Rear Window (1954)

 "We've become a race of Peeping Toms."

I last saw this film a scary number of years ago, and can't remember what I thought, although I seem to recall liking it. And yet... this is one of those films that is easy to admire but hard to love.

It's not that this isn't a masterpiece. The very concept is inspired- the claustrophobia and boredom of beng stuck in a two room apartment leads Jeff (a too old but neertheless excellent Jimmy Stewart) to spend his time spying on his neighbours, until he thinks he's witnessed a murder.

And there is such mastery in how the visuals are handled, from the design of the neighbourhood (deliberately complex, three-dimensional and amost Escher-like) to the moment where Thorwald eventually meets Jeff's gaze, and the tension that follows. The future Princes Grace of Monaco is superb, as is good old Hollywood stalwart Thelma Ritter. There's a rather nice theme running throughout of marital harmony or its absence.

And yet... it takes ages to get going and, clever though it is ad as charismatic as its stars may be, the film is just too slow for most of its length for the suspens to realy work: the concept ad execution don't really maage to fill the film's length.

Still, none of that takes away from the fact that this film is a super technical achievement.

The Misfits (1961)

“Because we're all dying, aren't we?"

This is a film well known for ominous reasons. It had a troubled production, with John Huston frequently drunk and Marilyn Monroe frequently late or absent through the heavy drinking and prescription drug use that would eventually kill her. And Arthur Miller may be one of the twentieth century’s finest playwrights (A View from the Bridge is sublime), but this script is essentially a love letter to his wife- but during filming his marriage to Monroe was falling apart. Add to this that Clark Gable was past his prime and, while a superb leading man, not necessarily the greatest actor.

And yet the film, while tragic, is extraordinarily good. Miller’s script is literary, subtle and multi-faceted but Huston manages to raise this tale of how feminine compassion takes the tough men of the west into something even more poetic, and the performances of Clark and the troubled Monroe, along with the extraordinary method man Eli Wallach, are elevated into something special. This is a film where the Old West is gone and everybody knows it, but the few surviving cowboys band together to eke a living that way because “anything’s better than wages”- but they know they’re a dwindling band, they have no future and they know it. And Gay (yes, I know, and his son is called Gaylord...), Perce and Guido all have their demons, whether parental estrangement, abandoned ambition or being away from children- Gay’s drunken longing for his kids is a shockingly vulnerable moment.

The three men are all doomed, in a sense, while Roslyn is lonely after her divorce and deeply compassionate but fundamentally melancholy- did Miller write this part for his wife because he saw her like that? The film ends on a note of hope for Roslyn and Gay, as they seem to have a future together- but the future beyond that is full of foreboding for everybody.