The Okay Gatsby

I watched Jack Clayton's The Great Gatsby ('74) this past weekend starring Robert Redford and Mia Farrow, and I was actually mesmerized by the jazz-age production - specifically Douglas Slocombe's sparkling, milky soft-focus cinematography and Theoni V. Aldredge's costume design.

Other than that, it's a bit of a vacuous, lethargic thing with a bad performance by Mia Farrow and really no pulse or emotional pull-through to speak of. Like the guests at Gatsby's parties, its glamorous and glitzy but more than a bit flimsy.

WWII #6: Sahara (1943)

"SAHARA" (Zoltán Korda, 1943)
Columbia Pictures, 99 mins.

Zoltan Korda's Sahara ('43) is a gripping sand-swept North Africa war film that follows a lone, stranded American tank (named "Lulubelle") as it trudges through the German occupied desert, looking to evade Nazi's and dehydration. Like the best war-combat films (Battleground, Twelve O'Clock High), it deftly marries character-building troop dynamics with battlefield grit and tension.

Like a cross between The Lost Patrol ('34) and Zulu ('64), the film is a minimalist desert-survival scrap before turning into an against-the-odds "last stand" actioner. It's the perfect recipe for more patriotic chest-pounding (the allies victory in North Africa was hot off the presses), and any propagandist overtones in the second-half feel earned.

One of the interesting aspects of Sahara is its all-encompassing spread of supporting characters, all of whom represent a faction in the war. There's a busted-up group of British medical officers, a Frenchman, a South African, a British-Sudanese officer and a duo of prisoners - one a sympathetic Italian and the other a deceptive, grounded German Luftwaffe pilot.

As Sgt. Gunn (Humphrey Bogart) and his two American shotgun riders set out to get back into the fight, they run into this multinational myriad of soldiers bit-by-bit like something out of a Japanese RPG. The effect and subsequent stand-off allows our characters (and the trio of screenwriters) to miniaturize the mood, feeling and politics of the European front before our eyes.

A product of the Hungarian dream team, so to speak, Sahara benefits from the thrilling set pieces of director Zoltán Korda along with a stirring Miklós Rózsa score and Rudolph Maté's black-and-white lensing. Bogart didn't serve during World War II off the screen, but on it, he was the perfect soldier and Sahara may be his best film in uniform. [A-]

Classic Rewind: Green Dolphin Street (1947)

Lana Turner and Donna Reed are sisters competing for the love of a doctor's son in Victor Saville's Green Dolphin Street ('47), another lavish, sweeping big-screen romance financed by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer in their timeless attempt to duplicate the success of Gone With the Wind ('39).

Set in the 19th century in the small, fictional island town of St. Pierre before setting sail for New Zealand for a good dose of melodrama amidst earthquakes, tidal waves and tribal uprisings, the excellent performances by Lana Turner and Van Heflin in particular are dirtied by the film's capricious histrionics and muddy source material.

Richard Hart plays the object of the two young and kittenish Patourel sisters, Marguerite (Reed) and Marianne (Turner). He unnaturally avoids the savvy and conniving Marianne in favor of the puppy-eyed and prudent Marguerite, which ruffles more than a few feathers.

Richard Hart and Lana Turner on the set of Green Dolphin Street.

Doing her best Scarlett O'Hara impression, Marianne sets a plan in motion to buy the heart of her admiration, and when a letter arrives asking her hand in marriage, it appears that she has succeeded, only to find out that it was a mere muff of a pen-stroke. (Don't worry, Marianne, we thought it was a cheap contrivance ourselves.)

Poor Marguerite, back on her homeland, after witnessing the love of her life take off with her sister and watching her parents pass away before her eyes, is left looking for answers. Luckily, she stumbles into a convent and finds her love in God. "I've found what I'm looking for," she says.

Green Dolphin Street, wonderfully shot in black-and-white by George J. Folsey, has its juicy moments of intrigue and wicked irony, but inevitably it comes off as elegant, overheated twaddle. I can get behind the idea of forbidden romance and tough luck - it's the underlying message of joy and meaning through the unexpected that feels phony and dishonest. [C+]

WWII #5: The Great Escape (1963)

"THE GREAT ESCAPE" (John Sturges, 1963)
Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, 172 mins.

With that jaunty Elmer Bernstein score and seemingly harmless dispatch of Luftwaffe armed guards, The Great Escape ('63) is one of the most fun, tranquil and easygoing prisoner-of-war movies ever made, largely attributing to its cuddly, amiable likability across generations. Even at a long-winded 172 minutes, the joys of the film lie in its breathtaking international cast and the anatomy of the escape.

Director John Sturges, once a master of the western genre, said about this film that, "it was the reason that we won the war." Such a statement may appear folly, but the dogged resiliency, cooperation and intolerance for idleness presented in The Great Escape certainly make a compelling argument in his favor.

Based on the true-life novel by Paul Brickhill, the film was only made because of Sturges' insistence that the story would be treated with utmost respect. The film's largest embellishment - the increased role of an American pilot (Steve McQueen) in the escape - is likely the film's greatest strength.

In reality, the escape (or for some, attempted escape) was a predominantly British undertaking, with any American involvement minimal, but the character of Captain Virgil Hilts (McQueen), with his impressively determined track record and disassociation with the British officer known as "Big X" (the wonderful Richard Attenborough) provides the backbone for the film.

Rounding out the star-studded cast are James Garner, James Donald, Charles Bronson, James Coburn and Donald Pleasance with the only surprise (other than the fact that McQueen's performance is surprisingly rife with ironic, comedic timing) is that Yul Brynner didn't sign on to play a German Luftwaffe guard.

Although a bout of claustrophobia at an inopportune moment and a pervasive coat of cartoonish jesting threaten to take us out of the proceedings from time-to-time, once that familiar theme kicks in again over the closing credits, the film has surely and suddenly won us over. [B+]

WWII #4: Where Eagles Dare (1968)

"WHERE EAGLES DARE" (Brian G. Hutton, 1968)
Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, 155 mins.

This action-packed WWII movie may be getting the short end of the stick when it comes to be included in the conversation of greatest war films ever made. Not that Where Eagles Dare ('68) really has a whole lot to say, but it's as polished, as thrilling and as cool as anything set against the backdrop of the European Front.

Conceived by esteemed novelist Alistair MacLean at the behest of wilting box-office performer Richard Burton, the idea was to make Burton a viable moneymaker again in a heroic, daring WWII actioner along the lines of The Guns of Navarone ('61), which was written by Carl Foreman from a novel by MacLean himself.

Almost assuring some sort of success in the States (the film was a co-production between the UK and the US), a budding 38 year-old star by the name of Clint Eastwood signed on for second-billing in this stirring adventure which I would assume is one of the "men on a mission" war films that influenced Tarantino when he wrote Inglourious Basterds.

The mission is to send six British MI6 agents and one U.S. Army Ranger into Southern Bavaria to rescue a captured U.S. General in a Nazi stronghold who has key information regarding the allies plans of attack along the second front in Northern France (D-Day). The fact that the mission turns out to be a convoluted whirlwind of double agents, secret rendezvous and government insurgencies is one of the film's irresistible pleasures.

A stirring snare-drum score by Ron Goodwin against the backdrop of the Bavarian Alps kicks things off and Where Eagles Dare never lets up - from the time our incognito heroes parachute into the snowy, deserted mountainside, we're with them all the way - from the sneaky insurgence to the skin-of-their-teeth escape from endless waves of Nazi's.

Essentially, the film boils down to the sheer pleasure of watching the refined British class of Richard Burton and the gritty, man-of-few-words impassivity of Clint Eastwood collaborating as an unlikely duo of heroism and Sergeant York ass-kicking. The result is a triumph - a steely, unnerving twister of gunfire, explosions and double identities that possesses a composed, charismatic demeanor through plotted insanity that is all too rare. [A]

Favorite Studio Logo

I always relish the popping up of a studio logo before watching a film - classic or contemporary. It's an unexplainable film dweeb love, but an article written yesterday by Nathaniel Rogers at The Film Experience brings it all home.

His favorites are the new Columbia logo and the all-encompassing Universal logos, but I can't believe how few people in the comments mention their favorite as the Warner Bros. logo, which is by far my favorite. I have others, of course, but nothing beats that classic Warner Bros. logo from the late 30's to the mid-40's and how great it looked before Casablanca, Saratoga Trunk, The Maltese Falcon, etc, etc.

The classic Warner Bros. logo on the left ('40s) and the god awful 70's incarnation on the right.

Then there's the "what were they thinking?" logo that Warners adopted in the 70's before switching back to their classic "shield" template in 1982 and sticking with it for the duration, at least they eventually got it right.

There are some all-time moderations that I always enjoy seeing, like the RKO Radio Pictures logo, with that bleep, blee, blee, bleep sound that anyone can recognize. I also enjoy 20th Century Fox for that iconic drum roll, but at the outset of CinemaScope (around the mid-50's), that logo never looked better than it did on films like Niagara, River of No Return and The Robe.

The 20th Century Fox logo as it appeared in front of most films around the mid-1950's.

So in summation, the classic Warner Bros. logo is king, followed by the 50's 20th Century Fox and RKO. I've always loved MGM, and then Paramount, Columbia and Universal, in that order.

Jean Seberg and Airport (1970)

I watched George Seaton's Airplane ('70) yesterday, which was mostly driven by the appearance of Jean Seberg, but to my surprise, the film (which was the initial "disaster" film sub-genre offering in the 70's) is refreshingly focused and suspenseful - certainly one of the best of its kind and a mile more tolerable than The Towering Inferno ('74) if you ask me.

Jean Seberg with a wig in George Seaton's Airport ('70).

It was made during the split-screen craze ('66-'70) and thus suffers from that gimmick's incessant usage. Plus, like its brethren, it's a bit of a slog for the better part of an hour, but once it kicks in, it's a mostly respectable disaster film in the realm of The Poseidon Adventure ('72), certainly no The Swarm ('78).

And my expectations were exceeded even though the main attraction, Mrs. Seberg, is forced to wear a daunting Tippi Hedren wig. The rest of the lively and well-utilized cast includes Burt Lancaster, Dean Martin, Jacqueline Bisset, Van Heflin, George Kennedy and Helen Hayes. The film: [B] Jean Seberg's wig: [D-]