seasoningspice Reviews

The Ox-Bow Incident (1942)

Chases its tail over and over and over

[6 December 2017]

I can't rate this movie, because it wasn't "bad". Rationally, the acting isn't bad; rationally, William Wellman's direction is as high quality and inventive as always; rationally, the cinematography is pleasant to look at; rationally, the music, visuals, plot, all are at least decent; and rationally, the very message of the movie is a good one. But for all that, I didn't like it.

To explain I think I have to bring up 12 Angry Men. Without spoiling that film for those who haven't seen it, the general idea is very similar to The Ox-Bow Incident - both explore justice, the question of who should wield it, how it should be wielded, and the concept of "innocent until proved guilty". However, the difference in 12 Angry Men is that those on the "bad" side are given character. The viewer learns things about them over the course of the film. They are not held up just as "the bad side"; they're human, with all the frailties that condition brings. And when the viewer learns about these characters, he or she comes to understand why they feel the way they do, whether it's out of a misguided sense of righteousness, a tragic bitterness, or whatever else.

In The Ox-Bow Incident...there's basically nothing like that. The posse formed to find and hang Kincaid's murderer(s) is just an angry posse. The only characters given some detail, outside of a repeated personal eccentricity, are Gil Carter, Major Tetley, Gerald Tetley, Donald Martin, and Sparks. This could have been purposeful, as a way of showing just how blind an angry mob can be, but it disconnected me personally from the characters. I even felt disconnected from the above five, for reasons that I will go into shortly.

First, though, I want to address the title of my review. This movie does chase its tail - it hardly goes anywhere. The first half hour is taken up by the discovery of Kincaid's murder, and then discussion of whether or not the murderer(s) should be punished; then, after the stagecoach interlude (the purpose of which I still do not really comprehend), we find Donald Martin and friends, and get another discussion of whether or not the murderer(s) should be punished. There is no advancement. In 12 Angry Men, opinions change; in The Ox-Bow Incident, the only real change is Gil Carter's "Bogie in Key Largo" esque change from standing by neutrally to being on the "good" side, and that change is barely focused upon despite him seemingly being the main character. Perhaps that was a purposeful reversal of tropes, but it held no weight for me. The bulk of the movie felt like pointless talk, all leading up to a reveal meant to fully impress upon the viewer how wrong-headed and foolish the posse's anger really was (as if he or she didn't already know that).

To go back to those more detailed five characters - the concept of Major Tetley possibly being an "impostor" and trying to live his entire life in a heartless militaristic fashion was interesting in itself, but the simplicity of his character arc, if it could be called an arc, upset that promise. The conflicts with his son were perhaps realistic, but by the time younger Tetley continued to obey the elder and then started shouting about how the major "made" him go to the hanging, I was pretty much finished with all that. And Gil Carter, well, I suppose I talked about him in the last paragraph. His entire character feels detached, uninvested, almost unimportant, but without the "mustn't get involved" qualities of the aforementioned Mr. Frank McCloud. Meanwhile, Sparks and Donald Martin both came across as nothing but figureheads for the "good" side of the conflict. They had potential, as the rest of the movie does; but they remained sketches, drawn for maximum sympathy, right down to Donald's final letter with all its "moral of the story" qualities.

That, I think, is my issue with the movie. Westerns, much like science fiction, can be used easily as a means of social commentary - I have no issue with this, not if it's done well. The Ox-Bow Incident, in my opinion, was not. It was not so much "a Western with a moral" as it was "a Western morality play". Everything in it worked towards that one aim, to convey to the viewer that everything the posse did was morally wrong, but it never stopped to tell the viewer why they should be invested in the story. Yes - viewing the movie in a rational manner, we know that the posse is wrong - but it's like one character says to another in the film noir Dial 1119. Paraphrased, "everything in your life has told you murder is wrong." We're aware of that. We know "guilty until proved innocent" is a very touchy and difficult subject. Many other movies explore these things, so why should we, as people viewing a movie for thoughtful entertainment, care about this particular tale?

Unfortunately, nobody thought to give the characters the depth necessary to make the viewer care. In a way it reminds me of what's detailed in Arlene Croce's "The Fred Astaire & Ginger Rogers Book", of how Howard Lindsay wrote Swing Time for Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, trying to create characters who would legitimately fall in love and belong together; he was then told by Pandro S. Berman that none of those details were necessary and that the audience already knew Fred and Ginger belonged together. Perhaps in a way that's true, as a sort of "movie shorthand", but in a production like this, you need those details. When the events of such a tragic and dark movie become unintentionally hilarious - there's a problem.

Ultimately, The Ox-Bow Incident may not be a "bad" movie, but I found it boring, repetitive, and unmoving - I don't consider it to be "good", either.

The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T. (1953)

Sometimes it actually does take forever......

[8/10 · 6 November 2017]

As a child I had a rampant imagination. As an adult I still do. Naturally it has been tempered and affected by adulthood itself, but I still remember what it was like to play pretend and go on wild journeys through my own thoughts. And out of all the children's movies I've seen, this one captures that experience the most accurately and brilliantly.

Ultimately the plot is very straightforward: a boy hates learning piano and dreams of being trapped in a world ruled by his piano teacher, co-ruled by his well-meaning (but, to him, hypnotized) mother who believes learning to play an instrument will be good for him in the end, and inhabited by a lone friendly soul in the local plumber (or, as Hans Conried says, plumbah). He wants to rescue his mother, to regain a father figure in the plumber, and to defeat his teacher's tyrannical dictatorship, and he does all of the above. But truth be told, it doesn't need to be any more complicated than that. This is a story told through the eyes of a child.

It's that childlike quality, and the simplicity of the narrative, that brings all the charm. There are no real plot twists, no real feelings of desperation and hopelessness, no moments in the third act where the main character sits alone in the rain thinking his goals will never be accomplished. Everything moves briskly, swiftly, and very entertainingly along.

With one exception: the dungeon ballet sequence. I have to mention this because it singlehandedly bumped my score from a 9/10 to an 8/10. Not only does it drag on far too long, with development upon development, but it also looks and sounds and just plain feels like it came straight out of another movie. There's a sort of deranged hallucinatory atmosphere about everything, and hallucinations are still very different from childhood dreams or even childhood nightmares. The only thing tying the ballet to the actual content of the movie itself is the usage of everyday household items such as radiators in the dance - that's unique and innovative, but it doesn't save the sequence from itself. Perhaps it was meant to imitate something like the Pink Elephants On Parade sequence in Dumbo, but it just doesn't work.

Otherwise, the best way I can describe this movie is by the word "sparkling". The performances, the surprisingly witty and natural dialogue, the music and songs, even the sets and the extras all sparkle. And as I mentioned before, there is never truly a sense of desperation; I watched fully aware that the heroes would get out of trouble, but not aware of how. For a sparkling adventure like this, that's the best kind of feeling.

I also have to politely disagree with those who find Hans Conried's Dr. T. scarier than, say, the Wicked Witch of the West. To me his entire character speaks of a frantic scramble for power that he simply does not have; I personally got the impression that Dr. T. was actually a terrible pianist and was attempting to make up for this by lording it over as many students as possible! Not only that, but Hans' performance has something strangely endearing to it, a sort of childlike quality itself, right down to his proud surveying of his army during their song and the shocked moments of jealousy you see him go through as he watches Mrs. C. and the plumbah dance together. He's just as charming as the rest of the movie, to the point that it's a real shame to watch him suddenly disappear at the end. (But I admit I'm biased, as I'd take him over any of the Old Hollywood "heartthrobs".)

In the end, despite how great the cut content may have been, I think the final product benefits all the same. Its simple charm and warm qualities don't make it cheesy or corny, because it comes from that child's point of view. When our hero Bart jumps from the top rung of a ladder miles above ground and untucks his shirt to let it act as a parachute, it comes across as the most natural possible development, because this is his mind we're seeing, right down to the wish for a replacement father to support and help both himself and his mother. It's relatable, funny, sweet, sometimes almost biting in its commentary (which makes me wonder how much more biting the original cut was), earnest, and somehow very real in the midst of total unreality.

Kathy O' (1958)

So much unused potential

[5/10 · 25 September 2016]

I'm likely to sound the cynic in this review, and honestly, I am sometimes; a lot of "family" movies aren't my cup of tea. However, this wasn't entirely the case for Kathy O'. I wasn't disappointed because of the saccharine moments themselves, but rather because of the potential for something truly meaningful, something more than the lip service paid to various concepts. If taken at face value, this is probably a cute little piece of escapism - but I can almost never take films at face value!

The main problem is that this film introduces plot threads, only to give them almost no development and mostly just drop them. Harry Johnson's ex-wife Celeste coming to town, and his subsequent seeming conflicted interest in her, is barely given any notice outside of two or three scenes around halfway through. His wife's problem with this attention is given exactly one scene, in which Harry comes home late and she acts upset for all of ten seconds, drops the matter, and never speaks of it again. Celeste's offering Harry a job in New York is mentioned, angst-ed over once, and then forgotten about until the end when it seems to be casually dismissed. Kathy herself reveals her guardian/manager aunt to be controlling and selfish, but only three-quarters of the way through. Thus we get around one minute's worth of auntie's true colors, after she's hardly appeared in the entire film. See the problems here?

The interesting characters are neglected. Harry himself, despite Dan Duryea getting top billing (for once!) and playing the role very appealingly, doesn't get much to do outside of talk awkwardly with his ex-wife and then fret - even before Kathy is "kidnapped" and he starts panicking over being arrested. His wife, who is surprisingly likable, rational, and interesting (most '50s housewives are very bland to me), hardly even gets any casual scenes with her husband to show why they fell in love and married. Their sons, both decent child actors, get some adorable and hilarious lines but fade into the background for quite a while. This is all thanks to the "kidnapping" plot taking up much more time than it probably should.

Meanwhile, Celeste is the type of female character with whom I have very little patience. At about the second or third of her flippant, Katharine Hepburn-esque comments while she and Harry explored Kathy's mansion, I lost interest and started down the well-worn road of disliking her. She travels her own road, the path of the driven career woman who realizes she dreadfully misses life's domestic charms, and as usual, this is developed in a sort of glancing fashion. She's jealous of Harry having children because the plot tells her to be - loves Kathy because the plot says she must. Simply put, the film tells you, via tears and "I just love her"s, that Kathy and Celeste are meant to be adopted mother and child. Outside of a clip of one day's worth of interaction, and a montage of around thirty seconds, you aren't actually shown their bond at all.

Now when it comes to Kathy herself, I understand the psychology behind the character - she has had no chance to actually be loved, hence her unruliness - and Patty McCormack plays the role better than some adult actors could do it. But as I watched the film unfold, all I could think of was the future of her relationship with Celeste, and all I could see was Kathy probably moving from cold material spoiling straight to smothering psychological overindulgence due to Celeste's inexperienced desperation for children. Add that to my lack of investment in their bond, and you get an ending I just didn't care about.

For me, a better film would have focused on Harry and his family, with Kathy as the unexpected "intruder" who gives them a new perspective. While running away from her aunt, Kathy could have fallen in love with the dynamics of the Johnson family and wanted to become their adopted daughter (half of this already happens in the film, so it actually makes more sense to me anyway!); she could have realized her own responsibilities via their support and wisdom; she could have become less selfish and begun to grow up, knowing they would be there for her. Harry's wife could have struggled with letting go the daughter she never had, giving her the depth she sorely lacks; Harry himself could have become the father figure Kathy needed (just drop the New York job angle). It wouldn't be a groundbreaking movie, but who needs groundbreaking? In taking away the "career woman finds domestic bliss" thing and replacing it with something different yet equally sweet and idealistic, it would have more time to spend on developing the Johnson family and Kathy herself, and it would feel more real.

Of course, that's not what happens! Ultimately, this potential is what makes Kathy O' sting a bit. I've seen plenty of disappointing films, and can move on from most, but this one still has me stewing on how much better it could have been.

Kojak: Therapy in Dynamite (1974) Season 1, Episode 21

One of the best episodes of TV I've seen

[10/10 · 19 April 2016]

I just finished watching this episode. Though my account is mainly dedicated to old films, I had to write a review anyway.

-Warning: I'll be talking about the plot in detail, so spoilers ahead!-

I enjoy watching Kojak because of the titular character's charisma and wit, his banter with the other recurring characters and guests, and the general 1970s aesthetic. There have been some very good episodes in the first season, Die Before They Wake and Mojo in particular, but for the most part, it's more about the entertainment value than about truly outstanding scripts so far. However, this episode took the writing quality to another level, particularly in terms of creating dynamic characters.

One of the things I was most excited about was Steven Keats, who I've seen previously and thought a very good and "arresting" sort of actor. I went into the episode looking forward to his performance and not expecting something as amazing as I got, but his performance was actually a huge part of what made it amazing in the first place. There's a sharp, almost harsh-edged reality to his acting, and it comes out very strongly here, particularly because of his psychological issues; he plays his character so earnestly that when we discover he's so mentally imbalanced as to see blowing up his fellow support group members' "enemies" as a good thing, it's all the more disturbing. The fact that his character never descends into the more stereotypical type of insanity portrayed in crime shows makes things even better - there's no wild-eyed sweating, no ranting about motives, nothing on the surface that appears unsettling until we begin to see what he's been up to, and even then his attitude doesn't change from its slightly awkward well-meaning pleasantness. I especially love the fact that there's a solid explanation to his mental state, one that wasn't outright explained to the audience and one that isn't just "his mother didn't love him". The episode only hints at what he might have gone through in childhood to warp his thinking, which makes things all the more morbidly fascinating.

But aside from this, what makes me truly love this episode is how the other guest characters (particularly in the support group) are equally as well-fleshed out as Danny Zucco. Louise Linden, the bitter wife: the type of character I can so easily hate immediately and stop paying attention to, but her dialogue and reactions were lifelike enough to lift her above a one-line description. Neva, the single woman going from job to job, always with some sort of problem: I absolutely loved how sparkling her dialogue was. Mr. Seymour, the seemingly avuncular baseball fan: the fact that his story about his son's death not only fleshes out his character but also serves to practically break the case wide open is a little bit of brilliance. Alex Linden the ad agency employee and his former secretary Carla are less detailed than these others, but they have their moments to shine and their stories ultimately tie in at the end; I do like the vagueness in their stories as well, particularly the fact that we don't really know if Alex had "worked" to save his marriage at all.

That right there is ultimately what makes this episode great - we don't really know the truth about any of the characters, outside of the fact that what Danny was doing was undeniably wrong. But was Louise at fault for destroying her marriage, or was Alex, or were they equally at fault? Did Neva cause her own problems with a negative attitude, or did they always manage to find her? Did Mr. Seymour drive his son into enlisting in the Marines because of overbearing expectations, or was his son just determined and patriotic? And there are no happy endings. Danny accidentally dies without getting true psychological help; Louise realizes her selfishness but has to deal with her marriage ending anyway; Alex might marry Carla, but we have no idea if they'll be happy; and we just know that Mr. Seymour has baseball and nothing else left to him. Everything is grey.

There are other things I can talk about too. I enjoyed how the support group members didn't fully trust Kojak, particularly after Danny's death; something different compared to how people usually cooperate fully, and it wasn't overdone to the point of stubborn and annoying refusal. There were several beautiful shots - I loved the one through the broken car window looking out at Alice Fisher's destroyed Volkswagen, and the cut from Louise's photograph to her phone ringing complete with the camera refocusing on her in the background. In general, the episode did have good production values, but the writing is what makes it rise head and shoulders above the rest. Hey, normally I like to admire location shots or pretty lighting, but in this episode I barely paid attention to the way the show looked because I was too enveloped by the story!

To close, I have to agree with another reviewer: even if you never watch any other Kojak episodes, you have to watch this one. I'm not a '70s TV connoisseur by any means, but I believe this episode was certainly ahead of its time and treated its psychological issues with tact, not to mention creating characters who I could honestly imagine meeting in reality. Kojak strikes me as lacking the more sensationalized content of some modern crime shows; this episode is the perfect example of its realism, but also manages to be gripping and fascinating throughout.

Roberta (1935)

Lovely to look at, delightful to watch

[10/10 · 19 February 2016]

Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. To most, the names conjure up certain films: Top Hat, Swing Time, Shall We Dance. FG have a surprisingly large amount of "unknown" films, some of which arguably deserve their status, some of which arguably don't. Roberta is one of the latter. To me, it's the most undeservedly underrated of the FG films.

Roberta doesn't emphasize the FG partnership. They are, like Follow the Fleet, the "second fiddle" couple. It could be called only technically a FG film; however, in the limited screen time they have, Fred and Ginger create a believable relationship, breathing life into their characters. That's the most important part of Roberta - its characters, as frothy as they may be, feel alive.

Roberta is not like any of the popular FG films. It's not a silly confection brimming with antics. It has no Edward Everett Horton, Victor Moore, or Erik Blore. Of course, there isn't anything wrong with the silly confections - I enjoy them myself - but the added dimensions of Roberta give it that special life. It has poignancy, for all its fluffy subject matter. Like milk chocolate sprinkled with salt, it doesn't leave an overly sweet aftertaste; instead it leaves a sense of warmth because its happy ending feels real.

On to the actors, starting with Irene Dunne. Roberta is the only film with Irene I've watched, and she impressed me. Apparently, she's known as a talented comedienne; however, her dramatic moments were what left an impact. The way she handled herself spoke volumes about her character, and never verged on the stereotypical. I sympathized with and liked her. She held her own but wasn't painted as disagreeable or illogical. Her singing was sweet, fit the songs, and didn't seem unrealistic (since it was her real voice!).

Randolph Scott was also a pleasant surprise. My first exposure to him was in Follow the Fleet, where I disliked him, and so I was expecting the worst from his character in Roberta; but he was, as the script says, a big goofy Newfoundland. He played the role well! His character is a naive, somewhat sheltered man from inland America, and it shows. His opinions and behavior make sense given his background. Even in his more disagreeable moments I wasn't annoyed with him - rather, he was endearing.

As a couple, John and Stephanie have more chemistry than might be expected. At their first meeting you can easily see their interest in each other. He's naive while she's sophisticated, and their personalities do clash eventually, but it's not fueled by blatant clichés. Even their reconciliation takes a bit of time. I also never got the feeling that either would control the relationship: they felt like equals.

Fred plays, as he often did, a musical character, and does it with his usual aplomb. There's never much to say about his characters, but I will say that his sass comes across brilliantly - he gets many snappy lines and delivers them beautifully.

Ginger is proof of how Roberta veers away from the usual storytelling clichés. At first glance, she's playing a Polish countess; very early on, Fred discovers she's an old friend of his, but this is never exploited for any hijinks. Ginger retains her persona, drops her guard around Fred, does a great job with both roles, and that's that. She has a chance to play both broad (as the countess) and subtler (as herself) comedy, which gives her more detail than the accented comedic hothead she at first appears to be.

FG utilize the old-acquaintance part of their characters to great effect. One of the greatest numbers in the film is I'll Be Hard To Handle, which begins with FG chatting humorously about growing up back in the US. You feel they really did know each other, really are getting reacquainted. Both of them speak frankly about the relationship, and when things develop further, it feels entirely natural. What's more, there are no dramatic kisses or embraces - the relationship feels real. It's different than the main relationship but equally plausible.

There aren't many supporting characters, outside from John's aunt Millie, his old flame the rich society girl, and a few others. None of them get much to do, but there's really only one character who stands out as being particularly stereotypical - the owner of a Parisian nightclub, who invited Fred's band over thinking they were (Native American) Indians rather than "Indianians" and yells about this almost every time he appears. But hey, the rest of the film makes up for his antics.

Outside of the cast, the score is the main highlight. Jerome Kern's songs provide almost all of the film's poignancy. Even Lovely To Look At has a soft, fond edge. Yesterdays, sung by Irene in a pivotal scene, is one of the saddest songs found in an F&G movie: about the tragedies of lost youth, time, innocence and joys, it isn't at all overdramatic. Smoke Gets In Your Eyes is similar; the arrangement that plays during the penultimate FG dance number is one of my favorite instrumentals in a film. One of the weaker songs is actually an upbeat one, Let's Begin, performed by Fred; but the film doesn't lack good upbeat numbers. I'll Be Hard To Handle is catchy, cute, and leads into a lovely number, while I Won't Dance is enjoyable too.

It's difficult to sum up my love for Roberta. It's like comfort food, but without that guilty-pleasure edge. It's got a witty dialogue; pretty sets given life by the acting; FG, both playful and romantic in dancing; a sympathetic main relationship that steers clear of clichés; humor balanced by poignancy, tragedy balanced by success, heartbreak balanced by romance. It's got lovely music, beautiful people, a world you want to live in. It glows. Roberta is unique and underrated.