From the pages of the old pulp magazines of the 1930s came 1994's The Shadow, one of the most original and mysterious fantasy characters ever brought to the silver screen.A reformed criminal who is redeemed and taught the
secrets of the mind by a Tibetan holy man, the Shadow is a one-of-a kind
anti-hero who manipulates and terrorizes both villains and friends alike to
serve his own ends as well as the scales of justice. Who better to embody such
a handsome and egotistical hero than Alec Baldwin at the height of his Hollywood
fame. Transformed by facial makeup partially hidden under a wide-brimmed slouch
hat and brandishing nickel-plates .45s under his dark cloak, Baldwin with his sonorous
deep voice personifies the duality of this deadly hero of the dark. John Lone (The
Last Emperor) makes for a deliciously evil antagonist while amusing
supporting performances are provided by Jonathan Winters and Tim Curry. Composer
Jerry Goldsmith provides a suitably menacing musical accompaniment to the sumptuous
art deco production design. Although Australian director Russell Mulcahy (Highlander)
was a good choice to visualize such an effects driven project, he fails to
bring the film’s contrived romance to life due to the miscasting of a stiff but
sensational looking Penelope Ann Miller. Screenwriter David Koepp (Jurassic
Park) went onto much bigger success with Mission Impossible (1996)
and even wrote the unfairly despised penultimate sequel Indiana Jones andKingdom of the Crystal Skull (2008). The idea to go back to the original
pulp origins of The Shadow seemed sure fire at the time but audiences were just
not ready for the off-beat humour Koepp brings to this fantastical tale of
vengeance.
Is there a more seminal film for the Eighties
generation than Raiders of the Lost Ark? Director Steven Spielberg and
producer George Lucas captured lightning in a bottle with this homage to the
cliffhanger serials of their youth. They continued to mine this profitable vein
for three subsequent sequels with mixed results. After the third and what was
presumed the last Indiana Jones film Indiana Jones and Last Crusade (1989),
Hollywood tried to find new stories with pulp characters who could substitute
for Harrison Ford’s indelible hero with a hat. None enjoyed the success of
their inspiration but each are entertaining in their own way.
1991 saw the film The Rocketeer, featuring Dave
Steven’s 1980s comic book hero who fought the Nazis with his golden helmet and
jetpack. Directed by Joe Johnston (Jumanji, Captain America) this
1930s era adventure captured much of the jokey fun and rip-roaring excitement
of the Indy trilogy but sadly failed to achieve classic status due to a
lackluster advertising campaign that needed a star as leading man to sell its outlandish
premise to a skeptical audience. Handsome Bill Campbell brings all the
necessary charm and energy to the role of the young pilot who becomes The
Rocketeer while sharing romantic on-screen chemistry with his girlfriend played
by a sparkling Jennifer Connelly. Former James Bond Timothy Dalton clearly relishes
his role as the swashbuckling Nazi villain who comes complete with a hulking henchman sporting a Rick Baker facial makeup inspired by 40s horror legend Rondo Hatton. Lavish costume and set design, together with charming pre-CGI special effects are
all propelled by James Horner’s majestic score making this feel-good franchise
seem like it couldn’t miss. Shockingly it failed at the box office and despite
various new adaptations long promised by Disney, over 30 years later Rocketeer
fans are still cheering for this unique hero to return to the skies.
After his Oscar winning role in David Lean's The Bridge on the River Kwai (1957), Alec Guinness had finally become an international star without leaving Great Britain. The 1960s would be the decade where he capitalized on this success in big budget historical epics that would be some of the most popular films of his career. Just months before the release of his triumphant collaboration with Lean in Lawrence of Arabia (1962), Guinness would make his most unfairly overlooked costume picture. H.M.S. Defiant or Damn The Defiant! (in North America) was made during the 15 month shoot of Lawrence when Guinness had a two month hiatus. Set during the Napoleonic wars, his role as the humane Captain Crawford is a rare example of Guinness not relying upon heavy make-up or eccentricities to create a character. Guinness's own naval experience during WWII helped him to portray a totally believable and stalwart leader of his crew whose authority is challenged by sadistic first lieutenant Mr Scott-Padgett, played with effete self loathing by Dirk Bogarde. Their clash and the resultant effect this has upon Crawford's own son who is serving as midshipman under him is the stuff of great melodrama. Director Lewis Gilbert (Alfie, You Only Live Twice) is that unique British breed of craftsman at home with both intimate drama and comedy as well as spectacular action. Here he demonstrates his talents by balancing the on-board tensions amongst the crew with rousing battle scenes of ships at sea,. Featuring breathtaking miniatures courtesy of special effects magician Howard Lyedecker (Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea TV Series), these startlingly beautiful tableaux of naval warfare, as photographed in Cinemascope by Christopher Challis (Battle of the River Plate, Sink the Bismark), are like watching a painting by Turner come to life on screen. So successful are these sequences that a later film Bequest to the Nation aka The Nelson Affair (1973) recycled them in place of an inferior re-staging. Following this unpretentious endeavour, Guinness would have both his biggest failure of the decade in The Fall of the Roman Empire (1964) and his biggest success to date in David Lean's Doctor Zhivago (1966), ironically in roles whose quality are inversely proportional to their fame. The 1970s would see his triumphs in a variety of different genres but the great film performances would continue to be in the box office disappointments rather than the blockbusters. (Blu-ray)
Father Brown a.k.a The Detective (1954: Dir. Robert Hamer)
Alec Guinness came to hate Star Wars (1977). Although his profit participation had provided him with financial security for the rest of his life, the role of Obi-Wan Kenobi seemed to obliterate his previous acting achievements in the eyes of younger viewers. Prior to working with George Lucas, director David Lean was the filmmaker most associated with Guinness but there was another writer-director with whom Guinness had enjoyed a successful partnership. In the post WWII British film industry of the 1940s, Robert Hamer was one of the bright young filmmakers to emerge from the editing room as a directing talent to be watched. Having garnered critical acclaim for a pair of crime melodramas Pink String and Sealing Wax (1946) and It Always Rains on Sunday (1947), Hamer co-wrote and directed Kind Hearts and Coronets (1949) an icy black comedy about a ruthless aristocrat (Dennis Price) who murders his way into an inheritance. Guinness plays nine roles - both male and female - as each member of the wealthy D'Ascoyne family is done way with in witty fashion. This tour de force of characterization together with his unrecognizable performance as Fagin in Oliver Twist (1948), helped cement Guinness in the public mind as a master of disguise. Hamer and Guinness re-united in 1954 for their greatest collaboration Father Brown, boringly re-titled The Detective for American release. Co-produced by Columbia Pictures, it is an amusing though deceptively spiritual adaptation of the first in the beloved G.K. Chesterton stories of a wily clerical investigator. Once again effecting a bold physical transformation, Guinness cheerfully embodies the heavy paunch and myopia of Father Brown while communicating his unique blend of detective skills combined with a congenial yet unshakeable moral authority. His French nemesis Flambeau is portrayed by the underrated Peter Finch, in a suave performance of criminal cunning that is both elegant and tragic in its palpable loneliness. Finch was not yet the star he would become by decade's end and here he proves every bit the equal of Guinness when sharing the screen. Father Brown enjoyed a fitful success and led to an immediate follow-up project for Hamer and Guinness, To Paris With Love (1955). Although his role as a Scottish Colonel gave Guinness the requisite opportunities for eccentric impersonation, this romantic comedy is unfortunately a light souffle of an entertainment that never adequately rises. Hamer's final film with Guinness proved more worthy. The Scapegoat (1959) is a moody filming of Daphne Du Maurier's novel of mistaken identity. Surprisingly, for a film about assuming the identity of another man, Guinness is at his most subtle and least mannered in both his physical and emotional personification. The film's lack of success is often blamed on its troubled production. Hamer, a tormented homosexual, struggled with chronic alcoholism and as a result he was often left unable to work. This caused particular conflict with Guinness, who as co-producer with Du Maurier had insisted on hiring Hamer for the job of director. In addition, Hamer came into conflict with financiers MGM who altered his director's cut by re-editing and re-scoring the film despite his protestations. Sadly, Hamer would make only one more film School for Scoundrels (1960) before dying at the young age of 52. Guinness however would continue to expand his impressive collection of masquerades. (DVD Region 2)
While
living in uncertain times we yearn for heroes on the big screen and small
screens. In the past, actors such as
Errol Flynn, Sean Connery, Jean Paul Belmondo, Charles Bronson, and Arnold
Schwarzenegger have embodied the dependable men of action who audiences trust
for their evening of vicarious thrills. Starting with his surprise hit Taken
in 2008, Liam Neeson has emerged as this generation’s Clint Eastwood – a
taciturn and impressive physical threat to criminal corruption wherever it
festers. Even a worldwide pandemic has not deterred Neeson from his mission to
entertain. Since October of 2020, he has had an impressive 5 pictures in
release as of April 29, 2022. Here is a viewing guide to the man who saved me
from the pandemic.
Honest Thief (2020)
A
good start to Neeson’s cycle of Covid era films. Producer-writer-director Mark
Williams (creator of the tv series Ozark) has fashioned a compelling
moral tale about a successful non-violent bank robber who wishes to repay the stolen
money and face the legal consequences so he can marry the woman he loves. Naturally,
a ruthless pair of crooked cops get in the way of his plans, but Liam proves
equally deadly when pushed to defend himself. A small-scale thriller that
effectively balances its hard-boiled elements with the somewhat melodramatic
set up.
The Marksman (2021)
Neeson
has often flirted with Clint Eastwood style characters in the past, but this
script feels like it was originally intended for Dirty Harry himself, not least
because it is written and directed by longtime Eastwood associate Robert Lorenz
(The Trouble with the Curve). Mark Williams also produced this story of an
aging former US Marine Corps sniper who patrols the US-Mexican border reporting
on illegal immigrants to US Border Patrol where his step-daughter works. When
he kills a member of a drug cartel while protecting an orphaned Mexican boy he
is saddled with the uneasy task of dodging vengeful criminals as he drives the
boy to his only family in Chicago. Neeson is very believable as a lonely
widower - and dead shot- with a gruff demeanor yet kind heart that the audience
knows will win the boy’s trust. Coincidently, Clint Eastwood would direct and
star in a very similar film Cry Macho, released only 8 months later.
The Ice Road (2021)
The
most ambitious of Neeson’s recent action films and a frigid bookend to his
Scandi-noir remake Cold Pursuit (2019). Here Liam is part of a team of ice
truckers racing over a frozen lake to rescue trapped miners. A perfect example
of old fashioned high octane filmmaking, using minimal CGI and shot by Clint
Eastwood’s longtime cinematographer Tom Stern on authentically remote Lake Winnipeg
locations. Writer-director Jonathan Hensleigh (Armageddon, The
Punisher) knows which classic films to steal from (The Wages of Fear,
Sorceror), while proving that charismatic middle-aged actors like Neeson
and Laurence Fishburne can still sell the visceral suspense and emotional
extremes of the premise. Buckle up for the best truck thriller since Breakdown
(1997).
Liam
Neeson’s first movie shot during the pandemic casts him as an FBI agent who uncovers
a conspiracy while on the verge of retirement. A low concept but serviceable
potboiler successfully reuniting Neeson with filmmaker Mark Williams and his Michael
Collins (1996) co-star Aidian Quinn. Truly a test of Neeson’s watchability
even in B-movie material, with enough action and intrigue to provide a slow
night’s entertainment.
Memory (2022)
It was perhaps inevitable that Neeson would
eventually work with action director Martin Campbell (Casino Royale, the
Mask of Zorro), and hopefully this upcoming thriller will fulfill the
promise of their anticipated collaboration. A remake of the Belgian film The
Memory of a Killer (2003) that tells the story of a freelance assassin
targeted by his client when he refuses to complete his assignment. The hook is that
the Neeson’s hitman character suffers from Alzheimer’s, so he can’t even trust
his own memory as he fights to stay one step ahead of his enemies. I will be
looking forward to this as my first Liam Neeson film at the cinema in over 2
years and even though he turns 70 in June, this is will hopefully not be the last
of his beloved action heroes.
Before Netflix and Turner Classic Movies,
there was Elwy Yost, Canada’s most famous film buff. For 25 years at TVOntario,
Elwy gave viewers an unparalleled access to classic Hollywood Cinema, brought
to you uncut and in the comfort of your own home. Watching classic films on TV
in the early 1970s was not always fun. Too many commercial breaks meant films
were edited for broadcast, print quality was often lacking and you couldn’t
always count on the correct title in the TV Guide being the same film that was
eventually shown. Starting in 1974, the TVO show Saturday Night at the
Movies (SNAM) with Elwy Yost changed all that by inaugurating a new era of
film appreciation that continues to this day. Elwy was a film buff who knew the
world of cinema needed proper presentation and scholarship to educate and
entertain a growing generation of cinephiles. SNAM was unique in North
American television programming. Audiences were provided with an engaging film
history lesson every week in a commercial free themed movie double bill
accompanied by introductions, commentary and interviews with the actors, filmmakers
and craftspeople who made them. Elwy’s experience as a high school teacher,
theatre actor, and on-air personality made him the perfect host. Unafraid to
embrace his youthful enthusiasm for talking film, Elwy connected with viewers
who were discovering the pure joy of movie genres such as Film Noir and Science
Fiction/Fantasy. His legacy lives on to this day, with many people in the film industry
and media education crediting him as a formative influence. My new TVO
documentary Magic Shadows, Elwy Yost: A Life in Movies (available at
TVO.org) is an affectionate tribute to this legendary TV presenter by detailing
his childhood influences, how he became Canada’s most famous on air movie presenter,
and the family whose love he cherished. 26 years ago I was thrilled to have Elwy
contribute the foreword to a book that I wrote and self-published entitled You
Ain’t Seen Nothin’ Yet: A Guide to 500 Unsung Films on Video. He was a warm
and generous man who taught me how the power of cinema influences our daily
lives. I am proud to salute the life and work of Elwy Yost.
It has now been a year since we lost the dark sanctuary of the movie theatre. I am one those who crave the thrill of the BIG screen as the images and sound surround me with their overwhelming power. The unique social atmosphere of cinema-going over the years has been one of life’s great pleasures. The thrilling anticipation of the ticket booth, the smell of the popcorn, the dimly lit reverence of waiting in your seat for the trailers to begin. These are the rituals of a devoted movie lover. Rarely has the atmosphere of a working cinema been accurately captured on film.
The first great movie to do so was in 1957 with The Smallest Show on Earth. Virginia McKenna and Bill Travers (Born Free), star as a young couple who inherit a modest movie theatre and the unique characters who work there, including the always hilarious Peter Sellers (The Pink Panther) as the drunk projectionist. With its whimsical cast of British types, this charming comedy celebrates the transportive medium of film through the humour and humanity of the eccentric employees and their equally peculiar customers.
Starting in the 1950s in the U.S. and Canada, drive-in cinemas started to catch on with the public, particularly for families and teenagers. Currently, watching a movie isolated in your car has made a comeback due to the enforced closure of the multiplexes. In 1976 the film Drive-In perfectly recreated the heady and horny hijinks of being a teenager in Texas while watching a film from the backseat of you father’s automobile. The movie playing at this drive-in is a clever parody of the Airport, Towering Inferno and Jaws films but it’s the adolescent angst and sexual excitement of the drive-in theatre experience that was the legacy for generations of kids.
The 1980s was the flourishing era of the art house cinema, a uniquely urban theatre that programmed mostly foreign language films. Cinema Paradiso (1988) from Italy tells the poignant story of 8-year-old Salvatore (Salvatore Cascio), whose passion for movies, and friendship with his hometown cinema projectionist have a profound effect on his life and loves as he becomes an adult. Writer-Director Giuseppe Tornatore imbues this paean to movies with a breathtaking romanticism for the sacrament of film-going, where the local theatre doubles as the church, thus providing both religious and emotional nourishment to the town.
By the 1990s, cinema attendance was still on the rise largely due to the proliferation of action film stars such as Sylvester Stallone, Bruce Willis, and Arnold Schwarzenegger. The Last Action Hero (1993), was an attempt to satirize this genre, creating a meta-fantasy where Arnold plays both himself and his on-screen alter ego Jack Slater. Beginning at a slightly rundown movie palace, we are introduced to teenage film fan Danny Madigan (Austin O’Brien) who is given a golden ticket by the elderly owner that miraculously hurls him right up onto the silver screen and into the films of Jack Slater. By physically entering the world of his hero, Danny fulfills his greatest desire to truly experience the magic of movies, including the hair-raising car chases, violent gunplay and daredevil stunts, that are loved by boys of his age. Opening in the summer opposite the seminal CGI special effects of Jurassic Park, The Last Action Hero was ironically a failure at the box office with the same 13-year-old boys represented by its young protagonist.
Digital projection became the industry standard by the early 2010s. Gradually, the event of film-going became less pleasurable, especially for older viewers unaccustomed to the barrage of car ads designed to distract impolite audiences as they chat or fiddle on their cell phones during the show. Many who no longer “go the movies” didn’t even miss them when they were forced to close last year. Being a hopeful cinephile, I expect that ardent fans who cherish the value of enjoying films in the darkness with strangers will soon return to cinemas with renewed optimism for their popularity and cultural importance.
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