DCBruton

Andy Griffith is electrifying. His performance in "A Face in the Crowd" is one of the greatest dramatic performances in the history of film. The complexity and depth of the character Lonesome Rhodes as portrayed by Griffith reaches the cellular biochemical level. It is a perfect match. So perfect that one wonders after seeing this picture what could have possibly happened to Griffith's film career? It was Griffith's first film. Two others followed in close secession: No time for Sergeants, and Onionhead. Griffith then moved on to Mayberry and never looked back. In retrospect, it is hard to comprehend Griffith's career or what I think ultimately is a malfunction of that career. I would submit that while Mayberry may have endeared Andy to millions, carrying around Aunt Bee's apple pie became a pathological self destroyer of a potentially truly great career as a dramatic actor. I define success not by popularity but by great performance. Griffith's Lonesome Rhodes was his first and last great performance. Thus the tragedy of Lonesome Rhodes is really the tragedy of a career that sparkled briefly. It is akin to a spectacular impressionist artist that demonstrates genius with one stellar effort but avoids all risk and moves on to house painting because the money is steady. In the later years of the Andy Griffith show, the anguish and self-loathing of this bungled career decision showed physically in the face of Sheriff Taylor.

Some individuals with great talent will always find a way to fail. This was essentially the same sentiment that Lucille Ball held of her former husband, Desi Arnes. For many years Griffith complained that he did not feel that he was treated as well as others. He pinned this on his Southern heritage, explaining that he felt that Southerners at large always had a feeling that they did not quite "measure up" to others. I doubt sincerely that Elvis shared such sentiments. Taken to the extreme this "inferiority complex" raged in Lonesome Rhodes until the bully inside was detonated like a nuclear bomb. Griffith too, used his TV popularity to leverage Matlock to be shot in Wilmington, NC on a take it or leave it basis, forcing the mountain at last, to come to Mohammed. Ultimately one would have to ask Griffith if this kind of smug penny ante self-impaling leveraging finally gave him the kind of "self-respect" that he was seeking. Clearly Griffith lives in the skin of Lonesome Rhodes more than he would care to admit.

Never doubting the terminal stupidity of Hollywood, this truly great motion picture has never been released on DVD. The film is a must see if only to demonstrate how truly great Griffith could have been had he had the spine to be something other than paint houses. He had the talent; he simply lacked the courage to take the tougher road.

Lifeboat, the Hitchcock classic, defines the essence of the American super will in 1944. It pits the American melting pot irrationality and eccentricities against the single-minded rational Teutonic mind. Unlike the typical propaganda movies of its time, Lifeboat does not march without a reverse gear across the screen like John Wayne's boots. Lifeboat is circumspect, and asks profound questions about war, and values, and vulnerability. It second guesses itself. It wonders.

A freighter is sunk by a German U-boat and the cast assembles in a solitary lifeboat on a cold gray Atlantic Ocean for a two hour emotional roller-coaster. 60 years ago, before there were true female heavyweight actresses like Brittany Spears or Meg Ryan, there was Tallulah Bankhead, a thinking man's dame with an Alabama drawl and no underwear. Apparently she wanted to keep the attention of the camera crew during filming; mission accomplished. Playing the lead role of Constance Porter, Tallulah was in her element as the clawed feisty sharp talking journalist ripping apart at will anyone that crossed her path especially alpha male want a be, John Kovac, played by John Hodiak. Ruggedly ugly, Hodiak, played an impulsive hotheaded boiler room brute that acted first and used thought only as a last resort. His persona was that of a man raised on the wrong side of the tracks, vigilant like a stray dog with the hair up on its back most of the time.

Then there was Willy. Willy, played magnificently by Walter Slezak, was a rescued German U-boat sailor, ultimately unmasked as the Captain of the U-boat that sunk the freighter. Willy spoke perfect English. He knew the sea, navigation and knew how to survive. He was superior in intellect, physical strength, and cunning. Not only was he capable of saving Gus Smith's life by a surgical amputation of his leg, he also pushed Gus overboard when it was clear that Gus, played by William Bendix was dying and essentially wasting the survival resources of the others in the boat.

Other characters providing color included a young Hume Cronyn, hard to believe he was ever young, and famous cigar chewing character actor grouch, Charles Rittenhouse who played Henry Hull, ironically, a shipping tycoon. Other players had various levels of incompetence and mental instability.

What does this movie say? It says that Americans can only stand so much rational logic before they explode, even if the rational logic initially saves their lives. It frames the basis of ethical reasoning. For example who do you give a heart transplant to, a scientist or a street person who waltzes into the door two seconds before the scientist? Willy would give the heart to the scientist because he weighs the society above the individual, and the rest of the boat would give it to the street person, not because it is rational but because they base ethics on human equality, and seek to find some measure of 'fairness' as the basis of ethical decision making. While American society may tout the virtues of this kind of sentiment, they are not really that comfortable with it. Watching a street person with a newly transplanted heart swill down a bottle of Thunderbird wine is not particularly gratifying when at the same time the Nobel Laureate is being laid to rest, perhaps just short of a discovery that could have saved millions of lives. And this is precisely what the movie does in the end. It leaves us uncertain about our own brutality in the name of our version of ethical fairness. It also makes us question our own sense of reason and logic. What possible virtue is there in a society that shuns reasoning? This is the point that Hitchcock makes so cleverly. He leaves us with a sense of fear, from both a tough intelligent rational enemy, but also from a wild brutish killing wrought out of self-fear and ending with an uncomfortable lynch mob sense of justice. This was not a killing of self-defense; it was a killing of berserk passion and loss of control. These were after all, not soldiers, but they were us, suffering from a global war with no end in sight. Frustrated by a relentless predatory machine-like enemy, that could torpedo unarmed freighters, yet smile and tell jokes while rowing toward an enemy rescue ship.

Lifeboat is a movie of huge depth. If the brain aspects of the movie don't appeal to you, you may want to see the movie just to get a glimpse of Tallulah so you could actually see what a real woman once looked like before they became extinct in the sea of 18 year old tattooed tongue-pierced pop culture nothings and crack smoking 'super-models' that masquerade these days as 'American womanhood'. And you wonder why men don't want to marry anymore.