Legacy (1998)

 

What Went Wrong with Legacy

by Kristin Battestella

I never expected to see the blink and you missed it 1998 UPN series Legacy again! The 1880s Kentucky horse family scandalous was preposterous then, and it remains tough to re-watch with guest of the week plots once barely passable for sporadic weekly television now glaring binge viewing problematic. Legacy shoots itself in the foot with modern intrusions, weak characterizations, and fly by night storytelling – rushing itself right off the air at only eighteen episodes.

Rather than period piece Americana wholesome like Little House on the Prairie or Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman; cool music, hip horse racing, sassy daughters, and pretty sons immediately set Legacy's erroneous attempt at style over substance in a very busy pilot with broken engagements, attempted steamy, and supposed interracial romance. Cutthroat racing rivals, leg breaking riding risks, pickpocket accusations, fires in the barn, and a little girl in peril deserving their own episodes instead happen in one scene each because every episode has to have a slow motion dressage event. Do gooder patriarch Brett Cullen (Falcon Crest) expects his farm to be the best yet his entire family are apparently embarrassing misfits with blighted crops, ranch rebuilds, and admonishing sibling rivalries resetting per hour. The rebel daughter contemplating art school and rejecting her debutante debut one day is teaching etiquette and protocol the next while the illiterate learning to read is mentioned twice amid gambling lessons that aren't learned between repeated horse scams. Legacy's lack of writing cohesion is a fascinating mix of disjointed filler, nothing burgers, and everything thrown at the screen. Bad investments and ill advised farm loans made so dire every week leave viewers wondering how the post-war Logan family has survived this long.

Debates with an estranged spinster aunt wishing to have the daughters educated in Boston are resolved immediately when Legacy could have used such meddling all season. Notions of those well to do Boston in-laws looking down on Kentucky horse breeders before and after the Civil War are never brought up again as Legacy burns through storylines with all forgiven quickness and going through the motions exposition. The loser in the back and forth elections is still somehow made a political deputy with an office where he solves people's farm problems a few times, and dad Ned is in a coma for a very special episode with Meatloaf music video flashbacks of his late wife. Not even a guest spot from Melissa Leo (Homicide: Life on the Street) can slow down the rapid fire dilemmas amid new hire housekeeper mistakes, riding lessons, school sessions, colts in training, and petitions for women to enter the all male jockey club. If you've seen one episode of Legacy, you've seen them all, and the poorly written double talk dialogue feigning sophistication, shirtless washing montages, and interracial love triangles so chaste they can't possibly be scandalous are terribly banal to binge today.

Legacy's lookalike, generic ensemble is glaringly superficial – brimming with chiseled chins, furrowed brows, squinting scowls, and pursed lips. Should be the star Cullen yells at the kids in contrived conflicts as high and mighty Ned chastises anyone who isn't. Hot head son Jeremy Garrett (Sweet Valley High) circles the drain in repeated horse strife and Grayson McCouch (As the World Turns) as eldest Sean fails at every business venture. Any awkward tomboy in a corset start for older daughter Lea Moreno (DAG) is dropped for multiple romances, and her kissing the adopted bad boy Ron Melendez (Children of the Corn III: Urban Harvest) is weird even if he isn't really her brother. Precocious youngest Sarah Rayne (Quest for Camelot) talks back far too much, and their mother dying in her childbirth is mentioned constantly like it's character development. Ten year old Lexi's mature horse exposition implies the character was intended to be an older tween, and Legacy's characters are perpetually underwritten with no growth, only stereotypes and faux sophistication. Instead of focusing on potential familial pairings like our dad teaching the adoptee to ride or sisters working together, Legacy relies on the rival boys with chips on their shoulders having blonde babes dalliances. The wealthy neighbor/his whiskey corrupt son/nasty farm manager caricatures vary as needed in an unnecessary revolving door of villains. Hammy carpet bagger-styled Lane Smith (My Cousin Vinny) disappears early, yet Lisa Sheridan (Invasion) is strung along all season with nothing to do but switch between brothers.

Sadly, recurring Steven Williams (21 Jump Street) as former slave Isaac is reduced to the Magical Negro trope – providing evidence or advice as needed with the safest, precious few mentions of his time during the Civil War with Ned. Sharon Leal (Boston Public) as Isaac's daughter Marita is likewise the sage listener to our poor little rich white girls' problems when not waiting with longing, pick me glances at the forbidden white son. A late episode finally gives these Black characters a separate storyline when a respectable Black lawyer woos Marita, yet somehow it's all about Sean – who got his kicks elsewhere all season despite professing Marita his undying love – being a jealous jerk in a drunk driving carriage accident! He says she is the only one he can talk to while she has to silently take the whispers of this barely there courtship ruining her reputation. Legacy probably had too many characters, and if a Black family's experiences in post-war Kentucky were not only not going to be treated equally with the titular family and are in fact never going to be addressed, then they shouldn't have been token shoehorned into a show that today is totally tone deaf.

Although the horses are always pretty, the slow motion racing montages featured almost every episode are heavy handed and over-edited with cutaways, up close hoof beats, and rearing making for poor, cut corners action. The bustles, bonnets, and costumes are Victorian basic, no one really looks like they belong in the nineteenth century, and the ladies hairstyles are far too modern. The masquerade ball in Legacy's hanging finale is also laughable with contemporary Halloween expensive medieval costumes perfect with their 1880s quickness. This is also the first time I've used FreeVee's skip credits option, tiring of the shirtless shots and a billing order that makes little sense compared to the familial relationships and actual screen time in the forty-five minute episodes. Modern pace and slang likewise take over in jarring conversations where no one has the same put on generic Southern accent. The uncomfortable, fake, old speaketh gentility romanticizes their mighty plantations before the war; smooth talking thank you kind sirs wax on those who haven't been land owners for three generations as lesser Kentuckians. By time they have Black people singing negro spirituals at the end of the season, it feels like appropriation, and the overplayed, intrusive contemporary New Age Celtic music makes one wonder why Legacy wasn't just about a farm family in modern Ireland. “Spirited Jig” is the caption every time the music swells – be it for slow motion who burned the barn ominous, boys will be boys rowdy slow motion, or longing glances slow motion slow motion. Thanks to all the playing dress up contemporary styling and said unnecessary slow motion, Legacy looks and sounds like exactly how not to do a period drama.

Ironically, Legacy realizes that the family sticking together isn't as good a drama as the family divided in the second half of the season – dropping the lame teen steamy attempts and even most of the slow motion montages in favor of the older cast, killer widows, duels, and assault accusations. None of the kids have their own jobs and always run to dad for a loan, but Ned finally has something to do thanks to duplicitous women coming between father and sons and Gabrielle Fitzpatrick (Snowy River: The McGregor Saga) as a mysterious damsel in distress who looks like the late Mrs. Logan. Although the arguments, riding accidents, and deceit are still rushing toward the inevitably abrupt finale; schemers scheming together, doctored books, and foalings gone wrong make for what could have been potential. Rival horses enter the race, veterinarian conflicts arise, and sour tobacco company investments have consequences as the third to the last episode finally gets Legacy's tone right. Poison drinks, suspicion, blackmail saucy, and behind closed doors threats escalate once the ill-intentioned are in the house, and even the horses suffer amid rigged events, burned telegrams, and impostors. I don't think I bothered watching all of Legacy when it originally aired – if all the episodes were even shown. However, had the series hit the ground running with the intertwined heaviness of its last five episodes, Legacy may have survived another season. Instead, Legacy wasted most of its lone season on self-righteous plots, contemporary abs, contrived montages, and short sighted writing that understandably saw the series' cancellation.

Horror Westerns, Yee Haw!

Horror Westerns, Yee Haw! 🤠

By Kristin Battestella

Pioneer perils are the perfect setting for the weird, morose, scary, and macabre! Here's a trio of contemporary takes on the horror meets western genre fusion – with mixed results.

The Burrowers – Innocent proposals and Dakota Territory picnics open this 2008 parable before hiding in the root cellar, mysterious holes in the ground, and unseen terrors. Inexplicable wounds and a strange lack of blood loss leave neighbors digging multiple graves as squeamish boys must grow up and join the rescue posse. Time is taken to introduce Crow guides, Freedmen, and Irish immigrants, but the us versus them racist dynamics are felt thanks to whips, hangings, torture, and mustache twirling cavalrymen who enjoy it. Titular translations are disbelieved or misinterpreted as convenient and valuable Ute information is ignored despite rustling in the night and disappearing men. Muted, realistic colors match the subdued banter. This is not outright humor a la Tremors, for here darker prejudiced issues and rapacious fears akin to The Searchers can be more deeply addressed. The eyes of the dead are shot out to leave their spirits blind and girls buried alive have scratching sounds coming from inside their bodies as horse injuries and blood splatter make us recoil. The camera is frantic within the action and horrors, however there is time for personal pauses and reflection on the gory moments, toxins, and paralysis. Shootouts, screams in the dark, what you can't see beyond the firelight, and desperate to stay awake delirium mar the increasingly difficult journey. Creatures are afoot but who's a “redskin” friend or foe is more important to white men who killed the buffalo and now deservedly find themselves on the menu. Rather than typical panoramic monster roar reveals, brief crawling glimpses and grass level views build suspense before painful bear traps, decomposing decoys, and a slurping feast. The CGI and effects may be poor today and daylight conveniences make the finale easy, but the body horror disturbing and focus on the horror metaphors over the usual in your face creature feature approach is refreshing. Hatred is more important than a potential monster cure, and the bitter cavalry clean up blaming it all on “injuns” makes for an effective manifest destiny commentary with multi-layered mirror to nature horror.

Promising but Flawed

The Wind – Director Emma Tammi (Into the Dark) opens this 2019 feminine horror western with blood, stillborns, and shallow graves. Eponymous breezes and echoing screams match the string discord and barren landscape. Some pioneers are leaving this bleak, violent territory while others ride for supplies before the harsh winter. Scary wolves, growling, and innate perils break the mundane silence and still isolation. There's prowling at the door and our Mrs. is rushing to reload. The population grows to four when another young couple arrives – a lone flickering light in the darkness between distant cabins where the land plays tricks on you. The changing dynamics and inability to adjust lead to hiding under the bed prayers and fears that something is coming to get you thanks to dead animals, buzzing flies, and repeated knocks at the door with no one there. Symbolic water, rain, and hand washing scenes contrast reading The Mysteries of Udolpho and Frankenstein aloud as the candles blow out and the Bible buried in the grave is somehow back on the doorstep. Our new lady is pregnant and seeing things amid howling, shadows on the curtain, and precious, dwindling matches. Demons of the prairie fiction escalates to hidden diaries, illicit scandals, and unexpected ghosts as warnings not to be out after dark go unheeded. Unfortunately, the silent disjointed scenes are deliberately confusing. Why chop up your story when the tension should stand on its own shocking? Perhaps the cut away scares are meant to create disorientation, but the noticeable movie making weakens all the momentum, losing the surreal purgatory immersion and frazzled state of mind. An out of order narrative still telling something cohesive is fine, but distracting viewers with loud cues between random scene changes cheats us out of being alone with the characters because we're too busy piecing together what we already suspected at the start. Disturbing revelations, black smoke, and evil disguised as the dead descend toward jealousy and madness in excellent, uninterrupted scenes. However, the typical across the floor whooshes and ambiguous ending are frustrating and deceptive, pulling the rug out from under the audience. The frantic performance, brooding scares, and eerie atmosphere are great, but messing with the viewer via cinematic constructs dampens the taut paranoia – which should have been told organically.

You Make The Call

Dead Birds – Confederate soldiers turned bank robbers hide out in a abandoned Alabama mansion in this 2004 tale starring Henry Thomas (E.T.) and Michael Shannon (Take Shelter). Mismatched uniforms, overgrown fields, swamp misdirection, and creepy scarecrows set off the gory slices, dead bodies, shootouts, head shots, and blood splatter. Lanterns, thunderstorms, horses, creepy barns, and noises under the bed begat deformed animals among the cornstalks, skeletons in the slave quarters, and spell books for raising the dead. Pointing fingers over the gold tensions and rattling on the outhouse door frights work when we don't see anything, however creepy kids with typical blacked out eyes, roar mouths, and under the bed jump scares don't advance the slow burn meandering. Laughable women's fashions immediately draw viewers out of the 1863 disturbing, and the isolated build is laborious with multiple redundant shots and repeated lines to listen up and move on without actually doing so. Everything in the first half hour before they arrive at the manor could have been skipped, and ham fisted exposition on how this tenuous gang got together comes amid poor dialogue that's trying to sound Southern ye olde but has the wrong modern rhythm. A chilling old man ghost at the foot of the bed, voodoo dolls, the wounded being nearer to seeing spirits – there are pieces of something special here but the period fears and gold fever resort to contemporary horror by numbers. Contrived connections and disjointed strobe vignettes tell viewers about the sacrificial history rather than showing the characters really experiencing the macabre. The past terrors seem more interesting, and even at ninety minutes, this feels overlong because nothing much happens. Although late night watchable for the Southern Gothic mashups, the scares fall back on the same old same old rather than rely on the unique setting's strengths.

Want More delicious western horrors? Head over to InSession Film for our take on Ravenous and Brimstone! 

Ghostly Gals and Thrilling Skippers

Ghostly Gals and Thrilling Skippers

by Kristin Battestella

Another dreary, rainy day means another quartet of forgettable ghostly ladies and moody thrillers that ultimately don't quite foot the spooky bill.

Edgar Allan Poe's The Oval Portrait – Stormy nights, carriages, red velvet, and antiques accent this loose 1972 adaptation alongside candles, staircases, ominous housekeepers, late relatives, and ghostly piano playing. The titular painting, apparitions, and haunted house atmosphere come early with eerie music, lovelorn letters, and fainting ladies. However the inaccurate Civil War costumes, shabby uniforms, off kilter voices, and dark print make it difficult to tell who's Union or Confederate. The echoing overlays, visions of past couples, and angry artist can't overcome the lookalike characters, soap opera stylings, and rip off plots. Sure Poe's tale is thin, but here the new wife shocks everyone by coming down the stairs in Rebecca's clothes – and yes that's the late subject's name. More people keep arriving, but the ghostly possessions are put on hold for flashbacks with rally calls, cavalry, and a soldier on the lamb that look borrowed from another picture. If this scandal is where the story starts, why not begin there? Of course, there's also confusion between this movie and another with the same cast called One Minute Before Death, and the bookends make it seem like the two movies are combined into one on top of weak scripting, fly by night production, and jumpy flash cuts between the back and forth that never lets the forbidden love build. The muddled dialogue and stalling gothic romance feel like part of the story is missing – compromising the illicit, funerals, and grave robbing before more hysterics, wills, and tacked on ghosts. Though watchable – bemusing even thanks to the overlong, nonsensical dancing with the corpse finale that's probably followed by some good old fashioned necrophilia – this could have been a better, faithful adaptation of Poe's story instead of some kind of two for the price of one messy that doesn't go together.

House of Bones – The 1951 baseball nostalgia opening this 2010 ghost hunters yarn starring Charisma Carpenter (Buffy) is totally The Sandlot complete with a chubby redhead hitting dad's Babe Ruth autographed baseball over the ominous fence. Technicalities drag the arrivals as dude bros in a van with the latest gear are sure to announce themselves as the cameraman, the host, and the producer. Slow motion strobe and in your face television credits for the internal paranormal program parody such series while playing into all they do with annoying crescendos, false jumps, and cheesy bumpers. Every horror moment has to be a bad effect – a glance at gross apple worms has to be some herky jerky strobe when exploring the cluttered old house, skulls behind the plaster, roaches, suspicious ectoplasm, and disappearing assistants better build the eerie atmosphere. Black and white camera screens, creepy radios, and EVPs accent the attic artifacts and bloody toes yet the modern filming is too fast with no time for the haunted house mood or psychic sensations. The unlikable crew remain jerks trying to turn throwing up hair, shadows caught on camera, disturbing phone calls, and impaled police into a reality show angle rather than taking the danger seriously. Trying to be both a debunking paranormal show and a horror movie at the same time doesn't quite succeed when the out of place humor and handheld camera sarcasm jar with the scary glass mishaps and arms coming through the walls. The television production asinine should have been dropped sooner so all can fear this alive house that feeds on blood and plays psychological tricks with vintage visuals, power outages, mirror images, and gear hazards. However, the find the blueprints plan of action is silly – an overly serious and contrived resolution meandering with a thin script and useless psychic before running out of steam. While fine for a late night millennial audience, this ultimately has very little haunted house merit.

The Spiritualist – Staircases, ominous statues, shadows, vintage style, flickering lights, and varying hues accent this 2016 British agoraphobic tale with obligatory eerie opening credits, inspired by true events claims, and sexy times in the bathtub. Empty glasses filled when one's not looking and the feeling that something is in the room are better subtle fears than the false jump screams, and the sound is very uneven between the nighttime whispers and those loud shocks. Incest delusions and other unnecessary incidental scenes dampen superb scenery as well as deeper conversations on diagnosing an ill parent and still loving a sick spouse that isn't all there but won't leave the house. Of course, dad is caught in bed with the kinky maid, and confusing flashbacks and timeline foolery add to the disjointed crazy or grieving plot holes amid suicide letters and bereavement videos. Ghostly reflections on the laptop screen, strange noises, and tip toeing about the huge, dark house are simple yet effective, and letting the audience get creeped out is better than toying with us. Telling a friend about the family past is a much more succinct way to express character emotions and lead to the psychic invitations when all the unnecessarily cryptic makes it easy for viewers to tune out – we can't relate to the fear happening if we're confused by all the on the nose. A writer/director/more is once again wearing too many hats or trying to do too much with incoherent jumpy moments, character back and forths, and more overreaction screaming that quickly becomes obnoxious. It takes forty minutes to gather everyone for a proper séance with contortions, vomit, tears, and possessions, but a dang cell phone rings during the séance – wrongfully breaking the intense atmosphere by withdrawing audience immersion. It's no spoiler that the gay men are killed first while other lookalike jerks argue, and half the viewers probably stopped watching long before the power outages, killing sprees, and failed twists.

10x10 – Island scenery and quaint streets belie the stalking and kidnappers opening this 2018 thriller starring Kelly Reilly (Eden Lake) and Luke Evans (High-Rise). Guns, duck tape, a bag over the head, and wire ties complete the daylight parking lot abduction – cars and people abound yet no one sees or hears a thing. Unfortunately, the rug is pulled out from under such real world fear thanks to blatantly obvious L.A. Fitness storefronts, an ominous Dodge Charger, and Instagram as the latest form of communication product placements when any yoga class, vehicle, or phone number would do. Despite the elaborate concrete and soundproof construction of the titular room, our perpetrator makes mistakes as our victim easily fights her way out of the cell amid screams contrasting the quiet isolation and padded darkness versus the normal, bright kitchen. Rather than a slow burn tense, the back and forth, stilted pace becomes annoying with slow, time wasting snippets padding the piece itself. Dead family members and past malpractice revenge lack substance, leaving the audience wondering if the typical questions about his apparently sympathetic purpose and her suspicious real name are going anywhere we don't already know. Without their natural accents, the cast comes off as monotone or hoarse, and the surprisingly not thrilling or scary genre cliches are likewise dry. This should be a taut two-hander that never leaves the four walls, but the players – who have both done impressive horrors and chills – don't have enough to chew on alongside trite housekeeper intrusions and close calls with the cops. Home movies angst, adultery, and religious hypocrisy are on the nose and nothing new or edgy – it might have been interesting if the characters had been reversed, but the suspicion between who is good or bad never really delivers, leaving viewers waiting for something that doesn't happen. What tense there is gets a little silly by the finale, and by time a kid in peril is shoehorned in, it's tough to care anymore.

Top Ten: War Pictures!

Welcome to our new Top Tens series in celebration of I Think, Therefore I Review's Tenth Anniversary! These monthly lists will highlight special themes and topics from our extensive archive of reviews.

This time I Think, Therefore I Review presents in chronological order...

Our Top Ten War Pictures!

Casablanca

Mrs. Miniver

Best Years of Our Lives

Mister Roberts

Shenandoah

North and South

War Requiem

Gettysburg

Band of Brothers

Age of Heroes

Please see our Civil War tag for more miniseries or our Napoleonic label for yet more wartime analysis!

I Think, Therefore I Review began as the blog home for previously published reviews and reprinted critiques by horror author Kristin Battestella. Naturally older articles linked here may be out of date and codes or formatting may be broken. Please excuse any errors and remember our Top Tens will generally only include films, shows, books, or music previously reviewed at I Think, Therefore I Review. 

 

Raintree County

Raintree County is a Crazy, Must See Mash Up

By Kristin Battestella

 
Once upon a time, the 1957 Civil War epic Raintree County was the most expense movie ever made. Though blacklisted director Edward Dmytryk’s scandalous tale of the South has long since lost that mantle, this adaptation of Ross Lockridge’s novel remains notorious for its troubled, turbulent production.

John Shawnessy (Montgomery Clift) has life dreams and literary aspirations thanks to the legends of his hometown in Raintree County, Indiana. His childhood sweetheart Nell Gaither (Eva Marie Saint), however, isn’t part of those aspirations once the wealthy and carefree Susanna Drake (Elizabeth Taylor) comes to Raintree from New Orleans.  Her romance with Johnny moves swiftly, and despite Susanna’s deception and lies, they are soon married and living on her family’s estate in Louisiana.  Unfortunately, long held Southern scandals, family secrets, and the looming War Between the States ultimately divide John and Susanna’s seemingly blissful life.

Dmytrk’s (The Caine Mutiny) cast is clearly all too old for their roles, and the messy, muddled, overlong, and confusing topics, tangents, and situations don’t help Raintree County find any identity. What’s this tale really supposed to be about – finding the titular tree, country racing, romance and love triangles, the War, or racism and mental health issues? The uneven pace takes so long in introducing all the characters – the audience has no reason to care why these vignettes are happening amid the looming Civil War themes.  Much of the opening feels unnecessary, and one wonders why Raintree County didn’t just begin with Elizabeth Taylor’s arrival to town.  Scenes inexplicably move from one lesson or life story to the next with little rhyme or reason. The twists and ties supposedly interconnecting these plotlines are poorly put together thanks to the long-winded mid century pomp onscreen and the behind the scenes turmoil – not to mention the obvious editing, different film values, and camera work used to shoot around Montgomery Clift. By time we get past any scandals to the subsequent war search and battlefield action, the viewer has forgotten how we even got there in the first place. Then again, Raintree County must not be about the Civil War either, because after it there are another 45 minutes of the same old dry, crazy politics and erroneous romances. The tender moments between father and child feel like a different show and Raintree County limps into its final moments – that’s the frickin’ tree?  By the end, nobody onscreen cares about the eponymous foliage either.

Although Elizabeth Taylor (There are just so many films from which to choose!) looks divine when she makes her scene stealing entrance twenty minutes into Raintree County, the audience never finds out why Susanna catches everyone’s eye – beyond those stunning eyes, fabulous frocks, and New Orleans drawl that is. We’ve seen Susanna’s Southern crazy, desperation, lying, and manipulation type before, yet it’s all played so juvenile, passionate, and wild. Yawn. Again, the cast is too old to play young in love, and the secrets, social mores, and scandals don’t explain the meh character motivations. Taylor is trying to bring some sort of nutty, look fair and feel foul, too good to be good true beauty hints, but the double talking script doesn’t help. If Raintree County was meant to be about her, then everything away from the Johnny and Susanna plots becomes superfluous.  Screenwriter Millard Kaufman (Take the High Ground!) should have seriously paired down the novel and developed the core love triangle to its full measures – Susanna is cruel to Nell, both women are bitchy, and hints of North and South tension, divides, and deceptions go undercooked. Indiana versus New Orleans could have been a turbulent enough dynamic, but the core characters’ relationships, potentially racist attitudes, and social stereotypes end up all over the board with no justice to any of the concepts. There are some few and far between but wonderfully, eerie, disturbed moments from Taylor filmed in an excellent, hazy style. However, in a feeling long three-hour film such as Raintree County, Taylor doesn’t seem to appear enough for Susanna to have any fully realized character development.  

Unfortunately, one truly sees Raintree County for one reason and one reason alone, and that’s Montgomery Clift. His infamous car accident during production of Raintree County caused significant pain, facial damage, and partial paralysis, and thus created drastic filmmaking differences in the picture. From up close shots of the young and pretty Clift ala the likes of A Place in the Sun to distant shots of a man clearly ailing, Raintree County has become an awkward spot the difference novelty thanks to this seemingly overnight change in onscreen character and performance. Clift’s passion is there, but the tragic circumstances are immediately apparent not just from scene to scene, but sometimes shot to shot with right side only filming tricks, and his different voice, weight, and stature. Too much is already happening for Johnny onscreen thanks to the all over the place script – the tree, writing, school, romance, running, fighting – but Clift is very into the character and then obviously unwell by the next cutaway. It’s makes Raintree County a heartbreaking, can’t look away, morbid curiosity, and the notion of Clift’s slowly being made mincemeat by the Hollywood industry is encapsulated in these few hours. If Terminal Station is his worst, then Raintree County is a close second at the bottom of Clift’s brief but otherwise excellent repertoire. The early, up close shots of Clift are the lone color scenes of him pre-accident – 1960’s Wild River and his final picture The Defector are his only other color movies. Beautiful and talented as he was, it’s almost as if Montgomery Clift just wasn’t meant for CinemaScope and the bright, zesty of color pictures. Despite some fine film work after Raintree County, this movie sadly marks the must see turning point between Clift’s career and his downward personal spiral.  

Likewise, Oscar winner Eva Marie Saint (On the Waterfront) feels woefully miscast as the so wide-eyed, innocent, and strangely dolled up Nell. The character should be the scene stealing heart of gold that the audience adores ahead of the lonely and scandalous Susannah. However, Nell comes across as some sort of nothing special, pining, interfering, mousy old spinster and Saint simply can’t compare to Taylor in style or presence with this kind of subpar material. Nigel Patrick (The League of Gentlemen) as Professor Stiles is also a bloated, smack worthy, unnecessary caricature – he’s so full of his own dang greatness and clearly flirting with all the student dames. His kind of teaching just feels so nasty and his entire plot could have been excised from the filming of Raintree County. How he received a Golden Globe nomination for this movie is beyond me. The supporting townsfolk also all seem like ignorant or drunk stooges, a whole town of jerks somehow making life difficult for Johnny in a series of coming of age clichés. Lee Marvin (Cat Ballou, The Dirty Dozen) and Rod Taylor (The Birds, The Time Machine) deserved much, much more. Most of the time I forget they are even in Raintree County!

Thankfully, Raintree County is a sewing enthusiast’s delight thanks to these big, colorful frocks and spectacle costumes – the lovely locales, regal homes, picturesque swamps, and wild ruins are divine, too. While he sure sounds pretty, Nat King Cole’s titular tune is a little out of place, and the scoring is a somewhat over the top with the fifties heavenly chorales.  Most of Raintree County’s attempts at sweeping and epic end up over ambitious and stand as perhaps the perfect example of fifties filmmaking gone awry. The battle scenes are well done, but they are just quick, almost incongruous montages. All that time was spent on drinking, races, and trees, but you montage the Civil War?! Of course, one can’t see Raintree County in all of its then glory because there has been no official DVD release stateside. Netflix very long waits the all region, awkwardly divided two disc Asian release – in which the sound is uneven, the subtitles are screwy, and the innate 65-millimeter widescreen/CinemaScope conversion is in desperate need of restoration. In spite of all its flaws, I’d love to see Raintree County restored to its original, wannabe Ben-Hur-esque perfection on blu-ray just for the Montgomery Clift observations.

Fans of the cast or other Civil War historicals can enjoy Raintree County, but perhaps a multi-episode mini series format would have better captured the scope of the eponymous tales, scandal, and adventure. Too much was happening onscreen and off for Raintree County’s sweeping Civil War loves and losses to succeed in its idealized Gone with the Wind fashion. Nonetheless, the sad circumstances surrounding Montgomery Clift and the film’s off kilter, hot mess scale make Raintree County worth seeing at least once.

Band of Angels

Band of Angels Flawed but Yet Classy

By Kristin Battestella

On a bit of a whim, I decided to write about the 1957 Civil War drama Band of Angels.  Though likeable thanks to its stars, and I do like this film, I strangely found this flawed and uneven presentation tough to write about and reflect upon. Do the askew racial perceptions behind the camera ruin the style on screen?

Upon her father’s death, Amantha Starr’s (Yvonne De Carlo) “colored blood” is revealed, and she is subsequently sent to a slave auction and bought by a mysterious gentleman with a past, Hamish Bond (Clark Gable).  Hamish treats Amantha as an equal, despite animosity from maid Michele (Carolle Drake) and Hamish’s second Rau-Ru (Sidney Poitier). Raised with respect, education, and inheritance by Hamish, Rau-Ru nevertheless despises his position and escapes to join the Union Army.  As Amantha and Hamish warm to each other and develop an unusual love, the Civil War unfortunately comes calling.  Will Southern defiance split them apart?

 

1957, it turns out, was a little too soon for director Raoul Walsh (They Died with Their Boots On, Captain Horatio Hornblower, R.N.) to take on writer Robert Penn Warren’s (All the King’s Men) titular source novel.  The slavery presentation here can be just downright cruel. Either the bound are totally menial, ignorant, and subservient or happy nymphomaniacs who can’t get enough of taking the white master’s proffered treats.  The interracial storylines and culture clashes try to present some goodness, but the execution is too over the top and comes off as inappropriately fake:  “You white trash!” cue dramatic crescendo!  Naturally, demeaning terms like negress or worse are used, and it is indeed tough to hear today. However, such talk is meant to reflect the attitudes of the time onscreen- and it glaringly showcases the tone behind the camera, too.  There’s plenty of latent naughty and kinky innuendo about what these men do to keep their female slaves from getting “uppity”, too.  It all makes Band of Angels so ironic. The breaking of such shocking taboos, showing suicides and shamings- it would seem to make great strides in racial storytelling and portrayals. Yet the ills are inadvertently reinforced by the dated, flawed sensibilities and uneven filmmaking of the day.  Despite some lovely performances, these errors will make Band of Angels tough for many audiences. Things do get a little better when the Civil War enters the stage, though the schism is also subparly handled, or at the least, not recreated on the scope it should have been.  That is perhaps the worst part of Band of Angels- it could have been much, much more.

 And yet, there’s something delightful here, largely due to the outgoing grace from Academy Award winner Clark Gable (It Happened One Night, Gone with the Wind, Mutiny on the Bounty). Okay, he’s a little worse for the wear in 1957 compared to those inevitable “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn” memories and pre-war heights. He is long in the tooth and tough to believe now as a young, active leading man, but this adds an extra element to Hamish Bond.  There is a feeling of the old guard-onscreen and off- taking one final bow. Gable carries Hamish as an on form, timeless leading man nonetheless.  The opening bidding scenes are a little too much like the bazaar scene in Gone with the Wind, indeed, and yet Gable’s gentlemanly presence somehow turns this off-kilter mixed slavery melodrama into some sort of star-crossed Southern romance.  Back in the day, I’m sure some women would not mind being bought by Clark Gable for $5,000!   Band of Angels seems slower when he’s off-screen, and you wonder why in the heck Amantha has such an attitude about his treating her so well.  Really, only Rhett Butler can talk his way out of a duel with totally pimp-acity! (and no, I didn’t mean pomposity, either, like spell check thought.)  Hamish’s only fault is he is a little too grey and somewhat out of touch to Amantha and the changes happening around him.

Yvonne “the great Amantha Starr” De Carlo is far, far superior in The Munsters, The Ten Commandments, and McLintock!, oh yes.  Of course, she is without a doubt lovely as always, even when she is supposed to be uglied up. However, De Carlo is just too miscast and out of place. Was it really so unacceptable to have an actress who looked anything but white play a half-black heiress? This hypocritical start only makes Amantha’s actions tougher to swallow. She pouts about Hamish’s saving her from far worse sex and slavery, and then uses his position to pretend she is white and seek other men’s marriage proposals. Amantha hates Rau-Ru, but calls him for help when nasty white men would force themselves onto her!  I love, love Yvonne De Carlo, but the back and forth, up and down, and insipid backhanding from Band of Angels’ supposedly star character is sketchy at best, and downright unlikable and insulting at worst. Even with all the unkosher racial aspects aside, how is the audience supposed to root for a woman who turns out Clark Gable?

Thankfully, fellow Oscar winner Sidney Poitier (Lilies of the Field, In the Heat of the Night, Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner) anchors Band of Angels beautifully. His Rau-Ru is classic and suave- the perfect young rival to Gable with the strength and education to gracefully buck the system and stereotypes presented.  Rau-Ru is menacing and threatening as Hamish’s almost pseudo-presumptive heir; he is obviously ready to rebel or supplant and is portrayed as a danger to the already delicate balance. But is the audience really supposed to believe that a slave discontented with his would be higher station and wanting freedom is a villain? Band of Angels gets the racial aspects at its core quite wrong, yes. However, Sir Sidney has the best-written dialogue here and delivers every word with real weight, honesty, and conviction. Rau-Ru’s tug and pull with Hamish is far more interesting than Amantha’s over the top scandal. You can see the off-screen ideologies of Gable’s day giving way to the Poitier’s movements to come. Band of Angels tries- I really think it does.  What it does well is quite classy thanks to the male leads, but the show is inevitably handicapped by the attitudes of the time. Oddly enough, this time capsule also makes the film all the more fascinating to watch.

 Yes, the costumes are a little inaccurate and the music is more fifties than 1850s, too. Fortunately, the gowns are still awesome, and all the colorful styles and Victorian vibes set the necessary tone. The men’s top hats and frocks are so, so much more stylish than today. The boys with their pants around their knees couldn’t handle Gable’s suave even if they tried! Granted, the sets are a little stock; this budget was definitely not on the scale of Gone with the Wind. The plants are also a little too, um, plastic! Some of the New Orleans flavors and panache is just right, but other times the underutilized French touches and clichés imply or presume too much.  Moreover, the over the top Southern accents and 19^th century via fifties dialogue may be tough to some- lots of stereotypical “hisself” talk with plenty of double negatives.  It doesn’t make up for all the off color ways by any means, but the grandiose looking staircases and courtyards are pretty pretty!

Strangely, I always think of Band of Angels together with the 1954 Charlton Heston mail order bride yarn The Naked Jungle, though I’m not really sure why.  I suppose both are a little preposterous to start and have classic men to carry what turns out to be a very flawed film. Again, the errors made here mean Band of Angels is not for everyone.  However, film students or social scholars may enjoy an examination of the movie’s mistakes and ill attitudes onscreen and off. Fans of the cast, lovers of sordid Tales of the South, or classic period piece audiences can also enjoy Band of Angels- classy, flawed, and all.  

In Defense of Blu-ray

A Case for Blu-ray

By Kristin Battestella

Overall, I think I’m pretty split on the powers of blu-ray. On one hand, it’s still dang expensive and sensitive, and the BD live interactive features are sometimes more trouble than they’re worth. However, the new video format gives action movies visual depth, packs everything you need on less discs, and makes classic pictures look twenty years younger. Here’s a list of old films revitalized by blu-ray and new pictures providing testimony.

The Wizard of Oz – Well, that’s a horse of a different color, literally! The sound is exceptional, the black and white is defined all over the gray spectrum, the Emerald City is emerald, and the poisoned poppies are red is red. Even if you’ve never cared for this 1939 children’s classic, you can see this Judy Garland staple as if for the first time. You can see the putrid green of the Wicked Witch of the West and find every detail in the makeup of The Scarecrow, Tin Man, and the Cowardly Lion. As I kid, I thought the Collector’s VHS was dynamite, but then you could barely see the flying monkeys. On blu-ray however, those monkeys look damn good. With such vivid color and lifelike fantasy, Dorothy’s quest doesn’t seem so juvenile and preposterous at all.

 
Star Trek (2009) – I think I’m the only person in the world who isn’t in love with J.J. Abrams update of this classic series. As a one-off Academy tale, I might enjoy it; but having Old Spock come back in time to tell Young Spock he’s now in an alternative reality? Yes, they’ve safely placed their reboot in this sanctioned new canon, but they miss out on some of the human story at the expensive of being new, young, and hip. How could you not have an old Spock talking to the young Sarek? Okay, I’m done ranting, because the action here shares the spirit of the Original Series while updated the franchise with all the modern visual delights. The spaceships and planets look enchanting, the warp speed is instantaneous, and the bridge of the new Enterprise looks sweet. Are the effects enough to charm audiences? Apparently so.

The Dark Knight – As the title suggests, this sequel to Batman Begins is a dark and melancholy picture. Christian Bale gets downright depressing as Bruce Wayne, and Maggie Gyllenhaal gives a sad send off to his lost love Rachel. Thankfully, blu-ray lets us see all the depth and dimension in all the nighttime and dark action sequences. The action is fast, furious, complex visually and mentally; and we can see it all without squinting. We see the black be clad Batman and the swish of his cape. Though Heath Ledger won the Oscar for his demented and psychological portrayal of The Joker, Aaron Eckhart’s fallen white knight Harvey Dent was more charming for me. Of course, his beautifully grotesque and deformed half as Two-Face looks dynamite, too. 

Gone with the Wind – The subtitles don’t match the dialogue and the white text is tough to see against Scarlett’s white prayer gown, but otherwise I can say nothing bad about the 70^th anniversary blu-ray release of this perennial classic. After decades of a choppy, flat, jumpy VHS-heavens to Betsy this looks marvelous. The colors are so vivid-every single one in the rainbow. The depth of light and shadow in indoor scenes and outdoor spectaculars is a treat to the human eye. The sound isn’t as voluminous as I might have preferred for such sweeping scores and Civil War destruction, but the most troublesome thing about this set is finding the four hours to watch undeterred. Yes, it’s overlong, full screen, the men are over the top-but one look into Vivien Leigh’s hypnotic eyes and you’re sold. The blu-ray set also caters to the obsessive fan’s delight, including a CD of the score, copies of memos from David O’Selznik, a hardback book, art prints, limited edition numbers, and almost another four hours of extras all in a sweet red velvet box. Whew!

Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – This latest adaptation of the famous boy wizard books is not an introductory piece-you have to really know and love all things Potter to appreciate the depth and hinted subplots here. It’s been a few months since I saw Order of the Phoenix and I was a little lost! Dumbledore finally gets his day, but is that where this movie is supposed to be? Or is it with all the budding romances, Malfoy and the Death Eaters, or the mysteries of Tom Riddle and the Half Blood Prince? Returning director David Yates never seems to make up his mind, and once again, the cast is not used to its full potential. I swear Maggie Smith, David Thewlis, Robbie Coltrane, Helena Bonham Carter, and Alan Rickman each only have two scenes. If you have such clout, well by golly show it! I complain yes, but these uneven story quibbles almost don’t matter compared to the dynamite look of the Half Blood Prince. The Quidditch looks real here, the dark clouds, evil swirls, and a half empty Hogwarts look like photographs not digital effects. Us muggles can believe in the magical underside of London when it looks this good. We’re past the cute and youthful awe trickery of magic here-its specialties are an understood given now. Blu-ray makes the world of Harry Potter seem not like fantasy, but reality.

So also, feel free to read our lengthy praise of both The Searchers and the original Planet of the Apes for more A plus blu-ray action. Of course, these are but a few of the treats available on blu-ray. As more affordable releases come out, blu-ray and digital copy will replace good old DVDs, just as VHS is now a thing of the past. Yes, the format is still touchy and delicate, as well as pricey in players and discs. For classics and action or effects laden pictures, however, blu-ray is decidedly spectacular and worth every penny for your favorites.