Kiss Tomorrow Goodbye (1950)

Directed by Gordon Douglas; produced by William Cagney

With the help of a guard, Ralph Cotter escapes from the prison farm to which he had been sent. The only problem is his fellow prisoner (Neville Brand), who is wounded. Cotter kills him and escapes alone. Once outside, he quickly commits a series of crimes, from armed robbery to assault to blackmail, all the time building to bigger and more dangerous felonies. What will stop him and who will be hurt in the process?

While an entertaining gangster film, Kiss Tomorrow Goodbye has some flaws, and for unusual reasons. Watching the movie, I had the feeling that it was almost a throwback to Cagney’s earlier films, like The Public Enemy. There was something too routine about Cotter’s successes. They are not, in fact, portrayed to be as simple as this criticism implies, but they come across as such.

As well, this was surely a rôle meant for a younger actor. Cagney was fifty years old at the time, and a prison record states his character’s age as 37. Another character refers to Cotter as a young man. And the ease with which he romances not one but two women, both in their twenties, is rather unrealistic, despite the appeal that Cagney could exude on-screen.

Kiss Tomorrow Goodbye is - perhaps unfairly - sometimes compared to White Heat, the star’s very memorable 1949 movie. Though I always prefer to review a film on its own merits, a comparison - or, rather, a contrast - of the two is, I think, appropriate. Though made a year earlier, White Heat portrays Cagney’s character, Cody Jarrett, as an aging gangster. His hold over his girl (Virginia Mayo) is tenuous, and the very first scene is directed in a way to emphasise the older man that Cagney has become. This quality is worked to advantage in the immature dependence of Jarrett upon his mother, and the worsening of his personality through time.

Kiss Tomorrow Goodbye, on the other hand, has the actor, now a year older, playing a younger man, with less success. The choice of rôle for Cagney was odd, considering his desire at the time not to be further typecast in cinema. The fact that his production company had debts to pay off may have influenced his decision.

Other elements of the movie are decent, including the acting. Ward Bond has a good role; often he portrays a slightly comic authority figure. Here, he is a dangerously corrupt cop who becomes malleable under extortion. Luther Adler has probably the best part, as an attorney who is more than a little shady. Cagney’s brother, William, the producer, plays Cotter’s brother in the last scene, and, as mentioned, Neville Brand has uncredited work, early in his career.

The direction is workmanlike, but close, even claustrophobic, in some instances. This, too, gives the feeling of an earlier motion picture, from the time when every scene was shot on a sound stage. The ending comes a little out of nowhere and, though not unsatisfactory, could have had some foreshadowing.

Over all, Kiss Tomorrow Goodbye is an enjoyable crime-flick, but seems almost dated and ordinary, like an average script turned into a movie because nothing else was available.

In a World... (2013)

Directed and produced by Lake Bell

Carol Solomon (Lake Bell) is a voice-artist in Los Angeles. Her speciality is accents, but she would like to move into bigger things, including movie-trailer voice-overs. Her father, Sam Soto (Fred Melamed), discourages her, perhaps out of fear, since he is the current dominant voice of movie-trailers, and he knows his daughter is very talented. When she breaks into the field, however, the offers start coming, culminating in a contest for the coveted narration for a film ‘quadrilogy’ that pits Carol against her father and an established but younger voice, Gustav Warner (Ken Marino).

A funny and intelligent comedy, In a World… is set in the professional field of the voice-artist. The title refers to the phrase that became the trademark of Don LaFontaine, the real-life ‘king of the voice-overs’, who, in his something like 5,000 movie-trailer projects often used the phrase to establish a setting quickly and succinctly (“In a world where the rich rule everything…”, “In a world where the law is dog eat dog…” etc.) The movie cleverly begins with an excerpt from a fake documentary about LaFontaine, which mixes genuine clips of that man with others of fictional characters. It thus does what LaFontaine’s famous words do, and immediately establishes the setting, while introducing some of the characters.

The smart opening is typical of Bell’s writing. The subject is clearly one she knows well; her fluid use of accents in the movie shows her professional origins. (She flawlessly portrayed an Englishwoman in 2015’s Man Up, reviewed on this blog in July, 2023.) Carol’s constant trick of surreptitiously recording odd voices and unusual dialects for her archives is probably no more than an obvious version of what Bell has done herself.

In a World… manages to combine several genres (family relationships, romantic comedy, underdog against establishment) without falling into the clichés of any. The characters are especially well-handled, avoiding stereotypes and creating full personalities. This can be seen particularly in the minor characters, as it often is in films. Sam’s girlfriend, Jamie (Alexandra Holden), though a year younger than Sam’s younger daughter, is no gold-digger and genuinely has affection for Sam, though she’s not oblivious to his faults. Carol’s sister, Dani (Michaela Watkins), and brother-in-law, Moe (Rob Corddry), are also well-written.

The acting brings the screenplay to life. Bell herself creates a diffident character struggling to apply what is clearly a great talent; Carole’s combination of intelligence, modesty, wit and compassion makes her hard to resist. She is backed up (in a couple of senses of the word) by several good and supportive friends. Melamed makes Sam amusing, annoying, childish and vain, but never unrealistic. Except for Geena Davis, who has a small rôle as a movie executive, and bit parts for Eva Longoria (as herself) and Cameron Diaz (possibly as herself, playing the tribal leader in the preview of the fictional movie The Amazon Games), the actors will likely be unknown to the audience; they bring a fresh look, despite the fact that one suspects they’ve been in the industry most of their lives.

The direction is good, with nothing extraordinary attempted; instead, straightforward story-telling is used. Bell is generous in her allotment of time to characters other than her own, allowing the movie to be propelled from several view-points. This is smart, as Carol’s own view is circumscribed by her as yet limited contacts in the business.

A fun, mature, clever comedy that avoids the superiority that sometimes comes from an ‘insider’s’ vantage point on a subject, In a World… will entertain and satisfy.

Carve Her Name With Pride (1958)

Directed by Lewis Gilbert; produced by Daniel M Angel

In the middle of World War Two, young Violette Szabo (Virginia McKenna) is contacted by a covert arm of the War Office, who are impressed with her French language and athletic skills. After some reluctance, she agrees to join the department, which, among other things, assists the resistance movement in occupied France. She turns out to have a talent for the work, but even with her assets, the dangers are formidable, and with each mission the dangers increase.

I read a little while ago that the female operators of the Special Operations Executive were under-appreciated and largely unknown compared to their male colleagues. Though this seems to be in line with a standard sentiment these days, it is in fact ironic, since the women who performed the stressful and hazardous under-cover and guerrilla work of the SOE appear to be better known than the men. Aside from Szabo, Odette Sansom, Christine Granville, Nancy Wake, Noor Inayat Khan (‘Madeleine’) are some, all of whom have been depicted in film. Though men made up the majority of operators, those individuals’ names are much less known.

That written, Carve Her Name With Pride is a good, if not very good, story of adventure and sacrifice in German-controlled territory during the Second World War. McKenna gives a fine performance, within the confines of the script (more about that below.) Despite not looking anything like the real Violette Szabo, she manages to portray a very young woman who quickly matures into a responsible wife, mother and soldier. Paul Scofield rarely puts a foot wrong in his rôles, but here, like McKenna, he has a minimum with which to work, and so must show his character’s attraction to Szabo almost immediately; their relationship, as passive as it is, is compressed into a very short time.

Other performances are adequate, though the parts are undemanding. Jack Warner was well-established in radio, cinema and even television (he would be the star of Dixon of Dock Green for 21 years) by 1958 - indeed, that in Carve Her Name With Pride was one of the last of many movie rôles for him - but here he takes on a smallish supporting part. Billie Whitelaw plays Violette’s friend, while Michael Caine has a tiny bit as a thirsty prisoner on a train, Nigel Hawthorne an equally small bit as a Polish soldier, Victor Maddern as a parachuting instructor and Geoffrey Keen as the narrator.

The direction is satisfying. Gilbert was a versatile director, behind the camera for Alfie, Educating Rita (evidently he saw something in that bit-player Caine), Sink the Bismarck! and several James Bond films. The action scenes of Carve Her Name With Pride are well-handled and exciting.

The main problem is the script (co-written by the director) and, related to that, the story. Despite being two hours long, it doesn’t give enough time to Szabo’s work in France; a couple of clandestine meetings, an interview with the Gestapo and a shopping trip in Paris comprise the extent of her first mission. Nor does it relate a great deal about the nuts and bolts of her training.

Perhaps the most regrettable omission is that of her experiences in Ravensbruck prison camp. Certainly, one doesn’t want to see scenes of torture and privation, and the little that is shown of the former is effective. However, some of the most glowing compliments of Szabo’s character came from her fellow prisoners in the camp, describing her endurance and encouragement to others. Admittedly, there was much that had to be left out, but one can’t help thinking that in the hands of a more capable writer, all of this would have been depicted.

Carve Her Name With Pride is an above average film, a fitting record of a courageous woman’s fight, and good entertainment. But it might have been better with a more skilled screenwriter.

The Sniper (1952)

Directed by Edward Dmytryk; produced by Stanley Kramer

Edward Miller (Arthur Franz) is embittered, angry and resentful toward women. His feelings have reached the point of violence and he starts shooting women he sees from a distance. On his trail are the hassled police lieutenant, Kafka (Adolphe Menjou), and his droll assistant, Ferris (Gerald Mohr). How they will catch Miller - if they will catch him - before he claims more victims, may be answered by the murderer himself, who begs them from afar to stop him.

An interesting and suspenseful movie, The Sniper seems to be ahead of its time. I expected, when I first read the synopsis, to find that it had been made in the early 1960s, not a decade earlier. The writing stands out rather more than the acting. The screenplay (nominated for an Oscar) is by Harry Brown, who had already written or co-written A Walk in the Sun (based on his novel), Arch of Triumph, Sands of Iwo Jima and A Place in the Sun. He would later co-write the original Ocean’s 11.

Brown’s script allows us to know the killer, a loner who was obviously traumatized as a child, undoubtedly by his uncaring, possibly physically abusive mother, and then rejected by society in various ways. Miller is made sympathetic to an extent; he knows he is committing murder, and wants to be stopped, and yet cannot. Nonetheless, his rage, never far beneath a rather childish surface, is clearly depicted, and he is not let off the hook for his crimes.

Interestingly, criminal profiling is highlighted in the film. Psychiatrist James Kent (Richard Kiley) is concerned as much with finding out why the murders are being committed as he is with stopping them, with a view to preventing such killings in the future, and helping or ‘curing’ those who might become criminals. It is a view considered too idealistic for other citizens, though his influence is felt by Kafka.

Though the acting takes a back seat to the writing, it is, even so, good, if not very good. Franz is adequate though a little obvious in his rôle, while the performers playing the cops don’t bring anything new to their parts. Marie Windsor, a hardworking actress of B-movies and film noir (eg. The Narrow Margin, The Killing), plays against type as a pleasant and friendly lounge pianist.

Frank Faylen also steps out of his usual niche, and plays an authority figure, a high-ranking police official. Wally Cox, very soon to become tv’s Mister Peepers, and later, a popular panelist on The Hollywood Squares, has a non-comedic bit part, while Charles Lane, whose film work spanned three quarters of a century, plays a drunk.

Among other aspects of The Sniper that stand out are its setting - clearly San Francisco, one of the most recognizable cities in the world but which is never named or indicated - and the ending, which is unusual for the genre. The Sniper is exciting and involving, and extraordinary for its era.

The Duke (2020)

Directed by Roger Michell; produced by Nicky Bentham

In 1961, Kempton Bunton (Jim Broadbent) is an idealistic 60 year old Newcastle native, dedicated to causes - standing up for the underdog in general and securing free television licences for everyone, in particular. During his trip to London to press his demands, Goya’s painting of the Duke of Wellington is stolen from the National Gallery. It is soon reposing at the back of a wardrobe in Bunton’s spare room. What exactly he will do with it, and why it was stolen, are really mysteries as much to himself as to anyone else who finds out about it.

Based on a true story, the blandly named The Duke is a delightful, light-hearted movie about a genuine English character, mildly eccentric, a little baffling, at times vaguely annoying but immensely likeable. Broadbent gives a superb performance of a good-natured man who refuses to let circumstances muzzle his decent impulses. Acted more broadly, the character would have turned to caricature; with a man who writes stories and television plays - all rejected - such as Susan Christ, a tale wondering what would have happened if Jesus had been a woman, the danger of farce is present. But Broadbent keeps Bunton human, sympathetic and understandable. An example of this is the motive behind his apparent craze for free tv licences.

Helen Mirren plays Dorothy ‘Dolly’ Bunton, Kempton’s wife. Mirren has, in some ways, a more difficult role, since Dolly is the hugely practical member of the family. She has to be, with a quixotic husband, a daughter killed young, an older son involved with petty crime and a married woman, and a younger son turning out like his father. One gets the feeling that both Dolly and Kempton know how disastrous his schemes can be for the family, but only she thinks that’s bad. Playing the ‘straight man’ to the comic is never easy, but Mirren adds more lustre to her very shiny reputation.

The script is dead-on for the subject and the characters. This is the first movie written by Richard Bean and Clive Coleman, who seem to have experience only in live theatre, and not much of that, though the latter wrote for the Spitting Image tv series thirty years ago. The dialogue feels natural and spontaneous, and manages to show Kempton as both a working class Northerner and a learned (self-educated) man, who enjoys Chekov.

The supporting characters are realistic, as well, most of them sympathetic to Kempton, including Dolly’s employer (Anna Maxwell Martin) - Dolly works for the wife of a local councillor - and Kempton’s defence attorney (Matthew Goode), real life barrister Jeremy (later Lord) Hutchinson. (At one point, it’s mentioned that Hutchinson is married to actress Peggy Ashcroft, to which Kempton comments with a compliment. Hutchinson’s lukewarm response suggests the impending difficulties, culminating in divorce, that the couple were then facing.)

As with most very good movies, it’s hard to tell what is the result of the direction, the writing or the acting. All three are far above average in The Duke. Often, it is the ‘small’, brief, scenes that give so much to the film, and that is the case here. Of note are the scenes in which Dolly realises her employer knows that Kempton has been arrested, and she quietly loses her indomitable strength; also, Kempton’s reaction to Dolly’s acidic response to discovering he’d written a story about their daughter.

What is just as impressive about The Duke is the accurate and convincing portrayal of 1961 Britain. Too often, movies rely on songs of an era to convey the setting. Here, it is done through buildings and streets, cars and clothes. The cinematography re-produces the look of early ‘60s colour film in certain scenes that enhances the conviction of time and place.

Though Broadbent and Mirren are the undoubted centre of The Duke, everything about the movie works well and contributes to its success. It’s an excellently crafted feel-good movie for grown-ups.

Le Cercle Rouge (1970)

Directed by Jean-Pierre Melville; produced by Robert Dorfmann

Corey (Alain Delon) is just completing his five-year prison sentence when he is approached by a guard with a plan. He is reluctant to return to crime but listens to the scheme anyway. Vogel (Gian-Maria Volonte) has just escaped from the custody of Police Commissaire Mattei (Andrei Bourvil), and by chance hides in the trunk of Corey’s car. The two criminals recognise kindred spirits in each other and, with the addition of expert marksman and former cop Jansen (Yves Montand), put the guard’s plan for a multi-million-franc heist into action.

A good crime caper, Le Cercle Rouge is typical Melville fare in that it spends more time with the criminals than with the crime. In fact, just as much time is devoted to the detective on the case. Written by the director, the crooks’ personalities are obscured by a lack of exposition. This is, I am sure, deliberate; these are reticent men who appear dedicated to few things; one of them is crime.

The thieves do not come across as evil, but merely creatures of habit, of their environments. Crime is what they know, so crime is what they do. Corey can’t resist hearing about the guard’s plan. Vogel, when aided by Corey, falls in with the scheme as if he had been part of it from the beginning. Jansen accepts his part as though he were a bureaucrat dealing with paperwork. None of the principals has much of a life beyond what could be termed their trades. Mattei lives with three cats, whom he likes very much. Corey had a girlfriend who now lives with a former associate. Jansen spends his time battling alcoholism. The men’s acceptance of their places in society is foregone.

These bland lives, in which desperation is most assuredly of the quiet variety, are illustrated by the settings. Bare wintery woods, muddy, desolate farm fields, abandoned apartments, give a bleakness to the movie that is a reflection of the characters within it. Only Mattei’s cosy but lonely home seems a pleasant place. It is his refuge; do the criminals think a big score in jewels will provide something similar? We never know.

The acting is very good. Four excellent actors all have major parts, even if a couple could be considered supporting. Delon was, by this time, an experienced veteran of movies, a very popular actor. But he is aging just a little here: 35 years old, moustached to look older, he gives Corey a tired air. Nonetheless, he imbues him as well with professionalism and care toward his trade.

Montand, another famous actor (and singer) but from an earlier generation, was still a leading man in 1970, but makes a supporting rôle memorable. Volonte, like Delon, was very well-known to audiences, and gives Vogel a more anxious persona than has Corey. Bourvil’s Mattei has professionalism hidden in his nondescript approach.

The one problem with Le Cercle Rouge is the heist itself. It is a very complex caper, involving clambering over rooftops, through bathrooms, avoiding electric eyes and shooting out locks; maps, foldable ladders, body-belts. None of this is bad, but I found it hard to believe that they were all encompassed in the guard’s initial explanation, which he begins by telling about his brother-in-law’s new job working on a security system. At no point do we see the criminals collecting blueprints of buildings, or having the route over rooftops pointed out. It seems implausible that this was simply elaborated to Corey in a couple of hours in a prison cell.

Despite this anomaly, Le Cercle Rouge is a good crime film, one that dwells more upon the crime - or crime in general - its essence and nature, rather than the caper, a more contemplative story than many in the genre.