes place (though accounts differ on how much if anything was filmed inside of it) still stands, including the ominous detached garage. While I gawked at it the person who lives there now came home and began unloading groceries so I moved along, but I got a kick out of how well-preserved the neighborhood is from what we see in the film.

[therewillbeblus]

Nearly every element of the picture is complex and rewarding in its nuance, from the relatively innocent early scenes and the way they darkly foreshadow what's coming through young Charlie's ambivalence and the black smoke from the train as her uncle arrives, to the brilliantly unresolved finale in which Wright's Charlie is still essentially forced to live with her secret as the rest of her family mourns. Hitchcock always talked about understatement, and everything about Shadow demonstrates its effectiveness, up to and including the admirably subtle ways in which the war is acknowledged, which I think indicates how much Hitchcock wanted the film to read as something happening "now," which is why -- looking to the future -- he kept it in the background rather than strongly emphasizing it: the War Bond signs on the wall in the library, Patricia Collinge's comment about "current events," and the soldiers bustling around in the restaurant where the two Charlies have their confrontation.

I love that lack of resolution too, indicating that even long after the external threat of uncle Charlie is gone the conflicting elements of nature still remain, and that the price to pay for young Charlie’s maturity from innocence is in sitting with and weighing these black and white elements fused into greyness. She can no longer hide in the sand of separating the two, and must now live with the reality that her mother is devastated but the evil had to be expunged, that by simply living there is no way in which we do not cause harm to others, either directly or indirectly, intentionally or not. She can tell her mother the truth and provide closure but also further harm in shattering her view of her brother, or keep it from her and cause harm by letting the mystery remain and preventing that closure. This is only one of the many lose-lose decisions she will need to make during her long life, and mirror many of those (naturally on a lesser scale) that we all do more often than we realize.

That’s a really interesting point about the way the war is acknowledged in this film, subtly and indirectly, that I didn’t pick up on at all but is significant to the way the community buries direct acknowledgement of evil as well as blending these symbols of maturity, stark reality, and true darkness “currently”/at the time existing within every community in America. I’d like to watch the film again to see if the presence of soldiers/acknowledgement of war becomes more frequent or clear as young Charlie becomes more attuned to the truths in her world, though regardless of any increase this is another way Hitchcock subtly infuses this darkness into his milieu about the subtle infusion of same darkness into ours. I wonder how that played for audiences back in ‘43!

[Rayon Vert]

The Vanishing Virginian (Borzage 1942). You’d be forgiven for mistaking this for a Ford picture. Inspired by a true figure, lawyer and politician Robert Yancey, this “biopic” is really an excuse to evoke a bygone era in an early century Southern town (Lynchburg) as winds of change are being felt, with the succeeding, episodic family and community plot points not so much the focus as the sentimental portrayal of the place and time. The tone is lightly comedic most of the time, and you’ve even got Francis Ford showing up in a bit part. It’s really not a bad film for this kind of thing – the acting and direction are always consistent -, but yeah it’s of limited interest.


The Ghost and Mrs. Muir (Mankiewicz 1947). As with Dragonwyck, and echoing therewillbeblu’s impressions in this aspect, I was struck especially by the precision, delicacy and elegance of the way the film is shot, scene after scene. That made it enjoyable, even though I was substantially less enamored by the film as story, especially once the ghost materializes. Just had a hard time getting into it emotionally at that point, even though up to then it had been terrific, although luckily it doesn’t stay stuck in that setting of Tierney talking to a ghost for the whole film. The Herrmann score is definitely another point of delight here – it’s striking and bold, establishes a potent supernatural mood at the beginning, and it tends to intrude violently sometimes. I thought the film would be a far lesser thing without it.


The Set-Up (Wise 1949). Liked this OK, but didn’t think it was that great? (Obviously I'm in the minority here in terms also of the public opinion at large going by its very high IMDB rating.) The boxing scenes are many and long, but maybe from today’s standards not the most realistic, but that’s probably the case for most boxing films of the era, and Ryan really does a good job of it. The film reaches its strongest moment near the end, where out of that cruel scene you really a poignant sense of loneliness for this character, but then there were moments, certain shots like the one where Audrey Totter is looking down from an overpass for example, where I had the impression the film was striving a little for Significance. In the commentary for the dvd, Scorsese says the film has a naturalistic but not realistic look, which possibly explains shots like these and also why that style appeals a little less to me.


Since You Went Away (Cromwell 1944). A near-3-hour Selznick epic about the homefront in 1943. Mostly it turns out to be about eldest daughter Jennifer Jones’ love life, which is OK since really watching her act with a lot of vitality here was the best thing about this film. Yes at one point we see maimed veterans, and women taking on active work roles, but mostly it’s an unexceptional family drama with way too much padding and sentiment, especially in that last half-hour after the main crisis has happened with Christmas having to be added on top of everything that’s already here. Early on there is a kind of promising, slightly more overtly sexualized Shadow of a Doubt “uncle”/niece relationship retread with the just-a-tad-creepy Joseph Cotton and the smitten Jones, but that never really goes anywhere. (Amusingly, another future Hitch perv, a young Robert Walker, thereafter becomes her suitor).


The Mark of Zorro (Mamoulian 1940). Tyrone Power really cuts a dashing figure here and Fox gets its own swashbuckling idol. He’s just full of exuberance and elegance and really fun to watch in this film that has a lightly and successfully comedic feel to it. Linda Darnell is quite young here, but she’s quite charming and her chemistry with Power quite convincing. This is definitely a much more minor-scale film than something like WB’s terrific The Sea Hawk, but it’s got no fat and it’s all around pretty perfect for what it is, with a really fierce fencing duel between Power and Rathbone to boot. Great way to while away an hour and a half.


Dead of Night (Cavalcanti, Crichton, Dearden & Hamer 1945). Not too much true horror here, more so psychic phenomena and a slight touch of the supernatural but a nice overall feeling here with the sequences getting progressively better. Until, that is, we get to the Parratt and Potter golf episode. Seeing Radford and Wayne, it actually felt like a story with a slight comic angle wouldn’t be out of place at this point, but the comedy is too broad so that the mood gets really disrupted. Luckily Redgrave’s performance saves the day in the last and most ambitious piece. But it’s really the framing story that’s for me the best part here, not only because it gives this anthology a sense of a unified whole, but because it’s a strong piece in itself and ends with that twist that really gives the story another dimension (in more senses than one!).

[Black Hat]

Count me among the fans of The Set-Up and Bataan. I think both films are especially unique in the sense that no matter what small victories are earned, they're only postponing an inevitable end. Not many films of that era managed to pull off or I suppose allowed to play with small picture vs big picture acceptance of dread this honestly and you especially see this flushed out in how both films are cut. Both pictures are really an editing master class.

Nora Prentiss is another film I'd connect to these two as it's another brutally honest depiction of desperation in the face of finito. Where it lacks in comparison with the first two is that it does lose a bit of steam and you get the sense that whoever was responsible for deciding how to end it said 'fuck it', but Kent Smith and Ann Sheridan are great in this. Smith especially does a flip on how Jannings portrayed his professor in The Blue Angel which I felt made him a more sympathetic character that unveiled his trainwrecking a far more painful watch. Not sure if you guys are still doing the spotlight thing, but I'd definitely spotlight this one as it turns some conventions of Noir on its head that are fascinating in and of itself.

Another film I'd like to highlight or spotlight that connects to these three is Smash-Up: The Story of a Woman. Like Nora it does lose steam, but Susan Hayward gives a magnificently vulnerable portrayal of the emotional isolationism addiction exacerbates. As with the others the film pulls no punches. Where it's different is the depths are a surprise that for the meat of the film doesn't veer much into melodrama. Cutting here is again essential to conveying the fear and other nuanced emotions required to get across for the character to work authentically. Without spoiling anything there are some absolutely great lines in this that will make you double take, should have known Dorothy Parker was its scriptwriter. The film's also certainly an interesting historical artifact or perhaps template as I don't think there were too many female characters like Hayward's in Hollywood prior to this.

[ando]

The Seventh Cross (1944, Fred Zinnemann)



Based on the wartime (1942) novel by Anna Seghers this was probably a likely choice for director, Fred Zinnemann (not a forum favorite, apparently). In it seven escaped prisoners of war from a Nazi concentration camp are gradually rounded up, fastened upright and hung along seven crosses on a hill in the camp. The Hollywood compromise was that the main character, played by Spencer Tracy, would not be identfied as a Communist (as in the novel) and Zinnemann has one of the killed escapees narrate the story from the grave. The narration is one of the film's chief drawbacks, imo, as the character's moralizing often mars Tracy's silent but powerful emotional expressions in situations of high tension and psychological anxiety. The film is akin to and predates Carol Reed's Odd Man Out where the audience follows a fugitive taken in by various ordinary citizens who must make a moral decision over their involvement with his fate. Tracy is excellent as the increasingly desperate Gerorge Heisler, who despite hunger and diminishing hope, never loses his basic dignity. The supporting cast are all top rate, including a great cameo by Agnes Moorhead and the great tandem of Hume Cronyn and Jessica Tandy. Less convincing is the suddenly smitten Signe Hasso for Tracy and the ensuing romantic interlude. It coincides with the happy ending not repeated in Reed's 1947 film but the film is otherwise a powerful, gritty take on the triumph of decency amidst the sordid and cruel reality of war.

[ando]

The 7th Victim: I’ve seen this film so many times I’ve lost count, including several since writing thoughts in this thread. I wasn’t going to post anything about it because several people on this forum have written long and terrific analyses (I know Cold Bishop wrote one in the last 40s thread, I think it was Satori who wrote one in the All-Time thread, and I forget where and who else did! Nor do I know how to link these..) - however, since no one has written anything yet in this thread, I feel the need to write, simply, that I am in the camp that loves this film. It will unquestionably make my top 10, probably top 5, for the decade.

I’ll concede that this doesn’t work as a horror film, a film noir, a romance, or a thriller on its own. It works as an eclectic mix of all of these genres and more, to create a subtly piercing mood piece on existential isolation, the supreme type of horror, the noir-like fatalistic presentation of inescapable division from others, the impossibility of true romance because of individualistic selfish priorities. Navigating through spaces and with people that separate themselves and push others away signifies the principles of exclusion inherent in this society and the futility of attempting authentic connection.

I agree with many that the satanic cult is not scary in the traditional sense, and quite lame in many respects on the surface. However, their apathetic attitude toward Jacqueline and by extension their fellow man, is more frightening than any monster or otherworldly cult could be in its implications of an absence of worth in another human being in this individualistic culture, urging another person to kill themselves with no emotion. Even the sisterly relationship highlights how vulnerable people are and how easily we can become unknown to even those who know us best, if it’s even briefly possible to achieve that much connection, or to discover objective truth in knowledge or meaning.

A lot of utility has been placed on the final shot (and sound) and how dark this ending is, especially for the time of the production code era. The ending is dark but the significance is that this is where and how it ends. Rather than on the characters who we’ve been following as surrogates during the story (the ‘innocent,’ ‘heroic,’ ‘moral,’ and ‘incorruptible’) we get to see Jacqueline. But alas we don’t even get to see her in the final frame! We hear her from behind the door to her apartment, as distanced from our characters as we possibly could be, the primary narrative abandoned and we not even allowed a final glimpse into our secondary character arc with which we have investment. This tactic separates us from our own connection to anyone and anything we’ve placed subjective value on to, this disconnect as a central theme of the film exhibited here in a meta level. By literally blocking any path into Jacqueline’s life, physical space has crowded in on us, the audience, as well and shattered our mastery and exposed the objectivity of isolation via creating a spatial and narrative barrier between us and the image. How much more do you need to signify the meaninglessness of her, or anyone’s, life and the dissonance with environment or god (for we are the omnipotent eye of god as voyeur after all).

This is a horror film but not the kind one expects, more in line with demonlover and those existential horrors that point to a hidden truth none of us want to face or contemplate, even in the safety of the movies.

Nice review, but you didn't mention that Kim Hunter, in a pre-Streetcar Named Desire appearance, is featured here. That's all I needed to hear to view it! Thanks.

[HinkyDinkyTruesmith]

Nice review, but you didn't mention that Kim Hunter, in a pre-Streetcar Named Desire appearance, is featured here. That's all I needed to hear to view it! Thanks.

While Seventh Victim is perhaps my favorite Lewton (perhaps my favorite horror, even)––and while I quite like Kim Hunter, she gives a performance so sapped of energy that it borders on depressive––not that this isn't uncannily appropriate for the film. But, compare her to her appearance a year later in When Strangers Marry, and you'll certainly notice a bizarre deadness to her here. This is to say, it's not surprising that she doesn't get a mention. Although most of the men in the movie pay a great deal of attention to her, the way she's handled otherwise almost makes it seem as though Lewton and Robson wanted a blank slate for them latch the audience onto, an entryway into the New York society that (over)populates the movie.

[therewillbeblus]

Exactly, she resembles a canvas of sorts to be accessible for the audience but also emphasize how lost and naïve we really are to the truths of the world as she dives into unknown spaces, physically and metaphysically. I honestly don’t even recognize her in the part and have never mentally attached the name to her character despite having watched the credits (and film) so many times!

[Rayon Vert]

Cabin in the Sky (Minnelli 1943). I enjoyed this when it came to the songs and performances, and some of the acting, but I have a hard time getting really engaged in this type of very comedically broad fable material where the characters are basically two-dimensional cartoons. Possibly this has something to do with the modern-day accusations of racial stereotypes (?). Great watching Horne and Waters sing though. (It’s too bad the image on the WB Archive DVD is so mediocre.)


Son of Fury: The Story of Benjamin Blake (Cromwell 1942). This has gotten categorized as a swashbuckler, even though it’s fists instead of swords. Tyrone Power has been denied his birthright as a noble and is a bonded servant to the usurper, and obtaining revenge will be done by way of Polynesia. Power in no way shines like he did in The Mark of Zorro but the film works on the strength of an unoriginal-yet-entertaining plot and the strong cast: George Sanders as the villain, Roddy McDowall as the young Blake, John Carradine in a rare non-villainous role, Kay Johnson, Elsa Lanchester in a smaller role. Sarris wrote that Cromwell’s films are distinguished by “the beautiful drivers of his vehicles”. That’s certainly the case here with Frances Framer (in her last film before heading for the cuckoo’s nest) and Gene Tierney as the twin love interests. Not gripping per se, but definitely held my interest throughout.


Goupi Mains Rouges (Becker 1943). I haven’t seen any of Becker’s 40s films so I intend to remedy that. What a lovely film this is! I have no problem calling it a masterpiece, for me easily beating something like Casque d’or that I found a bit too predictable and sentimental. The crime element is really an excuse to do an étude de moeurs among the world of the (privileged section of the) peasantry, with a lucid yet loving eye towards all of the characters and their ways of relating. There’s both darkness and light in this film, with parallels in the deft intermingling of comedy and drama and the evocatively shot night and day scenes. Great bunch of actors, the photography and lighting are truly gorgeous for this film, and the score is tremendous as well. Definitely recommended – the Pathé blu ray has English subtitles.


Gaslight (Cukor 1944). [rewatch] The new blu is a lovely thing to see but it confirms how my liking of the film stays within certain bounds. Maybe it’s the fact that early enough we know what’s going on and it’s just a matter of watching it unfold, unlike say the somewhat similar Suspicion where as viewers we’re kept off balance until the end. Partially it’s maybe also because Gregory comes on so strong in his abuse, again quite early on, that it’s hard to completely sympathize with what Paula saw in him in the first place. Fine performances, though, and great sets and lighting.


Meet Me in St. Louis (Minnelli 1944). I’m glad this didn’t disappoint because I’ve been putting aside and waiting to see the Minnelli and other Freed musicals for a long time, and not liking this one, noted as an aesthete’s pleasure on top of it, wouldn’t have augured well. HinkyDinkyT did a very nice write-up of this film’s strengths, and so I won’t say much more (which I couldn’t say as well anyway), There’s so much beauty here, and no garishness in the Technicolor colors, even though they indeed “pop” – love that amber color in the inside evening scenes. The songs and Garland are terrific, and as I tend to love the non-“integrated” musicals where people burst into song with psychological motivation being the only requirement, this fits the bill. The sentiment also doesn’t get overbearing and overall there’s an aliveness to this fantasy recreation of a nostalgic past, whereas this frequent enough type of endeavor in Hollywood films of the 30s and 40s can easily come off as mawkish and tired instead.



Champion (Robson 1949). So a perfect excuse for Kirk Douglas to show off his chest! Boxing is yet again a racket but Midge Kelly is determined not to get eaten up by it. His character is less overall vulnerable and likeable than his equivalents in The Set-Up or Body and Soul but he’s still shades of grey (there is a scene at the end with a strong moment of emotion as we feel for him as one of society’s downtrodden, even though that is balanced in the film by his vindictiveness) and therefore a classic film noir anti-hero. Lots of female entanglements follow throughout the movie. Not a perfect film by any means, definitely more messy than the clean, quasi-tragic construction of The Set-Up (Champion came out about at about the same time, and on the former’s DVD commentary Wise says it hogged the spotlight), but on the other hand it has a lot of things going for it, including an especially suspenseful last fight scene. I actually prefer this a bit to The Set-Up, and I’d rank it just a degree lower than Body and Soul.



The Black Swan (King 1942). More ‘buckling at Fox with Tyrone Power. Jamaica 1674 and Captain Morgan is made governor so he calls off the privateers but some continue on defiantly. This is one Domino said was “tortuous to sit through” in the seafaring thread. That’s saying something since this was only 1h24! That certainly wasn’t my experience though. Compared to Son of Fury, made just before, this harkens back to the light-spirited tone of The Mark of Zorro, with Power one of the former privateers who, although still a ruffian, helps to seek out one of those rebel pirates, the barely recognizable, scruffy haired and bearded George Sanders, while forcefully wooing the resisting Maureen O'Hara. This is pure convention and a lot less story-wise than Fury, and the length partially gives it away as a less ambitious, more Saturday matinée affair, but I still found it pleasurable, and a large part of that is because this is such an amazingly pretty Technicolor film, especially on blu ray. Some shots are pure eye candy - it won the Oscar for cinematography.


The Snake Pit (Litvak 1948). The subjective point of view at the beginning is an interesting and powerful way to get you into this, even though for a sizable chunk of the beginning of the film you’re also kept at a distance because Virginia’s symptoms are so acute (little continuity in the stream of thought). There are two obvious things going on here: the largely positive portrayal of psychotherapy as a means to understand and cure a person with this form of madness, and the often critical representation of the institution’s power and abuse of the individual. That mixture makes the film interesting, and that second part is surprising for this era. The scene where Virginia is interrogated by the staff for her first “parole” feels so modern and still unfortunately relevant in highlighting how the health practitioners can induce or provoke mental deterioration through lack of self-awareness, empathic curiosity and recognition of the observer’s impact on the observed. That dismissal of subjective experience is also distressingly obvious in the scene where the nurse if oblivious to the now re-fragmented Virginia as she’s given a bath but thinks she’s drowning. Meanwhile there’s something that still feels very humane and right in the way the psychiatrist establishes his rapport and tries to help the patient. De Havilland’s acting is wonderful of course.



The Search (Zinnemann 1948). The Seventh Cross sounds interesting. This one also has humanity amidst war’s cruelty as a theme. More or less a Swiss production, with a European crew, bankrolled by MGM, it features Montgomery Cliff as an American Army engineer in post-war Germany, rescuing and trying to help a childhood survivor of Auschwitz, while his separated mother is looking for him. Filmed on location, it has a strong documentary feel, especially at the beginning when we witness traumatized children from concentration camps being transferred to a transit camp. Shades of Rossellini as we watch a miserable young blond boy walking among the bombed German ruins. Clift is good here, as usual, and his genial nature contrasts just nicely enough with the heartbreak of the situation. It’s not overly sentimental and there’s a genuine naturalness and sweetness that comes out of the interaction between the American and the boy. Good film.


The Window (Tetzlaff 1949). More about adults trying to kill children. I understand the love this got on the last film noir list project. The simplistic-seeming premise didn’t sound too promising to me but this is written and staged in a really masterly way, with surprising brutality and intense suspense and fear resulting. Leave it to mom to almost get you killed. Terrific acting job by the kid.

[therewillbeblus]

The Window (Tetzlaff 1949). More about adults trying to kill children. I understand the love this got on the last film noir list project. The simplistic-seeming premise didn’t sound too promising to me but this is written and staged in a really masterly way, with surprising brutality and intense suspense and fear resulting. Leave it to mom to almost get you killed. Terrific acting job by the kid.

I thought this was pretty great too. While the film captured the child’s perspective quite precisely in many ways, down to placing the camera in angles to give us a literal viewpoint for him, as well as narratively, what has stuck with me most is the detailed effects on the parents from his lying. Their strain is felt and we are allowed to be pulled out as objective viewers to see the returns of his actions as a burden on them, the diminishing trust in their own child, and then back to the child’s perspective to see these effects on his loved ones and how the shifting dynamics affect him.

Last spring I recommended this film to a couple who I saw for family therapy, whose young son has been compulsively lying to them for years. Unfortunately they couldn’t access the film since it’s not available on disc here (to my knowledge) but it’s the first one I think of when I run into this (very common) situation. This is a great ‘boy cried wolf’ story that could work on a therapeutic level for children due to the manner in which it’s filmed, the accessibility of the medium, and the fusion of these into an empathetic connection projected onto a third party who is relatable enough to create insight without prying too directly to cause the reactive raising of defense mechanisms. Hopefully this gets an official disc release soon, so I can do my job properly.

[swo17]

Where do you live? It has a Warner Archive DVD in the U.S.

[therewillbeblus]

Wow, good to know. I’m in the Boston area and we have a pretty meticulous library collection, so I usually assume if it’s not available there it’s not on disc... but I suppose using google shouldn’t be too hard. Maybe I’ll buy a copy so I can lend it out in these cases, thanks!

[Michael Kerpan]

I’m in the Boston area ...

Also "in the Boston area" (in my case -- actually in Boston).

I wonder how many other members here live in the near vicinity of Boston?

BTW -- If I get time, I will try to do a (brief) survey of Ozu and Naruse in the 40s.... (but running off to Europe for a month or so in a month or so).

[therewillbeblus]

Nice! A fair amount of us I believe, based solely off seeing quite a few posts referencing the Brattle, Coolidge, Somerville theatre, and Kendal Sq cinema over the years.

Anyways, these days I’m mostly onto revisits:

The Maltese Falcon: Along with The Big Sleep, this was my introduction to black and white crime films as a kid. The Hawks film holds up better and remains one of my favorites, but this still works on several fronts. Huston’s film is indisputably a noir in my eyes, for despite Bogey’s charm he’s as much of an empty vessel of a person as any, a selfish man whose cynicism is born from experience of disillusionment with the world around him and the people in it. As Rayon Vert pointed out, Huston’s debut in the director’s chair is remarkably conceived, with the swooping camera movements and famously complicated long takes, but the key to this film is in the editing room that makes clever use of revolving itself around the tight script. It’s a joy to sit through because one is rarely bored and feels as a participant/detective taken for a ride in the mystery. It’s not the best example of noir, far from it, but it’s a fun and exciting film, one that must have knocked the socks off of the audience in 1941 before people were making these movies regularly and the femme fatale was an expected role and third act story arc. The story begins to lose steam as it fails to match the complex plot with its on-screen action a la The Big Sleep, especially in the final claustrophobic act, but that’s a small complaint. I’ve never particularly cared for, or had any stake in, Spade or anybody winning in this film either, which is perhaps a strength or a weakness. Upon revisits it strikes as the latter if we’re supposed to embrace Spade as the “cool” antihero he seems to be drawn as despite the obvious signifiers for his flaws that should mask any attractiveness. Bogart’s final speech is so nihilistic as he grasps for meaning on placing value on a code he quickly forfeits in stressing calculated selfish reasons for his choices. It’s a brutally dark finale not because of the reasons most people think (abandoning ‘love’ for morality) but because that morality is mistakenly defined as such by the “when a man’s partner is killed, he’s supposed to do something about it” line that’s quickly muted by everything that comes next.

The Grapes of Wrath: I’ve never read the source, but Ford’s film is an impeccable work that feels both small in its focus on the family microsystem and larger than life as a capsule of the milieu of the Great Depression era. The film goes hard in depicting some of the effects but is subtle in showing others, recreating the time period while crafting a very realistic world, full of details most auteurs would omit from their focus. Little scenes showing characters having brief solitary moments may be meaningless to some but are some of the most powerful in the film, and Ford knows that these little moments of joy and despair are perhaps of their time in specificity but universal in their emotional resonance.

A Day in the Country: This is such a lovely feel-good film, one has to wonder how it would play as intended, or “finished.” Nevertheless, every second of all 40 minutes is colorful, humorous, and engaging. Perhaps more than any other Renoir film, this is bursting with joy, not only between the audience and the characters by way of the mise en scène, but between characters and with nature onscreen. It’s as if, for the first time, we are seeing people truly experiencing all that life has to offer through every sense, taking in all of the beauty in new yet simple ways. Sometimes we get this by seeing a woman fly high on a swing, feeling the air, the rush in the pit of one’s stomach, smelling the trees, and looking around at a prism of leaves and sunlight. Sometimes we get this by watching a man watch this woman, with eyes and a posture that emits serenity and present-focused momentary appreciation, not longing, wanting, or thinking about any future or plans, just basking in that beauty. The film is full of these moments, even scenes one may not think of first probably fit the bill, like a woman tickling a man’s nose with a blade of grass to wake him from a nap. I don’t know how Renoir does it, but he somehow peels back a layer I didn’t know existed to expose a fresh surface alive with the possibilities of cinema without showing off new tricks, as if it’s been here the whole time but only he can see a path invisible to most. Perhaps he just lives for the present, or did when making this, and decided to share his singular yet vivid mood as a vision with the world.

[Rayon Vert]

The Renoir doesn't count here does it? It came out no. 21 in the 30s list project.

[domino harvey]

I believe I argued then that it was a 40s film but was overruled on the grounds IMDB uses its production date. Which is consistent with swo’s rules, but still a bit ridiculous. Still voted for it though!

[therewillbeblus]

I was torn on that one, with the Criterion disc saying ‘36 and IMDb saying ‘46, which I know we go with here, but that makes sense. If it’s ineligible that’s fine.

[Rayon Vert]

I voted for it too in the 30s. Personally I'm partial to considering a film "of" the decade it was made, not released, even if when we come to single years it's the opposite. If the delay is long enough, it really doesn't seem to fit aestheticalliy or historically IMO. But whatever the mods decides is cool.

[swo17]

I didn't realize IMDb currently has it as a '40s film. I'm inclined to call it ineligible here unless a bunch of people let me know they didn't vote for it during the '30s list because they were saving it for now.

[therewillbeblus]

I also consider it a 30s film for those very reasons, but I suppose my concern was that it may have split votes due to this confusion as swo indicated. Either way is fine with me.

[domino harvey]

I feel like since it was already included in the 30s list, it should only be debated for 30s vs 40s in the next iteration of the decades lists, when we’re all wizened old men with long white beards and much knowledge

[Tommaso]

You mean, like Orson Welles? Who just made one of the very best films of the 2010s with "The Other Side of the Wind".

[denti alligator]

Just watched *The Window*... and came away thinking there may be few more perfectly suspenseful movies from the decade. Everything is just about perfect, including the casting. The film is also incredibly economical, though in the end I would have preferred a few more minutes to resolve things. But that's a quibble.