Alex Gibney, Steve Jobs, and opening night for the San Francisco International Film Festival

The San Francisco International Film Festival opened last night with a mercifully short introduction, an excellent film, and a short but interesting Q&A.

But the night started off on the wrong foot. When we entered the Castro, we found that almost all of the seats were "Reserved." Only the front three and back five rows were available to people without proper status..

This didn’t bother me too much; the third row is fine for me. But the man sitting next to me was justifiably angry. He had paid $1400 for a CineVisa pass, he came early to get a good seat, and he was shunted to a row that was too close for him.

Film festival opening nights are notorious for getting off to a late start, but this one was reasonably prompt. The show was scheduled to start at 7:00, and at 7:10, the organist broke into "San Francisco." (Night shows at the Castro usually begin with an organ concert, always ending with "San Francisco.") That was followed by this year’s trailer, which was okay, except that I know I’ll be sick of it soon.

Then came the talks–all mercifully short. First up, Executive Director Noah Cowan, then  Director of Programming Rachel Rosen. And then the director of the night’s film, Alex Gibney.

The movie started at 7:24. Not bad.

The film, Steve Jobs: The Man in the Machine, will get a theatrical release in September, so I’m not allowed to write a lot about it now. So I’ll just write this:

A Director Alex Gibney starts this multifaceted documentary with a difficult question: Why did so many people who never met Steve Jobs mourn so deeply his death? Jobs was brilliant, mercurial, and charismatic. He made technology friendly for the average person, and significantly changed the world. But he was also a jerk that cheated friends, let his daughter grow up on welfare while he became incredibly wealthy, and parked his sports car in handicap spaces.  Gibney offers us an excellent, no-holds-barred, yet empathetic biography of a man utterly lacking in empathy.

image

The movie was followed by a short Q&A with Gibney, with Rosen asking the first few questions, then moderating questions from the audience. A few highlights:

  • On choosing the subjects for this and other films: "I don’t know. This was something that was just rattling around in my head. I didn’t know where this journey was going to take me."
  • Apple’s response to a request to cooperate with the filmmakers: "They said they didn’t have the resources to help me with this film."
  • On some of his choices for film subjects: "I’m interested in power. Maybe I’m attuned to powerful people who abuse their power."
  • On Bill Gates: "Jobs had a very interesting relationship with Bill. Someone should make a movie about that."
  • Job’s "great talent was his ability to introduce us and create a relationship between us and computers."
  • On his skill as an interviewer: "I’m more like Columbo than Sherlock Holmes. You have to have empathy for the person you’re interviewing, and let them tell the story as they want it."
  • On the large number of films he’s put out recently: "I’m making up for lost time. I’ve made some films that were successful [which results in easier funding]. Also, if you surround yourself with really talented people it’s amazing how efficient you become."

There was a party after the show, but I didn’t attend. I needed my sleep.

The 50-hour science fiction movie marathon

I promised back in 2012 to tell you about the 50-hour science fiction marathon. As we just passed the 40th anniversary of the event, I think the time has come.

For more than two days in March, 1957 1975, I sat with hundreds of other crazy people and watched 25 feature motion pictures starring aliens, monsters, robots, and screaming women. And it wasn’t just features. We were also treated to shorts (Trip to the Moon, Duck Dodgers, and so on), trailers for features they weren’t showing, and the complete, original, 13-chapter Flash Gordon serial from 1936.

It was all part of Filmex, the Los Angeles film festival that launched in 1971 and lasted through 1983. In ’75, Filmex moved from Hollywood to the Plitt Theaters in Century City. It was a duplex back then, and most of the marathon was in the huge theater with the curved screen.

This was two years before Star Wars made sci-fi big at the box office. Very few science fiction movies were made before 1950. The 50s and early 60s saw a lot of cheap, usually bad sci-fi inspired by the atom bomb, the cold war, and the space race. Then, in 1968, Stanley Kubrick blew the lid off the genre with 2001: A Space Odyssey. Suddenly, science fiction became artistically respectable.

2001: A Space Odyssey

And the marathon came only seven years after that change.

Something else to remember: There was no home video in those days. If you wanted to see a particular old movie, you had to wait until it played at a local revival house, or caught it–cut up and broken with commercials–on broadcast TV.

The festival oversold tickets, so the marathon started badly. They separated ticketholders into two lines, based on where they bought the tickets. One group, the smaller one, would be allowed in before the other. The larger line, which I was in, got very angry. Amongst the very angry sci-fi fans was at least one lawyer, who started collecting names and phone numbers for a lawsuit. In the end, the festival let everyone in at the same time.

I came in knowing that I couldn’t sit in a chair, awake, for 50 hours. So I set for myself a more practical goal. Since Flash Gordon were spread across the entire 50 hours (roughly a ten-minute chapter before every second feature), I would try to catch each one. I succeeded. The serials of the 30s and 40s, designed to keep young children returning to the same theater every week, are almost all laughably bad. This is the only serial I’ve watched theatrically in its entirety . Believe me; it was the perfect audience.

Flash Gordon

Although I woke up for each Flash Gordon entry, I couldn’t stay awake through all of the features. I very much wanted to see the original Invasion of the Body Snatchers, which I knew by reputation but hadn’t yet seen, but I slept right through it. (Ironic for a movie that was almost called Sleep No More.) On the other hand, I succeeded, intentionally, in sleeping through THX-1138.

I spent some time in lobby, talking with people and looking at the displays. That’s where I talked to Ray Bradbury–not for the first time. I only left the theater once, to take a walk and buy some food at a supermarket. I don’t remember what movie I missed, but I’m pretty sure it was one I wanted to miss.

Some highlights:

A Boy and His Dog: The festival opened with this film’s world premiere. I found it creepy and disturbing, and I liked it.

20,000 Leagues Under the Sea: The Disney version, in a beautiful Cinemascope print. Oddly, the scene that sticks most strongly in my mind is a ridiculous musical number.

image

2001: A Space Odyssey: They screened my then-favorite film in 70mm on their huge, curved screen. As of today, it’s the last time I’ve seen it that way, which is how it was meant to be seen. If I recall correctly, the film’s intermission was the only intermission in the whole marathon.

War of the World: They screened a beautiful print of this late three-strip Technicolor movie. I suspect it was an archival, dye-transfer print.

The Incredible Shrinking Man: I hadn’t seen this one before, and I wasn’t particularly interested in it. But it blew me away. Wonderful movie.

image

The Day the Earth Stood Still: The marathon closed, after Flash Gordon’s happy ending, with this 1951 message movie.

Other films screened included The Bed-Sitting Room, The Thing from Another World, Forbidden Planet, Metropolis (a much shorter version than we have today, and with a canned musical track), and This Island Earth. According to Wikipedia, other films screened there included The Mysterious Island, Solaris, The Illustrated Man, and Silent Running, but I have no memory of them at the marathon.

By the way, I went to more than just the marathon that year. Also at that festival, I caught the world premiere of Monty Python and the Holy Grail. I’ve been a fan ever since.

That was the last Filmex I ever attended. Two months later, I was no longer a Los Angeles resident.  Two years later, without my attendance, they ran a 50-hour musical marathon.

March 30: I’ve corrected a typo. Thanks to Lea D. for bringing it to my attention.

Fort Apache at the Alameda

imageTuesday night, I visited the Alameda Theater for the first time, for a screening of John Ford’s Fort Apache. This was also my first time seeing this classic on the big screen.

The Alameda is a huge, beautiful, art deco theater originally built in 1932. It was, of course, originally built as a single-screen theater. And although it has been turned into a multiplex, the original auditorium remains in its original size–including the balcony. I’d guess that it can sit about 1,000. There are some modern changes–the chairs are new and comfortable, with drink holders. Surround speakers line the wall (a lot of them). And, unfortunately, there’s no curtain.

But the Alameda is impressive before you get to the auditorium. The lobby is huge and sumptuous.

image

While it mostly shows new films, the Alameda has a classic movie series that runs on Tuesday and Wednesday in the main theater. I’ve been mentioning their classics in the weekly newsletter for years, but until this Tuesday I had never attended one.

Before the film started, the head of the classics series, Cassady Toles–Host of the Alameda Classic Series–came out and talked about it. He mentioned other movies coming up, their Oscar party, and especially plugged Elevator to the Gallows (I’m happy to plug that one, too). He hawked the Classic Movie Passes–eight films for $44–and asked people not to pay full price. (I did, and it was only $8.) He asked trivia questions about the film before starting it.

Unfortunately, Warner Brothers hasn’t made Fort Apache available on DCP, so the Alameda had to make due with a Blu-ray. (The theater has one 35mm projector, but old films generally require two.) A really good Blu-ray would have been fine, but this one suffered from mediocre transfer, with a bit of a  video look. Chances are that if Warner did provide a DCP, it would be of the same transfer and with the same look.

There were other technical problems. The audio was slightly out of sync for the entire film. And in the film’s last minutes, everything just stopped. After a few seconds, everything came back on again, back where we left off. But this time, the aspect ratio was off, cropping off part of the image vertically.

Toles told me before the film that most of the classics are projected off DCPs. I imagine that these sorts of problems would be less likely in that situation.

There was a good-sized audience. After the movie, people stuck around a bit and talked about it.

Now then, about the movie itself:

image

The first and best film in Ford’s accidental "Cavalry Trilogy" both romances the horse soldiers who cleared the West of its rightful inhabitants, and looks on in horror at the prejudice that made that crime possible. It’s a film about our mistreatment of Native Americans told entirely from a white perspective.

Henry Fonda plays the new commanding officer at the fort–extremely strict, close-minded and bigoted. He hate the Apaches, whom he views unworthy adversaries. He doesn’t seem to like much of anyone. He won’t allow his daughter (Shirley Temple, now in her late teens) to marry a young Lieutenant (John Agar) because the Lieutenant’s father is only a sergeant. John Wayne’s Captain York is the film’s liberal voice of reason.

Much of the film explores and celebrates life in the fort. It’s a full community, housing the wives and children of the soldiers, with its own rituals and celebrations. There’s warmth, love, humor, and good-natured kidding around. Fonda’s Lt. Col. Owen Thursday seems to find all of this uncomfortable.

Our first encounter with the Apaches follows the worst of stereotypes. They’re murdering savages who need to be put down. Then we meet the trader who has been bilking them. York tries to explain to Thursday why the Apaches–or anyone who cared about their people–left the reservation. But Thursday is set on a military victory. His ambition and hatred of the Apaches sends him into battle. His contempt for these "breech-clothed savages" drives him, and his men, into a trap.

Much as Ford clearly condemns Thursday, he can’t quite condemn the military mind. The men, with little or no respect for Thursday, follow him into what they know will be their death. And Ford celebrates this. These soldiers are wonderful, in Ford’s view, because when told to march into a death trap by a commander who won’t see what they all know, they follow orders.

The ending, with Wayne’s York at a press conference, can be viewed many ways. I always think of Colin Powell at the UN, lying, hating himself for lying, but doing it anyway because he’s a soldier.

It’s playing again tonight (Wednesday), in case you’re looking for a classic to watch on the big screen.

Marriage and Murder Marathon: Watching five features Saturday at Noir City

I spent Saturday at the Castro for the penultimate day, and the longest day, of this year’s Noir City festival. Over the course of nearly 12 hours, the festival screened five feature films about crime, attempted crime, sex, attempted sex, and marriages both nurturing and homicidal.

The festival’s theme this year is "Til death do us part," and many of the films dealt with murder as a very consequential form of divorce.

I’m skipping the closing on Sunday. I just can’t take it anymore.

Matinee triple bill with the Stones

These Stones didn’t play rock and roll music, but they sure could build suspense.

I’m talking about Andrew and Virginia Stone, a filmmaking team whose work I was completely unfamiliar with until Saturday. Andrew wrote and directed movies in all sorts of genres from the late silent period to the early 70s. His wife, Virginia, cut the films and sometimes worked as an assistant director.

During the 1950s, they made several noirs. On Saturday I saw three of them.

The Steel Trap
image
I think we need to recognize a sub-genre of noir: Truly Idiotic Criminals.

Joseph Cotten and Teresa Wright, who played uncle and niece is Shadow of a Doubt, are man and wife this time around. He’s a bank employee who develops a complicated and essentially stupid plan to rob his own bank. To make things worse, he starts the ball rolling before he has all of the pieces in place. Then he tries to get himself and his wife (who doesn’t know what’s going on) to Brazil before anyone figures out that a million has gone missing from the bank. But because of his rush to get going, he has trouble getting passports and making plane connections.

The whole thing is reasonably entertaining and good fun. But I couldn’t really call it exceptional.

The film was projected digitally, probably off of a DCP. It looked fine.

Julie
image
What a fun movie! And easily the best performance I’ve ever seen from Doris Day.

As befits my generation, I hit adolescence hating Doris Day. She represented all that was wholesome, virginal, and culturally conservative. The old joke was that, by playing a wife and mother in Hitchcock’s The Man Who Knew Too Much, she risked ruining her image as a virgin.

She made Julie the same year, and her acting range is considerable. She’s not a mother this time around, but she’s a divorcee on her second husband.

Julie (Day) has serious marital problems. In fact, it soon becomes clear that she’s married to a psychopath (Louis Jourdan), and that she’s in line to be his next victim. She leaves home, he follows, and the chase is on. She gets very little help from the local cops and considerably more from a platonic male friend (Barry Sullivan). The climax puts her into a dangerous situation that I’ve seen in a handful of other movies. But outside of a comedy that played it for laughs, I’ve never seen done so well.

The 35mm print was a mess, scratched, torn, and jittery. The projectionist did a valiant job keeping it going–even if he had to stop it a couple of times.

Cry Terror!
image

No, that title isn’t the new Republican Party campaign slogan. It’s an excellent crime thriller by the Stones.

An extortion plot that threatens to blow up airliners, a guilt-ridden father (James Mason) kidnapped along with his wife and young daughter, a brilliant criminal (Rod Steiger), and a serial rapist addicted to bennies (Neville Brand) all come together in this exciting tale.  Also in the cast: Inger Stevens as the kidnapped wife, and Angie Dickinson and Jack Klugman as members of the criminal plot.

I don’t want to tell you too much about this one. Even a traffic jam is suspenseful here. Edge-of-your-seat entertainment.

The 35mm print was excellent.

The evening show: Classic European Noir.

Last year, the theme was world Noir, highlighting dark and dangerous thrillers from other countries. Saturday night, this year’s festival returned to that theme, while also continuing to focus on marriage.

Both films were quite long compared to American noirs, with a total running time of over four hours. The show didn’t end until midnight.

Ossessione
image

Did you know that Luchino Visconti made the first film adaptation of The Postman Always Rings Twice back in 1943. MGM owned the film rights to the novel (their version would come out in ’46), but American copyrights didn’t hold a lot of sway in Italy during World War II.

You probably know the story: A drifter drifts into a small, roadside restaurant run by a mean-spirited, fat, disgusting slob and his beautiful but long-suffering wife. Once the drifter and wife get a good look at each other, looking isn’t good enough for either of them. Soon murder begins to look like the best solution to their predicament. But happiness proves elusive in their post-murder relationship.

Although it lacks the beautiful spender of, say, The Leopard, Ossessione still feels in many ways like a Visconte film. It’s slow, stately, and prefers people’s daily life to violence and suspense. It’s also very sexy, with two gorgeous stars (Massimo Girotti and Clara Calamai) who can’t keep their hands off each other. This was before even the Italian cinema didn’t allow nudity, but the film doesn’t need it to feel hot.

The 35mm print was in good condition, but looked washed out, as if it came from a source quite far from the original negative. That’s hardly surprising. When a film was banned by Mussolini’s censors, the Catholic Church, and (after the war) MGM, you can’t expect it to be in mint condition.

Les Diabolique
image

For the second film on the bill, we get something a little more fun from Henri-Georges Clouzot, best known for The Wages of Fear. Les Diabolique isn’t quite as suspenseful as that masterpiece, and lacks Wages’ political themes, but it is far creepier.

The wife and mistress of a truly despicable man plot together to murder him, and dispose of the body in a way that should make it look like an accident. Of course things don’t go as planned. But the real problems pop up when the body isn’t found where they left it. Then odd occurances suggest that the husband is still alive. But how could that be? They killed him!

The movie has one hell of twist ending–even though I guessed it a few minutes before the big reveal. But only a few minutes.

I had no complaints about the 35mm print.

Godard and Wilder: Friday Night at the Pacific Film Archive

What do Jean-Luc Godard and Billy Wilder have in common–aside from the obvious? The Pacific Film Archive is currently running series on both of them: Jean-Luc Godard: Expect Everything from Cinema and Ready for His Close-Up: The Films of Billy Wilder. Friday night, the PFA screened one film from each series. This was not a double bill; each movie required a separate ticket, and the films didn’t really go together. As far as I know, I may have been the only audience member to attend both screenings.

The night started with Godard, and ended with Wilder.

Germany Year 90 Nine Zero

image

To be honest, I wouldn’t have bothered to see this film if I wasn’t also going to the Wilder one. I rarely enjoy–or get anything out of–a Godard film. But the last time I saw a Godard film at the PFA, I was pleasantly surprised. I thought maybe I’d be surprised again.

No surprise this time. Made for French television in 1991 (he was asked to make a film about solitude), Germany Year 90 Nine Zero is a dull meditation on all things German, made just after the wall was torn down. As Eddie Constantine wanders around the former East Germany, playing an out-of-work spy, multiple narrators talk about German artists, Communism, Nazis, the Holocaust, and whatever. News clips and shots of monuments fill the visuals. Much of what the narrators say, at least judging from the subtitles, sounds like an adolescent’s idea of profundity. A few juxtaposing images were clever, but that was about it.

The 35mm print was okay, but had seen better days.

Ace in the Hole

image

Billy Wilder at his most misanthropic.

A once-great, now washed-up newspaper reporter–a man with a lot of talent and no scruples  –stumbles upon a big story: A man is trapped deep inside a cave, his legs pinned beneath rocks. The reporter (Kirk Douglas) makes the personal possible tragedy a national sensation. Huge crowds gather to camp out and watch the rescue. Politicians turn up. The whole thing becomes a county fair (the film was alternately titled The Big Carnival). The reporter, hoping to milk the story for as long as possible, pulls strings to delay the rescue.

I first saw Ace in the Hole on broadcast TV. That would have been in the late 1960s. It was broken up by commercials, and I was about 12. Friday night was my second experience.

It’s a pretty good melodrama, heavy its message–which feels very timely these days–and extremely bleak. The characters are all types, not people. The last act stretched my credibility. I enjoyed it, but it’s not one of Wilder’s best.

But it is one of his biggest. I don’t think I’ve seen a Billy Wilder film with so many crowd scenes. Of course, since it was set in the present (1951), Paramount didn’t have to spend much on costumes.

The PFA projected Ace in the Hole off a DCP. But it was a poor transfer that often looked more like video than film. Oddly, the opening credits were windowboxed (black bars on all four sides). This is common for transfers intended for TV, but I’d never seen it before for a theater-bound DCP.

And now, I’d like to discuss what bothered me about the final act. If you haven’t seen the movie, and object to spoilers, please stop reading now.

I mean it.

image

Okay, everyone here willing to read about the ending?

As the story nears its end, the reporter grows a conscience, and tries to force the trapped man’s cold and bitter wife to wear a fur her husband bought her. The argument turns into a fight, and she stabs the reporter with scissors. As he bleeds to death, he drives to a church, picks up a priest, drives back, takes the priest down into the cave to give the trapped man last rites, returns from the cave, hops a makeshift elevator (a moderately impressive stunt done by Douglas himself)  to the top of the mountain, gives a speech, lets his sidekick drive him to town (which we’ve been told is a three-hour drive), goes back into the newspaper office, and manages to deliver a clever line before dropping dead.

As I said, the last act stretched my credibility.

Douglas Sirk Day at Noir City

On Sunday, the Noir City festival screened two potboilers from the late 40s, both directed by Douglas Sirk. Best remembered for his lush, Technicolor melodramas of the 1950’s, Sirk made a number of noirs before he broke into the big leagues.

Sleep, My Love
image
Claudette Colbert wakes up on a train with no idea how she got there. She obviously has some serious mental problems. As the story unfolds, we discover a conspiracy devoted to creating and augmenting those problems. But who is in the conspiracy, and who really wants to help her? Can she trust Don Ameche, the husband who cares very deeply about her health, but possibly not in the way one would expect? Or Robert Cummings, the friend of a friend who just happens to fall into her life at a very convenient time.

Hint: The theme of this year’s Noir City festival is "’Til death do us part," with the emphasis on death.

Anyway, the plot is outrageous and ridiculous, but that didn’t block my enjoyment of the movie a bit. Sleep, My Love is funny, clever, intriguing, and suspenseful enough to let you ignore the many improbabilities.

There’s an interesting Chinese-American wedding sequence that balances on a thin line between being ahead of its time and embracing the usual stereotypes. This results in a nice running gag where the new bride and groom get stuck in the back of a car when they want to get to their hotel room. The groom, by the way, is played by Keye Luke, who played Charlie Chan‘s Number One Son in the 1930s.

The film was produced by Mary Pickford (yes, that Mary Pickford), some 15 years after she gave up acting. Of course it was released by United Artists, a company that Pickford co-founded in 1919 when she was a star, and of which she still was a major stock holder.

The festival screened yet another fantastic 35mm print from the UCLA archive. Although Noir City is calling this a 35mm restoration, the credits on print itself uses the less impressive word preservation. Considering how good it looks, I’m guessing that the source materials didn’t need a full restoration.

Shockproof
image
What’s the longest sentence you can create with the  fewest words? "I do." With that joke, Eddie Mueller started his introduction to Shockproof, and reminded us that this year’s festival is about the darker side of marriage.

I was looking forward to this one. Samuel Fuller co-wrote the screenplay with Helen Deutsch. Until Sunday, I had never seen a movie written by Fuller but not directed by him.

I was disappointed. This potboiler about a parole officer who falls in love, and then marries one of his parolees, just wasn’t that interesting. The story was obvious, and the characters were clichés. As with Hitchcock’s Suspicion, the studio insisted on a more commercial ending, and as with Suspicion, that ending lets all the air out of the movie.

The bad ending doesn’t hurt as much as it did in Suspicion, but that’s only because this film didn’t have as far to fall. The first part of the film, where she moves into his house to take care of his saintly, blind mother, and he falls in love, is utterly ridiculous. His behavior is so unprofessional it’s illegal. In the third act, when they’re on the run, it’s just the same old same old–although I did like the gag where they stole a car with tin cans and a "Just Married" sign tied to the bumper.

The best thing about this movie: It’s only 79 minutes long.

Sony provided Noir City with a mostly excellent 35mm print. A few scenes looked like they came from warn-out sources.

Joan Fontaine, Poison, Marriage, and Murder: Saturday at Noir City

I spent Saturday at the Castro, where I caught two double bills in the Noir City festival. The theme this year is "’Til death do us part," examining the thin line between marriage and murder.

It was a lot of fun. 

All of the films were in 35mm, and for the most part were excellent prints. Ivy, the best of the four, also had the best print. In fact, it was one of the best 35mm prints of a 40’s movie I’ve seen in years.

The Matinee

The matinee double bill was a tribute to the actress Joan Fontaine. It started with her Oscar-winning performance in Alfred Hitchcock’s Suspicion, where she marries Cary Grant. In the second film, The Bigamist, she’s married Edmond O’Brien. As film historian Alan K. Rode pointed out in his introduction, that shows a major decline in star power over the 12 year’s between the films.

Suspicion
image
Alfred Hitchcock’s third American film, and his first with a major studio (RKO) could have been one of his best. Fontaine plays a naive young woman who falls in love with a charming but untrustworthy gambling addict (Cary Grant). After their marriage, his petty thefts, his lies, and his manipulations get worse. And worse. Eventually, she begins to suspect that he murdered a friend, and is planning to murder her for the insurance.

In Hitchcock’s original ending (which was never filmed), she writes a letter to her mother, detailing her suspicions. After he murders her, he mails the letter. RKO objected. The company-approved ending is so lame, and so much of a letdown, that it sinks what could have been one of Hitchcock’s best.

The movie, released in 1941, is set in England. There’s no mention of war, and a supporting character actually goes to Paris on business. Not likely after September 1939. Perhaps the movie is set before the war, but it never explicitly says so.

 The Bigamist

image
Of the four movies I saw Saturday, this was the only one not set in England (they were all shot in California). It’s also the only one where murder by poison–or any other form of murder–doesn’t play a part.

Edmond O’Brien plays the title character in this 1953 tale, although he only receives fourth billing. In San Francisco, he’s married to Fontaine. They run a business together, and are hoping to adopt a child.

In Los Angeles, he’s married to Ida Lupino (who also directed), and they have a baby. Most of the movie uses that classic noir device, the narrated flashback, to tell us how this came to be.

It’s a fun little pot-boiler. Odd for a noir, everyone here is trying to do the right thing. But that proves impossible, and the morality gets complicated and murky–as it should in noir.

The Evening Show

The second double feature centered on Edwardian London–noir with top hats instead of fedoras. And in each movie, the central character murders their spouse, with unpredictable results.

And the first film starred Joan Fontaine, linking this double bill to the matinee.

Ivy
image
This was easily the best of the four movies I saw Saturday. After watching Fontaine as the naïve new bride and the happily-married businesswomen, it’s nice to know that she could do a great femme fatale.

As this 1947 story begins, Ivy (think poison) is married to a decent guy without much money. She has a lover on the side, but she wants to drop him. In fact, she wants to drop both of them; she’s looking for a richer husband.

She’s greedy and evil, but she’s also smart, quick thinking, and knockout gorgeous. She’s a genius at manipulating men. That makes murder, and framing an innocent bystander, relatively easy.

I won’t go into detail. Why spoil the fun?

The Suspect
image

In the last movie of the day, a good man (Charles Laughton) is driven to murdering his dreadful wife–and every member of the audience sympathizes with him. His wife (Rosalind Ivan) is as despicable as a character can be without kicking a puppy. She’s hateful not only to her husband but to their grown son. He finds companionship with a much younger, much nicer, and much more intelligent woman (Ella Raines). Eventually, he’s pushed into a corner and he has no choice.

Of course, murder never goes smoothly in the world of classic noir.

But, from a good seat in a movie theater, it can sure be fun.

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 69 other followers