Vampires, Assassins, and Romantic Angst by the Seaside: Takoma Reviews

I did not know this was a thing on the Internets. I use this concept all the time. Especially when I'm trying to explain empathy to my friends that are narcissists. Or explain narcissism to my friends who have to deal with my other friends.

Last night I watched Shoes (1916) and it was very good. Certain elements really surprised me, and then it turned out it was written and directed by women, which made a ton of sense. There's a shot following the coveted pair of shoes, down at sidewalk level that was really excellent.

But that is for elaborating in a review.

Right now, of course, I'm just walking around my house going "Shoes . . . ohmigod . . . shoes" like Kelly.

Proof, 1991

Martin (Hugo Weaving) has been blind from childhood, and is sharply averse to the idea that people might use his blindness as an excuse to deceive him or, worse, pity him. Martin takes photographs of everything he comes across, getting others to describe what is in the photos. Martin strikes up a friendship with Andy (Russell Crowe), a young man who works in a cafe that Martin frequents. Andy becomes Martin’s trusted photo “translator”, but their relationship is threatened by Martin’s housekeeper, Celia (Genevieve Picot), who is romantically fixated on Martin.

A trio of fantastic performances give weight to a slightly overstuffed plot.

A defining moment in Martin’s childhood comes when, standing by a window with his mother, he hears the description of a man in their yard that he comes to believe is simply his mother humoring him. Stung by this act of deception, no matter how lovingly intended, Martin has thrown himself into an antagonistic relationship with his housekeeper.

Celia, played with a poker-faced ferociousness by Picot, certainly shows Martin no pity. When Martin fails to reciprocate her affections, Celia punishes him by moving the furniture in his house, or otherwise slightly rearranging items in the home. In a particularly cruel piece of revenge, Celia follows Martin to the park, where she holds his dog by the collar as a frantic Martin calls and whistles for him.

Into this unhealthy dynamic steps Andy, whose straightforward manner and flair for to-the-point, but colorful commentary makes him the perfect companion for Martin. Martin comes to trust that Andy will tell things like they are without ever showing Martin the pity that he so fears. Seeing their growing bond, a jealous Celia sets out to seduce Andy, a plot sure to lead to pain for all three.

The part of this film that is basically a buddy movie is very successful. It’s very delightful watching Martin and Andy bond, and seeing Martin start to build some trust. This part of the film is characterized by wackier escapades, like the pair taking a stray cat to the vet after Martin stuns the poor thing by knocking over a trash can.

The plot involving Martin and Celia’s strange relationship is a bit less successful. While Celia’s actions inevitably make her the villain of the piece, it must be said that Martin is incredibly cruel to her at times. I liked the way that the film portrayed two people who both have a very different point of view on their relationship. I charitably assume that Martin thinks that Celia is in on the “game” of her flirting with him and him then rejecting her. But from Celia’s side, her feelings are very real and intense, and Martin’s dismissal or insults cut deep. But despite setting up an interesting dynamic, the film doesn’t seem to quite know how to resolve Celia’s character, and particularly in the broader context of the story involving Andy and Martin’s friendship.

The performances are, across the board, very strong. I wish that the script had not overextended itself. It’s not that all the pieces----Martin and Andy’s friendship; Martin and Celia’s weird relationship; Martin’s trauma from the experience with his mother----aren’t important and don’t overlap in key ways. But there is some lack of coherence there that keeps the movie from feeling entirely successful.

A very engaging film, particularly in the first half.

I haven't seen Proof since it came out, but I remember liking it well enough. Hugo Weaving had already established himself here, and Russell Crowe had his big breakthrough Romper Stomper the year after, which helped increase Proof's profile when released on video. I'll have to watch it again after all these years. I was really happy to see Jocelyn Moorhouse's The Dressmaker have some success - 18 years between films must be daunting, especially after struggling a little after trying to adapt to American filmmaking.

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I was mixed on The Dressmaker. I think that, like Proof, it has some weird mixes of tones going on.

I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't find that factor in quite a few Australian films, but fortunately we do have filmmakers like John Duigan, Peter Weir and Fred Schepisi (we'll also claim Jane Campion because she learned the trade here) that don't feel the need to do that. Funny thing - just going by my memory I was going to tell you that I feel exactly the same way about The Dressmaker, but looking back at my rating and what I wrote about it, I apparently really enjoyed it more than I remember I did. I wonder what creates that dichotomy between memory and written record with me when it comes to the occasional film.

I try to reflect on a film when I consider it tonally mixed up, particularly if it comes from a country or culture that isn't mine. (Much like getting used to the presence of musical numbers in a Bollywood film). I don't remember The Dressmaker being terrible in that regard, just something that, for me, messed with the momentum of the narrative and the character development.

I'm the same way. Often my scores in my reviews will be up to a full star off of what I remembered.

Moontide, 1942

Bobo (Jean Gabin) is a seasoned sailor who, along with his friend Tiny (Thomas Mitchell), works odd jobs around the California coast. A heavy drinker, Bobo is disconcerted when he learns of a murder that took place while he was blackout drunk. One night, Bobo saves Anna (Ida Lupino) from a suicide attempt, and the two spark up a tentative romance. But as Anna becomes more enmeshed in Bobo’s life, she also unwittingly comes closer to discovering the truth about the unsolved killing.

Strong performances from leads Gabin and Lupino, as well as a fantastic supporting cast of characters, make this a memorable and energetic film.

At first blush, this looks like it might be a typical thriller, but what could have been a mediocre mystery is elevated by the performances and a really excellent use of its seaside setting.

Gabin and Lupino make for really great leads, and the relationship between the characters is very well-realized. Initially I admit that I was not sold on their romance. Bobo is like 15 years older than Anna, and his tone toward her is pretty condescending. But what soon emerges is a very compelling dynamic in which the characters alternate vulnerability and lending each other strength, comfort, and stability. Neither Bobo nor Anna are living the best life they could be, and their relationship is cause for them both to reexamine their priorities and their behavior.

In addition to the leads, the supporting cast is robust and a lot of fun. Mitchell’s Tiny alternates between a Three-Stooges vibe and something a bit more threatening. I was particularly fond of the characters of Henry (Chester Gan) and Takeo (Victor Sen Yung), two Chinese fishermen who hire Bobo to help them sell the bait that they catch. There’s a great bit of generational comedy as Henry, the uncle, has an accent and grammar suggesting English as a second language while Takeo, the nephew, has a generic American accent. Overall the town is full of mostly nice people, which makes the looming question of the murder all the more sinister.

Finally, I really enjoyed the setting. A large part of the film takes place on a floating shack where Bobo lives with Anna, courtesy of Henry. The shack seems like a visual metaphor for the main characters: a bit ramshackle, a bit wobbly, but afloat. In the last act, the house and the deep bait box are used for a dramatic and suspenseful sequence. Overall I enjoyed Archie Mayo’s direction, and the film starts out with a very strong sequence showing Bobo’s drunken night with disorienting angles and leaps in time, snatches of conversation, and an ambiguity about events that will haunt Bobo until the end of the film.

I would also be remiss if I didn’t mention that this movie features a really fabulous dog.

I had no real complaints about this one. A very solid drama/thriller with really good lead performances and a story that keeps its momentum from beginning to end.

High Sierra, 1940

Roy (Humphrey Bogart) has just been released from prison, something arranged by invalid gangster Mac (Donald MacBride), and in exchange must lead a heist at a wealthy resort. Roy makes his way to a logging camp near the resort, where he spends several tense days with the other men who are to take part in the heist. But while the other men are totally dysfunctional, Roy begins to develop a relationship with one of their girlfriend’s, the sensible Marie (Ida Lupino). As the day of the heist draws nearer, things will not all go to plan.

Engaging leads (and a very endearing doggo) make for a decent drama-thriller.

There is something fundamentally compelling about the predicament in which Roy finds himself. He cannot stand being caged in prison, but the debt he owes Mac means that he’s trapped in a different way. As the audience, we can see the slim chance that Roy has to pull off the robbery and somehow make a clean break of things. Marie ends up serving as something of an audience surrogate, hoping against hope that he can escape unscathed.

The film also does a pretty good job of showing the way that greed warps what is already a situation that doesn’t cultivate trust. The two younger men, Babe (Alan Curtis) and Red (Arthur Kennedy), get too wrapped up in who is the top dog, challenging each other and Roy, with Babe also openly abusing Marie. Likewise, the men who surround Mac mainly have their eye on the checkbook (and on the jewelry Roy is to steal). There is one decent character, another old-timer who knows Roy, but generally speaking there is little honor among thieves in this film.

I liked the tension that exists in this film between Roy’s idea of the future and Marie’s. For Roy, his main objective is to stay out of prison, so much so that he’d rather die than go back. For Marie, there’s the slim promise of a normal life with a man who treats her with respect and love. When Roy and Marie end up on the run together, they take an adorable dog named Pard with them, and you can see the general shape of a loving couple with their sweet puppy. Unfortunately, the world is not content to just let them be.

The movie and its plot are solid, but nothing really spectacular. Bogart and Lupino (and the dog!) really give the film its spark. The scenes on their own are all fine, but there’s something a bit disconnected about the flow of the film. I was also not a fan of a character who was a bit too close to racial caricature for my taste.

There’s also an unsuccessful subplot where Roy falls for a young woman named Velma (Joan Leslie) who walks with a serious limp due to a club foot. Roy becomes determined to help pay for the surgery that will allow her to walk again. While in theory this works---even if literally fixing someone is a bit on the nose!---it just didn’t click for me, and Bogart and Leslie simply don’t have the easy chemistry that exists between Bogart and Lupino.

Really good in parts, and worth a watch.

Ladies in Retirement, 1941

Ellen (Ida Lupino) works in the home of the wealthy widow Mrs. Fiske (Isobel Elsom). Ellen has two sisters, Lucy (Evelyn Keyes) and Emily (Elsa Lanchester), who are both mildly mentally ill and require care and supervision. Ellen gets Mrs. Fiske to agree to a visit from her sisters with the hope that they can live in the house more permanently. But when tension rise between the sisters and Mrs. Fiske, all of it complicated by a visit from Ellen’s lecherous and scheming cousin Albert (Louis Hayward), things in the house turn dangerous.

Solid performances and a delightfully moody setting make for a pleasing bit of melodrama thriller.

There is something incredibly recognizable and sympathetic about Lupino’s character in this film. Faced with the impossible task of keeping her sisters safe and out of an institution, she slowly digs herself in deeper and deeper through a series of half-truths, outright lies, and desperate actions. We’ve all been there. Okay, maybe not exactly there, with two eccentric siblings trying to bring the entire beach into the house while our employer fusses about the mess. But I think plenty of us can recognize the way that Ellen is trying to build the plane as she’s flying it--telling Mrs. Fiske that the sisters are visiting while promising her sisters that they are staying, hoping that she can reconcile this misalignment . . . somehow.

What hits hardest about this movie is the fact that, perhaps with the exception of Hayward’s manipulative creep, the characters in the film are very human and sympathetic. We can see Ellen’s anguish at the idea of her sisters being institutionalized, but we can also see how unfair it is that Mrs. Fiske’s kind offer to let the sisters visit has resulted in her home being overrun and damaged. And while the sisters are very much a Hollywood version of “crazy”, I appreciated that the film shows us that they are guileless and not in control of their impulses. Even if they are frustrating at times, no one like them deserves the horror that would await in a mental institution.

The film also makes the most of its setting, with several sequences outside in beautifully lit foggy riversides. The house itself also takes on a sinister energy in the second half, with different nooks and crannies hiding various secrets. In a bit of role reversal, it is the least likable characters who end up investigating what’s really happening at the house, and you find yourself rooting against them finding clues or figuring things out.

I do find myself thinking that the film would have made more of an impact if it had either leaned more into realism or more into over-the-top drama. As it is, it’s kind of a mix of the two. It is a good story and compelling as it develops, but I thought that there was only one real “wow” moment. Lupino anchors the film fantastically with her performance, showing us a woman who has done a bad thing for a good reason, and is now desperately trying to maintain a brave face for both her loved ones and those who would expose her.

The Hard Way, 1943

Katie (Joan Leslie) is a restless young woman who has just graduated from high school and, humiliated by her low social status, defiantly dreams of stardom. When Katie catches the eye of song-and-dance performer Albert (Jack Carson), Katie’s older sister Helen (Ido Lupino), unsatisfied with her own life, seizes the opportunity to push her little sister to success as an actress and performer. Albert’s partner, Paul (Dennis Morgan), is wary of Helen and her unwavering drive, and as time goes on Helen becomes more and more ruthless as she pushes Katie to bigger and bigger roles.

Sexist moralizing drags down an otherwise insightful drama about the dangers of living vicariously.

Never thought I’d see the say when I’d be siding with a ruthless stage mother, but here we are. Yes, the film is upfront about the fact that Helen is bitter about her own life, trapped in a marriage that she despises and suffocated by small town life. But there is something extra that we are shown in the first act, and that is Helen’s vicarious shame for the way that Katie is slighted because their family is not well off. In the beginning of the film, Katie begs Helen to splurge on a beautiful white graduation dress. When Helen is unable to afford it, a humiliated Katie stands for her graduation portrait surrounded by a sea of young women in their own pristine white dresses. As an appalled Helen watches, the photographer forces Katie to stand further back in the photo because her dress doesn’t match the others.

It’s this moment that adds dimension to what comes afterward. Yes, Helen is largely living out her own fantasies of wealth, power, and praise through Katie’s talent and success. But the sting of watching her sister’s rejection also plays a large role in the way that she compulsively pushes Katie forward, forward, forward.

The most sympathetic character in the film is Albert, who does not realize that Helen is merely using him as a stepping stone for Katie. Albert is easygoing to a fault. He is unable to advocate for himself in his marriage, and his best friend’s idea of support---trashing Katie and Helen---doesn’t help. Albert, admirably, is happy for Katie when her success begins to outpace his own, and his guileless approach to life doesn’t stand a chance against Helen’s take-no-prisoners methodology.

Even without Helen’s ferocious tactics, this film serves as an interesting look at the progression of becoming a lead actor, and just how much luck and hustle has to go into it. Katie, Albert, and Paul travel all over the country, hoping to catch the eye of someone who might book them for longer gigs. Later, Katie gets a bit part in a musical review, where Helen keeps an eagle eye out for any chance to get her a moment in the spotlight. This leads to a fantastic sequence where Helen plies aging performer Lily (Gladys George) with drinks during a rehearsal break, goading her into an indignant meltdown over being reduced to a single song in the show. When Lily quits, Helen is ready to leap forward, mentioning that Katie just happens to already know the song in question.

For the first two thirds, generally speaking, this is a really interesting character study and look at the precarious world of working in entertainment.

But now let’s talk about Paul. Right from the get-go, Paul is suspicious of Helen, and is the only one who sees that her intentions are to use the duo as a springboard for Katie’s career. As the film goes on Paul is increasingly framed as the truth teller, the hero of the piece. And the main problem with that is that Paul is a total jerk, and almost everything about him reeks of sexist double standards when it comes to behavior. Take a scene early in the film where it’s implied that Helen might be trading sexual favors to get an agent to hire Katie. Paul repeatedly brings this up to shame Helen, which is really rich considering that Paul is a total slut himself, would undoubtedly, if roles were reversed, sleep his own way to the top, and also this moral chastising is really rich from a grown man who sees no problem hanging out with literal teenagers.

The most sympathetic aspect to Paul’s character is the pain that he experiences watching Helen and Katie take advantage of Albert’s kindness and innocence. And if the film held to that perspective, he would have made a great counterpart to Helen’s blind aspirations. Instead, Paul is incredibly cruel to Helen---in one scene calling out that she is vulnerable and lonely . . . and then mocking her for it. It would get into spoiler territory to talk about how his character is handled in the last act, but I found it really stupid and from a narrative point of view totally offensive. The film’s insistence on always framing Katie as a victim of what is happening becomes less and less tolerable as the film goes on.

It’s true that Helen acts with cruelty at times, but her motivations are understandable. The last act is so intent on punishing Helen and at the same time elevating Paul that it totally loses its grip on the characters as people and instead uses them as puppets in a morality tale. The cheap valorization of the “good” characters and the hack punishment of the “bad” characters tarnishes what had been a really good film to that point.

Worth a watch for Lupino’s fierce performance and a compelling story of backstage political maneuvering. Shame about the last act.

The Man I Love, 1947

Petey (Ida Lupino) comes to LA to visit her family, and ends up working in a nightclub where low-level gangster Nicky (Robert Alda) doggedly pursues her. But Petey’s affections belong to San (Bruce Bennett), a jazz pianist who has fallen on hard times. Meanwhile, the couple next door, Johnny (Don McGuire) and Gloria (Dolores Moran), are dealing with marriage woes after the birth of their first child.

A slightly extraneous crime element can’t dampen an electric character study.

There’s nothing like a film where so much of the story and so many of the characters feel deeply human, even despite circumstances that feel very Hollywood.

Petey is such a phenomenal, easy-to-watch character that I could have spent three Jeanne Dielman-like hours watching her balance her checkbook or whatever. While what we get is far more sensational---gangsters! guns! love affairs!---Petey is the beautiful heart at the center of it all. As she tries to navigate her own feelings and keep the people she loves out of trouble or danger, she holds onto a sense of self that is really inspiring to watch.

As the sleazy Nicky makes one of his many inelegant passes at Petey, he remarks that she’s a bit too “independent,” to which she retorts a simple, “yeah.” Petey knows exactly who she is, which is why it puts her in such a fluster to realize just how hard she’s fallen for San. You can tell that Petey is the kind of person who always finds a way, but even she can’t be sure that her affections will pull San from his self-imposed exile. She is such a straight-shooter, and so obviously a person who is used to fixing the problems of her loved ones, that you feel that she is entirely deserving of finding someone to be a real partner to her.

And there are plenty of problems to fix, that’s for sure. Setting aside San’s depression (the result of a marriage that ended in a bitter divorce), Petey’s little brother Joe (Warren Douglas) is working for Nicky and engaging in increasingly slimy behavior. And next door, the callous Gloria is pressuring Johnny to return to work despite a serious injury, often leaving him alone to care for their little baby or leaving the baby with Petey and her sisters. Watching Petey give sensible advice to both Johnny and Gloria reveals her compassion for both of them, and maybe a little something about her own past history. There is a moment late in the film where Petey handles a man on the edge of a terrible decision with a stern compassion that is breathtaking.

I had only two complaints about the film. The first is that I was never 100% sold on San. It’s not that he’s a bad guy, and it’s not that love isn’t mysterious, but the way Petey falls head over heels for San didn’t totally track for me. And while it makes for a pretty thrilling last act, I had mixed feelings about the way that some of the crime/gangster stuff takes the forefront toward the end of the film.

A solid drama-thriller with an unforgettably fantastic character at its center.

The Sea Wolf, 1941

Writer Van Weyden (Alexander Knox) and recently-arrested fugitive Ruth (Ida Lupino) are thrown into the water when the ferry they’re aboard is struck by another ship. They are rescued by the crew of a ship called the Ghost, but soon realize that they are out of the frying pan and into the fire. Their rescuers are a miserable group of sailors, lorded over by the cold and cruel Captain “Wolf” Larsen (Edward G Robinson). Van Weyden and Ruth must stay on the right side of the crew if they hope to survive the voyage out and back.

Great characters and some surprising plot developments make for an interesting maritime suspense film.

Movies set in isolated locations with no chance for escape are perfect for exploring a certain type of toxic hierarchy. Aboard the gloomy, doomed ship the sailors go along with Larsen’s bullying tactics seemingly out of a mix of dark amusement and the relief that they are not the ones caught in his sights.

The arrival of the two passengers/prisoners throws a wrench in the functional/dysfunctional working of the ship, especially Van Weyden with his quiet insistence on decency. In particular, Van Weyden inspires the ship’s alcoholic Doctor Prescott (Gene Lockhart) to crawl out of the hole of drunken despair in which he’s lived for years. Naturally, Larsen must meet any such change with humiliation and abuse to try and ensure that his men stay in their places. It’s only a matter of time before this ebb and flow leads to disastrous consequences for those involved.

Robinson is predictably good in the role of the maniacal captain, a man so sure of his cruel view of the world that he runs his ship almost through sheer force of willpower. I was not as familiar with Alexander Knox, but his more understated performance is a nice counterbalance, and a more appealing model of confidence. Van Weyden doesn’t need to bluster and put people in their place to make his points, lending more credibility to his beliefs. Lockhart cuts a compelling and tragic figure as a man trying to recapture his dignity far, far too late. Barry Fitzgerald is deliciously hateable as the ship’s cook, a man who will happily inform on his fellow sailors if it means staying in the captain’s good graces.

Lupino is her usual solid self as the defiant Ruth, who is more than aware of the inherent danger of being the only woman on a boat full of men who are in the habit of cruelty and humiliation. The biggest surprise of the film is a young John Garfield as a sailor called George Leech. Leech’s first appearance, the way he is filmed, positions him as a danger, especially to Ruth. When Larsen forces an unwilling Leech to donate blood to Ruth in order to save her life, it seems as if this will only add more animosity to his already dour demeanor. But the way that Leech develops as a character is very interesting and much different from what I expected.

Overall what I liked most about this film, aside from very enjoyable performances from the cast, was just how unpredictable I found it. Even the basic premise---a writer and a woman who is a fugitive---is unusual, and there were multiple times that the plot simply didn’t go the way I expected, or that a seemingly foregone conclusion took a left turn at the last moment. Literally down to the last few minutes this one managed to surprise me, and that was a lot of fun.

There are also several moments that are just really good, like goosebumps good. There’s a sequence where a defiant Dr. Prescott climbs the ship’s mast while ranting and raving that is just fantastic. Higher and higher he climbs, as Larsen rains a mixture of insults and entreaties down on him, and the narrowing, dizzying climb totally encompasses the inescapable nature of being trapped on the ship.

I suppose my only complaint is that the background that we learn about Larsen feels a bit contrived, even in the context of the film’s reality. Perhaps this is something that’s more fleshed out in the original novel, but I found it a bit strange.

Good stuff!

Looks interesting, I'll add it to my watchlist.

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Letterboxd

At first it felt like it might just be a Moby Dick knockoff, but I ended up really liking it.

Peter Ibbetson, 1935

As children, Peter (Gary Cooper) and Mary (Ann Harding) were next door neighbors until their deep bond was broken by the death of Peter’s mother and his subsequent removal to a boarding school. Years later, by chance, Peter comes to work as an architect at the home owned by Mary and her husband, The Duke of Towers (John Halliday). As the spark between them reignites, it creates a fraught, dangerous situation for all involved.

An otherworldly final act makes this a memorable entry in the subgenre of forbidden love romances.

I’ll admit that for the first half or so of this film I thought it was okay, but not great. Cooper and Harding are luminous and cinematic, but romance films aren’t exactly my favorite genre and I was mostly along for the ride as Peter and Mary had sweet-but-guarded conversations as he helped to design a new building for their property.

Where the film really kicks into gear, however, is in the second half. Following an unfortunate blow-up involving the jealous Duke, Peter and Mary are separated, only to discover that their bond is deeper, and more special, than either could have imagined.

What follows next is perhaps something that could be considered a spoiler (hard to know with this film), so maybe skip the rest of the review if you haven’t seen the movie. However, I will say that what I’m about to describe is, for me, actually a big selling point of the film.

Okay: once separated, Peter and ary discover something that they’d already come to suspect, namely that they are able to visit each other in their dreams. These otherworldly rendezvous become an anchor for both characters as they must endure being apart. It also raises what comes to be the central theme of the film: what is real? What is the difference between being together in real life and being together in your imagination?

This outlandish development gives the film a unique place among romance films. The characters never stop to wonder why they have this ability, they merely accept it as an unexpected bonus of the relationship they’ve long had with one another.

The movie looks great, and especially the heightened dream sequences.Cooper and Harding have a winning, gentle chemistry with each other that really works with their assured sense that they belong together, in this world or some other.

The Light That Failed, 1939

Dick (Ronald Colman) is a British soldier fighting in Sudan. Defending his friend Torp (Walter Huston), Dick sustains a head injury. Leaving the service, he becomes a painter and reunites with childhood sweetheart Maise (Muriel Angelus), but the two drift apart when Dick begins painting more commercially. When Dick realizes that he’s soon to lose his sight, he becomes obsessed with painting a picture called “Melancholia”, using a downtrodden sex worker Bessie (Ida Lupino) as a model. Will Dick create his masterpiece before his vision fully fades?

Despite some interesting supporting characters, I just couldn’t get into this drama.

Let’s be real: was I ever going to love this film, that starts with our protagonist doing his darn best to support colonialism while murdering native Africans? Probably not. And any biases I might have already had about the film were only worsened when it becomes clear that it endorses a “better dead than disabled” point of view. Awesome.

But I think that even if the film had started with Dick in the painting phase of his life and had just been about a man grappling with impending blindness and the need to create one last “real” piece of art . . . still not totally my cup of tea.

Fundamentally, I just didn’t care for Dick, especially given his poor treatment of Bessie. She is poor and hungry, and because modeling gets her enough money for food and a bed, Dick seems to think that he has the right to scream at her and demean her. I love Ida Lupino, but the character doesn’t feel like the right fit for her. She has such a fire and independent spirit that it feels utterly unnatural to watch her quake in the face of a blowhard like Dick.

The real bright spots in the film are Huston and Angelus, who both portray characters with a distinct point of view and whose support of Dick as he goes through his turmoil is interesting to watch. They both want to support him as a person and as an artist, but balancing those two things isn’t always easy. Maise, who loves Dick but will not tolerate his nonsense, is a more well-realized portrait of the unhappy fiance than we usually get in such films. (That said, Maise and Dick are supposed to be the same age, and yet she is visibly like 15-20 years younger than him because can you imagine putting a middle aged woman in a movie as an object of desire? I sure can’t!). I do also kind of love the idea that a portrait of melancholy is a woman laughing maniacally.

It’s hard to say much more about this film because it left very little impression on me. The very end of the film had me rolling my eyes.

Yours for the Asking, 1936

Johnny (George Raft) runs an underground casino in Miami, where he meets down-on-her-luck socialite Lucille (Dolores Costello). Johnny convinces Lucille to run a casino out of her mansion, but Johnny’s pals worry that mingling with high society people will ruin Johnny. In order to tempt him away, they hire con artists Gert (Ida Lupino) and Dictionary McKinny (Reginald Owen).

An incredibly engaging cast lends plenty of crackle to a story that slightly underwhelms.

The vibe of this film made me think a lot of what you get in the Thin Man films. A cast that’s in on the joke, and a story that isn’t meant to be taken too seriously.

The highlights, and the deliverers of the absolutely best lines, are Lupino and Owen as the seasoned con artists. Lupino gives Gert a quick up-and-down glance that lets you know she’s sized up a situation---and a mark---in half a second. Owen, on the other hand, gives McKinny a kind of bumbling air that makes it feel as if this is a man who has survived on an equal mix of luck and wits.

The whole movie has an ease to it. The story itself has all the weight of a feather being thrown around by a breeze, really just a mechanism to move the characters from one setpiece to another. Johnny’s goofy henchmen---played by James Gleason, Edgar Kennedy, and Lynne Overman---keep the plot moving with their ham-handed attempts to steer Johnny one way or the other.

What keeps the film from being really great is the fact that Johnny and Lucille are clearly meant to be together, which puts a wedge between Gert and Johnny. The film would crackle much more if there were genuine spark between them, but the movie seems to pull its punches in this regard. (Compare this to something like Trouble in Paradise which does let there be some romantic electricity).

Worse, the film just doesn’t seem to know what to do with Gert in the last act, and goes to a weirdly moralizing place with her. (This movie gets the obligatory loss of a half a star for showing a man spanking an adult woman in a not-sexy context). I don’t mind that it hews toward a more conventional ending of putting the protagonist with the “nice girl”, whatever, but Gert and McKinny deserve more than the last act they’re given.

Fun, but not quite great.

The Lady and the Mob, 1939

High society dame Hattie (Fay Bainter) goes to the dry cleaners and is shocked to see that the fees have increased. Upon investigation, she learns that her dry cleaner and several other local businesses are being extorted by the mob. Incensed, Hattie is joined by her soon to be daughter in law, Lila (Ida Lupino), as she becomes more and more determined to get to the bottom of who is leading the extortion scheme.

This is an easy, charming comedy full of antics.

This movie is, for better or for worse, just 70 minutes of an upper class old lady up to zany busybodying. Fortunately, Fay Bainter is in full command of her character, a mix of someone who believes in a certain level of decency, but who is also inescapably in the point of view of the upper crust. So about 95% of the film’s humor just comes from a clashing of the worlds, as Hattie asks things like “So how does one go about acquiring henchmen?”.

The supporting cast is a lot of fun, with Lupino providing much of the encouragement and key reaction shots to Hattie’s various misbehaviors. While the movie does mostly want to live on the surface of the premise, I did appreciate that during one particular confrontation the working men of the city point out that it’s easy for Hattie to demand that they rebuff the mob, when they could pay by having their businesses destroyed, or even be hurt or killed. It’s easy to speak trivially of resistance or strikes when you aren’t the person whose livelihood or life is literally on the line.

The film also makes a key point about the way that people in power are often involved in enabling such extortionate practices. In this film, the mob is not confined to some seedy underbelly, but also reaches into the government and legal system, making justice for the working people harder to get.

This is a goofy crime comedy that never rises above its premise, but commits enjoyably to the wacky story.

The Mysterians, 1957

Following a festival, a destructive earthquake strikes and, on investigation, an even more destructive robot emerges. The robot is controlled by an alien race called the Mysterians who originate from a hidden planet in the solar system. Friends Atsumi (Kenji Sahara), Hiroko (Momoko Kochi), and Etsuko (Yumi Shirakawa) end up enmeshed in the drama when their friend Shiraishi (Aihiko Hirata), who first theorized about the existence of the Mysterians, ends up joining them. The Mysterians are demanding a share of the Earth as well as a share of the Earth’s women. Can humankind marshall the resources to fight the powerful invaders?

Engaging set-pieces and a fun cast can’t quite overcome a disjoint story.

There are a handful of really fun moments in this one, and at a relatively brisk 85 minutes, it’s not hard for the good moments to carry you through the less interesting ones. I will never get tired of watching water bubble and boil, or the side of a mountain fall away to reveal a giant creature. In this film in particular, said creature is a giant robot and I was really taken with the vaguely hieroglyphic nature of it.

I also found the central cast very likable, and that also includes the infinitely watchable Takashi Shimura as a professor and local expert in astronomy. They are all charming and it’s easy to root for them. Even in the character of Shiraishi, who ends up helping out the Mysterians because he likes their philosophy, there’s a sympathetic notion there of wanting to find “your people.”

But for all of the charms of the film, it ends up landing in my mind as merely okay. The giant robot part is great, but it soon gives way to the Mysterians holed up in a dome and negotiating with human representatives. There is suspense in the various showdowns, but it lacks the visceral thrill of a giant monster.

Likewise the plot point about the Mysterians wanting to claim Earth women as breeding stock is just such a dumb trope. Obviously it’s grounded in real-world xenophobia, but this idea of aliens always being male and wanting to take women . . . meh. This plot element also reduces Hiroko and Etsuko’s roles to that of kidnap victims, sidelining them in an annoying way. There is one line that stood out to me---where the Mysterians describe that after a disaster their children starting being born with deformities, and that these children were “destroyed”. I have to wonder how a line like that hit in 1950s Japan, where babies and children were impacted by the use of radioactive weapons.

The second half does get a little boost from the look of the technology in the Mysterians’ dome. I’ll admit to finding the costumes worn by the Mysterians more silly than imposing or striking, but they do lend the film a strong pop of color.

Not bad by any means, but very much just average.