[No spoilers. The details of Three Billboards won’t signify for someone who hasn’t seen the film.]
Time Table (dir. Mark Stevens, 1956). The lead from The Street with No Name directs and stars as an insurance investigator paired with a railroad detective to crack an ultra-crafty train robbery. Strong echoes of Double Indemnity make for a compelling if derivative movie. At YouTube.
*
The Great Flamarion (dir. Anthony Mann, 1945). Erich von Stroheim as Flamarion, a carnival marksman in love with his assistant Connie (Mary Beth Hughes). With the always sinister Dan Duryea as a second assistant — and Connie’s husband. An excellent story of obsession and betrayal that would pair well with Gun Crazy. At YouTube.
*
Suspicion (dir. Alfred Hitchcock, 1941). Is he or isn’t he? Cary Grant seems improbable as a husband who may be plotting to kill his wife (Joan Fontaine). This film feels like a rehearsal for the brilliant Shadow of a Doubt : just imagine Joseph Cotten taking Grant’s role. Suspicion might be my least favorite Hitchcock film.
*
Forbidden Games (dir. René Clément, 1952). The lives of children in wartime: Paulette (Brigitte Fossey), an orphaned Parisian girl, and Michel (Georges Poujouly), the youngest son of the country family with whom Paulette finds a home. As the children create a hidden cemetery, Michel, a knight-errant of sorts, attempts greater and greater feats to please the severe Paulette. A magical, mysterious depiction of a secret world of childhood, set against the unspeakable sadness and cruelty of the larger world.
*
Umberto D. (dir. Vittorio De Sica, 1952). The loneliness of Umberto D. Ferrari, an impoverished pensioner whose dignity is challenged at every turn. His best friend is his dog Flike, who adds Chaplinesque comedy and pathos to the story. Most telling moment: the hole in the wall. This film would pair well with Make Way for Tomorrow — maybe too (painfully) well. Carlo Battisti, the courtly looking professor of linguistics who plays Umberto D., is a quintessential De Sica star, having never before acted.
*
Fury (dir. Fritz Lang, 1936). Spencer Tracy and Sylvia Sidney in a story of a lynching and its aftermath, from a director who had fled Nazi Germany not long before. With a pointed commentary from a district attorney (Walter Abel) on the history of lynching in the United States. Eerie overtones for our times, with a frenzied, torch-bearing mob and journalists whose work counters what might be called alternative facts.
*
Simon of the Desert (dir. Luis Buñuel, 1965). Yes, Simeon Stylites, or a version of him. Asceticism here seems a form of self-aggrandizing theater, with a pillar for a stage. And then a taller pillar: a promotion! And then Satan, in a variety of guises. My favorite line: “I’m beginning to realize I don’t realize what I’m saying.”
*
Living without Money (dir. Line Halvorsen, 2010). A documentary about Heidemarie Schwermer, who for years, we’re told, has lived without money. We see Schwermer taking trains, giving talks, signing books, fully participating in what might be called a European Union information economy. All of which makes me want to say, no, you are not living without money. You can watch for this film for free at Vimeo, as long as someone is paying for an Internet connection.
*
The Negro Soldier (dir. Frank Capra, 1944). A preacher (Carlton Moss) dispenses with his prepared sermon to talk to his congregation about the integral, often decisive African-American role in American history. This film exudes noble purpose. But its whitewashed history omits all mention of slavery and Jim Crow. On TMC, Ben Mankiewicz noted that the film was shown first to black servicemen. For white audiences, scenes with black officers and with white nurses treating black servicemen were removed. At YouTube.
*
Wild Tales (dir. Damián Szifron, 2014). Six stories about violent emotional abandon, comic, delirious, frightening, satisfying. You’ll known from the first few minutes that this film will be a delight. But Szifron saves the best — a wedding party to end all wedding parties — for last. My favorite line: “If rat poison is expired, is it more or less harmful?”
*
Bottom of the Sea (dir. Damián Szifron, 2003). Another wild tale: a quickly paced story of jealousy and revenge, as an architecture student stalks his girlfriend’s lover through the night. Like so many Hitchcock characters, the student, Toledo, finds himself in over his head. And rises accordingly.
*
Three Billboards outside Ebbing, Missouri (dir. Martin McDonagh, 2017). Still more emotional abandon, with Frances McDormand as a mother whose grief and anger over the rape and murder of her daughter moves her to confront her town’s police chief (Woody Harrelson). As with Lady Bird, I’m baffled by the nearly universal acclaim this film has received. I found the humor (polo, or polio ?) forced and inane. The fleeting references to police brutality against black residents — a matter the film leaves unexplored — feel like a cheap bid for relevance. As for plot, illogicalities abound. What is the stranger in the store even doing there? Why don’t the police question Mildred and James separately? I won’t go on. At the heart of the film is rage, of various kinds, from various characters, and improbable suggestions of redemption. Whether that’s enough is for the viewer to decide.
Related reading
All OCA film posts (Pinboard)
