Death on the Nile

Posted 29 June 2005 in Screening log with No comments

Rating

1978 - UK

Director
John Guillermin

Starring
Peter Ustinov, Mia Farrow, Bette Davis, Maggie Smith, David Niven, Angela Lansbury, Lois Chiles, Simon MacCorkindale

I have a soft spot for a good, old-fashioned murder mystery. It’s a life-long affinity that comes with learning to read almost exclusively on Nancy Drew mysteries. This Agatha Christie classic starring Peter Ustinov as Hercule Poirot — the famous Belgian sleuth, he’ll have you know — follows the basic pattern: first the target, then the suspects and their motives, then the crime, the investigation, and the revelations — which are so unlikely and out of nowhere the audience couldn’t begin to play along, but which also serve as a credit to Poirot’s legendary genius.

Nothing out of the ordinary here, but with a star-studded cast like this, one really can’t go wrong. I am of course in love with the dashing David Niven, whose very serious character’s inability to understand Poirot’s French provide half the laugh-out-loud jokes:

Poirot: Mon Dieu, j’ai faim.
Race: [whispers] Poirot! You have a woman?
Poirot: Not femme, faim! I am… peckish.

The other half belong to Angela Lansbury, as the often-plastered romance novelist. It really is a shame she is only remembered as Jessica Fletcher, though make no mistake, Murder, She Wrote was also a great childhood love of mine.

For the cast and a good mystery, it’s a fun way to spend a couple hours.

 

Cinderella Man

Posted 26 June 2005 in Screening log with No comments

Rating

2005 - US

Director
Ron Howard

Starring
Russell Crowe, Renee Zellweger, Paul Giamatti

There’s something inherently troubling to me about a boxing film that seeks to inspire. Raging Bull raised pugilism to art, but at the same time showed some of the nastier sides of human nature; and technically, it’s more of a biopic than a boxing film anyhow. Same with Million Dollar Baby: it’s not really a film about boxing but one about deep human connections fueled initially, but decreasingly, by the sport.

There’s a lot more going on in Cinderella Man, of course, and Braddock’s relentless devotion to family, country and duty are endearing: we understand why he fights, what a $250 prize is worth to a man barely scraping by in Depression-era New York. But Cinderella Man, much more than Bull and Baby, is about boxing itself, asking us to cheer Braddock on as he beats the shit out of other men and wince in sympathy as punches break his skin and bones. All the high points and inspiring moments are to be found in the ring: we’re supposed to get an emotional high from senseless violence. When the fight scenes are highlighted as they are here, the human elements are lost. For this viewer at least, a boxing movie has to transcend its raison d’etre, or at the very least it cannot purport to tell a positive story of the human spirit.

I was also disappointed by the simplistic good vs evil showdown Braddock endured for his title and the audience for our climax: his rival, Max Baer, is depicted as a soulless killer willing to go to any lengths to get a KO. A little internet research shows that while one man did lose his life after losing to Baer, Baer helped raise $10,000 for the man’s widow. The other boxer whose death Cinderella Man convicts Baer for went on to several more fights and died four days after the last. I don’t know a whole lot about Baer, but it seems to me this film constitutes an intentional and irresponsible abuse of his reputation which only serves to force two men into the roles of stock characters.

The fight scenes are well-executed, but seem to be lifted straight out of Raging Bull — it’s not only derivative but actually counter-productive in a movie of this kind. We don’t need slow-motion punches, exaggerated blood spurting and stylized violence in, again, a feel-good movie.

But I always start with the negative and get tired of typing before I come around to the positives. Cinderella Man is after all a thoroughly well-made movie with great performances from the leads, particularly Paul Giamatti, whose quick-witted but intense trainer provides the few moments of relief ringside. And away from the ring, it really is a moving (a bit more subtly than one is accustomed to from Howard, though it does hit all the right — and expected — notes) picture of love and honor and sheer will to survive (an endorsement for the ‘American spirit’ or ’survival of the fittest’? You decide!). It is a very good movie. Just a little… troubling.

 

Here’s to you, Mrs Bancroft

Posted 7 June 2005 in with No comments

We lost one of the greats yesterday — Anne Bancroft dead at 73 with cancer. I wish I could say I’d seen more of her films before today, but in truth I only know her as the iconic Mrs Robinson. She was the sort of actor I felt certain I would love on spec — she had a stately, luminous quality about her; a bit aloof perhaps, yet she never gave the impression she took herself too seriously. I was shocked and saddened by the news — I actually miss her, and I will spend the next few days discovering why.

My Anne Bancroft marathon, in whatever order strikes my fancy:

The Graduate – my 10th favorite film of all the times
The Miracle Worker — Bancroft’s Oscar-winning performance
To Be or Not to Be — Mel Brooks comedies are not my cup of tea, but I look forward to seeing her in a flat-out comedic role opposite the love of her life.
84 Charring Cross Road — Anne and Anthony Hopkins and Judi Dench and a love story among used books.
Agnes of God

 
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The Woman Accused 1933, Paul Sloane
So Big! 1932, William A Wellman
The Awful Truth 1937, Leo McCarey
Conquest 1937, Clarence Brown
It’s Love I’m After 1937, Archie Mayo
The Mad Miss Manton 1938, Leigh Jason
Algiers 1938, John Cromwell
The Gay Divorcee 1934, Mark Sandrich
All This, & Heaven Too 1940, Anatole Litvak
Mannequin 1937, Frank Borzage

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A short digression on Charles Boyer…

Yes, I am endeared. I am, in fact, ensorceled. His inhumanly arched eyebrows, his little winks and half-smiles, and that ability to at once maintain full control of his material while shining the spotlight on his costar: yes, that is talent; yes, this is love. And no, Cluny Brown, it’s not just the cocktails giving you that persian cat feeling… I think we both know too well it has a bit to do with Mr Charles Boyer. Rawr.


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