A Big Hand For the Little Lady (Fielder Cook 1966) Fielder Cook, a name that'd never entered my periphery before, delivers in a big way here-- in such a big way that I had to pause the film halfway through to look up his credits, because someone making a film this assured, I was sure I'd have crossed paths with him sooner. Unfortunately, it looks like most of his work was on the smaller screen. It's interesting that several of the interesting directors new to me in these genre projects got most of their employment in television work (Gerd Oswald, Felix E Feist). Even lazy direction couldn't have dinted the armor of the script's involving, mostly real-time poker game played with a wonderful collection of actors (Henry Fonda, Joanne Woodward, Paul Ford, Kevin McCarthy, Charles Bickford, and Jason Robards!), but with Cook's intelligent blocking and set-ups, the movie is a total dream. Every actor plays up to their strengths, but Bickford (one of the unsung greats) turns in a real comic performance here as a misogynistic undertaker, and Robards is in total dick mode to great effect.
It's interesting that the film reminded me so much of David Mamet in the early passages, in that they both have in common the fascination with male braggadocio and emasculation as sparring tactic. How could I have foreseen that the film would indeed earn a much stronger David Mamet comparison with that insane twist ending?
the Outrage (Martin Ritt 1964) Well, I guess once you've made a film as good as
Hud, you're allowed to dick around like this. This western remake of
Rashomon is a pretty strange beast: Ritt's decided to go at this thing from a very European/New Wave arthouse approach. James Wong Howe's fulfillment of said approach, unfortunately, works less than it should. There were many times when the peculiar camera angle/movement choices distracted rather than liberated my viewing. It seemed to me that Howe was freed up to make some unusual choices, but wasn't very comfortable operating so far out of his comfort zone and the resultant effect is one of awkwardness. Paul Newman is better than I'd feared in one of his "let me pretend I'm not pretty" disappearing acts (see:
Adventures of a Young Man), but still distracting. Speaking of, I could never decide which was more alienating, Claire Bloom's southern accent or her hair tracks.
Wanted to keep this Woodward/Newman 1-2 going but to my horror, the copy of
Count Three and Pray TCM aired last week was P+S of a CinemaScope film. I even thought for like fifteen seconds that I might try to rough it out, only to be greeted by the P+S zoom and track of fuzzy figures walking across a bridge. Oh well, it would have been nice to see Woodward's debut, but I'd rather not just see half of it.