Commentaires de tomsview
Cette page présente tous les commentaires rédigés par tomsview, qui partagent ses impressions détaillées sur les films, les séries et bien plus encore.
765 commentaires
I had a happy reunion with his film, which I hadn't seen for at least 50 years. I loved those big epics of the 50's and 60's, made to get us away from our television sets and back to the theatres. This baby was nearly three hours long with an interval to take the strain off our bladders.
I read James A. Michener's book before the film was released in Australia. It was a brick of a thing. I loved it and took it everywhere. I was in my early teens and read those massive novels, there weren't as many distractions back then, and only four channels on TV. Maybe my first reaction to the film was where's the rest of it? They only filmed one of the six chapters.
To be honest though, this was the real core of the thing, the struggle by missionary Abner Hale to save the souls of the Hawaiians, and the struggle by whaling captain Rafer Hoxworth to make sure they had enough sin to be saved from. Both men struggle for the affections of Jerusha Bromley.
Max Von Sydow, Richard Harris and Julie Andrews brought Abner, Rafer and Jerusha to life, without even explaining Abner Hale's Swedish accent.
At first Max seemed to be laying on the zealotry a bit thick, especially when the last time he brought us the word of God he did it less menacingly as Jesus in "The Greatest Story Ever Told". However by the end we get him, he suffers for his beliefs, often from being beaten up by Rafer. Richard Harris is totally believable as the ruthless whaling captain. Richard projected his real life sense of danger, and true to form, there was no effort to explain his Irish accent. But Julie Andrews delivered a perfect, captivating Jerusha.
Jocelyne LaGarde as Ali'I Nui, Malama Kanakoa, the queen, steals all the scenes she is in, and the beautiful voice of Manu Tupou as Prince Keoki Kanakoa seems to come from the very heart of the islands.
"Hawaii" was one of the Panavision 70 club of about 25 films made between 1957 and 1970, and has that wide-screen sweep. The most spectacular scene recreates the welcome the Hawaiians give the arrival of the sailing ship carrying the missionaries as hundreds of fit, excited natives swim and paddle out to the ship with drums pounding on the soundtrack. I was surprised that unlike the arrival of the Bounty in Tahiti in 1962's "Mutiny on the Bounty", the wahines didn't have their breasts covered with hair and beads, it was 1966 now, and the Production Code was slipping along with the beads.
"The Hawaiians" 1970, which featured another chapter of Michener's novel, showed how good the 1966 film was. Despite a couple of strong sequences, it doesn't have the visual power or emotional depth of "Hawaii".
All those epics received superior scores that were close to symphonies. Elmer Bernstein contributed a beauty for "Hawaii". He bought in native drums but didn't overdo them. Elmer could go big, however he could also produce unique themes that capture a sense of loss and nostalgia, and bought that touch to this score, it's one of the reason the final scenes have such impact.
"Hawaii" is worth a revisit. Whatever baggage the stars carried from other films and the tabloids has faded. After 60 years, it's like seeing it for the first time.
I read James A. Michener's book before the film was released in Australia. It was a brick of a thing. I loved it and took it everywhere. I was in my early teens and read those massive novels, there weren't as many distractions back then, and only four channels on TV. Maybe my first reaction to the film was where's the rest of it? They only filmed one of the six chapters.
To be honest though, this was the real core of the thing, the struggle by missionary Abner Hale to save the souls of the Hawaiians, and the struggle by whaling captain Rafer Hoxworth to make sure they had enough sin to be saved from. Both men struggle for the affections of Jerusha Bromley.
Max Von Sydow, Richard Harris and Julie Andrews brought Abner, Rafer and Jerusha to life, without even explaining Abner Hale's Swedish accent.
At first Max seemed to be laying on the zealotry a bit thick, especially when the last time he brought us the word of God he did it less menacingly as Jesus in "The Greatest Story Ever Told". However by the end we get him, he suffers for his beliefs, often from being beaten up by Rafer. Richard Harris is totally believable as the ruthless whaling captain. Richard projected his real life sense of danger, and true to form, there was no effort to explain his Irish accent. But Julie Andrews delivered a perfect, captivating Jerusha.
Jocelyne LaGarde as Ali'I Nui, Malama Kanakoa, the queen, steals all the scenes she is in, and the beautiful voice of Manu Tupou as Prince Keoki Kanakoa seems to come from the very heart of the islands.
"Hawaii" was one of the Panavision 70 club of about 25 films made between 1957 and 1970, and has that wide-screen sweep. The most spectacular scene recreates the welcome the Hawaiians give the arrival of the sailing ship carrying the missionaries as hundreds of fit, excited natives swim and paddle out to the ship with drums pounding on the soundtrack. I was surprised that unlike the arrival of the Bounty in Tahiti in 1962's "Mutiny on the Bounty", the wahines didn't have their breasts covered with hair and beads, it was 1966 now, and the Production Code was slipping along with the beads.
"The Hawaiians" 1970, which featured another chapter of Michener's novel, showed how good the 1966 film was. Despite a couple of strong sequences, it doesn't have the visual power or emotional depth of "Hawaii".
All those epics received superior scores that were close to symphonies. Elmer Bernstein contributed a beauty for "Hawaii". He bought in native drums but didn't overdo them. Elmer could go big, however he could also produce unique themes that capture a sense of loss and nostalgia, and bought that touch to this score, it's one of the reason the final scenes have such impact.
"Hawaii" is worth a revisit. Whatever baggage the stars carried from other films and the tabloids has faded. After 60 years, it's like seeing it for the first time.
Who would have thought watching John Thaw's crochety, puzzle and opera loving, grey-haired Inspector Morse that he'd had such a complex and eventful life as a young copper?
Shaun Evan's Endeavour Morse gets up close and personal with felons, often with revolver in hand. The biggest surprise however is his appeal to the ladies, while in later life he seemed to have none, as the young policeman, he has more beautiful women interested in him than "The Bachelor" at a Rose Ceremony.
Not that I didn't love the "Inspector Morse" series, and when it morphed into "Lewis", I was hooked on it as well. Same with "Endeavour", although it looked an impossible spin-off, within two episodes I was a devotee.
I feel it was the last of those memorable British detective series: "Inspector Morse", "A Touch of Frost", "Dalziel and Pascoe", "Lewis", "Inspector George Gently", which all started with "Inspector Morse" back in 1987. "Vera", another favourite, has also come to an end.
Those shows had key elements in common, which I think was the secret to their success. The main character may have been flawed, but they had sympathy for the human condition. They also had a partner, a buddy to watch their back.
Young Morse had about the best partner of any series, a man who became a mentor, protector and even father figure: Fred Thursday (Roger Allam). "Endeavour" also had an ensemble of characters that was developed more fully than other series: Fred, Win, Joanie, Chief Inspector Bright, Jim Strange, Dr DeBryn and all the others.
Relationships changed over time, but Russell Lewis's brilliant writing was not just in the characters. Two overarching story threads are woven through the series: the disturbing Blenheim Vale School for wayward boys, and the imminent closure of their "nick", the Cowley Police Station. Always clever plots and detective work even if the final culprits sometime seemed a bit random; I'm still not sure what happened at the end of "Terminus".
There was occasional homage: Gatsby, Agatha Christie, and in "Zenana" it was as though Morse had entered his own operatic libretto. In "Trove", Fred gets the best line in the series. After catching up with a couple of thugs who'd given Morse a proper seeing to, he asks, "Suppose you tell me what that was all about?" When one of them replies, "Suppose we don't", Fred, whose expression hasn't changed, says, "Then I'll have to take off my hat!" From the grunts and thumps, we realise that Fred is administering a timely correction.
Then there's the music. Barrington Pheloung created brilliant scores for "Inspector Morse", "Lewis" and some for "Endeavour". Later Matthew Slater took over, capturing the spirit and adding his own touch of class.
The test of a great series is if you can watch them again and enjoy them more each time. "Endeavour" does that for me.
Shaun Evan's Endeavour Morse gets up close and personal with felons, often with revolver in hand. The biggest surprise however is his appeal to the ladies, while in later life he seemed to have none, as the young policeman, he has more beautiful women interested in him than "The Bachelor" at a Rose Ceremony.
Not that I didn't love the "Inspector Morse" series, and when it morphed into "Lewis", I was hooked on it as well. Same with "Endeavour", although it looked an impossible spin-off, within two episodes I was a devotee.
I feel it was the last of those memorable British detective series: "Inspector Morse", "A Touch of Frost", "Dalziel and Pascoe", "Lewis", "Inspector George Gently", which all started with "Inspector Morse" back in 1987. "Vera", another favourite, has also come to an end.
Those shows had key elements in common, which I think was the secret to their success. The main character may have been flawed, but they had sympathy for the human condition. They also had a partner, a buddy to watch their back.
Young Morse had about the best partner of any series, a man who became a mentor, protector and even father figure: Fred Thursday (Roger Allam). "Endeavour" also had an ensemble of characters that was developed more fully than other series: Fred, Win, Joanie, Chief Inspector Bright, Jim Strange, Dr DeBryn and all the others.
Relationships changed over time, but Russell Lewis's brilliant writing was not just in the characters. Two overarching story threads are woven through the series: the disturbing Blenheim Vale School for wayward boys, and the imminent closure of their "nick", the Cowley Police Station. Always clever plots and detective work even if the final culprits sometime seemed a bit random; I'm still not sure what happened at the end of "Terminus".
There was occasional homage: Gatsby, Agatha Christie, and in "Zenana" it was as though Morse had entered his own operatic libretto. In "Trove", Fred gets the best line in the series. After catching up with a couple of thugs who'd given Morse a proper seeing to, he asks, "Suppose you tell me what that was all about?" When one of them replies, "Suppose we don't", Fred, whose expression hasn't changed, says, "Then I'll have to take off my hat!" From the grunts and thumps, we realise that Fred is administering a timely correction.
Then there's the music. Barrington Pheloung created brilliant scores for "Inspector Morse", "Lewis" and some for "Endeavour". Later Matthew Slater took over, capturing the spirit and adding his own touch of class.
The test of a great series is if you can watch them again and enjoy them more each time. "Endeavour" does that for me.
In Sheridan Morley's biography "James Mason: Odd Man Out", the author claimed "Botany Bay" dashed any hopes James had that he would receive more elevated acting roles after appearing as Brutus in Joseph Mankiewicz's "Julius Caesar". This smacked of theatrical snobbery, however Mason also seemed disdainful saying, "At it's worst, my Hollywood life was a matter of facile assembly work like Botany Bay".
However, Mason injected that disdain into his role as Captain Gilbert creating a witty, arrogant villain with the evil charm of his Phillip Vandamm from "North by Northwest" crossed with the martinet brutality of Captain Bligh. Alan Ladd movies worked best when he had an animated adversary or sidekick to counterpoint his quiet, unruffable demeanour, Mason gave him one of the best villains in any of his films.
Mason played the captain of the three-masted Charlotte, part of "The First Fleet" transporting the first convicts from England to Botany Bay in New South Wales. In the hold is innocent American doctor, Hugh Tallant (Alan Ladd) and not so innocent Sally (Patricia Medina), an actress fallen in with rough company. There is history in there somewhere but the facts weren't allowed to get in the way of the story.
Following "Two Years Before the Mast" onboard the Pilgrim, this was Alan Ladd's second cruise under a tough captain. Not so much the fictional ship's masters, but the "master" of both films, director John Farrow, an ex-naval commander who had a reputation for being an SOB on set.
Both films were studio bound hell cruises, but "Botany Bay" is more fun. Compare the 20 lashes Alan Ladd's character receives on the orders of the Pilgrim's captain played by Howard da Silva, which lays him up in his bunk recovering for days, while he treats the 50 lashes he receives from Mason's Captain Gilbert as though the cat-o-nine-tails was made of pyjama cords. And what about the female convicts fighting on the deck with Patricia Medina right in the thick of it suffering a torn sleeve, but without a smudge of her lipstick?
Historical liberties were taken including composer Franz Waxman incorporating "Advance Australia Fair" into his score although it wasn't composed until 1878. A didgeridoo would have been more authentic for 1788. Nevertheless, try to catch a good print of this film; although just about all the scenes were shot in the studio it has a rich look.
Farrow and Mason could be difficult men, but in a 1999 documentary, "Alan Ladd: The True Quiet Man", we learn that Alan Ladd was considerate, courteous and liked in an industry where egos often ran riot. Patricia Medina said that he had a quality that made her feel almost maternal about him. However, he had inner demons; he is one of Hollywood's tragic stars.
I think "Botany Bay" is one of John Farrow's better films, and it's the scene stealing from Mason and Medina, despite floggings, keel-hauling and plague, that helps make it so.
However, Mason injected that disdain into his role as Captain Gilbert creating a witty, arrogant villain with the evil charm of his Phillip Vandamm from "North by Northwest" crossed with the martinet brutality of Captain Bligh. Alan Ladd movies worked best when he had an animated adversary or sidekick to counterpoint his quiet, unruffable demeanour, Mason gave him one of the best villains in any of his films.
Mason played the captain of the three-masted Charlotte, part of "The First Fleet" transporting the first convicts from England to Botany Bay in New South Wales. In the hold is innocent American doctor, Hugh Tallant (Alan Ladd) and not so innocent Sally (Patricia Medina), an actress fallen in with rough company. There is history in there somewhere but the facts weren't allowed to get in the way of the story.
Following "Two Years Before the Mast" onboard the Pilgrim, this was Alan Ladd's second cruise under a tough captain. Not so much the fictional ship's masters, but the "master" of both films, director John Farrow, an ex-naval commander who had a reputation for being an SOB on set.
Both films were studio bound hell cruises, but "Botany Bay" is more fun. Compare the 20 lashes Alan Ladd's character receives on the orders of the Pilgrim's captain played by Howard da Silva, which lays him up in his bunk recovering for days, while he treats the 50 lashes he receives from Mason's Captain Gilbert as though the cat-o-nine-tails was made of pyjama cords. And what about the female convicts fighting on the deck with Patricia Medina right in the thick of it suffering a torn sleeve, but without a smudge of her lipstick?
Historical liberties were taken including composer Franz Waxman incorporating "Advance Australia Fair" into his score although it wasn't composed until 1878. A didgeridoo would have been more authentic for 1788. Nevertheless, try to catch a good print of this film; although just about all the scenes were shot in the studio it has a rich look.
Farrow and Mason could be difficult men, but in a 1999 documentary, "Alan Ladd: The True Quiet Man", we learn that Alan Ladd was considerate, courteous and liked in an industry where egos often ran riot. Patricia Medina said that he had a quality that made her feel almost maternal about him. However, he had inner demons; he is one of Hollywood's tragic stars.
I think "Botany Bay" is one of John Farrow's better films, and it's the scene stealing from Mason and Medina, despite floggings, keel-hauling and plague, that helps make it so.
A recent documentary, "John Farrow: Hollywood's Man in the Shadows", reveals that Farrow's films had distinctive themes and techniques including complex tracking shots, and a strong sense of redemption in his leading characters.
However when Diana Lynn gives Glenn Ford a sharp slap in "Plunder of the Sun", it actually struck me that slaps between men and women constituted yet another common theme in John Farrow's films. Gail Russell received a stringent correction via Alan Ladd's flying palm in "Calcutta". Then Alan Ladd was himself admonished in "Botany Bay" with a stinging open-hander from Patricia Medina. Later Anita Ekberg was on the receiving end of a mighty capillary-bursting whack in "Return from Eternity". Most surprising of all is the one Robert Taylor delivers to Ava Gardner's unsuspecting cheek halfway through "Ride, Vaquero!" They could have used the boxing concussion rule on a Farrow set.
With that said, other reviewers have compared Farrow's "Plunder in the Sun" to Huston's "The Maltese Falcon", We get Al Colby (Glenn Ford) the tough insurance investigator mixed up with a beautiful woman or two, and a Sydney Greenstreet-like character, the wheelchair bound Francis L Sullivan as Thomas Berrien. Then we have the hunt for a priceless treasure, in the case of "The Maltese Falcon" it was a jewel-encrusted statue, in "Plunder of the Sun" it is a package of pages of a manuscript that lead to hidden Aztec gold.
That's where the comparison ends because where "Falcon" is an enduring classic, "Plunder" receded into obscurity. I think the reason is simple, and it comes down to the main character in each film. Bogart's Sam Spade is tough, but he is an observer of the human condition, he makes tough decisions, but he is not without empathy. Glenn Ford's Al Colby is just tough; there is little real compassion in him, he comes across as cold.
And therein lies the secret to all the most successful cop and crime shows on the big or small screen across the decades. Humphrey Bogart's Sam Spade set the tone. A little humour and a witty line à la Kasper Gutman (Greenstreet) can also make up for a lot, however a light touch is as elusive as Aztec treasure in "Plunder".
The one character I think delivers in this film is Patricia Medina as Anna Luz, Here's David Dodge's description of her from his novel: "She was Latin and pretty with big dark eyes, smooth dark hair, a bright skin and a slim figure".
The film is saved a little with a twist at the end. It also has great location work and Farrow could always deliver a solid noir mood with his low camera and deep shadows. Finally "Plunder" does have a good dramatic score by Mexican composer Antonio Díaz Conde, but he only used distinctive Mexican cues in a few places; like so much about the film, an opportunity was missed.
However when Diana Lynn gives Glenn Ford a sharp slap in "Plunder of the Sun", it actually struck me that slaps between men and women constituted yet another common theme in John Farrow's films. Gail Russell received a stringent correction via Alan Ladd's flying palm in "Calcutta". Then Alan Ladd was himself admonished in "Botany Bay" with a stinging open-hander from Patricia Medina. Later Anita Ekberg was on the receiving end of a mighty capillary-bursting whack in "Return from Eternity". Most surprising of all is the one Robert Taylor delivers to Ava Gardner's unsuspecting cheek halfway through "Ride, Vaquero!" They could have used the boxing concussion rule on a Farrow set.
With that said, other reviewers have compared Farrow's "Plunder in the Sun" to Huston's "The Maltese Falcon", We get Al Colby (Glenn Ford) the tough insurance investigator mixed up with a beautiful woman or two, and a Sydney Greenstreet-like character, the wheelchair bound Francis L Sullivan as Thomas Berrien. Then we have the hunt for a priceless treasure, in the case of "The Maltese Falcon" it was a jewel-encrusted statue, in "Plunder of the Sun" it is a package of pages of a manuscript that lead to hidden Aztec gold.
That's where the comparison ends because where "Falcon" is an enduring classic, "Plunder" receded into obscurity. I think the reason is simple, and it comes down to the main character in each film. Bogart's Sam Spade is tough, but he is an observer of the human condition, he makes tough decisions, but he is not without empathy. Glenn Ford's Al Colby is just tough; there is little real compassion in him, he comes across as cold.
And therein lies the secret to all the most successful cop and crime shows on the big or small screen across the decades. Humphrey Bogart's Sam Spade set the tone. A little humour and a witty line à la Kasper Gutman (Greenstreet) can also make up for a lot, however a light touch is as elusive as Aztec treasure in "Plunder".
The one character I think delivers in this film is Patricia Medina as Anna Luz, Here's David Dodge's description of her from his novel: "She was Latin and pretty with big dark eyes, smooth dark hair, a bright skin and a slim figure".
The film is saved a little with a twist at the end. It also has great location work and Farrow could always deliver a solid noir mood with his low camera and deep shadows. Finally "Plunder" does have a good dramatic score by Mexican composer Antonio Díaz Conde, but he only used distinctive Mexican cues in a few places; like so much about the film, an opportunity was missed.
It's worth watching, but it may have made an even stronger movie than a series; it's got more padding than a well-equiped camper's sleeping bag.
Eric Bana as Yosemite National Park investigator Kyle Turner makes a pretty good cop. He was good as Federal Agent Aaron Falk 8,000 miles away in the Aussie films "The Dry" and "Dry 2: Force of Nature". He's different here, which shows his range, in fact this time he's as laconic as hell.
Everyone gets a backstory and there are long stretches where they are explored, especially the baggage weighing down Eric's character and his ex-wife Jill.
We needed to understand the framework of missing people that drives the mystery, but in a shorter series or a single movie surely that would be treated differently without so many long silences, even between sentences.
When we get down to the police proceedal stuff "Untamed" comes alive and it looks fabulous as Turner explores the trails and secret places of Yosemite; all impossible rock faces and towering pines. Even more fascinating is that most of it was filmed in Canada with the real Yosemite digitally dropped in; par for the course these days, but still movie magic to me.
A big plus is Lily Santiago as Naya Vasquez, ex L. A. beat cop and newbie park ranger. She fullfills what I think is a key ingredient in the best cop shows, the buddy. They don't start out that way, but it develops, and by the end they have each other's backs. She also has a complicated backstory, but does bring in some sorely needed humour.
A surprise seeing two Antipodean actors heading up the cast, Aussie Eric Bana and Kiwi Sam Neil as the chief park ranger, both sporting cool salt and pepper beards and hairdos.
It seems some reviewers were disappointed with the ending; me not so much. Everything gets tidyed up even if the final twist is the equivalent of a reverse four and half somersault in the pike position.
Maybe we get used to the pace of something like "Blue Bloods" where four scenerios get played out in about 40 minutes with pretty good character and plot development; the pace of "Untamed" is more leisurely. Mind you if Eric ever goes for a francise from this, his Kyle Turner could be another great cop to join the likes of Tom Selleck's brilliant "Jesse Stone".
Eric Bana as Yosemite National Park investigator Kyle Turner makes a pretty good cop. He was good as Federal Agent Aaron Falk 8,000 miles away in the Aussie films "The Dry" and "Dry 2: Force of Nature". He's different here, which shows his range, in fact this time he's as laconic as hell.
Everyone gets a backstory and there are long stretches where they are explored, especially the baggage weighing down Eric's character and his ex-wife Jill.
We needed to understand the framework of missing people that drives the mystery, but in a shorter series or a single movie surely that would be treated differently without so many long silences, even between sentences.
When we get down to the police proceedal stuff "Untamed" comes alive and it looks fabulous as Turner explores the trails and secret places of Yosemite; all impossible rock faces and towering pines. Even more fascinating is that most of it was filmed in Canada with the real Yosemite digitally dropped in; par for the course these days, but still movie magic to me.
A big plus is Lily Santiago as Naya Vasquez, ex L. A. beat cop and newbie park ranger. She fullfills what I think is a key ingredient in the best cop shows, the buddy. They don't start out that way, but it develops, and by the end they have each other's backs. She also has a complicated backstory, but does bring in some sorely needed humour.
A surprise seeing two Antipodean actors heading up the cast, Aussie Eric Bana and Kiwi Sam Neil as the chief park ranger, both sporting cool salt and pepper beards and hairdos.
It seems some reviewers were disappointed with the ending; me not so much. Everything gets tidyed up even if the final twist is the equivalent of a reverse four and half somersault in the pike position.
Maybe we get used to the pace of something like "Blue Bloods" where four scenerios get played out in about 40 minutes with pretty good character and plot development; the pace of "Untamed" is more leisurely. Mind you if Eric ever goes for a francise from this, his Kyle Turner could be another great cop to join the likes of Tom Selleck's brilliant "Jesse Stone".
"That Hamilton Woman" tells how Horatio Nelson was more than just an intrepid sailor. French cannon balls and cutlasses were one thing, but at one point he actually moved his mistress under the same roof as his wife; one could lose more than an arm or an eye with a move such as that.
The mistress was Emma Hamilton played by Vivien Leigh while Laurence Olivier played Lord Nelson. It wasn't lost on audiences at the time that the affair they were re-enacting was art imitating life for they had both left first marriages to be together.
Over the years we've learnt a lot about them, and about that tinge of jealousy Larry felt about Vivien's almost natural ability to dominate the screen right from the start. It's as though a cleverly concealed spotlight follows her around. Olivier plays Nelson probably the only way he could, an almost unassailable heroic figure in a film made when victory in WW2 was anything but certain.
The filmmakers took some heat off Nelson's adultery. When we first meet his wife, Frances, you could be forgiven for thinking she was his mother, and a stern one at that. Gladys Cooper played Frances and she was 19 years older than Oliver. In reality Horatio and Frances were the same age. Emma was about 7 years younger; the same difference between Olivier and Vivien. Anyway the camera loved Vivien and there is little sympathy for Mrs. Nelson.
The camera tears itself away from Emma for a noisy, exciting depiction of the battle of Trafalgar. Despite obvious models, Miklos Rozsa's score covers any defects with more stirring anthems than "The Last Night of the Proms".
As well as the intriguing stars, the film is a testament to the set designers art. It also has a witty script helped by the presence of Alan Mowbray as Sir William Hamilton, Emma's cuckolded husband. He also delivers a small speech that resonates down the ages "There are always men who for the sake of their insane ambition, want to destroy what other people build...and dictate their will to others".
Olivier's Nelson also has a passage that was apt in 1799, was scarily relevant in a wider context in 1941 and although world power has shifted, is eerily prescient for 2025: "We can't be guardian angels of every country in Europe too lazy to look after itself. You've got to do something too...if you value your freedom, stir yourselves".
Vivien Leigh only made 8 films after "Gone with the Wind". However in "A Streetcar Named Desire" and thereafter, she portrayed women losing their youthful beauty and struggling to find happiness, films that dug deep into her reality.
Although Vivien comes in around number 6 on lists of the great actresses, after I watch one of her really great performances, I can't help feeling she should be moved up quite a few places.
The mistress was Emma Hamilton played by Vivien Leigh while Laurence Olivier played Lord Nelson. It wasn't lost on audiences at the time that the affair they were re-enacting was art imitating life for they had both left first marriages to be together.
Over the years we've learnt a lot about them, and about that tinge of jealousy Larry felt about Vivien's almost natural ability to dominate the screen right from the start. It's as though a cleverly concealed spotlight follows her around. Olivier plays Nelson probably the only way he could, an almost unassailable heroic figure in a film made when victory in WW2 was anything but certain.
The filmmakers took some heat off Nelson's adultery. When we first meet his wife, Frances, you could be forgiven for thinking she was his mother, and a stern one at that. Gladys Cooper played Frances and she was 19 years older than Oliver. In reality Horatio and Frances were the same age. Emma was about 7 years younger; the same difference between Olivier and Vivien. Anyway the camera loved Vivien and there is little sympathy for Mrs. Nelson.
The camera tears itself away from Emma for a noisy, exciting depiction of the battle of Trafalgar. Despite obvious models, Miklos Rozsa's score covers any defects with more stirring anthems than "The Last Night of the Proms".
As well as the intriguing stars, the film is a testament to the set designers art. It also has a witty script helped by the presence of Alan Mowbray as Sir William Hamilton, Emma's cuckolded husband. He also delivers a small speech that resonates down the ages "There are always men who for the sake of their insane ambition, want to destroy what other people build...and dictate their will to others".
Olivier's Nelson also has a passage that was apt in 1799, was scarily relevant in a wider context in 1941 and although world power has shifted, is eerily prescient for 2025: "We can't be guardian angels of every country in Europe too lazy to look after itself. You've got to do something too...if you value your freedom, stir yourselves".
Vivien Leigh only made 8 films after "Gone with the Wind". However in "A Streetcar Named Desire" and thereafter, she portrayed women losing their youthful beauty and struggling to find happiness, films that dug deep into her reality.
Although Vivien comes in around number 6 on lists of the great actresses, after I watch one of her really great performances, I can't help feeling she should be moved up quite a few places.
This version of old Herman's tale has the special effects John Huston wished he'd had in his 1956 movie instead of his miniatures and rubber whale bobbing around in the studio tank.
However, special effects aren't everything when it comes to "Moby Dick" movies. It's the ominous mood and the realization of Captain Ahab and his obsession with the leg-removing white whale that drives the three best films: Huston's 1956 version and the two mini-series, Franc Roddam's 1998 one and Mike Barker's 2011 effort.
I guess each of the filmmakers wanted to give their film something more than the previous one, and this version grew on me as it went along. The filmmakers took liberties even using a whaling schooner instead of the classic, 3-masted Nantucket sailing ship, however the scenes at sea are brilliant, especially the Pequod heading into an awesome looking storm.
John Hurt gives us a more urbane Ahab. Instead of turning up a third of the way through like the Pequod's other single-minded skippers, we open at home with the Ahabs including Gillian Anderson as Mrs. Ahab. I was really alarmed when Ahab even did a pratfall off his newly fitted whalebone prosthesis. It had to get better from there, and thankfully it did.
Mind you there is enough in the book for writers to grab fresh Ahab moments the other versions didn't include. The passage where Pip the cabin boy was lost at sea and then cared for by Ahab wasn't in Houston's version at all.
Despite criticism at the time, Huston lucked in with Gregory Peck. Peck was a larger than life actor and he gave Ahab a monumental quality as though he had detached himself from Mount Rushmore. Patrick Stewart as Ahab projected gravitas with a strong Shakespearean quality while John Hurt gives us a decidedly bi-polar Ahab.
All versions run the risk of an overload of outlandish characters that would not seem out of place at a "Star Trek" convention: Ahab, Queequeg, Father Mapple, Elijah, Bildad etc. The balance comes with Starbuck. He's a grounded character who sees Ahab subverting the crew and confronts him to save all their souls; his casting is as critical as Ahab's. Leo Genn was the rock of normality in Huston's film, and Ted Levine was brilliant in Roddam's version as he stands up to Stewart's fireworks, but Ethan Hawke had a trickier time reacting to the roller-coaster of moods that Hurt projects.
The two later versions don't match the ominous mood of Houston's "Moby Dick". Not only that, but Huston and screenwriter Ray Bradbury, the famous science fiction writer, added something all the other versions copied, Ahab strapped to the whale. It's a nice touch, and although it's not original Melville, maybe he would have slapped his forehead and thought, "Why didn't I think of that?"
For those with an ear for such things, The three versions have inspired scores, All three composers Philip Sainton (1956), Christopher Gordon (1998) and Richard G. Mitchell (2011) added to the excitement of those wild rides in the flimsy whaleboats when the harpooned whales run out the lines - back when the whales actually stood a chance of turning the tables.
By the end, although Hurt's interpretation is a big departure from the others, this is a brilliant looking film with stunning scenes at sea and a Moby Dick that leaves us with a sense of awe.
However, special effects aren't everything when it comes to "Moby Dick" movies. It's the ominous mood and the realization of Captain Ahab and his obsession with the leg-removing white whale that drives the three best films: Huston's 1956 version and the two mini-series, Franc Roddam's 1998 one and Mike Barker's 2011 effort.
I guess each of the filmmakers wanted to give their film something more than the previous one, and this version grew on me as it went along. The filmmakers took liberties even using a whaling schooner instead of the classic, 3-masted Nantucket sailing ship, however the scenes at sea are brilliant, especially the Pequod heading into an awesome looking storm.
John Hurt gives us a more urbane Ahab. Instead of turning up a third of the way through like the Pequod's other single-minded skippers, we open at home with the Ahabs including Gillian Anderson as Mrs. Ahab. I was really alarmed when Ahab even did a pratfall off his newly fitted whalebone prosthesis. It had to get better from there, and thankfully it did.
Mind you there is enough in the book for writers to grab fresh Ahab moments the other versions didn't include. The passage where Pip the cabin boy was lost at sea and then cared for by Ahab wasn't in Houston's version at all.
Despite criticism at the time, Huston lucked in with Gregory Peck. Peck was a larger than life actor and he gave Ahab a monumental quality as though he had detached himself from Mount Rushmore. Patrick Stewart as Ahab projected gravitas with a strong Shakespearean quality while John Hurt gives us a decidedly bi-polar Ahab.
All versions run the risk of an overload of outlandish characters that would not seem out of place at a "Star Trek" convention: Ahab, Queequeg, Father Mapple, Elijah, Bildad etc. The balance comes with Starbuck. He's a grounded character who sees Ahab subverting the crew and confronts him to save all their souls; his casting is as critical as Ahab's. Leo Genn was the rock of normality in Huston's film, and Ted Levine was brilliant in Roddam's version as he stands up to Stewart's fireworks, but Ethan Hawke had a trickier time reacting to the roller-coaster of moods that Hurt projects.
The two later versions don't match the ominous mood of Houston's "Moby Dick". Not only that, but Huston and screenwriter Ray Bradbury, the famous science fiction writer, added something all the other versions copied, Ahab strapped to the whale. It's a nice touch, and although it's not original Melville, maybe he would have slapped his forehead and thought, "Why didn't I think of that?"
For those with an ear for such things, The three versions have inspired scores, All three composers Philip Sainton (1956), Christopher Gordon (1998) and Richard G. Mitchell (2011) added to the excitement of those wild rides in the flimsy whaleboats when the harpooned whales run out the lines - back when the whales actually stood a chance of turning the tables.
By the end, although Hurt's interpretation is a big departure from the others, this is a brilliant looking film with stunning scenes at sea and a Moby Dick that leaves us with a sense of awe.
I watched "The Godfather" recently; it's the one I like best out of the three films. By number three there were few surprises left and we knew every one was going to double cross everyone else and get whacked; enough.
However, I always get drawn back into Marlon Brando as Don Corleone talking through his enhanced jowls and Al Pacino as Michael Corleone with the Homburg sitting so straight on his head its almost like he checked it with a spirit level. But you have to wonder, what happened to Mafia movies?
Now it's South American drug cartels, Middle Eastern terrorists and a new fave, neo-Nazis. The level of mean deaths has probably risen, Columbian Neckties anyone? However they have a different vibe.
Hollywood revelled in its Mafia movies and television shows. There was Edward G. Robinson back in the day, and we grew up watching Elliott Ness in "The Untouchables" ducking bullets from drum fed tommy guns. Finally Scorsese gave us some less romanticized insights into the "wiseguys'
Same with spy thrillers when the Berlin Wall came down. Goodbye to those great Cold War movies. From then on I think spies were really left out in the cold.
One thing about "The Godfather" and a reason why it hasn't dated much is although it was made in 1972, it's set twenty years before. I find movies set in an earlier time are less likely to date, just compare it to movies made and set in 1972.
The Corleone's and their contemporaries had style, nouveau style for sure, but look at the scene when the heads of the Five Families meet and you can see that their tailors have been called on for favours. Classic pinstripes and silk suits all round. And Don Barzini was such a snappy dresser until his neatly buttoned suit gets an extra buttonhole courtesy of a well-aimed .45 slug.
It's hard to beat the look of this film, and that soundtrack with the memorable score by Italian film maestro, Nina Rota, but it's something of a fantasy. The goal of the Corleone's is to be legit in a few years and the Don wants nothing to do with drugs. You get the impression they are such enlightened guys that they would almost have a retirement plan for their "working girls" and accident insurance for those who don't pay up on time.
Still it's a cool movie with some great lines. When there was a chance workmen would crack some old tiles up on my roof, I paraphrased a line from Consigliore, Tom Hagen, looking up I said, "I'm a man who insists on hearing bad news immediately".
But for me, the new crime movies give little chance for sympathetic characters. Ridley Scott gave us the cartels in "The Counselor" but it only proved he should have stuck with the imperial mafia that ran Rome 2000 years ago.
And what about Denis Villeneuve's cartels in "Sicario", and that house with all the bodies sealed in the walls; who can live like that? No waltz on the soundtrack and not a 3-piece suit or a homburg in sight.
The style has gone from crime movies and I think the worst is yet to come. "The Godfather" is a welcome trip down memory lane.
However, I always get drawn back into Marlon Brando as Don Corleone talking through his enhanced jowls and Al Pacino as Michael Corleone with the Homburg sitting so straight on his head its almost like he checked it with a spirit level. But you have to wonder, what happened to Mafia movies?
Now it's South American drug cartels, Middle Eastern terrorists and a new fave, neo-Nazis. The level of mean deaths has probably risen, Columbian Neckties anyone? However they have a different vibe.
Hollywood revelled in its Mafia movies and television shows. There was Edward G. Robinson back in the day, and we grew up watching Elliott Ness in "The Untouchables" ducking bullets from drum fed tommy guns. Finally Scorsese gave us some less romanticized insights into the "wiseguys'
Same with spy thrillers when the Berlin Wall came down. Goodbye to those great Cold War movies. From then on I think spies were really left out in the cold.
One thing about "The Godfather" and a reason why it hasn't dated much is although it was made in 1972, it's set twenty years before. I find movies set in an earlier time are less likely to date, just compare it to movies made and set in 1972.
The Corleone's and their contemporaries had style, nouveau style for sure, but look at the scene when the heads of the Five Families meet and you can see that their tailors have been called on for favours. Classic pinstripes and silk suits all round. And Don Barzini was such a snappy dresser until his neatly buttoned suit gets an extra buttonhole courtesy of a well-aimed .45 slug.
It's hard to beat the look of this film, and that soundtrack with the memorable score by Italian film maestro, Nina Rota, but it's something of a fantasy. The goal of the Corleone's is to be legit in a few years and the Don wants nothing to do with drugs. You get the impression they are such enlightened guys that they would almost have a retirement plan for their "working girls" and accident insurance for those who don't pay up on time.
Still it's a cool movie with some great lines. When there was a chance workmen would crack some old tiles up on my roof, I paraphrased a line from Consigliore, Tom Hagen, looking up I said, "I'm a man who insists on hearing bad news immediately".
But for me, the new crime movies give little chance for sympathetic characters. Ridley Scott gave us the cartels in "The Counselor" but it only proved he should have stuck with the imperial mafia that ran Rome 2000 years ago.
And what about Denis Villeneuve's cartels in "Sicario", and that house with all the bodies sealed in the walls; who can live like that? No waltz on the soundtrack and not a 3-piece suit or a homburg in sight.
The style has gone from crime movies and I think the worst is yet to come. "The Godfather" is a welcome trip down memory lane.
Two films, road films, were made in the 1960's set in the South of France that had interesting crossovers with one another, Stanley Donen's "Two for the Road" in 1967 with Albert Finney and Audrey Hepburn and Serge Bourguignon's "The Picasso Summer" in 1969.
Albert Finney played an architect in both, however different people made the films, and they were never intended to be a pair. Nevertheless the overlap is part of their quirky charm.
"The Picasso Summer" is quirkier. It's a unique film that does capture the mystique of Picasso. There are many sites that cover in detail the drama involved in it's making and why it disappeared for so long.
George Smith (Finney), an architect bored with his job, and disenchanted with the superficiality of their life in San Francisco, has no trouble talking his wife, Alice (Yvette Mimieux), into heading to the South of France to try and meet his idol Picasso.
As they cycle their way towards Picasso, their dreams become enmeshed with his art, which comes to life in sometimes-brilliant animation. Apparently Picasso encouraged the animator, Wes Herschensohn, to give movement to his creations. The animation is the pre-digital, hand-drawn style with flat colour that suits Picasso's work, much of which is executed in a linear style with flat colour.
Michel Legrand's score sweeps the story along with solo guitar swelling to full orchestra. Although the song "Summer Me, Winter Me" didn't make it into the film, it's on Barbara Streisand's album, "The Way We Were" and there's no mistaking Legrand's theme.
But it's the combination of the stars that also make this film fascinating.
Albert Finney had a singular style, coupled with a Lancashire accent that seems to boom from the back of his throat, he had an abrupt style of speaking and could deliver an outburst with gusto. Against that, Yvette Mimieux plays passive and controlled. She also had an unusual way of speaking, pronouncing her words a little over-carefully.
Finney is more strident in Stanley Donen's "Two for the Road as he and Audrey Hepburn as Mark and Joanna Wallace survey their marriage through episodes from four previous road trips through the South of France. Audrey was at her most dazzling, but against Finney's bombast, like Yvette, she plays it passive, she was also a star that pronounced her words very precisely.
I think the star's speech patterns give both films an unusual ambiance.
My liking for "The Picasso Summer" has something to do with my being an artist, but maybe more to do with Yvette who died a couple of years ago aged 80. I was one of those 12 or 13 year-old baby boomers who were captivated by her as Weena in "The Time Machine"; just check the outpouring of nostalgia at her passing. Unfortunately she made some dire movies, "Snowbeast" anyone? However this film celebrates her appeal.
One last link between the two movies, a few years after the making of "The Picasso Summer" Yvette married Stanley Donen the director of "Two for the Road".
Although not without flaws, I think both films stay with you.
Albert Finney played an architect in both, however different people made the films, and they were never intended to be a pair. Nevertheless the overlap is part of their quirky charm.
"The Picasso Summer" is quirkier. It's a unique film that does capture the mystique of Picasso. There are many sites that cover in detail the drama involved in it's making and why it disappeared for so long.
George Smith (Finney), an architect bored with his job, and disenchanted with the superficiality of their life in San Francisco, has no trouble talking his wife, Alice (Yvette Mimieux), into heading to the South of France to try and meet his idol Picasso.
As they cycle their way towards Picasso, their dreams become enmeshed with his art, which comes to life in sometimes-brilliant animation. Apparently Picasso encouraged the animator, Wes Herschensohn, to give movement to his creations. The animation is the pre-digital, hand-drawn style with flat colour that suits Picasso's work, much of which is executed in a linear style with flat colour.
Michel Legrand's score sweeps the story along with solo guitar swelling to full orchestra. Although the song "Summer Me, Winter Me" didn't make it into the film, it's on Barbara Streisand's album, "The Way We Were" and there's no mistaking Legrand's theme.
But it's the combination of the stars that also make this film fascinating.
Albert Finney had a singular style, coupled with a Lancashire accent that seems to boom from the back of his throat, he had an abrupt style of speaking and could deliver an outburst with gusto. Against that, Yvette Mimieux plays passive and controlled. She also had an unusual way of speaking, pronouncing her words a little over-carefully.
Finney is more strident in Stanley Donen's "Two for the Road as he and Audrey Hepburn as Mark and Joanna Wallace survey their marriage through episodes from four previous road trips through the South of France. Audrey was at her most dazzling, but against Finney's bombast, like Yvette, she plays it passive, she was also a star that pronounced her words very precisely.
I think the star's speech patterns give both films an unusual ambiance.
My liking for "The Picasso Summer" has something to do with my being an artist, but maybe more to do with Yvette who died a couple of years ago aged 80. I was one of those 12 or 13 year-old baby boomers who were captivated by her as Weena in "The Time Machine"; just check the outpouring of nostalgia at her passing. Unfortunately she made some dire movies, "Snowbeast" anyone? However this film celebrates her appeal.
One last link between the two movies, a few years after the making of "The Picasso Summer" Yvette married Stanley Donen the director of "Two for the Road".
Although not without flaws, I think both films stay with you.
If you thought you knew the story of the race to be first to the South Pole from watching John Mills as Robert Falcon Scott in the 1948 film, then this series is like a splash of Antarctic ice water in the face.
The series is based on Roland Huntford's book about Amundsen and Scott's race to the pole. The book is a solid tome, but it's compulsive reading, this series is compulsive viewing.
Huntford's research revealed the meticulous professionalism of Amundsen versus the almost deliberate amateurism of Scott. The personalities of the men determined the fate of their expeditions. This series captures the differences with two powerful performances: Sverre Anker Ousdal as Roald Amundsen, bringing to life the man of iron resolve, and Martin Shaw giving us a stiff-necked, self-delusional 'Con' Scott.
Amundsen picked his men carefully. Great skiers and dog handlers, he ended up with a bunch of tough, capable Bear Grylls'. The one misfit, Johansen, was forced upon him.
Scott liked the hierarchal structure of the navy and that was the way his expedition was formed, but Scott's preconceptions and his idiosyncrasies determined everything.
The recreations of the two journeys are brilliant. In the book, Huntford goes into detail about the handling of the dogs. The Norwegians found that harnessing the dogs in a fan shape rather than in the traditional rows of pairs worked best, it's another beautifully realised detail in the series. We also see the power and savagery of the dogs that are just as happy eating each other as they are eating raw seal meat.
Scott's sentimental approach to his dogs and ponies meant he never got the best out of them. But in his heart of hearts he felt that man-hauling was the proper, heroic way to conquer the pole. There is a brilliant scene as the British team marches forward to strap themselves into their harnesses and their purgatory.
There are harrowing scenes, the slaughter of dogs and ponies, sacrificed to reach the pole, but it's the struggle of the British that sears into the memory with the gut-wrenching man-hauling, made worse as Scott loads their sled with rock samples, while scurvy and frostbite wear them down. It's one thing to read about it, but seeing this recreation on film is something else.
Where the 1948 film remains triumphant is in the music. Trevor Jones provided a serviceable score for "The Last place on Earth", but it's overshadowed by Vaughan Williams' haunting, majestic opus for "Scott of the Antarctic".
Although Scott's reputation suffers more than a little frostbite, Huntford's book and this series can't be held fully responsible because it was in the diaries and eyewitness reports all along; Oates, that "very gallant gentleman", hated him.
Amundsen's achievement gets its due. There was duplicity in the way he reversed his expedition to beat the British to the South Pole. However, the Norwegians faced the same conditions, but they had a better plan, and a leader with a clear, unsentimental vision.
The series is based on Roland Huntford's book about Amundsen and Scott's race to the pole. The book is a solid tome, but it's compulsive reading, this series is compulsive viewing.
Huntford's research revealed the meticulous professionalism of Amundsen versus the almost deliberate amateurism of Scott. The personalities of the men determined the fate of their expeditions. This series captures the differences with two powerful performances: Sverre Anker Ousdal as Roald Amundsen, bringing to life the man of iron resolve, and Martin Shaw giving us a stiff-necked, self-delusional 'Con' Scott.
Amundsen picked his men carefully. Great skiers and dog handlers, he ended up with a bunch of tough, capable Bear Grylls'. The one misfit, Johansen, was forced upon him.
Scott liked the hierarchal structure of the navy and that was the way his expedition was formed, but Scott's preconceptions and his idiosyncrasies determined everything.
The recreations of the two journeys are brilliant. In the book, Huntford goes into detail about the handling of the dogs. The Norwegians found that harnessing the dogs in a fan shape rather than in the traditional rows of pairs worked best, it's another beautifully realised detail in the series. We also see the power and savagery of the dogs that are just as happy eating each other as they are eating raw seal meat.
Scott's sentimental approach to his dogs and ponies meant he never got the best out of them. But in his heart of hearts he felt that man-hauling was the proper, heroic way to conquer the pole. There is a brilliant scene as the British team marches forward to strap themselves into their harnesses and their purgatory.
There are harrowing scenes, the slaughter of dogs and ponies, sacrificed to reach the pole, but it's the struggle of the British that sears into the memory with the gut-wrenching man-hauling, made worse as Scott loads their sled with rock samples, while scurvy and frostbite wear them down. It's one thing to read about it, but seeing this recreation on film is something else.
Where the 1948 film remains triumphant is in the music. Trevor Jones provided a serviceable score for "The Last place on Earth", but it's overshadowed by Vaughan Williams' haunting, majestic opus for "Scott of the Antarctic".
Although Scott's reputation suffers more than a little frostbite, Huntford's book and this series can't be held fully responsible because it was in the diaries and eyewitness reports all along; Oates, that "very gallant gentleman", hated him.
Amundsen's achievement gets its due. There was duplicity in the way he reversed his expedition to beat the British to the South Pole. However, the Norwegians faced the same conditions, but they had a better plan, and a leader with a clear, unsentimental vision.
There are scenes in this movie that made me glad I only ever saw it on TV. I know if I'd been sitting in a packed theatre back in the day as Francie Nolan finally gives way to her grief or when Jimmy Nolan makes the sickly little girl in the new dress feel like a princess, the lump in my throat would have led to audible gulps.
"A Tree Grows in Brooklyn", based on Betty Smith's novel, is a testament to the power of cinema to move you. Francie Nolan, a young girl growing up in the teaming tenements of Brooklyn in 1912 is torn between her alcoholic father, Johnny, full of charm and unrealistic dreams, and a mother who accepts the realities of their existence, but who seems harder than she really is.
The film was a combination of many talents and a script that caught the essence of a large, complex novel, but especially how a new director helped his cast of actors give performances that seared them into the memory.
"Miracles", is what director Elia Kazan called the casting of James Dunn as Johnny Nolan and Peggy Ann Garner as Francie. Although there were only 16 years between Peggy Ann Garner and Dorothy McGuire playing her mother, Katie, in the novel their ages are given as 11and 29 respectively. Dorothy McGuire was fine. She also brought an ethereal sadness to the role.
However, Kazan added this about his part in realising performances that seemed to go beyond acting, "You can't get it out of them if it's not in them".
In his autobiography, "Elia Kazan: A Life", Kazan admitted he needed technical help on this his first film, but Kazan, with acclaimed stage productions behind him, was the right person to guide the performers in breathing life into Betty Smith's characters.
In that powerful scene where Francie breaks down at her graduation, Kazan wasn't beyond using painful methods; he wanted Peggy Ann Garner to think how she would feel if she lost her own father who was serving in the War (he did return). He also chose James Dunn sensing the actor's drinking problem would add truth to the portrayal of his character.
Time has added another layer of poignancy to Peggy Ann Garner's performance knowing she died aged just 52.
Despite overwhelming praise, Kazan who had seen poverty in the South and in the Tennessee coal fields, worried that the film emerged as "poverty all cleaned up". At a time when he was dealing with rifts in his own family, Betty Smith's novel had touched him deeply, and he could also have been reacting to the pairing down of the novel, some passages of which dealt with sex, adulterous affairs and even child abuse. However, none of that was going into a 1945 movie.
Nevertheless, Kazan praised the "miracles" and all the others. Maybe he was simply too close to a film that many feel is one of the most heart-wrenchingly beautiful ever.
The film was remade in 1974, with just about the same script, but we are conscious of the acting. In Kazan's film, we are only conscious of the characters.
"A Tree Grows in Brooklyn", based on Betty Smith's novel, is a testament to the power of cinema to move you. Francie Nolan, a young girl growing up in the teaming tenements of Brooklyn in 1912 is torn between her alcoholic father, Johnny, full of charm and unrealistic dreams, and a mother who accepts the realities of their existence, but who seems harder than she really is.
The film was a combination of many talents and a script that caught the essence of a large, complex novel, but especially how a new director helped his cast of actors give performances that seared them into the memory.
"Miracles", is what director Elia Kazan called the casting of James Dunn as Johnny Nolan and Peggy Ann Garner as Francie. Although there were only 16 years between Peggy Ann Garner and Dorothy McGuire playing her mother, Katie, in the novel their ages are given as 11and 29 respectively. Dorothy McGuire was fine. She also brought an ethereal sadness to the role.
However, Kazan added this about his part in realising performances that seemed to go beyond acting, "You can't get it out of them if it's not in them".
In his autobiography, "Elia Kazan: A Life", Kazan admitted he needed technical help on this his first film, but Kazan, with acclaimed stage productions behind him, was the right person to guide the performers in breathing life into Betty Smith's characters.
In that powerful scene where Francie breaks down at her graduation, Kazan wasn't beyond using painful methods; he wanted Peggy Ann Garner to think how she would feel if she lost her own father who was serving in the War (he did return). He also chose James Dunn sensing the actor's drinking problem would add truth to the portrayal of his character.
Time has added another layer of poignancy to Peggy Ann Garner's performance knowing she died aged just 52.
Despite overwhelming praise, Kazan who had seen poverty in the South and in the Tennessee coal fields, worried that the film emerged as "poverty all cleaned up". At a time when he was dealing with rifts in his own family, Betty Smith's novel had touched him deeply, and he could also have been reacting to the pairing down of the novel, some passages of which dealt with sex, adulterous affairs and even child abuse. However, none of that was going into a 1945 movie.
Nevertheless, Kazan praised the "miracles" and all the others. Maybe he was simply too close to a film that many feel is one of the most heart-wrenchingly beautiful ever.
The film was remade in 1974, with just about the same script, but we are conscious of the acting. In Kazan's film, we are only conscious of the characters.
I'm amazed at the number of reviews that exhibit disappointment over this movie; they feel that a work of art, the original "Gladiator" has received the tomato soup treatment.
But when you accept that what we have here seems more inspired by the Italian Peplum genre of the 50s and 60s, AKA Sword-and-Sandals movies, it gets its own space; it's Peplum on steroids, spectacular, but Peplum nonetheless; look at the ending.
We should give it a proper Peplum name, "Il figlio do Gladiatore" ("The Son of Gladiator"), a classier companion to classics such as "Il figlio do Spartacus" ("The Son of Spartacus") and "I Dieci gladiatori" ("The Ten Gladiators").
As Paul Mescal as Lucius and Pedro Pascal as Acacius square off, you can almost feel the presence of Steve Reeves, Gordon Scott and Roger Browne in those short-short tunics with bulging thigh muscles and wedge-shaped torsos sorting out the Roman Empire, despite their speech being out of sync and their voices dubbed by guys more used to reading the six o'clock news.
Despite plenty of comment that "Glad II" seems to be swinging off the toga of the original, I think the main reason the first film remains superior is its spiritual quality; Peplum doesn't do spiritual, it does action. Maximus' longing for his lost family and idyllic Spanish estate permeated that earlier film. Richard Harris' ailing Marcus Aurelius also exuded a philosophical detachment that added to the effect. Maximus' wife was a tragic victim while Lucius' missus is an Amazon giving as good as she gets.
Peplum also doesn't do subtlety, but Denzel Washington as Macrinus is the breakaway from the ultra-serious protagonists around him. Not historically accurate? No problem, nothing else is either.
As for Connie Neilson as Lucilla, we marvel at how lightly the last twenty-five years rest on her. For crazy emperor research, Caracalla and Geta, no need to go back further than Jay Robinson in "Demetrius and the Gladiators".
That aside, Ridley Scott, like a Roman impresario back in 211 AD, had to up the ante in the arena. The crowds are getting jaded. Since Ridley put bums back on seats in the Colosseum in 2000, there has been much gladiator action. Ridley must have thrown the toys around when Roland Emmerich's "Those About to Die" mini-series beat him to the punch. Now the sand of the arena isn't enough, it has to be flooded. You can almost hear Ridley telling Roland that he may have the Circus Max and crocodiles, but he's got Ancient Roman LCI's (Landing Craft Infantry), baboons and the midday show featuring a gladiator riding a rhino. Top that!
"Gladiator II" is rocking the box office. So just as the ancients had to constantly be enticed by new novelties, these gladiator movies are doing the same thing to us today.
But when you accept that what we have here seems more inspired by the Italian Peplum genre of the 50s and 60s, AKA Sword-and-Sandals movies, it gets its own space; it's Peplum on steroids, spectacular, but Peplum nonetheless; look at the ending.
We should give it a proper Peplum name, "Il figlio do Gladiatore" ("The Son of Gladiator"), a classier companion to classics such as "Il figlio do Spartacus" ("The Son of Spartacus") and "I Dieci gladiatori" ("The Ten Gladiators").
As Paul Mescal as Lucius and Pedro Pascal as Acacius square off, you can almost feel the presence of Steve Reeves, Gordon Scott and Roger Browne in those short-short tunics with bulging thigh muscles and wedge-shaped torsos sorting out the Roman Empire, despite their speech being out of sync and their voices dubbed by guys more used to reading the six o'clock news.
Despite plenty of comment that "Glad II" seems to be swinging off the toga of the original, I think the main reason the first film remains superior is its spiritual quality; Peplum doesn't do spiritual, it does action. Maximus' longing for his lost family and idyllic Spanish estate permeated that earlier film. Richard Harris' ailing Marcus Aurelius also exuded a philosophical detachment that added to the effect. Maximus' wife was a tragic victim while Lucius' missus is an Amazon giving as good as she gets.
Peplum also doesn't do subtlety, but Denzel Washington as Macrinus is the breakaway from the ultra-serious protagonists around him. Not historically accurate? No problem, nothing else is either.
As for Connie Neilson as Lucilla, we marvel at how lightly the last twenty-five years rest on her. For crazy emperor research, Caracalla and Geta, no need to go back further than Jay Robinson in "Demetrius and the Gladiators".
That aside, Ridley Scott, like a Roman impresario back in 211 AD, had to up the ante in the arena. The crowds are getting jaded. Since Ridley put bums back on seats in the Colosseum in 2000, there has been much gladiator action. Ridley must have thrown the toys around when Roland Emmerich's "Those About to Die" mini-series beat him to the punch. Now the sand of the arena isn't enough, it has to be flooded. You can almost hear Ridley telling Roland that he may have the Circus Max and crocodiles, but he's got Ancient Roman LCI's (Landing Craft Infantry), baboons and the midday show featuring a gladiator riding a rhino. Top that!
"Gladiator II" is rocking the box office. So just as the ancients had to constantly be enticed by new novelties, these gladiator movies are doing the same thing to us today.
Although the filmmakers may have set out to give us the "real" Churchill, it ended up a series of vignettes. This allowed them to concentrate on events they felt were central in understanding Churchill, but seem also chosen for dramatic effect.
The danger of this approach is what happened here, that Churchill comes across as somewhat lightweight. Yes, some of it is interesting, but much of it is shallow analysis; it also has unchecked errors, gobsmackers, the series has a problem with dates.
In just the first two episodes we get Churchill sent to the Royal Military College, Sandhurst in 1899 (it was in 1893, he'd been on the Northwest Frontier by 1899), the landings at Gallipoli on 22 April 1915 (it was famously 25 April) and the most ridiculous, Churchill in France as an officer after Gallipoli in January 1915 (it was 1916). Sadly, there are others.
I get the feeling that the series was inspired by David Reynolds' style of documentaries, which deal with its subjects in an intimate way giving the feeling that we are inside the story. But this series falls short with easy conclusions and the elimination of key events. In Episode 4 "Path to Victory", the commentators are at pains to attribute Churchill's trips to D-Day and then the crossing of the Rhine to his boyish notions of adventure and trill seeking. They seem pleased with this analysis and too much time is devoted to it.
The leap from North Africa to D-day robs the series of the chance to acknowledge Churchill's ability to see a bigger picture before anyone else. Where is Sicily and Italy, and Churchill's prescience about Soviet intentions in Eastern Europe? The war with Japan, which occasioned some of his toughest and most controversial decisions, receives scant mention.
Episode 5, "Fallen Hero", seems a good summing up as to why he lost an "unlosable" election straight after the war; the point is fairly made that his judgement, so pivotal during the war, failed him here. From there though, in Episode 6, "Curtain Call", we get his "playboy" lifestyle in the South of France, 17 years after the end of the war. For anyone new to Churchill you could be forgiven for wondering how he was ever taken seriously.
But the filmmakers were too selective. There seems a whole episode missing. What happened to the Iron Curtain speech and his second stint as PM?
The commentators vary. Some have great affection for him, while others are noticeably strident. Through the series I feel the temptation to settle for zingers downplayed Churchill's formidable intellect and his insights into history and politics uncomfortable as some of them may seem to an audience today.
The danger of this approach is what happened here, that Churchill comes across as somewhat lightweight. Yes, some of it is interesting, but much of it is shallow analysis; it also has unchecked errors, gobsmackers, the series has a problem with dates.
In just the first two episodes we get Churchill sent to the Royal Military College, Sandhurst in 1899 (it was in 1893, he'd been on the Northwest Frontier by 1899), the landings at Gallipoli on 22 April 1915 (it was famously 25 April) and the most ridiculous, Churchill in France as an officer after Gallipoli in January 1915 (it was 1916). Sadly, there are others.
I get the feeling that the series was inspired by David Reynolds' style of documentaries, which deal with its subjects in an intimate way giving the feeling that we are inside the story. But this series falls short with easy conclusions and the elimination of key events. In Episode 4 "Path to Victory", the commentators are at pains to attribute Churchill's trips to D-Day and then the crossing of the Rhine to his boyish notions of adventure and trill seeking. They seem pleased with this analysis and too much time is devoted to it.
The leap from North Africa to D-day robs the series of the chance to acknowledge Churchill's ability to see a bigger picture before anyone else. Where is Sicily and Italy, and Churchill's prescience about Soviet intentions in Eastern Europe? The war with Japan, which occasioned some of his toughest and most controversial decisions, receives scant mention.
Episode 5, "Fallen Hero", seems a good summing up as to why he lost an "unlosable" election straight after the war; the point is fairly made that his judgement, so pivotal during the war, failed him here. From there though, in Episode 6, "Curtain Call", we get his "playboy" lifestyle in the South of France, 17 years after the end of the war. For anyone new to Churchill you could be forgiven for wondering how he was ever taken seriously.
But the filmmakers were too selective. There seems a whole episode missing. What happened to the Iron Curtain speech and his second stint as PM?
The commentators vary. Some have great affection for him, while others are noticeably strident. Through the series I feel the temptation to settle for zingers downplayed Churchill's formidable intellect and his insights into history and politics uncomfortable as some of them may seem to an audience today.
Every time I watch "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid", I spend days reading and watching everything that is known about them. Did they die in that town in Bolivia or did they return and live out their lives in anonymity, and what was going on with Etta?
It's not that I don't appreciate the movie for what it is, I love it, but I get the same pull of the mystery that must have inspired William Goldman to write the screenplay.
It's a movie that has travelled easily across the decades. It's 55-years young. I still find it funny and poignant just as the filmmakers intended.
Finding out the known facts doesn't really detract from the movie. The filmmakers captured a sense of the disappearing Old West, but then gave it a totally modern vibe with a catchy soundtrack and songs, but the casting made it. Paul Newman was in early, but they churned through quite a few names before they settled on Robert Redford who looked a lot like Sundance, and brought perfect timing to the role; underreacting is often funnier than overreacting. But it wasn't a comedy; amusing bits of business were dropped when it seemed it was getting too many laughs.
However the filmmakers could not have dreamed that their homage to Butch and Sundance would make their names synonymous with male bonding, buddies, best mates, partners; two guys that despite disagreements and different personalities will take a bullet for each other.
I'm surprised more shows don't use the formula. You might get away as a loner in a sedate occupation, but for a cop; a fireman; a grunt walking point or as an outlaw on the run from a super posse, you need someone to watch your back, your 6 o'clock. Loners stand less chance. The classic example is the probable end of the real Butch and Sundance when they where trapped in that little room in San Vincente with bullets ricocheting around like a Mixmaster, Butch did the necessary with a bullet for his badly wounded buddy and then one for himself.
When you see photos of the real Belle Starr and Calamity Jane, you know that Hollywood took liberties casting beautiful actresses in the parts of those tough-looking, sharp-shooting women, but not so with Etta Place. The real Etta would have turned Stetsons and sombreros everywhere she went. And those posed studio pictures of Butch and the gang, and Sundance with Etta in her beautifully accessorised Edwardian gown could almost be their portfolio shots at Central Casting they look so right for their parts; no wonder Goldman saw a movie in the whole thing.
And there it is, the movie is now enmeshed with the real story and although we can see where it embellished the facts or departed from them altogether, it delivered exactly what it stated at the beginning: "Most of what follows is true".
It's not that I don't appreciate the movie for what it is, I love it, but I get the same pull of the mystery that must have inspired William Goldman to write the screenplay.
It's a movie that has travelled easily across the decades. It's 55-years young. I still find it funny and poignant just as the filmmakers intended.
Finding out the known facts doesn't really detract from the movie. The filmmakers captured a sense of the disappearing Old West, but then gave it a totally modern vibe with a catchy soundtrack and songs, but the casting made it. Paul Newman was in early, but they churned through quite a few names before they settled on Robert Redford who looked a lot like Sundance, and brought perfect timing to the role; underreacting is often funnier than overreacting. But it wasn't a comedy; amusing bits of business were dropped when it seemed it was getting too many laughs.
However the filmmakers could not have dreamed that their homage to Butch and Sundance would make their names synonymous with male bonding, buddies, best mates, partners; two guys that despite disagreements and different personalities will take a bullet for each other.
I'm surprised more shows don't use the formula. You might get away as a loner in a sedate occupation, but for a cop; a fireman; a grunt walking point or as an outlaw on the run from a super posse, you need someone to watch your back, your 6 o'clock. Loners stand less chance. The classic example is the probable end of the real Butch and Sundance when they where trapped in that little room in San Vincente with bullets ricocheting around like a Mixmaster, Butch did the necessary with a bullet for his badly wounded buddy and then one for himself.
When you see photos of the real Belle Starr and Calamity Jane, you know that Hollywood took liberties casting beautiful actresses in the parts of those tough-looking, sharp-shooting women, but not so with Etta Place. The real Etta would have turned Stetsons and sombreros everywhere she went. And those posed studio pictures of Butch and the gang, and Sundance with Etta in her beautifully accessorised Edwardian gown could almost be their portfolio shots at Central Casting they look so right for their parts; no wonder Goldman saw a movie in the whole thing.
And there it is, the movie is now enmeshed with the real story and although we can see where it embellished the facts or departed from them altogether, it delivered exactly what it stated at the beginning: "Most of what follows is true".
If ever there was a movie that epitomised the line, "When the legend becomes fact, print the legend", this is it.
I first saw "The Last Command" in B/W on Australian television in the late 1950's. As a 10-year old, Disney's "Davy Crockett: King of the Wild Frontier" had awakened me to the happenings around San Antonio, Texas in 1836.
"The Last Command" seemed to expand on the final segment of that story, although Davy Crockett, played by Arthur Hunnicutt, seemed diminished from 6'6" Fess Parker's Davy. However Sterling Hayden's 6'6" Jim Bowie made up for it.
These days, it's not difficult to discover the known facts about the battle and its participants. It's obvious "The Last Command" didn't let history get in the way of telling a good story; messier truths just didn't make it into the script. The film simply celebrates the legend of the Alamo.
The filmmakers also achieved an epic feel on a limited budget with only one brief glimpse of the top of the Alamo Mission. It cost a fraction of John Wayne's homage to the event a few years later, but it has brilliantly staged battle scenes. I'd be amazed if during the final assault as the Mexicans poured over the walls that the film's first aid team wasn't run off its feet as platforms collapsed and horses leapt over fallen men.
One of the great drivers of the film is Max Steiner's score. It starts with Gordon MacRae singing the title song set to Steiner's heroic theme, which permeates the whole film.
Steiner's theme surrounds Jim Bowie like an aura.
And listen to how Steiner's score is sometimes just a subtle hum punctuated by a Mexican-flavoured solo guitar or notes on a violin before drums and bugles introduce the full orchestra for the final battle. The film has been criticised for the imposed love interest with Anna Maria Alberghetti, and talky scenes setting the historical context, but this is where Steiner's score creates a sense of tension and inevitable fate.
But the focus of the film is Jim Bowie. Sterling Hayden gives him a commanding presence with a voice so deep it sounded like he had built-in reverb. Lee Mandel's "Sterling Hayden's Wars" tells of this amazing man's early life as an intrepid sailor, and warrior during WW2. Although he faced a moral dilemma during Hollywood's blacklist, and had little regard for his films of the 1950s, Hayden was the sort of rugged individualist the defenders of the Alamo would have been glad to have alongside them.
There are other Alamo movies; the 2004 movie with Billy Bob Thornton is probably closest to what happened. Wayne's film, like "The Last Command", is best taken as a celebration of the legend. Apparently there is no Mexican film about the battle, but wouldn't that be interesting?
I first saw "The Last Command" in B/W on Australian television in the late 1950's. As a 10-year old, Disney's "Davy Crockett: King of the Wild Frontier" had awakened me to the happenings around San Antonio, Texas in 1836.
"The Last Command" seemed to expand on the final segment of that story, although Davy Crockett, played by Arthur Hunnicutt, seemed diminished from 6'6" Fess Parker's Davy. However Sterling Hayden's 6'6" Jim Bowie made up for it.
These days, it's not difficult to discover the known facts about the battle and its participants. It's obvious "The Last Command" didn't let history get in the way of telling a good story; messier truths just didn't make it into the script. The film simply celebrates the legend of the Alamo.
The filmmakers also achieved an epic feel on a limited budget with only one brief glimpse of the top of the Alamo Mission. It cost a fraction of John Wayne's homage to the event a few years later, but it has brilliantly staged battle scenes. I'd be amazed if during the final assault as the Mexicans poured over the walls that the film's first aid team wasn't run off its feet as platforms collapsed and horses leapt over fallen men.
One of the great drivers of the film is Max Steiner's score. It starts with Gordon MacRae singing the title song set to Steiner's heroic theme, which permeates the whole film.
Steiner's theme surrounds Jim Bowie like an aura.
And listen to how Steiner's score is sometimes just a subtle hum punctuated by a Mexican-flavoured solo guitar or notes on a violin before drums and bugles introduce the full orchestra for the final battle. The film has been criticised for the imposed love interest with Anna Maria Alberghetti, and talky scenes setting the historical context, but this is where Steiner's score creates a sense of tension and inevitable fate.
But the focus of the film is Jim Bowie. Sterling Hayden gives him a commanding presence with a voice so deep it sounded like he had built-in reverb. Lee Mandel's "Sterling Hayden's Wars" tells of this amazing man's early life as an intrepid sailor, and warrior during WW2. Although he faced a moral dilemma during Hollywood's blacklist, and had little regard for his films of the 1950s, Hayden was the sort of rugged individualist the defenders of the Alamo would have been glad to have alongside them.
There are other Alamo movies; the 2004 movie with Billy Bob Thornton is probably closest to what happened. Wayne's film, like "The Last Command", is best taken as a celebration of the legend. Apparently there is no Mexican film about the battle, but wouldn't that be interesting?
"Son, that gal you're foolin' with, she ain't no good for you". Colonel Tom Parker could almost have used those words from "That's All Right, Mama", when he saw the impact Ann-Margaret was having in "Viva Las Vegas". "This is an Elvis Presley film, not an Elvis Presley and Ann-Margaret film", he declared.
He made sure there was never another one, and according to Ray Connolly's "Being Elvis: A Lonely Life", as Elvis's manager, he had enough clout to remove some of Ann-Margaret's close-ups and seems to have had a couple of duets dropped. "Today, Tomorrow, and Forever", which Elvis sings solo in the film was originally a duet, and it's possibly the reason the very cool number, "You're the Boss", another duet, was removed altogether.
He was right about the impact she had, but Elvis didn't seem to mind at all, the co-starring carried over into real life; for a while anyway.
Connolly points out that Elvis could have protected her more from the Colonel, but he didn't; the Colonel called the shots. But it didn't hurt their relationship; a line in Connolly's superbly researched book says that Ann Margaret was unattached at the time, and when he was in Hollywood, Elvis thought he was too.
Elvis seemed ashamed of most of his films with pretty much the same story just in different locations. But even though the songs in many of the movies seemed to run into each other, Elvis could sell them. What a range he had, with perfect control and tone while effortlessly crossing genres. When you hear him singing "Santa Lucia" in this film, you can believe he could have sung opera if he'd gone in that direction.
Although Baz Luhrmann's 2022 film "Elvis" dismissed his film career in a quick montage, everything about "Viva Las Vegas' was a cut above just about all his other 30 or so movies. Packed with great songs, top direction, a colourful location it had also had two stars whose charisma rose above any of the inanities in the script.
Elvis, didn't sing too many of the songs from his films of the 50's and 60's in those amazing stage shows in the 70's, but according to Connolly, he didn't ever sing "Viva Las Vegas" in any of them even when they were performed in Vegas.
I'm not alone in thinking that Elvis and Ann-Margaret in this film joined those fabulous movie duos of all-time. They may have only made one movie together, but a scene right at the end, which the colonel must have missed, says it all, in split-screen they strut their stuff alongside each other; it sure did look like an Elvis Presley and Ann-Margaret film.
He made sure there was never another one, and according to Ray Connolly's "Being Elvis: A Lonely Life", as Elvis's manager, he had enough clout to remove some of Ann-Margaret's close-ups and seems to have had a couple of duets dropped. "Today, Tomorrow, and Forever", which Elvis sings solo in the film was originally a duet, and it's possibly the reason the very cool number, "You're the Boss", another duet, was removed altogether.
He was right about the impact she had, but Elvis didn't seem to mind at all, the co-starring carried over into real life; for a while anyway.
Connolly points out that Elvis could have protected her more from the Colonel, but he didn't; the Colonel called the shots. But it didn't hurt their relationship; a line in Connolly's superbly researched book says that Ann Margaret was unattached at the time, and when he was in Hollywood, Elvis thought he was too.
Elvis seemed ashamed of most of his films with pretty much the same story just in different locations. But even though the songs in many of the movies seemed to run into each other, Elvis could sell them. What a range he had, with perfect control and tone while effortlessly crossing genres. When you hear him singing "Santa Lucia" in this film, you can believe he could have sung opera if he'd gone in that direction.
Although Baz Luhrmann's 2022 film "Elvis" dismissed his film career in a quick montage, everything about "Viva Las Vegas' was a cut above just about all his other 30 or so movies. Packed with great songs, top direction, a colourful location it had also had two stars whose charisma rose above any of the inanities in the script.
Elvis, didn't sing too many of the songs from his films of the 50's and 60's in those amazing stage shows in the 70's, but according to Connolly, he didn't ever sing "Viva Las Vegas" in any of them even when they were performed in Vegas.
I'm not alone in thinking that Elvis and Ann-Margaret in this film joined those fabulous movie duos of all-time. They may have only made one movie together, but a scene right at the end, which the colonel must have missed, says it all, in split-screen they strut their stuff alongside each other; it sure did look like an Elvis Presley and Ann-Margaret film.
I have come late to "The Mentalist" cult, but I'm now totally under its spell.
Recently Foxtel Australia has rerun all 7 Seasons. Each day around morning teatime, as Patrick Jane sips his cup of Lapsang Souchong, I have my cup of Bushells Blue Label.
On one level "The Mentalist" is a police procedural, but there are two opposing characters that make the show so compelling. Firstly there's Patrick Jane (Simon Baker) who we see in every episode and whose previous occupation as a successful "fake" psychic gives him a unique perspective on solving crimes. The other character we don't really see until much later, Red John, the serial killer who killed Patrick's wife and daughter. However Red John has an ominous, all pervading presence with powers more like "The Matrix" than any run-of-the-mill serial killer.
Something else makes it special, the rich vein of humour running through the series despite the show dealing with murder in every episode. It comes from clever writing, but also the reactions from actors that are inside their characters. Brad Neely's score projects that feeling, there's mystery and intrigue, but with a light touch.
When you have a character as over-the-top as Patrick, you have to be careful not to have too many competing eccentric or zany characters, otherwise it would be like an episode of "The Munsters".
Creator Bruno Heller assembled the perfect team around Patrick: California Bureau of Investigation agents Rigsby, Van Pelt, Cho and their boss, Teresa Lisbon (Robin Tunney). All are dedicated detectives that have Patrick and each other's backs; one of the joys of the show is the interaction between Rigsby (Owain Yeoman) and Cho (Tim Kang).
The series gets extra spice when a character is introduced that proves a worthy adversary for Patrick, steel sharpening steel. There were plenty on both sides of the law; some connected to Red John. They usually turn up in more than one episode, Walter Mashburn, Erica Flynn, Bret Styles etc. The over-arching themes really pick up by Season 6.
"The Mentalist" was like sculptor's clay in the hands of its creators. When shows with set formats make unexpected changes it can lead to a fatal "jumping the shark", but the mentalist was so malleable that we learned to expect the unexpected.
The big resolution and change of direction midway through Season 6, simply gave the show new opportunities, proving that "The Mentalist" could have gone on for a long time. But the ending felt right, and like the best of things, left us wanting more. I'm not giving it away, suffice to say that although the producers tried to arrest falling ratings, the show kept its committed fans, and gained new ones like me who embrace it like a liferaft of originality in a sea of same old, same old.
Recently Foxtel Australia has rerun all 7 Seasons. Each day around morning teatime, as Patrick Jane sips his cup of Lapsang Souchong, I have my cup of Bushells Blue Label.
On one level "The Mentalist" is a police procedural, but there are two opposing characters that make the show so compelling. Firstly there's Patrick Jane (Simon Baker) who we see in every episode and whose previous occupation as a successful "fake" psychic gives him a unique perspective on solving crimes. The other character we don't really see until much later, Red John, the serial killer who killed Patrick's wife and daughter. However Red John has an ominous, all pervading presence with powers more like "The Matrix" than any run-of-the-mill serial killer.
Something else makes it special, the rich vein of humour running through the series despite the show dealing with murder in every episode. It comes from clever writing, but also the reactions from actors that are inside their characters. Brad Neely's score projects that feeling, there's mystery and intrigue, but with a light touch.
When you have a character as over-the-top as Patrick, you have to be careful not to have too many competing eccentric or zany characters, otherwise it would be like an episode of "The Munsters".
Creator Bruno Heller assembled the perfect team around Patrick: California Bureau of Investigation agents Rigsby, Van Pelt, Cho and their boss, Teresa Lisbon (Robin Tunney). All are dedicated detectives that have Patrick and each other's backs; one of the joys of the show is the interaction between Rigsby (Owain Yeoman) and Cho (Tim Kang).
The series gets extra spice when a character is introduced that proves a worthy adversary for Patrick, steel sharpening steel. There were plenty on both sides of the law; some connected to Red John. They usually turn up in more than one episode, Walter Mashburn, Erica Flynn, Bret Styles etc. The over-arching themes really pick up by Season 6.
"The Mentalist" was like sculptor's clay in the hands of its creators. When shows with set formats make unexpected changes it can lead to a fatal "jumping the shark", but the mentalist was so malleable that we learned to expect the unexpected.
The big resolution and change of direction midway through Season 6, simply gave the show new opportunities, proving that "The Mentalist" could have gone on for a long time. But the ending felt right, and like the best of things, left us wanting more. I'm not giving it away, suffice to say that although the producers tried to arrest falling ratings, the show kept its committed fans, and gained new ones like me who embrace it like a liferaft of originality in a sea of same old, same old.
This recreation of Ancient Rome shows that although the Romans could hold a horserace on steroids, and put on a show that makes "WrestleMania" look like kids playing in a pre-school sand pit, a decent lighting grid was beyond them. This thing is so dark; half of it seems in silhouette. There were a couple of episodes where I wasn't sure who was doing what to whom.
Accurate I suppose, but other shows about the ancients have got around it without us wondering how they received a visit from Thomas Edison. My favourite sword and sandals series HBO's "Rome" didn't seem that dark. Admittedly it makes the brightness of the chariot racing and arena scenes stand out.
Director Roland Emmerich said he was inspired to make the series after reading Daniel P. Mannix's history of the games. I read that book years ago; it was a pretty sensational read detailing the happenings in the arena and the Circus Maximus over many centuries. The filmmakers couldn't follow that format or it would have ended up a docu-drama like The History Channel's tedious "Colosseum". Instead they borrowed the format of HBO's "Rome" where we dive into a specific time. "Those About To Die" takes place around 80 AD and features the reign of Emperor Vespasian and his sons Titus and Domitian. The series depicts the lives of the elites contrasted against Ancient Rome's great unwashed.
Anthony Hopkins as Vespasian joins those esteemed British actors deep into their careers that have donned the imperial purple to play Rome's greatest emperors on the cusp of divinity; he gives the series a lift.
Despite the mood lighting, the series has strong stories and a literate script. Although eight episodes would have tightened it, and we get far too much of Scorpus the charioteer, the series becomes compelling, gripping even, as we head towards the end.
We cut between the intrigues of the royal court in the marble-floored palaces and the story of Numidian Cala (Sara Martens) down in the mean alleyways of Rome attempting to rescue her daughters from slavery and her son from the arena. Through her changing relationship with Tenax (Iwon Rheon), an ancient version of crime boss and big-time bookie, we are taken behind the scenes of the chariot racing, and later the sick fun of the Roman Games.
I think the CGI is used well. The recreation of the Circus Max and the Colosseum are impressive, and don't worry too much about the sex scenes, most of them are so gloomy they seem like they were shot in a disused train tunnel.
Roland Emmerich and the filmmakers did what author Daniel P. Mannix did in the book; where the ancient texts didn't deliver enough gasps, they took a somewhat sadistic guess.
Like HBO's "Rome" this series gives an idea of the life of the ancient Romans, living in an empire that through movies and television seems more like an alternate universe than ancient history.
Accurate I suppose, but other shows about the ancients have got around it without us wondering how they received a visit from Thomas Edison. My favourite sword and sandals series HBO's "Rome" didn't seem that dark. Admittedly it makes the brightness of the chariot racing and arena scenes stand out.
Director Roland Emmerich said he was inspired to make the series after reading Daniel P. Mannix's history of the games. I read that book years ago; it was a pretty sensational read detailing the happenings in the arena and the Circus Maximus over many centuries. The filmmakers couldn't follow that format or it would have ended up a docu-drama like The History Channel's tedious "Colosseum". Instead they borrowed the format of HBO's "Rome" where we dive into a specific time. "Those About To Die" takes place around 80 AD and features the reign of Emperor Vespasian and his sons Titus and Domitian. The series depicts the lives of the elites contrasted against Ancient Rome's great unwashed.
Anthony Hopkins as Vespasian joins those esteemed British actors deep into their careers that have donned the imperial purple to play Rome's greatest emperors on the cusp of divinity; he gives the series a lift.
Despite the mood lighting, the series has strong stories and a literate script. Although eight episodes would have tightened it, and we get far too much of Scorpus the charioteer, the series becomes compelling, gripping even, as we head towards the end.
We cut between the intrigues of the royal court in the marble-floored palaces and the story of Numidian Cala (Sara Martens) down in the mean alleyways of Rome attempting to rescue her daughters from slavery and her son from the arena. Through her changing relationship with Tenax (Iwon Rheon), an ancient version of crime boss and big-time bookie, we are taken behind the scenes of the chariot racing, and later the sick fun of the Roman Games.
I think the CGI is used well. The recreation of the Circus Max and the Colosseum are impressive, and don't worry too much about the sex scenes, most of them are so gloomy they seem like they were shot in a disused train tunnel.
Roland Emmerich and the filmmakers did what author Daniel P. Mannix did in the book; where the ancient texts didn't deliver enough gasps, they took a somewhat sadistic guess.
Like HBO's "Rome" this series gives an idea of the life of the ancient Romans, living in an empire that through movies and television seems more like an alternate universe than ancient history.