Niagara (1953)

Niagara, made in 1953, is filmed in Technicolor. There are no shadows. It’s all bright sunlight. And there is no trace of the mean streets of the big city - it all takes place at Niagara Falls! All of which would normally disqualify it from being film noir. But film noir is what it is.

A young honeymooning couple (the charming Jean Peters as Polly Cutler and the unbelievably annoying Max Showalter as her husband) arrive at their cabin at the Falls to find that the previous occupants have not yet checked out. They and the manager are met at the door by a half-dressed, rather disheveled and somewhat confused Rose Loomis (Marilyn Monroe). She begs them to just let her husband sleep. The kind-hearted Cutlers agree to take another cabin.

The mystery about the Loomises deepens. They seem a very mis-matched couple. Rose is young, very sexy and very flirtatious. George (Joseph Cotten) is middle-aged, bitter, withdrawn and bad-tempered. Trouble starts to brew at a barbecue when Rose shows up in a red dress. This is not just a red dress. This is the red dress to end all red dresses. This is the kind of red dress you wear when you expect that you’ll be wearing nothing but a smile long before the evening is out. And Marilyn fills this red dress very nicely indeed. She wears it like she’s the kind of girl who often wears dresses like this.

Pretty soon George is smashing up records and throwing things about and generally throwing the sort of tantrum you throw when you know your wife is wearing that dress for a man, but that man is not you.

Young Polly tries to befriend George. It seems he’s been in an army hospital, the sort of hospital they send combat fatigue cases to. There’s no doubt he’s suffering from combat fatigue, but you have to wonder if the combat in question has been on the battlefield or in the bedroom. And you have to wonder if maybe part of the problem is that the Loomis’s married life may be a little bit too quiet in the bedroom department, that maybe the last shots were fired there quite some time ago but that Rose is still ready, willing and able to report for duty in that area, and that if her husband can’t carry out out his duties in that area she’ll find some other man who can.

So far it looks like there are troubled waters ahead, and then George mysteriously disappears. A tearful Rose explains that he was very upset the night before, and she indicates that he may have done something foolish. There are still plenty of plot twists to go and I won’t spoil them for you.

The style of the film is reminiscent of Hitchcock’s 1950s Technicolor period, but the mood is pure film noir. There’s a femme fatale, although she’s not an entirely unsympathetic femme fatale - she’s obviously had a lot to put up with from the sort of man who back in the 50s would not have been likely to give an unhappy wife her freedom. There’s a tortured noir anti-hero, battling personal demons and being a very typical noir anti-hero - he just can’t see that he’s becoming the bad guy.

The use of the Niagara Falls locations is truly inspired. Maybe it’s not quite as clever a use of a location as Hitchcock’s more famous use of Mount Rushmore, but it’s pretty close. There are some exciting action sequences, there’s mystery and there’s suspense.

Jean Peters is very good in the main supporting role. She’s overwhelmed by the powerhouse performances from the two leads, but she still does a fine job.

Joseph Cotten does the man slowly unravelling thing exceptionally well. He never quite goes over the top. There’s always a sane part of him that knows that things are going out of control, and that just deepens the tragedy. And then there’s Marilyn Monroe. She’s quite superb. She’s frighteningly sexy, but it’s a nicely judged performance rather similar to the one she gave in the very underrated Don't Bother To Knock. She’s scary, but you want to save her.

This is a top-notch mystery thriller with a genuine film noir feel to it. Highly recommended. And it demonstrates that the Monroe mystique really was more than hype, that she really could act.

Pillow Talk (1959)

Molly Haskell’s comments on the television documentary From Weepies to Chick Flicks! persuaded me to do something I’ve been meaning to do for a while. To check oit the Doris Day-Rock Hudson comedies of the 50s. I decided that Pillow Talk would be as good a place as any to start.

And I have to admit Haskell is right again. Pillow Talk is absolutely delightful. She described it as pure sex, and that is indeed what it is. Yes it’s the 50s so the movie is careful to stay technically within the bounds of the Production Code. But it is in fact a sex comedy. And it’s surprisingly risque. I thought the British Carry On movies of the 60 had raised the double entendre to the status of an art form, but this movie has more double entendres than an of the Carry On films. It’s non-stop sexual innuendos.

Haskell also claimed that the most amusing way to view the film was by reversing the gender roles - seeing Doris Day as the butch one, and Rock Hudson as the femme one. And she’s right. What’s truly staggering is how much the movie plays on the sexual ambiguity of these two stars. Considering the efforts that Rock Hudson was making at the time to stay in the closet this was really quite a brave film for him to make. It even has him trying to entice Doris to seduce him by making her think he’s gay. And there’s nothing subtle about it - it’s difficult to believe that even the most innocent 1950s audience would have missed the gay jokes.Even more surprising is the fact that Doris Day is actually quite sexy in this movie. The fact that she’s playing on her wholesome as freshly baked white bread image just makes it more sexy. She’s driving off for a weekend in the country with her new boyfriend, and we hear her singing on the soundtrack about, “I’ll be yours tonight, my darling, possess me.” Not exactly subtle.

There’s also a very clever use of the Cinemascope screen. It allows lots of split screen sequences. They’re something I generally don't like, but in this case they're used as a very witty way of getting Rock Hudson and Doris Day into bed together without actually getting them into bed together. They even manage to use the technique to get them into the bathtub together!
Yet another surprise is that this is an extremely funny movie. Both Hudson and Day have exquisite comic timing, and they can deliver potentially very risque dialogue with an incredibly light touch, while still making sure we pick up the sexual references. Tony Randall gives some fine support.

I knew I was going to enjoy the visual style of the movie as soon as I saw the words, “produced by Ross Hunter” in the credits. I’m learning more and more to appreciate the distinctive sumptuous and subtly camp visual style that seems to be a trademark of any movie that Hunter produced in the 50s. And this is no exception. It looks glorious, in a wonderfully excessive 1950s way. Ross Hunter movies have a way of making pastels seem deliriously decadent.Pillow Talk is delightful naughty 1950s fun. It’s like 1950s cheesecake - it’s sexy but in an innocent kind of way that perversely makes it more sexy. It’s funny, it’s romantic, it’s over-the-top and I adored it.

Come Dance With Me! (1959)

My Brigitte Bardot obsession continues to grow. It’s not an easy obsession to follow since her movies are not all that easy to find in Australia, but I do my best. My most recent find was Come Dance With Me! (Voulez-vous danser avec moi?).

Made in 1959, this is a murder mystery but done in a strictly light-hearted way, with generous helpings of comedy and romance.

Bardot is Virginie, a young woman who falls in love with a dentist named Hervé and despite the opposition of her father marries him. They have a silly little lovers’ tiff and he takes refuge in a local bar. He meets a woman there who offers to dance with him, and also offers a shoulder to cry on. He is persuaded to drive her home, and then is persuaded to come in for just one drink. One thing leads to another and pretty soon he has his head buried between her breasts. At which point her co-conspirator snaps some very incriminating photos. Our hapless dentist has been set up by a blackmailing operation.

The unlucky dentist hasn’t really done anything terribly wrong, he hasn’t technically been unfaithful, but such photos are rather difficult to explain away. He confronts the blackmailing woman, but she is insistent, and when he turns up to a second meeting at her dance studio he discovers her dead body, Which is very embarrassing indeed given that he has a very strong motive for wanting her dead.

To make things more complicated for our unfortunate dentist, Virginie has followed him to his meeting with the blackmailer and arrives to find him standing over her lifeless body. Now he has to convince her of his innocence. And having done that, he’s going to need her help in proving his innocence to the police.

Luckily Virginie takes to amateur detective work like a duck to water. And that’s one of the things I like about Bardot’s movies. She might often seem to be set up as a superficially stereotypical movie dumb blonde but her characters generally turn out not to be dumb at all. They’re often wildly eccentric, but never dumb. In this movie she’s rather ditzy but that doesn’t prevent her from being a better crime-solver than the police.

Another thing I like about Bardot’s movies is that she’s usually extremely funny but when we laugh at her it’s always in an affectionate way. We don’t laugh at her because she’s ridiculous or stupid.

Come Dance With Me! is rather racy for a 1959 movie, even for a 1959 French movie. The heroine’s quest for justice leads her to a gay bar in Paris, and we’re treated to a drag show. And there’s no hedging about the subject matter. There’s no subtext here.

Of course what really matters with this type of movie is whether it’s entertaining or not, and this one is very entertaining. It’s a well-crafted murder mystery and it’s a fun romantic farce as well. And Bardot is delightful, as always.

Imitation of Life (1959)

Douglas Sirk’s 1959 remake of Imitation of Life makes quite a contrast with the 1934 version. There’s obviously a huge contrast in the visual style – the 1959 version is not just in widescreen and in colour, it’s in amazingly sumptuous colour. It has a completely non-realistic look to it, a look I rather enjoy.

The other major contrast is in the relationship between the two women. In the 1934 version they’re business partners; in the 1959 version the African-American woman is the white woman’s maid. And whereas in 1934 the Claudette Colbert character was a successful businesswoman, the 1959 equivalent (played by Lana Turner) is an actress. So really it could be seen as a major step backward in terms of both race and gender.

Also, Colbert’s boyfriend in the 1934 movie respects her and seems to be attracted to her because she’s intelligent and independent. The same character (played by John Gavin) in the 1959 film treats Lana Turner as a empty-headed bimbo who needs a man to tell her what to do.

That’s not to say that the 1959 film doesn’t have its virtues. I also think you could argue that it’s reflecting a more racist and sexist society rather than promoting such values. I think we’re meant to be appalled by the behaviour of the men in Turner’s life. Lana Turner does a reasonable job in this film.

Susan Kohner as the daughter trying to pass as white is very impressive. Sandra Dee as Lana Turner’s daughter is terrifyingly perky. Perkiness on that scale should come with a government health warning.

The two movies (available together on a double-sided DVD) are fascinating to watch back-to-back. Both are important historically in the way they illustrate Hollywood’s attitudes towards important social issues. Both are very entertaining movies. And the opening credits sequence in the 1959 film is simply wonderful, and sets the tone of lushness very nicely.

The Green Cockatoo (1937)

I’ve seen The Green Cockatoo referred to in several sources as the first British film noir. I was a little sceptical about this, but in fact it does have some fairly impressive noir credentials.

Made in 1937 and based on a Graham Greene story, it was directed by William Cameron Menzies. Menzies is better known as an art director and production designer (and a very good one) but he did direct a number of movies, and he does a fine job with this one. Mutz Greenbaum provides some very noir cinematography, in fact remarkably noir for a 1930s British film. It also features some seriously Expressionist sets.

Jim Connor is a tough guy, and he’s obviously been a bit of a bad boy although he disapproves of his brother’s association with a criminal gang involved in race-fixing. You don’t get many singing, tap-dancing tough guys in movies, but Jim is in fact a singing, tap-dancing tough guy.

John Mills is better than you might expect as Jim. He’s reasonably convincing as a hardboiled character. Jim is actually a complex and somewhat tortured character, as you’d expect in a Graham Greene story.

Robert Newton plays his brother Dave, who has got in way over his head with the gang controlled by Terrell (Charles Oliver) and is now on the run after having double-crossed the gang. He encounters Eileen (René Ray), an innocent young country lass who has just arrived in London. Eileen is bewildered enough already, but she soon finds herself involved in a nightmare, suspected of murder and with gangsters pursuing her.

It’ an entertaining and surprisingly stylish little movie. Unfortunately it’s not in terribly good condition. In many places you can see that the nitrate has started to decompose. It’s a shame, because it’s a movie that deserves a decent restoration and a good DVD release. It’s still very much worth seeing, and really it’s a must for noir fans.

Bob le flambeur (1956)

Jean-Pierre Melville’s Bob le flambeur, released in 1956, wasn’t just a major influence on the French New Wave film-makers. In many ways it is a fully fledged New Wave film.

The title character, Bob the Gambler, is an ultra-cool gangster, gambler and tough guy in 1950 Paris. Or at least he used to be. He still has the pose, and the flash American car, and the clothes, but really he’s just a rather ridiculous old man living on past glories. His last big job was the Rimbaud bank robbery, and that was 20 years earlier. And it was a failure anyway. All he has left is his image, and to maintain that he has to keep gambling. And he’s losing. Losing continuously, and losing big time.

In fact he’s so broke he decides on one last spectacular heist, a last desperate throw of the dice to avoid admitting that he’s over the hill and in serious anger of becoming merely pathetic.

While Bob le flambeur is heavily influenced by American film noir, and shows the depth of Melville’s admiration for American popular culture and for Hollywood movies, there’s nothing even remotely American about the film. This movie is about as French as a movie could possibly be.

While it’s in some respects more morally ambiguous and more cynical than the American crime films of the 40s and early 50s, it’s also a lot more romantic, and even whimsical. The whole exercise is done with tongue planted firmly in cheek, and is absolutely dripping with irony. It’s that blend of romanticism and irony that makes it, for me at least, so overwhelmingly French. It has the fatalism of classic film noir, but with a strongly absurdist edge to it.

Bob likes to imagine that he has assembled an elite team of crooks for the heist of the century, and has drilled them so that they function like a well-oiled precision machine, but they’re like actors who think they’re the heroes of a classic heist movie when in reality they’re merely players in a farce. This is a film noir story, but told as black comedy.

It’s a movie in which atmosphere and tone are infinitely more important than plot. Melville draws us into this seedy world of phoney glamour and cut-rate wannabe big shots, with some glorious location filming. The camerawork as well as the style anticipate the New Wave.

It’s a terrific looking movie, and the Region 2 DVD from Optimum Home Entertainment boasts a superb transfer (and is less than half the price of the Criterion DVD). The movie looks like it was filmed yesterday rather than half a century ago. Highly recommended.

Under Capricorn (1949)

Under Capricorn is a movie that even Alfred Hitchcock’s most fervent admirers seem to dislike. It cost a fortune to make in 1949 and was a financial disaster for Transatlantic Pictures which went bust as a result. It was certainly not what most people expected from Hitchcock at that time, although it was by no means his only non-suspense film. He had made several non-suspense movies early in his career, including the fascinating Rich and Strange. And it was one of his very few attempts at a costume picture (the other notable example being Jamaica Inn, which is almost as reviled as Under Capricorn. It’s also worth noting that it was one of several British films he did at around this time (Stage Fright was another).

The only fair way to approach Under Capricorn is to take it on its own terms. It’s unashamedly and unequivocally a romantic melodrama. A feckless young nobleman, the Hon. Charles Adare (Michael Wilding) arrives in Sydney in 1831, hoping to make his fortune. He becomes involved in a slightly dubious deal with Sam Flusky (Joseph Cotten), an ex-convict who is now a wealthy businessman. And he discovers that Flusky’s wife Henrietta (Ingrid Bergman) is an old acquaintance of his, a childhood friend. She was a noblewoman and Sam was a servant with whom she fell in love and eloped, but her brother tracked down the lovers and was subsequently shot, a crime for which Sam was sentenced to seven years’ transportation to the penal colony of New South Wales. She followed him to the colony, but the marriage is an uneasy one. The household is ruled by the housekeeper Millie (Margaret Leighton), not quite as sinister a character as Mrs Danvers in Rebecca but she’s certainly sinister enough.

Of course young Charles falls in love with Henrietta. She has taken to the bottle, but he is determined to save her from what he has decided is a totally unsuitable marriage to a totally unsuitable husband. The usual plot complications ensue.

The movie cost a fortune to make and once the production company went belly-up it never really had a chance commercially. No-one was interested enough to promote the picture properly, and it flopped. I’m not going to claim it’s one of Hitchcock’s masterpieces, but it’s actually not a bad movie. Hitchcock was still obsessed with his experiments with using very long takes (this was only a year after Rope), and they work quite well. The camera roams about restlessly, follows the action through doorways, down corridors, up staircases and through windows, and jumps from one scene of action to another. It helps to build the atmosphere of frustration and sexual tension. The three leads, Ingrid Bergman, Joseph Cotten and Michael Wilding, are all good, especially Bergman (and her Irish accent is better than one might have feared).

In some ways I think it suffers from having been perceived as a women’s picture (I think Rebecca has suffered from this as well to a lesser extent) at a time when that label was very nearly the critical kiss of death. Its reputation has not been helped by Hitchcock’s own unfortunate tendency to turn against any of his own movies that failed to find favour with the public and the critics. It’s also, like several of Hitchcock’s early films (notably The Skin Game) very concerned with class.

If you can forget its poor reputation and approach it with an open mind and accept it as a romance rather than a suspense film it’s definitely worth a look.