The Pit (1962)

 "Morte!"

This is a fascinating litle curiosity, a short, thirty minute film made for the British Film Institute as an artistic experiment, one which leads me to wonder whether much else like this may exist from the period. It is, of course, an adamptation of Poe's The Pit and the Pendulum. And, while short, it is perhaps the finest I've seen. Roger Corman this is not.

Aside from the wonderfully darker ending, this is actually a pretty faithful adaptation of the short story. The film abounds with disturbing sounds and screams, but dialogue is almost non-existent. Monochrome, textured, the extraordinary setting shot with great atmosphere from such brilliant angles, with wonderful use of light... we really feel the prisoner's terror, as every night he sleeps in his cell to await to further fear and peril, knowing that, ultimately, he's just being cruelly toyed with. Ultimately, he is doomed. Brian Peck conveys his understated sheer terror to perfection.

The visuals are superb, the inquisitors utterly, existentially terrifying, and those horrible bells are still tolling in my mind. Short this may be, but it's well worth a look. this is the perfect encapsulation of why short films need to exist. Who has time for too much plot when you can have sheer, atmospheric terror?

The Roaring Years (1962)

 "I'm teetotal, but I'll take a sip..."

This is, perhaps, a timely film to watch now that the current government of Italy, led by Giorgia Meloni, are literal fascists. It is sadly necessary to remind ourselves that such things, and such politicians, must not be tolerated. And satirical humour is a perfect way to do this. The fascist, after all, has no sense of humour. How else could they march around in such ridiculous ways?

We begin with footage of Mussolini, followed by a Nuremberg rally. It is 1937; Italian fascism is at its height. there then follows a farce, based on Gogol's "The Government Inspector", in which the notables of the town all mistakenly assume that a young, enthusiastically Fascist insurance salesman is an incognito inspector. The farce works perfectly, both as light comedy and a deeper, more excoriating examination of the kind of man who ends up in positions of authority in societies like this- corrupt, pathetic, with not one ounce of integrity or public spirit.

Nino Manfredi's... protagonist (a Fascist cannot be a hero, however honest) learns some hard truths about human nature, and perhaps there's hope for him: in the final scenes, he gives up the vice of teetotalism. Perhaps there's hope for him yet. And what drives him to this is the reality of the horrors of poverty while corrupt officials live it up. Alas, his honesty loses him the girl. She's not worth it. One must demand moral integrity in a life partner.

Made just seventeen years since the errant Duce was strung up on that lamp post, this film would have hit close to the bone. It depicts many of the absurdities of the era, not least the bachelor tax, or the October 28th tradition of commemorating the march on Rome by locking up dissidents for a day or two... while being really apologetic, civilised, and ensuring said dissidents were well supplied with good food and good wine. 

Carry On Cruising (1962)

 "He's one of the biggest bull shippers in the business."

Well, there are a lot of Carry On films. They can't all be good.

I suppose this is a transitional film in some ways. It's the first in the series to be made in colour, most obviously. It's 1962. The Sixties haven't exactly started swinging yet, but perhaps there's something in the air. We are, as Philip Larkin put it, between the end of the Chatterly ban and the Beatles' first LP. So we have, I suppose, a few tentative steps in the direction of the naughty humour for which the films will soon become known. Very tentative steps, mind.

Unfortunately, the film just isn't very good. Charles Hawtrey's absence doesn't help, but the script just isn't as funny. And the format is tired, worryingly similar to the film's recent predecessors. Sid James is stuck in another straight role as a captain having to cope with members of his crew being replaced by incompetent newcomers, a familiar format. This both wastes James' talents and is worryingly repetitive.

The main performances can't be faulted. Kenneths Williams and Connor are superb, as is Liz Fraser/ Esma Cannon, again, is an inspiration. But some of the more second string performers aren't bringing much to the party. Worst of all, the jokes just aren't as good. This is more of a straight farce than previous films, almost but not quite in the usual style.

Still, I suppose we're bound to get the occasional dud. Here's hoping the next one will be better.

The Man in the High Castle by Philip K. Dick

 I’ve never read a novel by Philip K. Dick before, despite having knowingly seen at least three films based on his work. This is a highly impressive introduction to his work, a novel as thoughtful as it is imaginative.

The fact that one should not perhaps look to closely at the realism of the alternative history presented here in no way harms the nov: sleight of hand is an honourable technique. And the world presented here, where the Axis won the war and split the former USA between them, is compelling and three dimensional.

Germany and Japan are slowly slipping into a rivalry, inevitable with the Nazis’ fundamental and horrifying racism, with the Holocaust having been extended to an African genocide, with others implied. The Japanese are presented sympathetically, despite the awkwardly contemporary hints that they merely imitate others’ cultural products, rather than create. They have culture, feeling, and that nebulous thing called creativity. The Nazis, by contrast, are a society with no culture or humanity whatsoever, a dark and empty dead end. They have put a man on Mars, joylessly, yet television is only now being rolled out. And now, it is implied, they are slowly gaining the upper hand which may result in nuclear Holocaust of Japan.

Yet this is told through real, human characters such as a Jewish craftsman, a German spy and a Japanese businessmen, with an oddly fascinating sting subplot about the forgery of antiques. There is a lot of thoughtful musing on the nature of art and morality through the medium of Eastern religious philosophy, most of which is lost on this godless reader. But the novel is full of wonderful little touches, with the mental universe of this world feeling thoroughly thought through.

Best of all is Dick’s nicely self-abnegating articulation of the death of the author, as his counterpart within the novel, the creator of the novel within the novel, explains that he was simply the medium for a novel that wrote itself. It’s a clever, challenging, perfect ending to a novel which deliberately resists the concept of arbitrary endings. A superb novel.

La Jetee (1962)

 "The victors stood guard over a kingdom of rats..."

I watched this film tonight because I watched Twelve Monkeys a few days ago, as this film is cited as a strong influence- and, of course, it's one of the most admired short films ever made, with good reason..

The word "inspiration" is a considerable understatement, I think: I'm in two minds myself over whether or not Twelve Monkeys ought to be considered a remake. Yet the film is a masterpiece in its own rights regardless. The still photographs, and the masterful ways they bleed into one another, perfectly encapsulate the theme of both the emotions and subjectivity of memory, dependent as it is on still, lingering images.

The narration is extraordinary, too. I'll confess to being less than quite fluent in French, although I can speak the language up to a point, but the prose was beautiful in translation and even more poetic in the original French.

This is, I suppose, at once very French and very Atomic Age science fiction, with its mushroom cloud and post-apocalyptic dystopia, yet both the time travel romance (the couple's relationship reminds me of The Time Traveller's Wife) and the future weirdness are brilliant. And the twist at the denoument is done with such admirable elegance.

If you haven't seen it, it's less than half an hour long, and easy to find.

Premature Burial (1962)

 "I don't enjoy life. I merely experience greater or lesser degrees of tedium."

I haven't seen any of Roger Corman's Poe films for quite a while. This is mainly because there aren't many left to blog and I don't want to end up with none left. This one, while its reputation is solid enough, is not much talked about. 

Well, it's brilliant. From a short story by Poe with very little incident it takes the concept of premature burial itself, the idea of catalpesy making one appear dead; and the horrible irony of the fear of premature burial causing said catalepsy. But little else is taken from Poe, mainly because there isn't much else; Poe's brilliance is in his prose.

So, instead, we have the character of Guy, loosely based on the short story's narrator (Ray Milland does a decent job but the role, alas, is one that Vincent Price was born to play. And, for once in a Corman Poe fim, he doesn't.) and a delightfully gothic, obviously studio-bound setting, which quite rightly prefers the gothic and macabre over the realistic. This is a world where the weather, the Technicolor lighting, the shapes of the trees, all are carefully arranged in order to maximise the gothic eeriness.

More than this, though, the plot is awfully clever. We spend the early scenes building u the tension and enjoying the facr that, as this is shot and scripted the way it is, Guy will be buried alive in the end. We expect the whole film to be predictable... and yet the plot is awfully clever, with multiple twists at the end that are all the more effective for the fact the film gave no indication that any twists would be forthcoming.

Oh, and Alfred from the Adam West Batman series (look at the pages on the right) has easily the best line.

King Kong vs Godzilla (1962)

"Don't blame them if their god eats you both..."

I know it's midweek, but we've eaten and washed up early, so there's time for the next Godzilla film- the first in colour- and this one not only picks right up from where we left off but co-stars the most famous cinematic beast of all: King Kong.

It's an oddly comedic film, with the usual comedy heroic duo out-slapsticked by their absurd boss, but this approach works in a film which was always going to subsist as a piece of low camp at its most loveable. The costumes obviously have men inside, the tanks are obviously models, and it's amusing so see the camera pan slowly around an electrical substation later on, confirming via the grammar of such films that the substation will later be destroyed in exciting fashion.

We begin with parallel plotlines as an expendable American nuclear submarine awakens Godzilla and is quickly destroyed, while our comedy heroes investigate that island from King Kong for reasons which are said to relate to the advertising of pharmaceuticals but make no sense whatsoever.

The island is a pretty good copy of the 1933 original except, of course, that the "natives" are all Japanese extras in blackface. Oh dear. There's also a very silly scene in which the island chief is amused by a transistor radio as our comedy heroes give out free cigarettes to all and sundry, including a little kid. Oh dear.

There are plenty of exciting set pieces, including an inconclusive early battle between the two monsters where Kong is sent running. Kong also gets a pretty girl to snatch out of a rail carriage  and take to the top of a building, as he's contractually obliged to do. Plenty of model tanks again appear and poor old Tokyo, which can't have been rebuilt for very long, is trashed once more.

We end with a suitably epic clash ending up with Kong swimming home, as Godzilla's fate remains uncertain. That was... pretty much exactly as you'd expect, and good fun,

Sherlock Holmes and the Deadly Necklace (1962)

"I have only one ambition at the moment: to see you hanged."

Christopher Lee playing Sherlock Holmes; sounds fantastic, doesn't it? Thorley Walters as Watson? Terence Fisher directing? Why, that sounds amazing, right?  What could possibly go wrong?

What we have here is essentially The Valley of Fear with a bit of Moriarty stuff and a heist tacked on the end. It's an odd approach but it could have worked. Thing is, though, this was filmed in West Berlin with a German cast, and dubbed back into English so we don't even get Lee's voice. We see him playing Holmes... but we don't really experience it. It's so frustrating.

Worse, all the dubbing is awful, with ridiculous trans-Atlantic accents; the first thing we hear is a bunch of very American-sounding kids. And then there's the setting, and especially the cars- this seems to be set in about 1914 when the novel was written, whereas in fact Holmes was pretty much active (barring the very specific circumstances of The Lion's Mane and His Last Bow) from the early 1880s until about 1903. The cars feel wrong and jarring.

Lee's physical performance is ok, from what I can see; Walters is, I'm afraid, the bumbling type of Watson. The plot is engaging enough, but the whole thing is shot very flat and often feels am-dram with much of the acting. But the dubbing, in the end, makes it impossible to take the film seriously. You thought Dick Van Dyke's cockney accent was bad? Wait until you see Holmes in disguise here...

A real shame.

The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance (1962)

"I'm staying. And I'm not buying a gun either."

I don't know too much about Westerns; unless you count the ones by Akira Kurosawa I've only seen The Magnificent Seven, A Fistful of Dollars and Back to the Future Part III, and the first two of those were many years ago. But The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance has made a huge impression on me. It's the most profound experience I've had watching a film in recent months. I'm only vaguely aware of the tropes and themes of serious Westerns, but this film has so much subtext I hardly know where to begin. Plus it taught me the etymology of the word "dude", which apparently predates Bill and Ted by a century and a half. Who'd have thunk it?

Much of the film takes place in flashback and structurally would doubtlessly reward repeat viewings. Rance (a likeable and charismatic James Stewart), now a senator, returns with his wife Hallie to a town much changed by the advent of rail travel and the amenities it brings. They are there for the funeral of Tom Doniphon, a fascinating character; cue extended flashback.

A young Rance, travelling by the inevitable stagecoach, is moving west straight from law school. Immediately we have a character representing law and order moving towards an area synonymous with lawlessness, and this thematic tension informs the whole film; justice versus revenge. It's not the kind of cultural reference one usually associates with Westerns, I assume, but I'm reminded of Aeschylus' Oresteia, albeit with a much more ambiguous conclusion. But for now we simply observe Rance trying and failing to apply the rules he knows to his new environment. Liberty Valance will not, as we will see, be tried, convicted and imprisoned.

Rance's antithesis- and love rival- is Tom Doniphon, a hugely watchable and charismatic John Wayne- oh, and did his catchphrase "pilgrim", must beloved of Preacher, come just from this film? Tom is none too intellectual, very old-fashioned with the ladies to put it mildly, and at ease with the rough justice of the west. He's also obviously the alpha male, something which it seems at this point that Rance will never be.

Nevertheless, stubbornly law-abiding Rance begins to have an effect on the town, teaching literacy and generally acting as a mild civilising influence, even rousing the whole (male) town to exercise their franchise and vote in favour of statehood, which is clearly not so much a metaphor of a state of law and civilisation than, well, quite literally that. Men like Rance (and they are men at this time) have power in a state that they do not in a mere territory, and those like Valance, who thrive from lawlessness, are naturally prepared to use violence to prevent the end of their natural habitat.

Rance is slowly gaining in stature and confidence, though. It's precisely his civilising tendencies that lead Hallie to abandon alpha male Tom for him, a sure sign of the way the wind is blowing. But he inevitably ends up in a shootout with Valance... and inexplicably winning, seemingly abandoning all his principles. And yet, as we eventually discover in the film's big reveal, the shooter was in fact a hidden Tom. The character personifying rough justice eventually, despite misgivings, paves the coming of law and order. But he's yesterday's man, and all he can do is provide a future for others, not himself. He's a tragic yet compelling figure.

The flashback ends, we return to the present, and eberyone decides to ignore the inconvenient fact that Rance, who owes his popularity to having killed Valance and now feels quite firmly as though he belongs in a town which has now firmly adapted to his values, did no such thing. Everyone decides to ignore the truth and print the legend. But then, don't we all when it comes to the Old West?

Dr No (1962)

"Tell me, does the toppling of American missiles really compensate for having no hands?"

Time for my first Bond film, I think. I'll blog them all as and when, but in order. I'm not really a hardcore Bond fan, but I've certainly seen and enjoyed a lot of Bond films and I'm expecting to have a lot of fun along the way.

My first observation is that Sean Connery is superb, and oozes charisma: all the other British characters are very, very public school, yet Connery manages to pull off the character of Bond, comfortable in casinos and colonial gentlemens' clubs, while maintaining his working class Edinburgh accent, and pulls it off. In an age of strict actorly RP he's unique, and he pulls it off brazenly and brilliantly. This film is a triumph in no small part to his charisma.

My second observation is that all the women seem to have been written by fifteen year old boys but, hey, that's Bond. No Bechdel test here.

My third observation is just how long ago this film was made. Yes, everyone dresses as though they're in an episode of Mad Men but, even more evocative of just how long ago it was, this film is set in a Janaica that's still a British colony, with a Governor General and everything.it seems the Winds of Change haven't reached gale force yet. Still, the film deserves credit for not being particularly racist for its time, although I notice that, in the case of Quarrel, the trope of the black guy getting killed is present and correct.

It's a reasonably faithful adaptation of the novel- a more cinematic spider is substituted for the centipede, but this is a much more straightforward adaptation than what came later. There are no gadgets: Major Boothroyd (not called Q) only appears in a rather pointless scene where he replaces Bond's gun. One thing is present and correct, though: "Honey Rider" is (titter) the first of many, er, hilariously naughtily named Bond girls. And Dr No is the archetypal Bond villain from the start, with the lair and arch dialogue down pat.

I suppose I have a hard time believing that anyone could have believed that "dragon" was a flesh and blood creature, but other than that very minor pint the film is superb, and it's easy to see why the Bond films continued.

The Longest Day (1962)

"Cor, stone the crows!"

I'm not a particular fan of war films, but I'm not prejudiced against them either. After The Dam Busters and Battle of Britain it's time for this epic saga of D Day which, shockingly, is the first film I've blogged to feature John Wayne, Henry Fonda or Robert Mitchum. Those are three omissions I'm certainly glad to rectify.

John Wayne doesn't get all that much screen time as Colonel Vandervoort, but he dominates the film. He's sort of the David Bowie of acting (those are two names you don't often hear together!); Bowie has a restricted vocal range but sings well within that and is careful always to stay within his range; he's primarily a songwriter and musician, not Freddie Mercury- as "Under Pressure" demonstrates. John Wayne may not be the most versatile actor, and he has presence and charisma rather than talent, but in the right role he can be truly extraordinary. This is one of those parts.

Films like this don't always quite work (hello, Battle of Britain), feeling disjointed and lacking in spirit, but this film is both masterly structured and full of heart and pathos. Little vignettes like the American shooting a surrendering German and then asking what "Bitte, bitte" meant, or the poetic scene late on with the lost American soldier and the crippled and philosophical British parachutist whose painkillers are wearing off. It's a nice touch that the German and French characters speak in their own language with subtitles and, while the Canadians are insultingly  downplayed, both British and American forces get a lot of screen time, with the slight bias towards the USA being understandable because of Omaha Beach being the bloodiest and most dramatic.

It's a long film, but manages not to drag, balancing the large scale with the human experience well. The ending feels sudden, but I suppose that's realistic. A much recommended film.

Lawrence of Arabia (1962)

"No Arab loves the desert. We love water and green trees."

I was expecting to write about Syria, Iraq and the current turmoil in these countries, partially under the yoke of the so-called Islamic State. But I'm not going to. Sykes-Picot gets a cursory mention, there's a definite implication, not dwelt on, that Britain and France are going to end all hope of an independent Arab state, yes. But that's not what it's about. This is a film about soldiers, not politicians, about T.E. Lawrence as a man, and about how David Lean's camera, like a certain type of Englishman, loves the desert.

Why, there are even a couple of crowd scenes where you can actually catch a glimpse of a woman or two. I think. This has to be, by a large margin, the most oestrogen-deficient film I've ever seen.

So what if Lawrence? We begin, in a nice bit of structure, with his death in s motorbike crash in 1935, and we hear from various characters, whom we will encounter later, at his push Westminster Abbey funeral. Our impressions from this are that Lawrence, while capable of great things, was hard to know and just bloody weird. The rest of the film does nothing to dispel that.

Peter O'Toole puts in a truly great performance of a personality so nuanced it can only be real. Lawrence's peculiar type of masochism and obvious homoeroticism are shown, not told. This is clearly a sexual orientation that can only be described as "public schoolboy". This is the inevitable result of fagging, boarding, cold showers and regular savaging by the school leopard. But I think there's a tension here between modern psychological understanding of mental conditions and the literary abs epic tradition of heroism.

Omar Sharif, too, is awesome. So is Alec Guinness is, too, but he's also, er, white. Now, it's easier not to be racist in 2015 than in 1962 when popular culture largely confined practices that make us squirm, but that's not to say we can quite let them off the hook. Still, let's not dwell on that. Let us instead observe that a white actor in a sea of real Arabs stands out rather awkwardly. 

Still, that's not enough to prevent the film being awesome; the epic desert landscapes alone see to that. This is a truly epic film- with an intermission!- and one of the finest ever made. It's also the longest I've ever blogged.