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Sunday, June 30, 2019

Lizzie (1957) [NR] ****


Lizzie is a film I consider to be far ahead of its time, Eleanor Parker plays a twenty-five year old woman with multiple personality disorder. She has two clearly distinct personas, and a third which only begins to emerge under hypnosis. Her daytime persona is Elizabeth, a neurotic young woman who works in administration at a museum. She is continually exhausted, with sleepless nights, headaches and other aches and pains which she cannot explain. Her nighttime persona is Lizzie, a reckless, wanton slut who emerges after dark, applies makeup, pulls her hair up and goes out to the local bar to drink and pick up men. While Elizabeth doesn’t know Lizzie exists, Lizzie knows all about Elizabeth, and her goal is to destroy Elizabeth and take over her body. She even writes Elizabeth crude notes, taunting her and threatening to kill her.

Elizabeth lives with her alcoholic Aunt Morgan, played by Joan Blondell. Director Hugo Haas is charming as Walter, the concerned next door neighbor who enjoys flirting with Aunt Morgan, recognizes that Elizabeth needs help and recommends his psychiatrist friend, Dr. Wright (Richard Boone). Eventually, Elizabeth agrees to see Dr. Wright, and under hypnosis he discovers Lizzie and a third persona, Beth, a calm, serene, positive, well-adjusted persona who had remained hidden up to that point and whom Dr. Wright believes is Elizabeth’s true self. Once Dr. Wright has discovered all three personas he decides to try to uncover the event or events in Elizabeth’s past that lie at the core of her multiple personality disorder so that the anxious and reckless personas may be discarded. He is an appealing and sympathetic character, and has a warm, professional relationship with Elizabeth.

In one hypnotherapy session, Elizabeth remembers a day at the beach involving her pre-teen self, her sluttish mother and her mother’s crude boyfriend Robin. This session begins to reveal the source of Elizabeth’s disorder; her mother’s boyfriend resents her and talks about getting rid of her so he and her mother can travel to Mexico.

The film’s pivotal scene occurs at the end of the film when Aunt Morgan, Walter and Dr. Wright stage a 26th birthday party for Elizabeth, which is intended as a reenactment of her 13th birthday party. At that earlier party Elizabeth and her mother had had an argument and Elizabeth had pushed her mother into a chair causing her weakened heart to fail. Then, later that same afternoon, her mother’s boyfriend Robin had followed Elizabeth into her bedroom and had (off-screen) sexually abused her. When Elizabeth finally brought these repressed memories to her conscious mind, it allowed her to understand that she was not responsible for her mother’s death or her abuse at the hands of her mother’s boyfriend. As a result, the depressed Elizabeth and the sluttish Lizzie personas were weakened, and the serene, well-adjusted Beth emerged and became the dominant persona. In resolving Elizabeth’s multiple personality disorder in this way, the script is consistent with psychotherapy modalities that claim that bringing repressed memories to the conscious thinking level will allow them to be understood and then discarded, so they no longer control us.

Parker's persona transformations are subtle and distinct, and she gives Lizzie and Elizabeth much more depth and poignancy than you'd expect given the rather banal script and mediocre direction. As an actress she was always able to channel the vulnerability of the women she played, which makes her particularly suited to this role.

While Eleanor Parker had the talent and appeal of a movie star, she never developed a recognizable star persona like, for example, Julie Andrews. Whether playing Maria in The Sound of Music, or Mary Poppins, you always knew you were watching Julie Andrews. The same was true of Barbara Streisand and Jennifer Aniston. But Parker was not interested in developing a star persona. She preferred to disappear into her character, seemingly becoming a new woman with each film. She could not be typecast, because no one knew what her type was. The fact that her best-remembered role was the Baroness in The Sound of Music is a testament to her success. Acknowledging this, Doug McClelland’s 1989 biography is titled: Eleanor Parker: Woman of a Thousand Faces.

Parker was also intensely guarded about her personal life and felt that if she kept her anonymity, then she had done her job well. Her filmography includes 79 films and three Oscar nominations, and it’s ironic that, had she bothered to develop a recognizable star persona, she might have been nominated more often, and possibly even won an Oscar.

1957 was a year for multiple personalities and while Joanne Woodward won an Oscar for her performance in The Three Faces of Eve, Eleanor Parker was not even nominated for her role in Lizzie. That's a pity because Parker's performance is noteworthy and possibly Oscar worthy.

Labels: drama, Eleanor Parker


Friday, June 28, 2019

Above and Beyond (1952) [NR] ****


A film review by Bea Soila for FlickersInTime.com on Sept. 27, 2015.

This account of the preparation to drop the first atomic bomb seems to have been pretty heavily fictionalized. There’s also some propaganda. Nevertheless, it’s quite watchable.

The story is told in flashback from the point of view of Lucey Tibbets (Eleanor Parker), who is nervously awaiting the return of her husband from a bombing mission to Japan.
Maj. Gen. Vernon Brent is looking for a good pilot to head the ultra-secret Operation Silverplate that will test the B-29 bomber which is slated to drop the atomic bomb. He finds his man in Lt. Col. Paul Tibbets (Robert Taylor), who has just been denied promotion for questioning his commanding officer. Tibbets is just barely cleared and posted to Wendover Field, Utah. He is expected to keep strict discipline over his men, who are forbidden at the point of summary shooting to enter restricted areas without a pass. Few know the actual purpose of the testing.  In all this, Tibbets is assisted, and closely watched, by Security Officer Maj. Bill Uanna (James Whitmore) the only other person who knows the details of the mission.

Uanna eventually decides that it best to move all the wives of the men to Wendover, where they can be better controlled via confinement to the base. He discourages Tibbets from bringing Lucey however. The pregnant Lucey is thus left to give birth on her own in Washington. Lucey has had no more than seven weeks with her husband during their entire five-year marriage, and after the couple’s second son is born she insists on moving to Wendover.


When she gets there, she finds that the wives and men resent her husband mightily. They figure their mission could not be anything very serious if it is headed by a mere lieutenant colonel like Tibbets and if the wives are being allowed on base. They see Tibbets as overly heavy-handed and self-important. Lucey defends her husband and then begins to change her mind. He refuses to tell her anything about anything he does and keeps ordering her to stay out of his business. The marriage is strained practically to the breaking point.

I don’t care much for Robert Taylor in his matinee idol persona, but I do like him when he plays a tough guy. Here he is definitely a grim, overly controlled tough guy and is very good. Eleanor Parker has the thankless role of asking many inane questions and refusing to accept anything at face value but she is good at it too. We are reminded over and over that the bomb’s purpose is to end the war fast and avoid massive additional casualties on both sides, but this is not too preachy or heavy handed.


Above and Beyond was nominated for Academy Awards in the categories of Best Writing, Motion Picture Story and Best Music, Scoring of a Dramatic or Comedy Picture.

Labels: action, biography, drama, Eleanor Parker, history

Thursday, June 27, 2019

People Will Talk (1951) [NR] ****


An edited film review for fourstarfilmfan.com on October 15, 2015.

People Will Talk is in this weird gray area between genres. It has humor but it’s not screwy enough to be a screwball. It has drama, but it’s not intense enough to be a full-fledged melodrama. And underlining all this are issues that reflect such areas as the medical industry, the Korean War, and most definitely the witch hunts that were going on in the nation — bleeding into the Hollywood industry.

Written and directed by Joseph L. Mankiewicz, this is a minor classic about a doctor named Noah Praetorius (Cary Grant), who is under investigation from one of his by-the-book colleagues Dr. Elwell (Hume Cronyn), who dislikes the good doctor’s unorthodox and thoroughly effective approach to his trade. Praetorius by now is a preeminent physician who started his own clinic and also teaches classes at a local med school, as well as occasionally conducting an orchestra.

One of these individuals happens to be Mrs. Deborah Higgins (Jeanne Crain). She is not a student but sits in the lecture because her former partner was a medic. A date with a cadaver proves to be too much for her and she faints. Seems normal enough right? Wrong. After examining her, Dr. Praetorius tells her she’s pregnant. The truth comes out that she’s not really married and the father is dead. Her own father would be greatly distressed to learn about her condition, since he cannot provide for her.

That’s where Dr. Praetorius comes into the picture, and he takes great concern in Ms. Higgins condition. He attempts to allay her anxiety by saying she’s not really pregnant, and she runs away from his clinic out of embarrassment, since she is falling in love with him. He goes with his stoic friend Mr. Shunderson (Finlay Currie) to the farm owned by Deborah’s uncle where her father also lives.

Deborah turns out to have a strange mix of aloofness and lovesickness, but when she realizes the doctor’s true motive for being there (before he even does) she is wholly relieved. They share a passionate kiss and leave the farm behind to get married. Of course, the good doctor still hasn’t told her about her pregnancy.

Meanwhile, the whole storyline culminates with a concert conducted by Praetorius himself, but it just so happens that the hearing to analyze his conduct is happening the same evening. Some mysterious truths about Mr. Shunderson are given in his own words, and Mr. Elwell’s frivolous case is dumped. Everything wraps up nicely as you expect with a happy marriage and Praetorius free to direct the symphony in one last glorious crescendo.

If you really look at this film, there are these two main story arcs. One is a response to Sen. Joseph McCarthy’s witch hunt for communists in America. The other an unconventional love story about a doctor marrying a patient who had a pregnancy out of wedlock. Viewed from this perspective the film contains plenty of controversy, and yet it is all concealed in a romantic comedy. Walter Slezak is a welcomed addition to the cast as Prof. Barker, the nutty colleague, and Hume Cronyn has taken on better roles, but nonetheless, he is always an enjoyable character actor. Obviously, this is a lesser Cary Grant performance, but his pairing with the beautiful Jeanne Crain is still a fun one. [Reviewer’s rating: **** out of 5 stars]

Labels: comedy, drama, Fifties, Jeanne Crain, romance


Sunday, June 23, 2019

Love in the Afternoon (1957) [NR] ****


A film review by Michael Reuben for blu-ray.com on February 8, 2017.

Love in the Afternoon is narrated by Claude Chavasse (Maurice Chevalier), a cheerfully cynical Parisian Private Investigator, who specializes in matrimonial work. A regular stimulus to his business is American magnate Frank Flannagan (Gary Cooper), who travels the world overseeing his business interests and romancing an array of women, heedless of their marital status. (Pepsi is one of Flannagan's major investments, and its then-current ad slogan, Pepsi-Cola hits the spot! is a running joke.) Currently Flannagan is entertaining the unnamed wife (Lise Bourdin) of a Paris businessman (John McGiver), whose suspicions have prompted him to hire Chavasse. When the detective presents Monsieur X with photographic proof of his wife's betrayal, the distraught husband announces his attention to shoot Flannagan dead - to the consternation of Chavasse's daughter, Ariane (Audrey Hepburn), who overhears the exchange from the next room, where she is practicing her cello.

Racing to the Hotel Ritz, Ariane interjects herself into the proceedings and narrowly averts a crisis. In the process, she attracts the interest of Flannagan, to whom she refuses to identify herself. He dubs her thin girl, and a long (a very long) courtship begins, with Ariane routinely pretending to be a shady lady trailing a string of lovers. (She gets the details from her father's case files, which she's been reading on the sly.)

Chavasse is unsuspecting of his daughter's new-found interest. He thinks she spends her afternoons and evenings practicing and rehearsing at the conservatory, where fellow musician Michel (Van Doude) has an obvious crush to which Ariane remains oblivious. Her trysts with Flannagan are confined to the afternoons (hence the title), and director/co-screenwriter Billy Wilder remains coyly equivocal about just how much intimacy occurs during those hours. A line was added in post-production (I never got past first base.) to reassure bluenoses that the relationship never became physical, but it's an obvious and ineffective fig leaf for an ambiguity that was clearly intended as a sexual tease. When Chavasse eventually learns of the relationship, he intervenes with a degree of calm that would seem almost unnatural in anyone but a jaded Frenchman. By that point, Flannagan has surprised himself by falling in love. Embarrassment and confusion are the only remaining barriers to a happy ending, but those are easily dispatched.

That's really all there is to Love in the Afternoon, but Wilder and co-writer I.A.L. Diamond (in the first of many collaborations) draw out the story to a length that is deadly to laughter. The film's best parts are those that focus on players other than the lead couple, exploiting for laughs the scrambling of the hotel staff, the misadventures of a yappy dog owned by an imperious long-term guest (Olga Valery) and the deadpan reliability of the Gypsies, the musical quartet retained by Flannagan to serenade his conquests. Whenever Chevalier's Chavasse appears to comment on love's folly with the mocking detachment of someone who long ago abandoned such foolishness - he is, of course, a widower - the film briefly rises into the rarefied air where laughter erupts. Indeed, the single best sequence in Love in the Afternoon is its opening, where Chavasse provides a guided tour of l'amour Parisienne, which is so infectious that it can break out even at a funeral. If Love in the Afternoon had maintained the wry amusement of that initial sequence, it could have been a classic. Instead we're treated to strained interludes between two stars whose chemistry is less than electric and whose efforts at banter are sufficiently labored that the viewer has plenty of opportunity to reflect on just how unlikely their relationship really is.

Blogger’s comment: Much has been written of the age gap between Cooper (55) and Hepburn (27) and clearly it requires suspension of disbelief. There is some decent dialogue, however. In one sequence, Ariane is describing Americans in general, and Flannagan in particular, to fellow musician Michel: They're very odd people you know. When they're young, they have their teeth straightened, their tonsils taken out and gallons of vitamins pumped into them. Something happens to their insides. They become immunized, mechanized, air-conditioned and hydromatic. I'm not even sure whether he has a heart. When Michel asks: What is he, a creature from outer space? Ariane replies: No, he's an American.

Labels: comedy, romance


Thursday, June 20, 2019

The Swan (1956) [NR] ***


Somewhere in Central Europe Princess Beatrix (Jessie Royce Landis) and her only daughter, Princess Alexandra (Grace Kelly), know their days of enjoying the royal life are numbered unless Alexandra captures the heart of her distant cousin Crown Prince Albert (Alec Guinness) who is about to pay a surprise four-day visit to their palace. When it becomes clear there is no romantic chemistry between Albert and Alexandra, Beatrix decides to create some by having Alexandra invite the family’s tutor, Professor Nicholas Agi (Louis Jourdan) to the ball being given in honor of Prince Albert. What nobody knows, however is that Nicholas is already in love with Alexandra. (Note the names – reminiscent of Nicholas II of Russia and his wife Alexandra.)

Alexandra is young enough and sheltered enough that she’s never seen the face of a man who’s in love with her, so understandably she falls in love with Nicholas. By this time, however, Beatrix’ little plot has been revealed to all, and the humiliated Nicholas has only one course of action - to leave the palace. Alexandra is prepared to give up her royal life and her chance to be queen, and leave with him. She has already packed her bags, but when she goes to Nicholas’ quarters and declares her love for him, he rejects her, leaving her no recourse but to accept Albert’s hand.

In the final scene, Albert reminds Alexandra that her father had called her his ‘swan’, meaning a lovely, white bird gracefully gliding across the water alone, far away from shore. But Albert also notes that if the swan should attempt to walk on land, her ungainly waddling would soon bring ridicule. So she must remain on the water, serene and alone.

This project was developed as MGM’s attempt to cash in on Grace Kelly’s impending royal marriage to Prince Rainier of Monaco. In going deep into its catalog, the studio came up with this relic from the bygone silent era. It’s undeniable that this film was outdated in the mid-fifties. These kinds of movies were, for the most part, typical of 1930s and 1940s Hollywood, not an era in which Elvis Presley was swiveling his hips, and the space race had begun in earnest. At the very least, this movie would seem to have been more suited to the light-musical treatment rather than the uneasy mix of comedy and drama with which the audience is presented.

The movie starts promisingly with the accent on comedy for the first 45 minutes or so. Alec Guinness makes Prince Albert a highly likeable character initially, although his character becomes darker, and his motives questionable, as the film progresses. Unfortunately, both Grace Kelly’s and Louis Jourdan’s characters are only two-dimensional, like cardboard cutouts, and they quickly become boring as the more dramatic aspects of the plot take over and the film begins to drag. The non-Hollywood ending, in which the handsome boy does NOT get the beautiful girl, is refreshingly original albeit somewhat downbeat for the post-WWII era and the genre.

Labels: comedy, drama, romance

Of Human Bondage (1946) [TV-PG] ****


Of Human Bondage is a slow-paced, but intriguing film, loosely based on W. Somerset Maugham's novel about how the obsessive nature of romantic love has the power to destroy us. The film opens in Paris where Paul Henreid’s character, Philip Carey, has decided to give up trying to become an artist after two years of failure, and return to London to study medicine, which will be paid for by a trust fund. He meets author Nora Nesbitt (Alexis Smith) in the first scene, and they later become good friends in London. Upon first arriving in London, Philip goes to a tea house with a fellow student and becomes wildly infatuated with a sluttish, promiscuous waitress named Mildred Rogers (Eleanor Parker), who does not return his affection and, in fact treats him with callous disdain.

While Nora tries unsuccessfully to interest Philip in her, he becomes totally obsessed with Mildred, although he know she hates him. She rejects him in favor of Emil Miller (Richard Aherne), another tea house patron, who gets her pregnant and then abandons her. Mildred then goes to Philip, who introduces her to his friend Harry Griffiths (Patric Knowles) and the two have a brief affair. Even after Mildred turns to prostitution, Philip cares for her and her baby daughter, and allows her to call herself Mrs. Philip Carey. Only after Mildred trashes his apartment and burns his last £80, leaving him destitute and unable to complete medical school does Philip realizes what a fool he has been.

The third act is the most positive one. Philip is warmly accepted into the loving family of his old friend Athelny (Edmund Gwenn) who offers to help him find a job. However, it is only after recovering from a case of pneumonia and watching Mildred die in a hospital bed following her daughter’s death that Philip is finally released from his obsession and becomes aware that Athelny’s teenage daughter Sally (Janis Paige) is in love with him. Philip proposes to Sally and the film ends happily in what might be considered a Hollywood ending.

The eternal theme of Of Human Bondage is that, if we love someone intensely enough, we should be able to overcome their indifference, disdain or outright hatred. An entire body of literature, motion pictures and television has been devoted to this theme in which either we succeed and the person returns our love, or we fail and are miserable. One example is Jane Austen’s classic Pride & Prejudice, in which Miss Elizabeth Bennett disdainfully explains to Mr. Darcy that nothing could tempt her to marry the man who has ruined, perhaps forever, the happiness of a most beloved sister. Of course we know that Darcy’s extraordinary acts of kindness and compassion eventually win over Elizabeth.

Carrying the theme one step further is the concept of knowing someone is infatuated with you and keeping them on the hook while you pursue romance elsewhere. Mildred did this to Philip in Of Human Bondage, keeping him on the hook while having other affairs.

The point is that while we know that irrational, obsessive love has the power to destroy us, there is no rational argument that can be made to dissuade us while we are in its grip. And as in the case of Philip Carey, only a life-threatening illness, Mildred Roger’s death and the fresh new love of Sally Athelny could free him.

Paul Henreid and Eleanor Parker both play their parts incredibly well. Eleanor Parker is especially good playing against type, unlike the sweet, lovely young woman she had played in many early roles, especially in The Very Thought of You (1944). In fact, Parker didn’t even look like the same person. Her ability to disappear into a role was noted by Doug McClelland in his 1989 biography of her, titled Eleanor Parker: Woman of a Thousand Faces.

Eleanor Parker (1948)

Labels: drama, Eleanor Parker