Film and Book Tally 2016

Well, this year was utter shit, wasn't it? Loads of celebrities dropping like flies, politics becoming an absolute joke...if it wasn't for a few personal bright spots (took some college courses, went to a few film festivals, became a member of the Women Film Critics Circle), I would've written this whole year as nothing more than a mess.

Anyway, onto what I indulged in this year. I saw more movies this year but read less books. Still, at least I made the most of these crummy twelve months. (Apparently grieving over celebrities can be best treated by watching movies. Who knew?)

My list starts after the jump:

The Umbrellas of Cherbourg

How does one describe Jacques Demy's The Umbrellas of Cherbourg? It's more than a simple musical, much more than that. (It is Demy after all.) But it's more than the typical fare the likes of MGM churned out at the time. But how?

The film follows the young love between Geneviève (Catherine Deneuve) and Guy (Nino Castelnuovo), stalled because of him being drafted. He leaves her alone and pregnant, yearning for him to return to her. But will this long-distance relationship survive?

Being the second of a sort of trilogy (the other films being Lola and The Young Girls of Rochefort), The Umbrellas of Cherbourg establishes Demy's standing in the world of film. In contrast to the films made by his wife Agnès Varda, his works more often than not are romanticized visions of reality. (Compare Lola with Cléo from 5 to 7.)

In a way, The Umbrellas of Cherbourg is a low-scale opera. (All of the dialogue is sung.) There's that tone -- pardon the pun -- of melodrama throughout, yes, but that's the point. It's supposed to be morose amid the various pastels. (What, you never heard of the concept of dissonance?)

The Umbrellas of Cherbourg shows how one's aspirations and dreams don't often come to fruition. Sometimes you have to make sacrifices for your life to move forward, even if you don't want to. But as time wears on, you'll realize you've made a wise decision. (No one ever said or expected life to be fair to them from beginning to end.)

My Rating: ****1/2

Outrage

Life seems good for Ann Walton (Mala Powers) initially in Ida Lupino's Outrage. Recently engaged, she's happy with how things are going for her. But after she gets raped, she feels like those around her are judging her. How will Ann recover?

Unsurprisingly Outrage cause a little bit of the film's namesake upon its release. It being the second film at the time to have rape as its main topic (the first being Johnny Belinda), it sure as hell doesn't sugarcoat the matter. (With a woman at the helm, that's even more clear.)

And Lupino completely avoids any form of victim blaming towards Ann, who's treated with sympathy by those that know her. (Any type of disgust for what happened is directed towards her attacker.) But even with condolences, Ann still feels like she's being judged.

Even after she runs away, Ann finds some difficulty in regaining order in her life. Again, she's met with sympathy by the people she encounters (but not generally everyone). But slowly she gets a new perspective on the world she's a part of. (Her eyes do lose that spark of innocence.) It's a tough road for Ann to go down, yes, but no one ever said life itself would be without its problems.

Outrage continues to show what Lupino could depict both as a woman and a director. (How many directors -- male or female -- focus on the matter of assault outside of shock value and cheap drama?) As she showed a few years later with The Bigamist, Lupino showed that she was interested in subject matter that no one at the time would touch with a ten-foot pole. (Clearly her career as a director should be held in higher regard.)

My Rating: ****

The Great White Hope

It's made clear early on in Martin Ritt's The Great White Hope that Jack Jefferson (James Earl Jones, who's basically Jack Johnson in all but name) has controversy following him like a bad smell. There are many things that have earned him a bad reputation, none more so than his relationship with Eleanor Bachman (Jane Alexander).

This being made a few years after the Loving v. Virginia ruling, there are several aspects of The Great White Hope that make it more dated than it should be. It focuses more on the matter of race more than anything else happening in the film. Sure, it might have been daring stuff back in 1970 but it doesn't hold water in 2016.

Similarly, The Great White Hope seems conflicted as to which subject to focus on solely: Jack and Eleanor's relationship (and what those around them feel about it) or his boxing career. Again, this is set in the 1910s so racism was unfortunately commonplace. But even then it feels heavyhanded. (Then again, subtlety wasn't really a known aspect in other titles from the 1970s.)

Now if the film hasn't held up, what of Jones and Alexander's work in The Great White Hope? Admittedly he's forever known for Star Wars and she's the lesser-known of the multi-nominated actors, but overall they don't really provide anything groundbreaking. Maybe back then they did but certainly don't now.

The Great White Hope was perhaps something of high quality upon its release but it certainly hasn't held up decades later. (Hey, not everything from the 1970s was good.) All in all, only see it if you're going through every Oscar-nominated performance.

My Rating: ***

Portrait of Jason

Shirley Clarke's Portrait of Jason isn't the conventional type of documentary. Its subject Jason Holliday (née Aaron Payne) isn't a name very well known by the masses but he's an engaging figure to watch as he tells his life story and ambitions. But is it as simple as that?

What's shown in Portrait of Jason could easily be described as that from the first few minutes but it unravels into something much more than that. Being made during a time where race and sexual identity were regular points of discussion (it certainly wasn't always), Clarke depicts an unbiased glimpse into someone's own life and how they see the world around them.

A key aspect throughout Portrait of Jason is how Jason presents himself to the camera. He has a flamboyant nature to him, a telling detail since he wants to be an entertainer. But as the film wears on, the barriers he had put up start to fall down. Off-camera taunts from Clarke and her then-partner Carl Lee reveal who Jason actually by film's end.

Being released the same year as Bonnie and Clyde and The Graduate, Portrait of Jason came out at a time when Hollywood was changing the rules. No more were the storytellers going to play it safe and get by with the occasional stray innuendo. But 1967 was the year that marked a cinematic revolution.

Portrait of Jason showed that women may have gotten the short end of the stick in previous years but they sure as hell weren't going to be in that position any longer. As Dorothy Arzner and Ida Lupino did before her, Clarke shows there's much more to storytelling than the then-required romantic subplot. They showed that a new perspective can be a good thing.

My Rating: ****1/2

It's Love I'm After

The opening scene of Archie Mayo's It's Love I'm After has Basil Underwood (Leslie Howard) and Joyce Arden (Bette Davis) performing the final scene of Romeo and Juliet. Between lines of passion, they mutter insults under their breaths. All while the audience -- which includes infatuated heiress Marcia West (Olivia de Havilland) -- remain unaware.

That said, Basil and Joyce are crazy for one another. (Suffice to say this is much more amusing if you've seen Howard and Davis in Of Human Bondage beforehand.) They plan to get married for the umpteenth time but Basil gets whisked away at the very last minute. And it has something to do with Marcia.

Reuniting with Howard and Davis a year after The Petrified Forest, Mayo gets these two otherwise serious actors to loosen up. (Certainly not usual fare for them or de Havilland, that's for sure.) And considering some of the roles in the actors' futures (Gone with the Wind for Howard and de Havilland, many roles of note for Davis), it's a nice change of pace. Suffice to say none of them would hit this comedic peak again.

And again, screwball comedy sounds like the very last thing any of its lead actors would try to conquer. But considering the collective sixteen Oscar nominations between the three of them, they obviously had talent. Sometimes it takes the right director to utilize all of that talent.

It's Love I'm After is a riot to watch, especially considering the names attached to it. It also shows how Hollywood's foray into comedy was often better whilst under the Hays Code. (One can only stand so many lewd jokes in contemporary titles.)

My Rating: *****

Sherlock Jr.

There are many comedians of the silent film era but when discussing who among them is the best, it always boils down to two names: Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton. Is it primarily because their works are are more prominent? Either way, it's their films everyone remembers more.

Now with Keaton's Sherlock Jr., it doesn't take much to see why he's so revered all these years later. Made at the height of his fame, it predated The Purple Rose of Cairo by several decades with its main storytelling aspect. But of course Woody Allen is no match to Keaton. (Let's be honest, no one is.)

Back to Keaton for a moment. He was someone who was willing to put his own neck on the line for the sake of others' entertainment. Here in Sherlock Jr., he does that in a literal sense. (There's one stunt that resulted in his neck being fractured, something Keaton didn't know until many years after the fact.) It's a miracle he lived as long as he did.

But also of note in Sherlock Jr. is how many of its shots are framed. Much like what he would do with The General two years later, Keaton utilizes the techniques of the time and puts them to good use. And as seen with his other films, it works.

Sherlock Jr. is a Keaton film through and through. Featuring many traits of his noted works, it also serves as a tribute to movies themselves. Because after all, who doesn't go to the movies to escape from reality and broaden their imagination? (It's been happening for decades, and there's no sign of that stopping anytime soon.)

My Rating: *****

Personal Property

It's a shame that Jean Harlow left this world at such a young age. Who knows what her career would've been like had she not died at twenty-six? Would she still be held in the same regard as she is now?

Ergo there's a certain sadness when watching her in W.S. Van Dyke's Personal Property, the last film of Harlow's to be released during her lifetime. She has a quick wit about her throughout the film, especially aided when she banters with co-star Robert Taylor. (Had she lived long enough, they probably would've gone on to have a film partnership like William Powell -- Harlow's fiance -- and Myrna Loy.)

A remake of The Man in Possession from six years earlier, Personal Property is a comedy of manners, something that comes to a head during a dinner party hosted by Crystal (Harlow). Her guests become oblivious to the thinly-veiled insults thrown about. (Worth mentioning that some of the guests are part of Raymond's (Taylor) family.) To watch Crystal and Raymond being in on the joke adds to the humor.

Back to the stars for a moment. Throughout his career, Taylor tended to get overshadowed by his leading ladies (Camille, Three Comrades, Waterloo Bridge) but with Personal Property, he and Harlow share the screen gracefully. It's not that often both then and now where the leading man and lady's chemistry compliments one another. (Then again, this perhaps isn't much of a surprise considering Van Dyke made The Thin Man a few years earlier.)

Personal Property is a joy to watch but again, knowing what happened to Harlow that same year leaves many "what could have been" scenarios as a result. Still, her rapport with Taylor will have you happy that her short time alive is still beloved today.

My Rating: ****

Kings Go Forth

The usual formula for Hollywood fare back in the 1950s often followed these elements: get a couple of big names in top billing, have a nice blend of action and romance, and keep it all under two hours. (The latter is ignored when epics are involved.) Seriously, randomly pick out five titles from the decade, and at least three of them fall under this type of picture.

Delmar Daves' Kings Go Forth ticks off every box. It has a story told many times before (two men fighting over a woman) but does it manage to stand out from similar works? (It's also set during World War II, another common setting amongst films at the time.)

Amongst its top-billed stars are Frank Sinatra, Tony Curtis and Natalie Wood, all of whom had established themselves as serious actors in previous years (Sinatra in From Here to Eternity, Curtis in Sweet Smell of Success, Wood in Rebel Without a Cause). Though here in Kings Go Forth, they don't really have much to do here. (A paycheck project for one or all three of them, perhaps?)

But a major theme throughout Kings Go Forth is racism (Wood's character is of mixed race). But the film is more interested in the romantic rivalry at hand than any form of social commentary. (At least Curtis did The Defiant Ones the same year.)

Kings Go Forth is more or less the expected fare of the time, requiring its location to be exotic and its actors to look impeccable. Substance-wise the film doesn't have much to offer but still, it's a good enough escape from reality. (Hey, it had tough competition that year.)

My Rating: ***1/2

Private Lives

Love and marriage, love and marriage...go together like a horse and carriage... Or at least that's how the song goes. If fiction has shown us anything, it's nothing more than a union of a tempestuous nature. (Because -- at least according to Hollywood -- stable marriages are boring.)

And boy, there is never a dull moment in Sidney Franklin's Private Lives. (Being based on a Noël Coward play certainly helps.) Despite being divorced and newly married to other people, Amanda Payne (Norma Shearer) and Elyot Chase (Robert Montgomery) find themselves in each other's arms. That said, they argue more than enjoy the other's company.

This being a pre-Code title, there's decidedly a more lax attitude in Private Lives towards infidelity. (After all, Shearer did The Divorcee just the previous year.) As shown with other films from this brief era, it has an "I don't give a damn" attitude essentially from the get-go. (Even films today aren't as brazen.)

Shearer and Montgomery were frequent collaborators (Private Lives was their fourth of five films), and it's very clear that they were comfortable with each other. And boy, does ti come to a head here. There are enough sparks and hair flying between them to warrant a safety hazard.

Private Lives shows that they just don't make 'em like they used to anymore. Shearer and Montgomery solidify their worth in their respective Hollywood era which -- as they would show with later roles -- proved that they were more than willing to break free from their glamorous typecasting. After all, the line between elegant and ugly was regularly blurred then.

My Rating: *****