Three Violent People

Three Violent People A Flawed, Fun Western Romp

By Kristin Battestella

Alas, here we are at another one of my affectionately coined, ‘Heston Hokeys’.  1956’s Three Violent People has the potential for some good western drama and action, but one inescapable element unintentionally and humorously stands out, even if it technically doesn’t exist.

Ex- woman of the night from St. Louis Lorna Hunter (Anne Baxter) stumbles into wild post-war Texas and meets Confederate cavalry Captain Colt Saunders (Charlton Heston). Their whirlwind romance leads to marriage, and with her past unknown to Colt, the newlyweds settle in at the Bar S Ranch.  When Colt’s black sheep brother Cinch (Tom Tryon) returns to the homestead and carpet bagging commissioner Cable (Forrest Tucker) demands back taxes and restitutions, blackmail opportunities and the exposure of Lorna’s past threaten all.

Director Rudolph Mate (The 300 Spartans) opens the titular violence with a fast fight in the streets and plenty of post Civil War unrest.  Witty confusion and mistaken introductions follow, setting up the proposed marital bliss.  But only…dun dun dun! What’s worse than a prostitute past? A one armed brother! The audience would think Colt’s noble but rough attitude coming to a head over his wife’s secret would be enough drama- there’s absolutely no need for a reckless, wounded brother going nowhere angle. Had the sibling rivalry and amputation injury been the focus of the tale and dealt with in its proper heavy, Three Violent People wouldn’t feel hokey at all. Unfortunately, the entire aspect is played so askew. The over the top drama is too much scandal and not enough pain.  Which burden takes precedence- the brother or the fact that his wife didn’t tell him she’s a working girl?  We’re supposed to like Lorna’s sass, but she’s quite a liar. She had the immediate opportunity to own up. Hey, people had to do things of which they weren’t exactly fond during the war. Is this coming clean what Three Violent People’s about? Toss scheming carpetbaggers into the mix with guns and blackmail and things become just a bit uneven.  Touches of cavalry action, Confederacy regret, and reconstruction dilemmas are also light amid the romance and scruples.  Three Violent People feels as if it could have been epic, sweeping, and massive. However, the weird lens on our three little people and their hill of beans is slow, ill plodding, and nothing new. Though not a typical western and seemingly a more womanly oriented vehicle, there are still too many Victorian clichés- don’t faint over the big reveal, Lorna!  Where’s all the supposed indiscretion in Three Violent People? How could it all boil down to an illicit pregnancy? They’re married. How illicit could it be?

Well, Anne Baxter makes a bemusing entrance in that stunning red dress!  We’re accustomed to her sexy, husky sound in All About Eve and The Ten Commandments, so the Southern accent feels somewhat iffy, but the reddish hairstyling looks good. These put ons just take some getting used to- as does Lorna’s attitude. Sure, she doesn’t mean to deceive Colt and create a gold digging plan- or maybe such thoughts did occur to Lorna? When swept off her feet to become Mrs. Saunders, perhaps this falling in love and feeling as if she belongs really does come to mean her all? With this vague emotional beginning, what could possibly go wrong? Lorna’s even befrocked in symbolic white dresses and good ranch wife attempts- we should be rooting for this triumph over her past. However, it all seems too rocky and wayward to care. The prostitution revelation isn’t even the tipping point; Lorna’s producing a tainted heir is what makes things go sour. After all the laid on thick positive relationship possibilities, the back and forth hatred comes on so quickly. Are we still supposed to like them when they hate each other? We don’t even get to see Lorna pregnant! It’s mentioned, and then Three Violent People cuts to snow on the ranch and the doctor being called.  All the great period Texas at large potential is dropped for this roller coaster romance, yet we can’t even tell if we’re supposed to feel for the lady or despise her. These missteps seriously hamper the audiences’ interests, but Baxter does her best in keeping the whirlwind entertaining.  Lorna’s ultimate threat to NRA pimp Charlton Heston? “If I had a gun!”

Ah yes, Moses himself!  Baxter’s Ten Commandments co-star looks good in a cowboy hat and fills the buckskin coat and stocky persona needed for Colt Saunders’ strong, hard man reputation. Although the fifties punches and fight scenes are obviously pulled, the Confederate captain- snappy in his full gray uniform- carries respect and valor along with some forced mid-century sex appeal. Chuck, unbuttoned to the naval and lying on the bed, putting Lorna over his knee and letting the hoop skirt fly up! The ‘Oh My!’ isn’t so scandalous today, and mixed signals don’t help. Is Three Violent People funny or sexy? There aren’t any cute music cues or laugh tracks, but Colt’s banter isn’t as tantalizing as it should be. For a supposedly high-end gentleman, he’s easily off on the wrong foot with the ladies. The humble, golly gee, runaround aspects stilt Heston, and the tacked on speaking Spanish feels phony. The rough, worn, and multidimensional capabilities from Heston have no depth in the script; Colt doesn’t even speak that much in Three Violent People.  He can keep a scene together as needed and Heston’s presence makes up for some of the backward character development, but it’s tough to believe Colt’s tumultuous emotions and conflicting actions. He’s angry with Lorna. He kicks her out. He drags her back. He doesn’t want her to be pregnant. He will pay her to have his child.  Oiy! And remember a marriage proposal and a kiss from Charlton Heston is “not the least bit like double entry book keeping, is it?”  What?

Now, despite some scripting faults and poor character development, one might think that Three Violent People doesn’t sound that hokey, or in the least, not as bad as the killer ants and mail order brides guilty pleasure of Heston’s The Naked Jungle. Perhaps this picture isn’t cheesy in itself, no.  Except today’s viewer might not be able to see past the unbelievable ridiculousness that is Tom Tryon as Colt’s angry one-armed brother Cinch.  Yes, Tryon (later author of The Other, who knew?) has both his limbs and features, and Three Violent People unintentionally makes the exact thing Cinch isn’t supposed to have incredibly obvious. His first scene is shirtless, yes- Cinch is meant to be the sizzling, wild, dangerous younger brother who resembles his onscreen kin in no way whatsoever. Every stance and camera angle accentuates the poor trickery; it’s as if Cinch has his fictitious hand on his hip. The editing cutaways to avoid completely showing the ill begotten right side are forced into the frames at the wrong times, thus ruining the narratives and heavy conversations. Cinch is both cut and spliced into the film! Not to mention all this trouble is for someone who today would be considered unimportant in comparison to the leads, adding more flame to Three Violent People’s uneven and distracting fire.  My goodness, cast someone of equal caliber, go with a limp, and save yourself the trouble of turning Three Violent People into a farce. I know I sound harsh in some of this one-armed bemusement, but this is a completely fake and unrealistic representation of an amputee, and it sidelines the entire picture.

Unfortunately, on top of the brotherly angst gone tucked behind one’s back, Three Violent People also hinders itself with very stereotypical African American treatments. All the servants are portrayed as giggling, happy folk seemingly blissfully unaware that the Civil War has just transpired.  The Bar S ranch hands are handled slightly better thanks to a charming performance from Gilbert Roland (The Bad and the Beautiful) as foreman Innocencio, but the rest of the Mexican workers fumble with their English and must be prodded into remembering to remove their sombreros. They drink too much, sing off key, speak like Speedy Gonzales; their women weep, they all have a dozen kids, and everyone is related.  At best, it’s as if the subordinates of Three Violent People simply weren’t given a second thought in regards to the time portrayed or the fifties mentality at work.  At worst, the Black and Spanish are deliberately made small and simple in every aspect in order to make the White Ranch Master look good. These mistakes don’t take up much of the movie, but they are glaringly painful for today’s viewers when they do happen.

 

Thankfully, there is some period panache accenting Three Violent People. Fun music and folks whistling ‘Dixie’- literally- add to the Technicolor candlelight and frilly Victorian furnishings. This is a very colorful film, perhaps too fifties inaccurate thanks to the colorful ladies costumes. Did the gals really wear all that glitter and shine with full width hoop hems way out in the post-war wilderness? Due to the clean cut filming of the time, even the working girls seem overdressed compared to the now standard imagery of exposed corsets, petticoats, and naughty lace. Baxter’s yellow dress certainly brightens a room, but honestly, it looks completely 1950s before 1850s. Outside of a few buttoned up and proper frocks, most of Lorna’s stylized necklines and modern tops don’t match the over packed, reserved bottoms. Her low cut pink number looks 1955 off the rack vintage! Even for a fan of costuming, there are too many unnecessary swoopings, twirlings, and focuses on those big skirts. We notice the dresses; seriously, we can’t miss ‘em!   Likewise, the Bar S interior sets are cool, but a little weird.  There’s lots of stone and big Old World style akinning the grand- but apparently only two room- house to a transported Spanish castle. However, wooden beams, barrels, cobwebs, and ropes hang about the place, too.  Like the rest of Three Violent People, the decoration is a little lacking in scale and sweeping scope. There are nice Union and cavalry designs and lovely outdoor scenery, but it’s not enough.

When I was a kid, for years I didn’t know the name of this movie. I just referred to it as, ‘The other Heston one with the flashy Anne Baxter costumes and the guy who so didn’t have the one arm.’ Delighted fashionistas can study Baxter’s stunning but erroneous gowns, granted. Otherwise, Three Violent People is a plodding, back and forth, double crossing, slow talking western with contrived plotting and too little of the expected action. Some viewers will certainly tune out of all this ridiculous pretentiousness, understandably. Yet all these faults don’t mean Three Violent People isn’t entertaining. One really can enjoy the potentially quality storylines and performances- so long as you take the classic corny, expected flaky, and unintentional humor, too. Unbemused audiences who don’t appreciate this hokey will find there simply isn’t much else here- although contemporary viewers can make a drinking game of that damnable arm. I mean, when he’s hanging off the back of the wagon with the sleeve flapping in the wind! Seriously, my cat’s eyes were dancing at the prospects! Laugh, delight, and indulge your id unabashedly with Three Violent People. 

Deep Space Nine Season 2

Deep Space Nine Season 2 Improves, Thankfully.

By Kristin Battestella

After the faulty onset of the Star Trek spinoff Deep Space Nine, the series’ second season has a lot of damage control on its hands. Fortunately, things are much better for this 93-94 Year Two. 

Bajoran and Cardassian relations are not going too well, and Commander Benjamin Sisko (Avery Brooks) and his Bajoran liaison Major Kira Nerys (Nana Visitor) are caught in the middle of the tensions along with Deep Space Nine.  Maquis rebellions against the Federation and trouble on the other side of the wormhole in the Gamma Quadrant aren’t making life on the station any easier for Chief Miles O’Brien (Colm Meaney) and Doctor Julian Bashir (Siddig El Fadil).  Security Constable Odo (Rene Auberjonois) is still seeking his place as a shapeshifter among the humanoids on DS9, but Ferengi bartender Quark (Armin Shimerman) is looking for profit through the wormhole with a little group called The Dominion.

Deep Space Nine begins to come into its own with a great three-part opener, “The Homecoming,” “The Circle,” and “The Siege.” Multi part and in depth storylines give this series a chance to establish itself beyond The Next Generation copies and traditional Trek ideals. The heavy “The Jem’Hadar” finale, other smartly planted touches regarding the Dominion enemy, and Mirror Universe examinations in “Crossover” further define the uneasy amid the supposedly tranquil.  Yes, the Mirror plots may seem like a cop out way to spotlight our players by showing how they alternatively could be so bad. However, these properly used insights and ties to the original Star Trek in “Blood Oath” add nostalgia and older creditability to DS9’s repertoire.  Besides, Mirror treats are always a fun, healthy way to twist things without doing a throwaway comedy episode like “Rivals.” There is definitely something more to Deep Space Nine beyond the TNG dark side and Trek filler. Some players on DS9, it turns out, don’t like each other very much; comings and goings on the station are not always what they seem, as showcased in “Sanctuary” and the aptly named “Cardassians.”  The Late season “Maquis I and II” gets right to the core of DS9’s growing specialty.  The idyllic Federation life way back on Earth can’t handle all the frontier trouble facing Deep Space Nine, can it?  

However, there are still plenty of troubles on Deep Space Nine.  We’re stuck on a dark and dated space station, and the confined setting and wayward plotting feel like a step down in production, even amateurish. We don’t see wondrous explorations from week to week, and some of the compensating alien makeup is either too weird and inconceivable or ho hum humanoid. Really, dudes with prosthetic giblets over their lips yet they’re still drinking synthehol at Quark’s?  Internal episode pacing is also patchy. There’s a lot going on on this show, perhaps too much.  TNG filler, TOS homage, dry Bajoran politics, Cardissian angst, Maquis trouble, and Dominion rumblings along with character bottle shows.  Can one series, let alone one season of a show, handle all that? While there have been considerable storyline strides since the first season, the viewer is still expected to wait on the supposedly major and important plots for an offshoot fluff show. The 26-episode order seems so long today, almost feeling as if it is an excuse to meander.  We’re two seasons in now, and this is really an awful lot of episodes for us to not intimately know all our players.  Some finer episodes still come across as TNG retreats, too. Crowded and spotty A and B or C storylines still don’t give the audience the vital character development we need.  Though Oscar winner Louise Fletcher (One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest) is great as guest star Vedek Winn and Frank Langella’s (Frost/Nixon) surprise Minister Jaro is a treat; I’m kind of tired of Bajoran corruption and Kai politics.  How many times can we go round and round because it’s so important yet have its resolutions disappear for 20 episodes?  Deep Space Nine feels so roundabout thanks to this burden of riches, and the series does tread some water this season while trying to find its place. 

Fortunately, individual episodes like “Second Sight” create more interest and romance for Benjamin Sisko. Although “Paradise” is another sub par TNG plot, a strong performance from Brooks allows Sisko to step it up as needed, seen likewise in his battles with Gul Dukat in “The Maquis I and II.”  It’s also wonderful to see his alternate rogue in “Crossover,” simply because Mirror Sisko is much more head-to-head and badass.  We know Sisko can do much more; it’s just a matter of giving Brooks episodes with enough room to shine.  Also lacking in episodic focus is Cirroc Lofton as Jake Sisko. The commander’s son is still too absentee for a regular character family dynamic, but his storylines are pleasing when we get them- as seen in the “The Jem’Hadar” finale. Thankfully, the explorations for Major Kira are observed through different lenses in “Crossover,” “Sanctuary,” and “Necessary Evil.”  Her relationship with Philip Anglim as Vedek Bariel in “The Collaborator” just feels left field stale and unnecessary, yes. It’s not easy for the former militant to find herself in this newfound peace and uniting with the less than perfect Federation, but we know who Kira is, was, and wants to be. No man is needed to define the character anyway, and the already given opportunities for family and relationships get shafted. However, Kira’s uneasy peaceful parallels are a nice embodiment of the gloomy Trek trying to come across on Deep Space Nine.  

Colm Meaney as Miles O’Brien is also his usual steady in “Tribunal,” “Armageddon Game,” and the perfectly un-Trek “Whispers.”  They don’t do much to expand the character, but more reasons for the audience to love O’Brien are always a good thing.  I don’t know why the writers seem to have a go-to for letting people mess with the Chief!  Rosalind Chao’s Keiko is again underutilized in terms of appearances and realistic marriage representations, unfortunately. Why create couples of the week when you have a married regular? I digress. At least Chao provides solid marital support when tasked. Rene Auberjonois is also superb in “The Alternate.” His unique outlook and begrudging attitude are a welcome change of pace in the usually happy Trek family, and Odo stands out whether he has a few moments or an entire centric episode.  Similarly, even if you find the Ferengi too outright comedic, Armin Shimerman as Quark and Ferengi focused shows like “Rules of Acquisition” are wonderfully insightful and revealing. The Ferengi are supposedly so corrupt, merely an imperfect race of ugly little trolls compared to pleasant Trek pretties. Nevertheless, DS9 shows us so much more- including the plight of female Ferengi and the loveably cranky Wallace Shawn as Grand Nagus Zek.  Max Grodenchik as Quark’s brother Rom and Aron Eisenberg as nephew Nog are always endearing, too.  If I had to choose between musty, sluggish Deep Space Nine filler and misuses of Odo like “Shadowplay” or Ferengi fun like “Profit and Loss,” I say bring on the latinum.

Once again, despite several Trill centric episodes- including “Invasive Procedures,” “Playing God,” and “Blood Oath”- we still don’t know that much about Jadzia herself. Strangely, we know a lot more about prior Dax hosts while Jadzia remains the stagnant but pretty talking head tech babbler.  Big whoop. On the rare occasion she does give an answer or contribution, it’s usually a convenient experience from the symbiont. Likewise still underdeveloped, even Bashir focused shows like “Melora” aren’t actually about him.  We know he’s a compassionate doctor in a budding O’Brien friendship- a doctor who plays racquetball in the subpar “Rivals.” Wow.  Fortunately, the recurring players are once more perfection. The transitions for Bajor and the Federation aren’t supposed to be easy, but imagine if Marc Alaimo were taking the piss as Dukat at every morning meeting. It’d be more interesting than Jake’s few and far between nothing new teenage drama. The second tier regulars should be developed more or they should make room for the waiting in the wings recurring characters.  We don’t know much about them either, but they are intriguing, mysterious, and the allure keeps Deep Space Nine going when the these limp regulars fail.  Andrew Robinson’s Garak is again wonderful in “The Wire.” Seriously, why isn’t there a regular Cardassian always on the show? Mary Crosby (Dallas) also gives us a fine female Cardassian spin in “Profit and Loss,” and John Colicos, Michael Ansara, and William Campbell are also great Klingons in homage to TOS in “Blood Oath.”

The problems that plagued Year 1 are still felt here in Round 2, definitely, and there is still a long way to go towards Trek greatness. However, with its tighter possibilities, budding promises and potential, and less reliance on its predecessors, Deep Space Nine Season 2 feels like a far, far better introduction to this series. Dare I say it, but those completely new to Trek may even forgo Season 1 altogether and begin fresh here.  Even in a feeling long season, there are only a handful of less than stellar episodes here to stall an audience, making Season 2 of Deep Space Nine a vast improvement over its rocky beginnings.

Summer Fantasy Fun

Fantasy Summer Fun

By Kristin Battestella

What better way to beat the heat than with a fanciful and adventurous eighties staycation?

Heavy Metal – Though the Heavy Metal 2000 sequel is decent, this 1981 anthology has all the action, sex, humor, scares, and heroism needed for a cult classic. Obviously, great music from the likes of Stevie Nicks, Journey, Cheap Trick, Blue Oyster Cult, Black Sabbath and more contributes to the beloved status. Vocal skills from John Candy (Who’s Harry Crumb?), Eugene Levy (American Pie), and Harold Ramis (Ghostbusters) lend weight to such memorable tales as “Den” and the stoning, far out “So Beautiful and So Dangerous”.  I love the zombies of “B-17,” for they are still scary to me after all these years.  There’s delightful everyman amid the fantastic treats with “Harry Canyon” and “Captain Stern,” too.  Sure, the framing story might be a bit thin, but the lovely, sweeping, and orchestral finale “Taarna” concludes it all in perfect fantasy fashion.  Some of the animation and design will look poorly or disjointed to audiences today thanks to multiple sources, directors, and techniques of the time. However, Heavy Metal was also ahead of its time then, and it’s still impressive overall. Besides, there’s something to be said for cartoons just for adults, too. This is a sexy, gross, slightly evil, and well-done collection.

Lovespell – Richard Burton (Cleopatra), Nicholas Clay (Excalibur), and Kate Mulgrew (Star Trek: Voyager) star in this somewhat obscure 1981 Tristan and Isolt tale. The old speaketh titles are tough to read onscreen, but lovely music, stunning locales, ancient castles, and appropriately early medieval costumes and décor set the mood perfectly.  This isn’t high knights and chivalry mockery, but the accents and period dialogue will be tough for some. There are no subtitles on the poor video release, either. Thankfully, Mulgrew is feisty and enchanting while Burton is somewhat jerky and overbearing, as expected. He also looks a bit too old for the super young Kate. However, who else could be the King of Cornwall? Both are perfectly cast to match their historical parts. Unfortunately, Clay’s inferior, weak Tristan hampers the picture. His poufy hair, lame delivery, droopy pouts, and soft focus scenes irrevocably date the film and take away from Burton’s more skilled presence.  The melodrama and love story elements are a bit simple, indeed, and such to die for love happens too, too fast before it all falls apart in the end.  The scale and story could have been tighter, but the period elegance is mighty entertaining for genre audiences or youthful, fanciful medieval fans. Though not a fantasy so much as a straight telling of the corresponding Arthurian legend, the magical charm wins here.

Somewhat Split

The Sword and the Sorcerer – Lee Horsley’s (Nero Wolfe, Paradise) 1982 yarn will certainly be entertaining for those who grew up on sword and sorcery pictures or audiences that like the eighties B fantasy style. One can take the humor and mistakes here and have a drinking game good time. There’s a lot of fun in the story and potential for more, too. Perhaps that’s while I feel so torn- this could have been something great and memorable like the Conan films or The Beastmaster.  Unfortunately, if you go into this picture in your right mind, everything ends up kind of a mess. Some plot points simply make no sense whatsoever, and the action is woefully slow motion nonsensical. There is hardly any of the titular evil sorcerer, nor enough medieval fantasy boobs for an R rating today. The bad dialogue has not stood the test of time, nor has Lee Horsley. I’m not even really sure why he’s that famous, yet everyone knows his name.  I’d give this finally available supposed sequel in spirit Tales of an Ancient Empire a chance, though- even if it is probably most of the same.

And a Recent Skipper

Your Highness – There’s no wit, bad dialogue, lots of course language, and plenty of flat jokes from the very big, well known cast here. James Franco (127 Hours) I swear is mocking us, but Natalie Portman (Black Swan) should have known better. Charles Dance (Game of Thrones) is on form, Damien Lewis (Band of Brothers) is a fun jerk, and Toby Jones (Frost/Nixon) is perfectly twisted. Unfortunately, the anachronisms, poor sex references, and a too over the top without the intelligence of Men in Tights focus ruin the quality production values, decent music, and goofy but good costumes.  Zooey Deschanel (New Girl) is cute, but somehow she’s still playing the same 21^st century quirky girl. The bad effects and singing are a no, and the cutting off the Minotaur’s penis thing just takes it all way too far. Medieval comedy can be done well, but not when one is either stoned in the making or needs to be stoned to watch.  And who the hell is Danny McBride?

 

Haywire

Haywire Imperfect but a lot of Fun

By Kristin Battestella

Former Marine and private operative Mallory Kane (Gina Carano) is on the run from her hit contractor boss Kenneth (Ewan McGregor) after a failed undercover mission with MI-6 agent Paul (Michael Fassbender) in which she was set up.  As if the global chase and alluding of the local authorities wasn’t bad enough, Spanish contact Rodrigo (Antonio Banderas) and the mysterious G-man Coblenz (Michael Douglas) are also playing sides on the double-crossing spy and mercenary intrigue. Who has framed Mallory? Whom can she trust? As fellow team member and one time lover Aaron (Channing Tatum) pursues Mallory, she races to prove her innocence. Now, if only she could keep her dad John (Bill Paxton) from worrying about the takedown.

Director Steven Soderbergh’s (Erin Brocovich, Traffic, Ocean’s Eleven) recent idea to place Mixed Martial Arts star Gina Carano as the female lead in his action thriller was indeed a smart, unique, and worth a look move. Haywire opens equal to this premise with an intense bar fight and continues the intrigue and spy pacing. Slow motion and black and white uses do add an edge to the fighting setup, but perhaps they are also overused just a bit. We’ve seem so many others cleverly slice and dice towards a badass action scene, and thus the audience expects a certain amount of over the top explosions or nonsensical rah rah thrill a minute something to look at faire. By contrast, Haywire’s action sequences are played in full scope with little dialogue, only faint music, and mostly diegetic sounds. Yes, this fine, heavy, realistic approach will seem dry to those expectant viewers thanks to dialogue problems and a confusing, thin script muddling the action. While it may be part of the point to not know who is who or what side they are on- Who are we to trust? Who is checking up on whom and really doing the two-timing? - some people and events are just seriously unclear.  Private contractors, freelancers, MI-6, corrupt governments- toss in a flashback timeframe and lux global locations and a viewer can get perplexed. It takes some figuring to realize the intercutting frame, and it can all seem tough to chew for a ninety minute yarn.  We aren’t used to this type of highbrow action attempt, after all.

Fortunately, wit, humor, and sardonic stars keep Haywire entertaining. Despite having no acting experience, this is very much Gina Carano’s film. She’s sassy, badass, and yet classy, and Carano does very well as a believable woman who can deliver the lines and the ass kicking. This isn’t Pamela Anderson in Barbed Wire with an itty bitty corset and strategically placed bubble bath.  Such an indulgent film has its purpose, sure; but the fact that Haywire doesn’t treat its heroine as such eye candy is refreshing. Mallory is most definitely capable of getting out of a screwed situation. Carano knows how to fight and no choreography cheats or tricks are taken onscreen. Yes, she’s sexy and attractive, but Mallory is a realistically fit and healthy woman molded more by her sarcasms, skill, and personality.  In fact, the character herself directly objects to being used for looks and arm candy in a dress. And yet does such sense of classic, hip, spy style stop Mallory from doing what needs to be done? Nope.  The audience knows Carano’s can still get beasty in this wardrobe, and it’s all the hotter that Mallory isn’t resorted to using feminine wiles. Although I’m not sure why they felt the need to alter Carano’s voice for the character in postproduction, it is very pleasing to see an actress who is really driving the car and doing a sweet job of it!  The viewer can forgive Haywire’s flaws because Mallory is easy to root for and Carano doesn’t come across as used and abused stunt casting.

As much as some male audiences or empowered female viewers will tune in to Haywire for Carano, there’s plenty of man fun here, too.  Ewan McGregor looks great as always, and he always looks different every time you see him.  His Kenneth is a bit of a weasel, something we may find unexpected after McGregor’s heroic turns in the Star Wars prequels or his vintage heavies like Trainspotting. But Obi-Wan does the sleaze quite smashingly here.  Kenneth is supposedly slick and operative cool, yet he can’t control Mallory or the double bait and switch operation.  He’s desperate, hanging on by a spy thread, and ends up a little under served by the script. McGregor does his best with what ultimately becomes fairly light material, but Kenneth should have been more. Where is the one on one reflection and betrayal and complete history with Mallory? The beachside fight with Carano is well done, even if it feels rushed and ultimately kind of silly.  He gets his foot stuck under a rock, really? McGregor and Michael Fassbender have one fun bar scene, but again, it’s not enough. And speaking of The Fass, his Paul appears too briefly about halfway thru Haywire. This MI-6 man has a hint of RP and looks totally Bondian, I must say.  Bond, Bond, Bond, Bond, Bond!  Paul has the badass equipment, swanky style, and most importantly, knows his own wicked and weaponry. Like his scene stealing turns in Inglourious Basterds and Prometheus, Fassbender’s handling of a cigarette, blowing the smoke, and taking a swig of whiskey makes the audience take notice. Paul’s every gesture and action is a crafty hint of something else in his espionage and subterfuge.  I don’t think he’s here for more than a half hour, but Fassbender’s character is critical in Mallory’s set up and may be the most entertaining man in Haywire. The melee between Carano and Fassbender brings a rough, sexy energy to the picture, and it genuinely looks like his day of work hurt. New lady Fass fans might be disappointed at his smaller appearance here, but die-hard gals will enjoy his “All yours” toweled and shirtless moment. And I must say, it is nice to have men being as disposable and mishandled as the usual Bond Girl types!

Unlike Fassbender’s allure, unfortunately, I can’t say Haywire benefits from the non-existent, dry, spaced out charisma of Channing Tatum. I know everyone is giggly over his and Soderbergh’s Magic Mike right now (How quickly audiences forget the oh so wonderful The Full Monty!) but I see no appeal in anything in which I’ve seen him thus far.  How has he not only lasted in Hollywood, but also gotten bigger? I’m totally miffed. Tatum should be Haywire’s second male lead after McGregor due to his early screen time. However, he’s just completely inferior to everyone else in the show.  The script doesn’t give this Aaron character much, granted, but Tatum’s outplayed by Carano’s zest and sparkle every time he’s onscreen. He drags everything down when he’s enters stage left, and Haywire needs its players’ appeal to keep the picture afloat. It’s the Keanu of Bram Stoker’s Dracula. There’s no reason to care about Aaron one way or the other, and the make out scene with Carano feels totally forced, shoehorned, and useless. The clothed fight scene with Fassbender is much more entertaining.

They aren’t that bad, but Michael Douglas (The Streets of San Francisco, there’s an obscure reference for you!) and Antonio Banderas (must I?) are too brief for their full on cool.  All they do is talk about what is supposed to happen or literally call each other on the phone to argue which is the boss and who’s doing the double talk and double crossing. It’s simply a real waste to have such stars essentially doing voiceovers.  There’s room for intrigue, but the audience expects more intensity ala Traffic, some wheeling, dealing, and face-to-face confrontations. Who wouldn’t love to see Michael Douglas chew out Ewan McGregor for a bit longer than 30 seconds? Haywire might have better served its ensemble had there been a complete road movie or physical chase aspect beyond the death threat by smartphone ploys. Soul searching Mallory cutting from location to location with the crisscrossed pursuers just one step behind. Do these people actually ever meet? When we have antagonists who don’t even see each other, it can leave the battle feeling a tad hollow. Bill Paxton has more to do as Mallory’s dad, but I’m just not ready to see him in such sitting back, fatherly roles. Are we not still watching Aliens and Twister?

Fortunately, the scoring and action fit Haywire’s chic Bond design.  The lighting, blue hues, over-saturated color, or soft candle light dresses the scenery as needed from location to location.  It’s all moody, well lit, and crafty- even if it also feels kind of low end and cheap at the same time.  We also don’t see much of those drive-by locations- just title cards saying where we are allegedly globe trotting.  It’s smart, if obvious. We’re jet setting without actually having any jet setting really taking place- though the Irish locales and snow scenery are sweet fun when we do get them.  Alas, I can’t say the same for those annoying blu-ray rental trailers.  Although the features seem short in comparison to other special video releases- behind the scenes on Carano’s training and MMA history and spotlights on all the boys- there isn’t really any need for more. The menu design and interface is also disagreeable and painful. Just to get to the subtitles was a confusing accomplishment!

Not all audiences or standard action fans will like the highbrow trade off from the expected standard beef action, but Haywire is a step up from the nineties pinnacle of bad action we secretly love.  Haywire wants to be upscale and thoughtful with Bourne edge or Lady Bond style. Sometimes it succeeds and other times it falls into Segal-esque trappings with under developed scripting and low budget, unfinished feelings.  Is Haywire that bad or a film waste? Certainly not.  Could it have been better? Yes.  Thanks to all the big names involved, some viewers will simply see a lot of disappointment.  As is, I’m not sure if there’s room for a Mallory Kane sequel but Carano deserves further film success.  Haywire concludes with an easy, fun ending, and though imperfect, it’s an entertaining escape. Take it for what it is and enjoy the ride as things go Haywire.  

Deep Space Nine Season 1

Deep Space Nine Season 1 is a Bit of a Hot Mess

By Kristin Battestella

Yes, many elite fans find the second Star Trek spinoff series Deep Space Nine to be superior Trek TV.  However, when the show first began in 1993, I found myself disinterested and never went back.  Now, we’ve decided to try this debut season again, and thus far, DS9 still has a lot- perhaps too many- growing pains.

Cardassia has finally withdrawn from its half-century occupation of the planet Bajor, and the Federation sends widowed Commander Benjamin Sisko (Avery Brooks) along with his son Jake (Cirroc Lofton) to the newly rechristened space station Deep Space Nine to ease the transition for former resistance fighter Major Kira Nerys (Nana Visitor) as Bajor rebuilds towards Federation membership.  Also along on the Federation’s frontier are newly reassigned from the Enterprise Chief Miles O’Brien (Colm Meaney) and a fresh out of the academy doctor, Lieutenant Julian Bashir (Siddig El Fadil).  Sisko’s old friend, a Trill named Dax (Terry Farrell), joins him as they discover the first known stable wormhole- a passage to the Gamma Quadrant created by aliens worshipped as prophets on Bajor.  Interstellar trade, tension, and exploration to the newly contacted region are only the beginning.

Whew! It all sounds magical and promising, I know. Unfortunately, the writing and storylines from longtime Trek producers Rick Berman, Michael Piller, Ira Stephen Behr, and their team are awfully slow and dry. There’s a feeling of busy space station happenings off screen- but the viewer gets to see a lot of Star Trek: The Next Generation filler instead.  At worst, it’s too much of TNG’s leftovers; at best, there are too many TNG déjà vu similarities.  It’s as if the direction and initial planning for Deep Space Nine is torn at the foundation. Yes, we want DS9 to attract Next Generation fans- the akin science fiction ideals and explorations are there of course. Out the gate, however, DS9 simply doesn’t have the allure.  Core characters here are too broadly written, with little more than their bland show profile information given.  Though interesting, the titular “Dax” feels like an inferior “Measure of a Man” trial, and “Q-Less” completely screws the fun out of prior Q appearances.  Likewise, Deep Space Nine’s built-in Bajoran and Cardassian nucleus feels barely touched upon except for the solid “Past Prologue”, “Duet”, and “In the Hands of the Prophets.”   Looking back, even the Trek crew admits the inferiority of this debut season, but it doesn’t take much to see it. Useless episodes like “Move Along Home”, “If Wishes were Horses”, and “Dramatis Persona” are dream/games/crew possessed and acting weird shows that do nothing to advance narratives or characters.  Of course, this format is nothing new in genre television and especially Trek. In fact, such unusual or diversionary bottle shows are often welcomed- but later in a series, when one can deviate from the firmly established source.  In this first season, how many people going wonky on a space station bottle shows can one have before the audience realizes we know nothing about the players? What’s going on on this space station and why should we care?  Perhaps “Babel” is the exception here, as it comes early enough in the season to show viewers how our players react in a crisis. Otherwise, the episodes themselves are uneven, imbalanced, or poorly planned depending upon which characters are leading the A and B storylines.  Some parts and players in some shows are better than others, creating a serious inconsistency.  In today’s desperate and changing television model, these 19 episodes would not have survived in syndication or on cable, much less prime time. DS9 stands up best when it sticks to its own budding Bajoran/Cardassian mythos, creates interesting characters on its station, and explores the unique SF concepts within those dynamics. It is quite ingenious that we’re supposed to see more politics, religion, spiritualism, disagreements, and confrontation on DS9 instead of the longstanding ideal Trekdom. So why is this first season deviating from its plans with funny filler knock offs every other episode?

Naturally, the cast is hampered by all this indecision.  Avery Brooks (Spencer for Hire) is the man, and yet Benjamin Sisko- a mere commander despite DS9’s increasing strategic importance- is meh. It’s surprising because we know Brooks can be so glorious, but Sisko is too dry, made too everyman and uninteresting somehow. Despite a lovely father and son dynamic, Cirroc Lofton as Jake Sisko is inexplicably barely there, too. Why are we not seeing this unique relationship if the show is about life on a space station? It is mostly juvenile adventure when we do see Jake, yes. Fortunately, he and Aron Eisenberg as the young Ferengi Nog are a lot of fun together. It’s not the annoyance of Wesley Crusher on TNG at all, and it’s as if the writers don’t know what to do with their players. Sure, Trek audiences already know and love Chief O’Brien, but Colm Meaney really only excels in “Captive Pursuit.” Otherwise, he’s the same old lovable Chief with lots of techno babble to do, and again, it is a little weird that a would-be lowly NCO has a barely there team for his pseudo chief engineer role on a space station. Likewise, one would presume his wife Keiko would be a major character on the show. But alas, Rosalind Chao is only a guest star, leaving Keiko more often than not just an on-camera dialogue reference. You would think there would be a lot of use for a botanist from the Enterprise to grow plants on a space station, but apparent not so on Deep Space Nine.

 Thankfully, Armin Shimerman (Buffy) as Ferengi bartender Quark and Rene Auberjonois (MASH) as the shape shifting head of security Odo know their characters’ unique complexity and bemusing antagonism.  Ferengi centric episodes like “The Nagus,” with Wallace Shawn (Clueless) as Zek, enlighten us with wit and otherwise new and unseen Ferengi intricacy and charm.  Though also fringing on a ‘Data esque’ feeling, “The Vortex” and “The Forsaken” are great Odo shows. He’s special, he’s crabby, he’s alone, and the seed is there for years of fine development. Unfortunately, I can’t say the same for Terry Farrell (Becker) as Trill Jadzia Dax and Siddig El Fadil (24) as Doctor Bashir.  We can forgive the changes to the Trill design, sure, but Dax isn’t very interesting beyond her spots. Seriously, she does almost nothing but sit in the same place and press buttons.  And Bashir, I must say, seems like a real jerk, even a quack.  He almost always doesn’t know what he’s doing, and nearly every case is something he has never dealt with before.  Really, how can a junior grade lieutenant be your only doctor anyway? Part of the stagnancy in DS9’s first season is simply that the undercooked players aren’t developed or even that likeable. Wild card Nana Visitor (Wildfire) as Major Kira is both annoying on her Bajoran high horse and layered with sympathy, anger, and pain.  Beyond “Progress” and “Duet,” however, too little time is spent with Kira’s history and wartime complexity. We know we’re supposed to like Bajor and hate Cardassia, but recurring guests Marc Alaimo (Hill Street Blues) as Gul Dukat and Andrew Robinson (Dirty Harry) as the supposedly simple tailor Garak add much more dimension.  Honestly, the audience wonders why they just aren’t regular characters.

Looking back on these early 1993 models and computer effects, any flaws are forgivable. The visuals are, in fact, just fine most of the time.  Unfortunately, the set design and costumes are woefully futuristic nineties dated.  I know it is meant to be a clunky Cardassian space station, but Deep Space Nine doesn’t look well.  The Promenade is supposed to be a bustling interstellar hub, but it’s kind of bland and underdone. Instead, Operations has a lot of cluttered and useless Cardassian design for the sake of it junk, and Quark’s Bar looks like a dated discothèque. Now that I think of it, we don’t really see that much of the eponymous station at all, much less Bajor or the Gamma Quadrant. Despite those uptight, unnecessarily belted and big shoulder pad Bajoran uniforms and all these new opportunities, what we see still looks decidedly Trek.  There’s not much stylistically to set Deep Space Nine apart, and I’m sorry, I have to say it, these credits are slooowwww. 

 

 Certainly, that lingering Trek feeling and TNG kinship is perfect for longtime fans and Trek enthusiasts tuning in for DS9’s debut. Die hard fans can begin anew and casual audiences can start with the galactic possibilities and Trek spirit. There are new hints of explorations to come, yes- though the presentation is uneven with directionless ill footing.  Except for its flaws, nothing much stands out this season for Deep Space Nine.  Were it on television now, it would be very easy to give up on this spinoff and change the channel. Truly, it isn’t rerunning on numerous cable channels like its two predecessors. However, now affordable DVD sets and Netflix streaming options combined with the shorter episode order here make it easy for a general SF fan or a new to Trek layman to give DS9 a whirl.  It gets messy before it gets good, but why not begin the beguine with Deep Space Nine.

Let's Make Love

Let’s Make Love Still Iffy

By Kristin Battestella

                  

This slightly notorious 1960 Marilyn Monroe musical has plenty of big name star power onscreen and off- not to mention Monroe’s undeniable charisma.  Unfortunately, Let’s Make Love is indeed infamous for all the wrong reasons.

International millionaire and playboy Jean Marc Clement (Yves Montand) is displeased to hear from his public relations representative Coffman (Tony Randall) that an upcoming New York play will lampoon his hoity toity image along with other celebrities.  When he goes to the theatre in protest, however, Clement is mistaken for an actor auditioning- and gets the job of parodying himself.  To make matters worse, Clement is smitten with the show’s lead Amanda Dell (Monroe).  He uses Coffman and all his multimillionaire resources to save the struggling show while wooing Amanda- but she’s seeing the play’s male lead, Tony (Frankie Vaughn).  Will Clement embrace his loosened up image and win Amanda’s heart?

Well, director George Cukor (My Fair Lady, The Philadelphia Story, A Star is Born) has his hands full with screenwriters Arthur Miller (The Crucible), Norman Krasna (White Christmas), and Hal Kanter (The Rose Tattoo) throwing what seems like a lot of leftovers at the screen.  If the talent here came to play, this would be awesome.  Instead, we start with an old, stale, and unnecessary opening montage giving the history of the Clement men.  They’ve been rich, international playboys for a long time yadda yadda. The back-story could have come in many faster ways, and this off putting start doesn’t hold up for today’s audiences. Actually, the whole opening and battle of the sexes underlining comes off as a poor man’s The Seven Year Itch; the start and stop journey of the characters is akin to The Prince and the Showgirl.  Let’s Make Love begins with a fun twist, yes. Unfortunately, the impersonation story is too common, pretentious, and eventually even asinine in some spots.  The script and pace are too patchy, and the scenes without Monroe drag completely. It’s ironic that her then husband Miller wrote in more scenes for Monroe, for we don’t really see her that much.  The conversations, near slapstick, and misunderstanding circumstances between the stars is pleasing initially, but the over long two hours and increasing focus on Clement’s subterfuge lessens the quality.  Is Let’s Make Love meant to be about the struggling show or Clement softening up? Too many mixed signals and confusion muddle the mishmash. This isn’t flashy enough to be a show-stopping musical, but it’s too dry and wannabe melodramatic to be a comedy. If it’s a romance, then the love triangle is way out of whack.

Fortunately, Marilyn Monroe enters Let’s Make Love thirteen minutes in and lightens the air with “My Heart Belongs to Daddy.” The breathless delivery and leggy routine sets her apart, both in spite of and perhaps because of that simple baggy sweater and black tights ensemble.  It’s flattering yet still cashmere alluring- unlike Ann-Margaret in Viva Las Vegas, which I swear looks like she forgot her pants! Less than two years before Monroe’s death, viewers might think her personal troubles would hurt her performance, but not in the numbers here.  Truly, she looks very pretty, kind, and approachable- not an unreachable, dumb goddess. This struggling actress and student just got out of bed un-styled look further helps Monroe make men go down like dominoes. And when she takes that sweater off!  What is that- a body stocking?  I don’t see the weight talk surrounding Let’s Make Love. She looks classy and most importantly, real. Of course, there is retreading towards Monroe’s usual dumb blonde singing types. However, Mandy is given a bit more intelligence and meaning on a few new topics and is even getting her diploma.  We’re treated to a knitting Marilyn Monroe, a genuinely innocent- not kitten- and unashamed of the poor acting life minister’s daughter. Naturally, we are going to like her more than Jean Marc Clement and his deceptions. Granted, Monroe does seem tired or unmotivated in some of the later scenes, and I’m not sure about that green bodysuit.  Considering this script though, who knows what’s going on? Mandy begins as a very smart, inspiring girl with talent, plans, and dreams- and then…nothing.

Swanky, swanky, Yves Montand (Wages of Fear) has the chic. He looks good in a real suit, holds a cigarette in that oh so suave way, and generally carries himself with a European grace, pimpity, and class that can’t be matched by today’s surfer boy ‘actors’. Unfortunately, it will be tough for some contemporary audiences to see past his French accent, and he’s simply all wrong for Let’s Make Love.  He looks too old and mismatched for Monroe- but she seemed to like that sort of thing, indeed.  Even when making a joke or attempting to be casual, Clement feels too pompous and out of touch. It doesn’t feel amusing within the film and to Americans today, this dude still has a lot of loosening up to do! His initial mistaken identity at the theater is funny, but it changes to asinine once Clement claims to be a simple man who happens to be named Alexandre Dumas.  His deception is not one of necessity or endearing ala Tootsie- he’s just trying to protect his reputation and manipulate an entire cast of people in his favor.  Mandy’s “I’m a louse” mocking of Clement is spot on. Is it the writing or Montand?  Clement’s meant to be wooden, but one wonders if the originally planned dashing Mr. Gregory Peck learning the err of his ways wouldn’t have been better. Clement objects to being called a liar, but he clearly is one who literally brings in guest stars Milton Berle, Bing Crosby, and Gene Kelly to help him shape up! It doesn’t create any sympathy when Clement tries to come clean.  In fact, the viewer just wants to fast forward to the big numbers. Otherwise, Let’s Make Love is supposed to be two hours of a guy manipulating, deceiving, and cruelly revealing his scheme for a woman? WTF?  Frankie Vaughn (The Lady is a Square) fairs little better, with his “Hey You with the Crazy Eyes” Tony Denton spotlight feeling more like a poor, poor man’s Dean Martin.  His hanging all over Monroe also ruins “Specialization.”  Tony Randall (The Odd Couple, Pillow Talk) as Clement’s everyman press man Coffman is very bemusing and could have been a great sardonic sidekick where we know he is very capable. Unfortunately, he steadily disappears for the supposed revelations of Clement and the purported heart of Let’s Make Love.

 

Thankfully, the early sixties New York penthouses, fun global décor, richy rich art, and high life visuals looks smashing! The posh music and ironic jazz scoring is nice as well, with cabaret styled choreography to match the spiffy stage coloring and lighting designs.  Let’s Make Love is traditionally styled as a musical, yes, yet there are wonderful hints of something more hep cat than showboat.  There’s lyrical wit and a kinky touch to it all, and the possibilities are again scarified for, well, I don’t know what.  The dance routines lag by the middle of the picture, and the premise of the play spoofing Elvis and the like isn’t actually that good when we see the show within a show design and cumbersome moving sets.  Some of Monroe’s costumes also seem unusual choices. Though barely there and lovely, her silver dress doesn’t seem to fit, nor the inexplicable corset. Fortunately, the pink and white breezy sheer number and the fantasy montage for the catchy titular rendition are perfect.  At last some charm and tune from both stars, but she’s going to poke his eye out with that dress!  

The DVD subtitles will be a must for some in understanding Montand, but onscreen dialogue won’t help solve the many mixed signals in Let’s Make Love. This is good for fans of the cast or classic film audiences who like mid century bed pillows type films.  Otherwise, there’s not much reason to look any deeper into this potentially special musical comedy that ended up not well done, without a lot of musical, not that much funny, and too much seriousness.

Terminal Station/Indiscretion of an American Wife

Conflicted by Indiscretion of an American Wife- or was that Terminal Station?

By Kristin Battestella

All right, I confess it. Not all of Montgomery Clift’s films are award-winning classics of American cinema.  Whether it goes by Terminal Station or Indiscretion of an American Wife, this one has its share of faults, indeed. Try not to get too confused.

American housewife Mary (Jennifer Jones) is leaving Rome and her month long romance with Giovanni (Clift). Though her home life was not perfect, she can’t imagine leaving her young daughter behind to grow up without her.  Will this ill-conceived affair create a scandal at home? Despite their whirlwind and turbulent indiscretion, can Giovanni let Mary go?

Although both versions of director Vittorio De Sica’s  (Shoeshine, The Bicycle Thief) 1953 tale feel too short, the just over an hour American Release entitled Indiscretion of an American Wife is an edited mess. This is in my mind a better title, but there’s no time to be truly vested in Truman Capote’s (hello) purported adaptation from frequent De Sica writer Cesare Zavattini’s story. The action is smartly confined in and around the titular train station, and the turbulent love fairs somewhat better in the ninety-minute international edition, yes. Unfortunately, the supporting family scenes and side characters are unnecessary in such a short time, and the mish-mashed interference from Jennifer Jones pimp/producer David O’Selznick feels like a cruel joke on what could have been a fine, if bent romance.  Yes, Terminal Station is longer and better, but it still falls prey to Jones’ miscasting and the jaded thoughts of the botched Indiscretion cut up. Indeed, I love Monty and loathe Jones, and I freely admit my bias and disdain here. However, it’s as if the two leads have been spliced together after the fact from two different films. Hehe, one in Terminal Station and the other in Indiscretion of an American Wife, perhaps? Clift creates a destructive modern relationship with a fun to watch but disturbed and conflicted male. In poor contrast, Jones is trapped in a sappy fifties romance and comes off as an unsatisfied bitch. Which is it supposed to be? Thus is Terminal Station’s conundrum, and neither version fully provides an answer. Selznick attempts to create some cheesecake with a heart of gold for his new lady, but the ruined focus on Jones in Indiscretion of an American Wife is simply inferior to the full length, rough, and almost too depressing Terminal Station.  I think Indiscretion of an American Wife is meant to be eye popping and scandalous instead. The irony is that with all fifties cuts and convictions, we don’t even get to see the actual indiscretion! How can the audience know or care when the incident is so edited that it ends up more confusing than saucy?   

 

 

Fortunately, any fan of Montgomery Clift can find at least some saving grace here. Clift made sixteen films in a 20-year span and was nominated for an Academy Award four times in that period- The Search, A Place in the Sun, From Here to Eternity, and Judgment at Nuremberg. Although he never won a major award, that averages to an Oscar nominated performance every four films. Who has that kind of steady, quality consistent output today? Not the contemporary folks churning out five or six studio bankrupting comedies for 10 or 15 million dollar salaries! With such a classic track record, I suppose we can forgive Monty for the mess that is Indiscretion of an American Wife.  Even with a performance created in the editing room, a convoluted script, and no time or support to help him, Clift’s not that bad.  In fact, he’s just dandy.  Sure, Italian quips and a name like Giovanni Diora don’t make us think Clift. However, his pent up, confused, and no less passionate lead is intriguing to watch nonetheless.  Oh, a man all tied up and conflicted over a woman!  It could be a painful, clichéd, and dry performance, but Indiscretion of an American Wife can be redeemed so long as the camera stays on Clift.  When Giovanni says he’s learned what wanting is, we damn well believe him.  He speaks sternly enough, with strong, direct statements. Clift doesn’t need to shout, yet remains just above a whisper.  It’s a tormented and awkward relationship, yet for better or worse, Giovanni isn’t afraid to show his love in that angry man way.  It’s mental, alluring, asinine, and sympathetic all rolled into one- and it’s all delivered smashingly by Clift.

  And then, there’s Jennifer Jones.  She turns her back on her family and her lover. Which does she want? Who knows? Who cares? Right from her opening frantic running away, Mary jars the audience. She’s supposed to be an endearing, classy fifties woman buying dresses for her daughter, yet we’re also meant to believe this sweet, wonderful woman is responsible for the whole eponymous drama!  She’s running from Giovanni and has screwed up at home, and the portrayal is beyond a wishy-washy woman who can’t make up her mind. Mary gets her thrills and hates herself.  Is the audience supposed to root for her escape or loathe her scandalous ways?  Our time is short as it is, and the character’s motivations are muddled at best.  Jones does nothing to make us care about Mary’s morals or ambiguity either way. Could a better actress have done more? Perhaps.  Did the on-set drama, personal turmoil, and post production busy help? Nope. Mary’s such a saint and good woman, but can we believe a good woman would be involved in such an unseen torrid love affair? Terminal Station is trying to build conflict, but Indiscretion of an American Wife attempts some sort of pale Scarlett O’Hara charm.  I’m just a housewife who’s an emancipated American woman!  I’m not that imaginative and would rather be home with my husband who’s like a small boy!  Huh?  At some point, the viewer wonders why any man would be with this train wreck lady. This female character imbalance ruins what could have been a fine and twisted vignette. Let us see the dang depression of it all, Selznick! Otherwise, what’s the point?

 

Thankfully, the Oscar nominated Christian Dior early fifties fashions, furs, hats, and sharp suits are the perfect mid European time capsule.  There are a few bullet bras, too. Though black and white, the Rome locations and Italian signage are lovely. The foreign dialogue, however, might make Station Termini tough for some audiences. The sweeping romantic crescendos and melodramatic zooms are on the fifties over the top bad side, too.  Stereotypical Italian male portrayals can be irritating as well. These men are always beating their wives, and on some viewings, I find it rather offensive. Although there are times when I’d like to backhand Jones, too- but then I sound just as bad as Indiscretion of an American Wife. I feel like I’ve been hateful and all over the place in this essay- tackling two very different versions of one peculiar film. Unfortunately, there seems to be too many poor, confusing, and extreme choices surrounding Terminal Station and/or Indiscretion of an American Wife. Whatever you call it or whichever version you see, the could have been pictures, performances, and polarizing cast make this one largely for Clift completists and Jones lovers. Though film students and classic scholars can enjoy the Criterion video edition with both versions in comparison, this one is not an introduction piece.  Can Terminal Station still be enjoyed for Clift despite the bitter taste left by Jones and the Indiscretion of an American Wife cut up?  I believe so.  But you have to really, really like him.

Madhouse and Theatre of Blood

Madhouse and Theatre of Blood A Twisted Good Time!

By Kristin Battestella

Give me an excuse like a would-be 101^st birthday to watch some more Vincent Price!

In the 1974 murder and mayhem tale Madhouse, Price is Paul Toombes, the aging star of the Dr. Death horror movies penned by Toombes’ longtime friend and former actor Herbert Flay (Peter Cushing). Flay has coaxed Toombes out of semi retirement for a new television show produced by the sleazy Oliver Quayle (Robert Quarry). Unfortunately, the suspicious murder of Toombes’ young fiancée and the time he spent institutionalized thereafter continues to haunt ‘Dr. Death’.  Cast and crewmembers on his new series are soon found dead in copycat crimes styled from the Dr. Death films, and Toombs slowly succumbs to a returning mental instability. Can he solve the crafty murders nonetheless? Is he the killer or Dr. Death’s next victim?

Oscar winning editor turned director Jim Clark (The Killing Fields, The Innocents) opens Madhouse with a fun use of footage from The Haunted Palace, solid pre-title festivities, and a juicy crime. In many ways, Clark’s crafty editing experience is perfect for the task at hand. The visual blending of Price’s earlier AIP films, old production photos, nods to other film work, and their intercutting use for this Amicus co-production wonderfully establishes Madhouse’s neat premise. Where does the actor Toombes’ reality end and the fictional killer persona of Dr. Death begin? Are we watching a film about Toombs or the Dr. Death TV show? Did these two great titans of horror “need the work” onscreen and off perhaps? This sly touch of dark comedy and ability to laugh at one’s genre comes across beautifully, and the intermingling with killer viewpoints, seventies zooms, and extreme angles keeps the lines between actuality and stability appropriately askew. It’s not overdone as we lay it on today- there’s just the right amount of stylized play within a play identities, illusions, and good fun.  After all, we’re seeing a horror show within a horror film supported by clips of other horror movies like The Raven, Tales of Terror, and The Pit and the Pendulum.  Madhouse doesn’t take itself so seriously, and neither should we. One should probably be a fan of Big V’s film catalog to appreciate such shrewd killer use of stock footage, yes.  The seventies mixing and sixties styles will seem dated- even obvious in revealing the killer as the picture goes on. The more that you think about the scenes of the crimes; plot holes and confusions become apparent, indeed.  Fortunately, the traditional horror film design, tight photography, and simple smoke and mirrors work their best. The death scenes are first-rate, with creative uses of the set within set themes. The film splicing, fade ins and outs, and great uses of sounds effects and screams from both within the used footage and the film itself create a complete drive-in or late night film experience.  I’m not sure that the title has to do with anything, and the logistics of Madhouse’s inept Scotland Yard men will make your head hurt if you think too hard on it, but who cares?

Naturally, Our Man Price is the classy old pimp we expect, oh yes. He begins Madhouse as a suave Hugh Hefner-esque silver fox with young Bond Girl blonds abound.  Today we might expect this sexy mismatch in horror, but it’s a true guilty pleasure to see Toombes taking down the dames here. Although Price plays the degrading sanity seriously, there are hints of that over the top innuendo and tongue planted firmly in cheek design. Certain scenes are both personal parody and honest homage to his earlier scaries, and we’re meant to enjoy the self-reverent ride.  It’s as if the character of Dr. Death is more alive that the aptly named Toombs.  He’s older, sympathetic- we feel for this terrorized former star- yet the Dr. Death scenery is no less suspicious or sinister in quality.  Besides, many viewers would presume Price himself was spooky onscreen and off, creating another blur between the actors and personas within Madhouse. These dual imageries and creepy soliloquies create quite a haunting portrayal indeed.

At only ninety minutes, fellow horror mavens Peter Cushing (must I?) and Robert Quarry (Count Yorga, Vampire) don’t get too much time to steal the show, but their spooky support is spot on nonetheless. Cushing is so suave, a slick, classy ex-actor turned writer that’s almost too good a friend to be true. Likewise, Quarry is the perfect greasy television executive looking for dames and dollars.  Both men also wear vampire costumes at a celebrity party- again playing on the theme with Quarry’s Yorga and Cushing’s Helsing personas. Basil Rathbone and Boris Karloff are credited for their stock footage uses, which is kind of strange but also a fitting tip of the hat for the bent reality that is Madhouse. Natasha Pyne (Father Dear Father) is also an interesting and unexpected touch as TV assistant Julia.  Blonde and seemingly insignificant like the other ladies, but again, nothing in Madhouse is what it seems.

Adrienne Corri (A Clockwork Orange) is also wonderfully disturbed and loads of fun.  Those spiders of hers, shudder! Madhouse looks both swanky with modern mid-century design and Old Hollywood with fallen graces and decrepit sets. The creepy British locales add on lots of candles, statues, and spooky gardens. Old film projectors, flat phonographs, eerie sixties scoring, ironic music cues sang by Price himself, and a few scary storms layer the frame within a frame nostalgia nicely. Hip London cars, debonair accents, mod turtlenecks and ascots add some flair, too. Not to be outdone of course, 1973’s Theatre of Blood sets its scene with demented and dirty vintage London locations.  Believed dead after his suicide attempt, Edward Lionheart uses thespian facades and Shakespearean inspiration to seek revenge on the critics association who denied him ongoing review praise and their top year-end award.  Inspector Boot (Milo O’Shea, Romeo and Juliet) and the police question Lionheart’s daughter Edwina (Diana Rigg) as one by one Horace Sprout (Arthur Lowe), Chloe Moon (Coral Browne), and the rest of their circle meet their theatrical ends. Will critic Peregrin Devlin (Ian Hendry) be able to stop the deranged actor and his meth drinking street troupe before he’s Lionheart’s next victim?

 Unfortunately, the low and uneven voices- it seems like no one’s microphones worked- create a poor and dated feeling for Theatre of Blood.  If you’re expecting high horror production, the wasted, worn, and depressing dressings can look like a sub par play made on the cheap. Compared to the whimsical homage of Madhouse, Theatre of Blood appears more like a straight crime thriller; and in some ways, I wish it did have some deserving, grandiose, even gaudy psychedelic Corman color.  Longer at almost 1 hour 45 minutes, director Doug Hickox (Brannigan) works with the similar themes of fallen actors, stage facades, play within a play styling, and flashback frameworks. The fun, ye olde silent film opening credits montage suggests the dark humor that is to come, too.  However, Theatre of Blood feels slow to start, with standard stuffy Brit types and more bungling policemen who shockingly don’t realize the Shakespearean connections to the crimes. Some of the foreboding is obvious as well, and revenge kinship to The Abominable Dr. Phibes is evident.  The editing and cutting styles do build suspense, but some of the early death scenes aren’t as theatrical as they could be. The first hour’s melodrama lacks creativity, and these deadly theatre politics can seem too pompous and dry to be believed.  All this just because they gave him a few bad reviews and no trophy?

Theatre of Blood isn’t that scary and feels hollow enough for those expecting a major horror film to tune out.  We always see Lionheart in character and don’t get the essential pieces to his motivation until flashback exposition later in the picture.  Frankly, these lovely over the top establishments should have been the opening to Theatre of Blood, and the poor choice to stick character importance so late can even create some player confusion.  Thankfully, there’s a great ironic use of classic music, and what may appear to be a bland and dark tale slowly builds into a farcical delight. The fun here is in guessing who is going to die next and in what Shakespearean method.  The abnormal build up to the humor, farce, and intentionally exaggerated theatrics increase masterfully as Theatre of Blood goes on, complete with wit, panache, and a hysterical Othello twist.  The low values and weak start may seem like a faulty execution not worth the viewing, yes. Theatre of Blood does take half of the picture to get to it, indeed. Fortunately, once it does step up the mayhem, Theatre of Blood does so wholeheartedly- literally!    

I would say these reduced budget faults necessitate a proper nuHammer remake- if not for the simply irreplaceable Vincent Price that is!  Lionheart begins white haired and crazy- an entertaining, once upon a time high thespian with a marked disconnection from reality.  Some of the makeup is iffy, but most of the disguises are great genius. Price’s voice, position, and stature may give him away, but the joy is in seeing what warped Bard plan he has next. The demented Shakespearean soliloquies are- I must pun- Priceless.  We shouldn’t doubt that Big V could do a straight high-class film by any means, but his pseudo Shakespeare intensity steps up as Theatre of Blood goes on.  The multi-layered performance is laced with wit, sadness, class, and sociopathic grace.  Oh, the sweeping music and forehead dabs as the faux doctor goes to work!  Price is clearly having fun with this man of a thousand faces gone awry, and you can see why this is one of his personal favorite performances.  Love it or hate it, Theatre of Blood is almost worth the ‘Price of admission’ just for the kinky Othello scene!  I mean, he even sports a fake afro- Bob Ross meets Carrot Top, anyone?  Yes, I’ll say it- that burgundy velvet pimp suit is to die for!  Price’s nuanced and well faceted portrayal is both spot on and perfectly ironic. I love the Inspector’s “It’s not a comedy!” claim right before an Austin Powers-esque inept police pursuit and the simply exceptional Titus serve-uppance.  Oh, yes.

 

She’s up to the challenge and Diana Rigg (The Avengers) looks good, of course; but we don’t see her prettied up much for Theatre of Blood.  Her “amateur actress” Edwina begins dry as well, with some seemingly unimportant playful seduction. Fortunately, her position as the good daughter becomes more ingenious as Lionheart’s plans unfold. There’s not a lot of the famous Emma Peel innuendo to bounce off, naturally, as we have no overt attempt for a sexy young thang here.  Rigg fans, however, will certainly enjoy her almost see through white mini skirt and sans bra potential.  The victimized cast- including future Mrs. Price Coral Browne (Auntie Mame), Arthur Lowe (Dad’s Army), Ian Hendry (Get Carter), Robert Morley (The African Queen), and the rest of the somewhat interchangeable critics – create a very uptight, pompous, and annoying board, indeed. That is partly the point of their latent villainy- they’re asses- but not all of their motivations are explained. We can hate them one by one or enjoy their deaths because we are bemused by Price as Lionheart. Otherwise, the critics aren’t that interesting in themselves, and the audience isn’t given much reason to care.  Perhaps there’s supposed to be another level of sinful humor or irony at work- that would be the opposite of the meaningless, unending buffet of blondes and bosoms usually being diced up in horror film today. However, the secondary support in Theatre of Blood just comes off as too lightweight and underdeveloped. The be-furred meth drinking hepcats working with Lionheart are also just too stupid and weird; the flashback explaining their presence comes too late.  Although, I do confess, I did fall for one of Theatre of Blood’s now fairly obvious twists on my first viewing!

Uninhibited Shakespeare fans can have a jolly good tongue in cheek viewing with Theatre of Blood, indeed. Study how the seventies deaths mirror the plays, or test up on Bard Quotes and Know Your Will games. It may see meandering to start and too low quality for anything to matter, but this one is definitely worth the viewing investment. The Netflix streaming subtitles are absolutely necessary in catching all of Price’s stage glory, and a dual DVD edition of Madhouse and Theatre of Blood is available for further warped comparisons. Yes, longtime horror viewers will spot the errors in Madhouse and some predictable twists in Theatre of Blood- some audiences may even be confused by the witty, double play finale in Madhouse or Blood’s OTT ending.  Nevertheless, classic horror and kitschy Price fans can delight in the solid mystery fun and thespian mayhem in both Madhouse and Theatre of Blood.