Two seasons, ten movies

[One to four stars. Four sentences each. No spoilers. Sources: Criterion Channel, HBO Max, Hulu, TCM, YouTube.]

The Mary Tyler Moore Show (created by James L. Brooks and Allan Burns, seasons six and seven, 1975–1977).

Six: Phyllis has disappeared, gone to San Francisco, and she misses Lars (he’s dead, as you would only know from watching the spinoff Phyllis). Meta: in the season’s second episode, Mary comments on how predictable every element in her life is (including all the newsroom bits), and she packs up and moves to a larger (and weird, and ugly) apartment, where Penny Marshall shows up as a neighbor and John Ritter pops in as a newly ordained minister, performing a wedding in tennis wear. Chuckles the Clown dies at the hands, so to speak, of an elephant, and Robbie Rist (cousin Oliver from The Brady Bunch ) appears as a cute kid. ★★★ (H)

Seven: I think the writers were beginning to run out of good ideas: Johnny Carson (really?) shows up (sort of) for a party; Ted and Georgette host a talk show; Mary dates Murray’s father (Lew Ayres!); Lou, Murray, and Ted imagine what it would be like to be married to Mary; Mary dates Lou. There’s even an episode full of entertainment, à la The Dick Van Dyke Show, with Georgette dancing, Ted ventriloquizing, and Mary singing a hilariously prim “One for My Baby.” Sexism in the office seems to worsen, with Lou as the worst offender. The final episode doesn’t make everything right, but it sure makes the tears fall. ★★★ (H)

*

Mary and Rhoda (dir. Barnet Kellman, 2000). Mary (now widowed) and Rhoda (twice divorced) meet in Manhattan after being out of touch for years. Each is an older woman struggling to find a spot in the working world (Mary as a television producer, Rhoda as a photographer); each has a daughter in college in the city (Mary, Rose; Rhoda, Meredith). But the chemistry that made TMTMS a joy is missing, and it’s painful to see Moore’s face so distorted by cosmetic surgery. Worst scene: when Mary’s compassionate report about a young killer and his family airs on a bar’s TV, Mary and Rhoda stand by as the patrons (who don’t know Mary or that she produced the episode) gather round, watch in silence, and applaud — and the bartender tears up. ★★ (YT)

*

The Pretender (dir. W. Lee Wilder, 1947). Albert Dekker plays Kenneth Holden, a not-so-suave financial manager borrowing from the trust of Claire Worthington (Catherine Craig), the woman he’s scheming to marry. When Claire announces her plans to marry another man, Holden arranges with a go-between for a hit man to kill the guy: the killer will know his target by seeing an engagement photo in the paper. When Claire drops her fiancé for Holden, and his picture appears in the paper, it’s trouble, because the go-between has been shot to death, and Holden, with no way to contact the unknown hit man, now fears for his life. Directed by Billy Wilder’s brother, this movie is truly, deeply weird in plotting and execution (no pun intended), partly redeemed by Paul Dessau’s music (which includes a nearly atonal pianist playing in a nightclub) and John Alton’s cinematography. ★★★ (YT)

*

The French Dispatch (dir. Wes Anderson, 2021). An homage to The New Yorker Past, in the form of several stories from The French Dispatch, published in Ennui-sur-Blasé as a magazine supplement to a newspaper, the Liberty, Kansas Evening Sun. It’s a highly inventive movie, with all kinds of clever visual effects and an outstanding cast. But it’s all surface, surface after surface, none of it adding up to very much. I expected to love this movie but was enormously disappointed. ★★ (HBO)

*

The Lost Weekend (dir. Billy Wilder, 1945). When I last saw it, in 2016, I wrote a three-sentence review. This time around I thought of looking for Lubitsch touches, and I think I found them: in the initial tracking shot, ending with a bottle hanging on a rope outside an apartment window; in the singer-pianist at Harry and Joe’s (played by Harry Barris, who wrote “I Surrender, Dear,” among other songs); and in the joke about Yom Kippur and St. Patrick’s Day. Ray Milland gives a great performance as Don Birnam, by turns suave and desperate, capable of any deception that will give him the chance to be alone and drink. The other standout is Doris Dowling as Gloria, barfly, escort, and slang specialist. ★★★★ (TCM)


*

When the Clock Strikes (dir. Edward L. Cahn, 1961). A man is about to be executed for a crime he may not have committed. A witness who testified against him (James Brown) and the convicted man’s wife (Merry Anders) are at a nearby lodge, awaiting the execution. But they’re doing more than watching and waiting: they’re trying to figure out how to get hold of $160,000 that the convicted man stashed away — but where? Often inert, but the pace quickens and the movie becomes more interesting toward the end. ★★ (YT)

[In 2022 money, $160,000 = $1,518.212.71.]

*

My Cousin Vinny (dir. Jonathan Lynn, 1992). Vinny Gambini (Joe Pesci), a personal-injury lawyer, travels from Brooklyn to Wazoo City, Alabama, with his girlfriend Mona Lisa Vito (Marisa Tomei) to defend two college kids, his cousin (Ralph Macchio) and his cousin’s friend (Mitchell Whitefield), both charged with murder in a case of mistaken identity. Fred Gwynne appears in his last role as a judge who may or may not figure out that Vinny has been telling lies about his legal background. Everything about this movie is funny and wonderful, from the diner menu to Vinny’s courtroom apparel to the search for a quiet place to sleep to Mona Lisa’s turn on the witness stand. My favorite line: “Yeah yeah yeah,” because that’s exactly how we said it in Brooklyn. ★★★★ (HBO)

[Bonus: spot the copy of The Elements of Style (third edition) in the judge’s chambers.]

*

People Will Talk (dir. Joseph l. Mankiewicz, 1951). It’s a strange movie, a cross between serious commentary on current events (McCarthyism) and light romantic comedy, and it’s all about secrets. Dr. Noah Praetorius (Cary Grant) has one: how was he earning a living before teaching at a medical school? Shunderson, just Shunderson (Finlay Currie) has one: why is he — a servant? a friend? — always following Dr. Praetorious around? Deborah, just Deborah (Jeanne Crain) has one: why has she fainted while sitting in on an anatomy class? Secrets left unexplained: how they got the word gynecologist past the censors, and whether Hume Cronyn, the little investigator of the story, is meant to resemble Roy Cohn. ‌★★★ (CC)

*

Three from Republic Pictures

Strangers in the Night (dir. Anthony Mann, 1944). It’s from Republic Pictures, so it’s low-budget effort, but it’s by Anthony Mann, so let’s give it a try. It’s an ultra-bizarre story, with an old woman, Hilda Blake (Helen Thimig); her paid companion Ivy Miller (Edith Barrett); a modern woman of medicine, Dr. Leslie Ross (Virginia Grey); and a Marine back from war, Johnny Meadows (William Terry). And watching over them all, a portrait of Mrs. Blake’s daughter Rosemary, who inscribed a copy of A Shropshire Lad that found its way to Johnny overseas. I can’t say more without giving away the whole thing, but it’s sure worth fifty-six minutes of your time. ★★★★ (YT)

[A discovery after watching: Philip MacDonald, who wrote the story, was a screenwriter for Rebecca.]

Hoodlum Empire (dir. Joseph Kane, 1952). War veteran Joe Gray (John Russell) and a couple of army pals run a happy little gas station and café, with just one problem: Joe has an unsavory backstory, with a mobster uncle (Luther Adler) and his associates, and they’re now trying to pin their racketeering on Joe. Brian Donlevy, Claire Trevor, Forrest Tucker, and Grant Withers are among the supporting players in this modest but absorbing Republic Pictures effort. Adding interest: the story is told largely in flashbacks from different characters’ perspectives. Yet another movie in which mobster talk and tactics make me think of a defeated former president. ★★★ (YT)

Storm Over Lisbon (dir. George Sherman, 1944). It’s a Republic foray into Casablanca territory, with a white-jacketed nightclub owner, Deresco (Erich von Stroheim), an intelligence-carrying American agent, John (Richard Arlen), and a beautiful dancer, Maritza (Vera Hruba Ralston, who can neither dance nor act well). Republic must have gone all out with this one: the sets are impressively elaborate. But the plot seems like the imaginings of kids: the dancer held prisoner in a nightclub, the agent hiding out in a wine cellar, the dancer and agent escaping by running off the nightclub floor. My favorite moment: everyone suddenly — and I do mean suddenly —materializes in the cellar with Maritza and John: Deresco and associates, police, and the streetsingers who have strolled through scene after scene. ★★ (YT)

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