The Men (1950)

The Men is a solid mid-century postwar disability drama that has a great performance from Marlon Brando and an excellent supporting turn from Arthur Jurado.

It is, as you might imagine from the title, obsessed with the idea that disabled men are (still) men. Much of this Fred Zinnemann feature rings oddly now, I guess, but there are still some intriguing ideas, and, as I say, some interesting acting. Although probably the most interesting thing is watching an acting style like Teresa Wright's – truly old school Broadway stuff – next to performers like Brando, Jurado, Everett Sloane, and Jack Webb, who just didn't have that same kind of approach to acting.

I watched The Men on the Criterion Channel - just before it leaves at the end of the month.

The Briefest of Reviews from 1973

This movie is great! It's a movie about an assassin out to kill President Charles de Gaulle and the man trying to catch him. Suspenseful, exciting, and sexy. The Day of the Jackal follows the inscrutable, heartless assassin much more than it does the police, and we get to see all of his tricks and plans and ways of not getting caught. It was fascinating.

I Have No Idea What Is Going On

Oooooooooooooooooooooklahoma where the wind comes sweeping down the plain.

Um, I had never seen Fred Zinnemann's 1955 film version of Oklahoma! by Rodgers & Hammerstein. Until today. And, well, it's Oklahoma!

I liked it. But then I like the show. I haven't always liked it, but I have for several years. I like the songs. They are catchy and fun and I think rather brilliant (both the lyrics and the music, if you can believe it).

The film is not great, though. Gloria Grahame plays Ado Annie, and while I like Gloria Grahame (I think she's cute and sassy and unconventional. Like Jennifer Tilly) she's a terrible Ado Annie. Too nervous about her singing ability to be funny. Or something. It's a funny role, but you wouldn't know it from the film version. Grahame is almost dead on screen. It's actually difficult to watch. Frankly, I was none to keen on any of the performances in the movie. Even Gordon MacRae, who has a lovely voice seems a little too old for Curly; jaded where he could've been earnest or hopeful.
I dunno. I was soft on the whole thing. Still, it's Oklahoma! and the film gave me new appreciation for more than one of the old songs. And there aren't too many things better than MacRae gorgeous rendition of "Oh What a Beautiful Morning."

I Want to Run

I'm feeling antsy. Whenever I have no money I feel antsy. I ranted the other day about feeling like all my time was used up already though it's not even here yet. That's still happening in my head, too. It's all the rehearsal time I've scheduled that does that to me. It's okay: it's good, really, but I feel like I want to spend a day lounging somewhere, or have someone take me somewhere and not worry for a day.

I've said before that I like to take my days slowly on the weekends, and that just hasn't been happening lately. I run all over town during the week and recently I've been doing that on the weekends, too. I went to my friend Wahima's show, For Colored Girls... at the Stella Adler today. It was supposed to start at 3:00p, but it didn't start until 3:40p, so I ducked out at intermission. I felt like a total heel, but I had to be in West Los Angeles by 6:00p and I didn't even get out of the Hollywood & Highland complex until five minutes to five, so I guess it was smart. I would've had to duck out fifteen minutes into Act Two if I had stayed anyway.

Yesterday I finally watched Steven Soderbergh's Sex, Lies, and Videotape. Everyone else has already seen this, right? It's basically a four-handed film about an (Ohio?) couple played by Andie MacDowell and Peter Gallagher, her sister (and his mistress) played by Laura San Giacomo, as well as a handsome stranger played by James Spader, who masturbates to videotapes of women talking about sex. My reaction to the film is that it starts off well: there's an interesting discussion early on about garbage and where it will all eventually go, but quickly becomes a regular ol' family melodrama with not much to add to the discussion about unsatisfying sex and boredom among married heterosexual suburbanites. It was okay, I guess, but not really either erotic or shocking.

And this morning I watched Fred Zinnemann's The Nun's Story with Audrey Hepburn, which is basically two and a half hours of fucking boredom. Peter Finch is good; unfortunately he only graces the picture for about 45 minutes. The rest of it just drags. It's supposed to be about trying to attain perfection through obedience and "one woman's struggle with her own conscience when it conflicts with authority." But the Audrey Hepburn character is completely inscrutable and hardly any decision she makes makes any sense. And, frankly, it's really hard to root for someone whose motives I never remotely understand. There's some kind of tree metaphor throughout, as well, that I just didn't get. The mother superior said one thing that made me sort of grunt in my seat, though, and I'll leave you with this:

"The more we are asked to set an example, the better examples we become." I think about this a lot and I totally agree.

Alright. Off to bed.