Strange Illusion (1945)

Directed by Edgar G Ulmer; produced by Leon Fromkess

Young Paul Cartwright (James Lydon) has a recurring nightmare about his father’s mysterious death, involving a faceless man who is bringing danger to his family. He thinks it’s connected to the impending marriage of his mother (Sally Eilers) with the handsome and suave Brett Curtis (Warren William). Though everyone likes Brett, and nothing seems wrong with him, Paul is suspicious, and the more he looks into the new man, the less he likes him.

A film noir with slight supernatural overtones, Strange Illusion takes its inspiration from Shakespeare’s Hamlet, with a dream replacing the ghost. The plot isn’t as intricate as the ‘original’ and, despite some difficulties in proving his case, Paul’s suspicions are hardly red herrings. It’s straightforward - too much so, in fact, for a mystery (eg. the villains conveniently keep an incriminating automobile hidden under hay in a barn.)

While the plot is ordinary, the script itself is a little better, principally in dialogue, though it leaves questions both unasked and unanswered. It never reveals completely what the villains’ motives are. Curtis was investigated by Paul’s father, an eminent judge, while Curtis’s accomplice, a psychiatrist (Charles Arnt) who runs a sanatarium, doesn’t seem to have a reason, though it might be the money Curtis may - or may not - have access to after his wedding.

Nonetheless, the writing provides a bit deeper characterisations to a number of the personalities, something cheap film noir doesn’t often do. Curtis is a reasonably devised bad guy (if one doesn’t count the vague motive) with a penchant for forcing himself on young women, something his partner suggests will be his undoing. Paul’s mother reveals real conflict over her attachment to Curtis, after her husband’s death.

The production is cheap. It was directed by someone now rather renowned for his low-budget movies, three for Producers Releasing Corporation, the smallest of Hollywood studios (though, unlike many companies that ground out cheap films, PRC was an actual studio), which was responsible for Strange Illusion. Ulmer certainly does make an an effort, giving the whole film a kind of dream-like/nightmarish aspect, which the low quality of the film inadvertently assists.

The performers, too, are adequate for the level of movie they are in. I suspect none is familiar even to the average fan of 1940s black-and-white cinema. The only one I recognise is Regis Toomey, taking on his usual role as a support player. Interestingly, two of the actors, Lydon and Eilers, resemble others from later times, Tommy Kirk and Virginia Madsen, respectively.

Never one to deride a movie because of its straitened budget, I nevertheless found Strange Illusion little more than a satisfactory time-filler. The principal disadvantages are the b-level acting and the story, while the low budget is easily overlooked.

Diva (1981)

Directed by Jean-Jacques Beineix; produced by Irène Silberman and Serge Silberman

Jules (Frédéric Andréi) is obsessed with opera singer Cynthia Hawkins (Wilhelmina Wiggins Fernandez), who has never consented to being recorded. He illicitly tapes one of her concerts, intending the music for just himself and friends. But a pair of Taiwanese mobsters learns of and covets it. Meanwhile, the police are trying to shut down a murderous prostitution ring, their efforts hinging on a cassette recording. In the deadly confusion that results, Jules may or may not be aided by a roller-skating kleptomaniac and her boyfriend - an enigmatic man who assembles giant jigsaw puzzles in an empty warehouse - all the while growing closer to his idol.

Not your usual crime or caper film, Diva nonetheless entertains with a number of its elements. Ironically, the relationship between Jules and Cynthia is the least compelling aspect of the film, and the scenes given to their platonic romance seem to come from a rather different movie. Even so, these scenes create an atmosphere that gives Diva a definitely French background.

That atmosphere is assisted by the direction and cinematography, and especially by the choice of locations. They move from stereotypical Parisian streets to a seaside lighthouse - called ‘the magic castle’ which, in a glowing dusk does indeed seem magical - to the literal dump in which Jules lives (it appears to be a resting place for severely damaged automobiles.) The settings are well used by the director, whether the narrow confines of straitened lanes or the wide, open spaces of huge, empty rooms. It may be a commonplace that the use of colours, sometimes one shade for everything in a scene, creates mood, but the old axiom pays dividends here.

Also included is an exciting chase sequence, involving a running cop and a fleeing suspect on a moped; external and internal staircases, subway trains and ancient arcades are all used in an unusual and extended action sequence.

The story is rather complicated, as may be guessed from the synopsis. It is not difficult to follow, but the different strands of the plot move along separately, then intersect, then part once more. It opens up from the simple tale of gentle obsession that it at first appears to be.

Added to the interest is the uncertainty as to what side some characters are on, if any, and what they will do. The character of Serge Gorodish (Richard Bohringer) in his warehouse has many layers; one suspects his calm and confident demeanour throughout the movie comes from being more than, well, whatever he is. Also, since personalities involved in the story seem either fluid or mysterious in their allegiance, there is no predicting how the movie will end, which is always a plus with thrillers.

The acting is very good, with the exception of Fernandez, whose lines are recited rather stiltedly, and whose emotions while convincing, nevertheless feel too acted. The other performers, most of whom have bigger parts than she, do fine work, managing to blend realism with the slightly fantastic, and making the plot, at first small and personal, actionful and entertaining, yet credible.

Equal parts style, plot and character create a winning film in Diva.

The Pied Piper (1942)

Directed by Irving Pichel; produced by Nunnally Johnson

Mr John Howard (Monty Woolley) is an active Englishman just past middle age; upset at not being found useful in the fight against Nazi Germany, he retreats to rural France, to fish and mope. With his country on its beam ends, though, he changes his mind and heads back home to take on whatever job he can do. A British couple (Lester Matthews, Jill Esmond), hoping to get their children (Roddy McDowall, Peggy Ann Garner) home, even if they themselves can’t, ask Howard to take them. Soon, the reluctant guardian is saddled with a number of kids, and while he finds them an ordeal, they are nothing compared with the hazards of travelling through war-torn France.

A pleasant and amusing movie, The Pied Piper doesn’t quite fulfill its potential. Even so, it benefits greatly from the lead actor and supporting players. Woolley, though an American, has what came to be termed a ‘mid-Atlantic’ accent, allowing him to portray convincingly Englishmen or Americans without altering his speech. (Cary Grant famously had the same quality, as did James Mason.) Howard’s gruff but decent personality allows him to push through obstacles with a determination that is natural and enjoyable to watch.

The other performers include two well-known child-actors of the time, McDowell and Garner. They do well in their roles but don’t contribute as much as they might have. Anne Baxter is rather needlessly added to the cast; if the lead were a younger man, she would be his love-interest. Instead, their connection is through Howard’s son, an RAF officer killed even earlier in the war. Otto Preminger has the biggest supporting role, as an SS officer. His voice is tremendously grating, probably intentionally so.

The principal problem I found with The Pied Piper is the story. It comes from a novel by Nevil Shute, with a screenplay by Nunnally Johnson, so the talent is there. Nonetheless, there seems to be a level of digression that hurts the over-all flow of the movie.

Initially, Howard and Ronnie (Roddy McDowell) are rather gentle adversaries, the boy having contradicted the man in the latter’s belief that Rochester is a state and not a city in the U.S. Ronnie shows himself resourceful (not least of which because he can speak French) and mature, and is as much a protector of other children as is Howard. It would have been interesting to have developed their relationship - perhaps paralleling what might have been Howard’s with his own son. Instead, Ronnie is sidelined to make room for Major Diessen (Otto Preminger).

This distraction leaves Howard’s character incomplete. The audience gathers that he doesn’t like children - principally because he says so - but he is hardly rough or even impolite with them. It might have been intriguing to use Howard’s son’s death to put a wall between the man and other children, which those in his care would have broken down.

Diessen’s inclusion is sometimes cited as a detriment, with Preminger’s performance suggested to be that of a stereotype or over the top. Certainly those are legitimate judgements, though the era and the situation in which the movie was made must be taken into account. But I thought - aside from the sudden shift from the adult/child dynamic to an adult/adult confrontation - that Diessen’s part was an interesting twist to the plot, given the solution to the showdown between him and Howard. It also made Diessen more than just a cardboard cut-out.

The Pied Piper, therefore, is mostly entertaining. It is well-acted and directed, and well-written as far as it goes, though it could have gone farther.

The Accountant (2016)

Directed by Gavin O’Connor; produced by Lynette Howell Taylor and Mark Williams

Christian Wolff (Ben Affleck) is a mathematical genius, a loner, because his autism makes him feel an outsider. His accounting skills, however, have made of him a favourite of rich businesses, not always legitimate, which are suffering irregularities in their books. His past and present assignments have brought upon him the attention of both the U.S. government and an underworld hit-man. What they don’t know, though, is that Wolff has deadlier skills than that embodied in a pencil.

An interesting and entertaining action flick with an unusual hero, The Accountant suffers a bit from an overly complicated plot, and, perhaps, a coincidence that’s rather too large. This is the fault of the writing which, however, compensates with an involving and sympathetic main protagonist and a decent script. Wolff is a man whose extraordinary behaviour we can appreciate, and with whose condition we can empathise. I don’t pretend to understand the complexities of autism, so I cannot gauge the accuracy of the character’s situation. (To be fair, I don’t think it is definitely stated in the movie that Wolff is autistic; at one point that condition is listed as something someone identified as Wolff might have.) Nonetheless, within the context of the story, that with which Wolff must contend is made realistic.

As well, Affleck’s performance is commendable. He is not an actor I favour greatly; in most of the movies I have seen him act, he tends to over-emote. Here, it is the opposite; he is reticent to the point of seeming emotionless, though the audience realises that this is a matter of self-preservation more than real feelings. The restraint Affleck shows as part of the character is perfectly suited for the portrayal, and accentuates the isolation in which Wolff lives, an isolation partly self-imposed.

Even so, Wolff’s personality is not simple. As others in The Accountant come to see, he lives by his own moral code, which usually places hm on the side of the angels. He has sympathy for those who have been treated poorly by life, and is ferociously loyal to the few friends he has made.

There is unexpected humour in the script, as well. This is usually provided by other characters than Wolff, or by their interaction with him. In particular, Jon Bernthal as a mysterious hitman and Anna Kendrick as a much less gifted fellow accountant do well. J K Simmons has a role that provides his character with unexpected depth - though this in itself makes one question his initial actions with regard to a colleague (Cynthia Addai-Robinson).

Such a movie as this must have a director who knows how to handle the genre’s scenes. O’Connor does very well in this regard. There are plenty of shoot-outs and hand-to-hand fighting, though none of it seems repetitious, which can be a danger in such movies. Though there is quite a bit of violence, there is surprisingly little blood and gore, which is to be applauded: this puts the emphasis on excitement, rather than brutality, which, really, has as little a place in a thriller as does gore in a horror movie.

The Accountant is a movie that has all the shootings and fisticuffs one would want in an action flick while providing character and sub-text that goes a little deeper than the usual superficiality of the genre.

Niagara (1953)

Directed by Henry Hathaway; produced by Charles Brackett

Two married couples check in to holiday cabins on the Canadian side of Niagara Falls. The union of George and Rose Loomis (Joseph Cotten, Marilyn Monroe) is already shaky just two years into it, with Rose bored with her husband and meeting with a lover (Richard Allan). Ray and Polly Cutler (Casey Adams, Jean Peters) have delayed their honeymoon for three years, but are still rather like newly wedded youngsters. Rose’s disillusion with her marriage has a dark side: she and her boyfriend are plotting to kill George and escape to Chicago, and the Cutlers, trying not to become involved in their fellow guests’ problems, find themselves unwittingly enmeshed in murder.

Niagara has a number of elements that should have contributed to a successful film. Hathaway is a very good director with a number of fine films to his credit (eg. The Desert Fox, Kiss of Death, True Grit), and his direction here is involving, especially during the climax. Use is made of a wide variety of locations, not just the majestic waterfalls. Hathaway includes touches that add to the story and characters, such as George Loomis standing near the base of the falls, becoming soaked, then instinctively trying to avoid lawn sprinklers as he walks back to his motel. There is one irritation in Hathaway’s work, to be discussed below.

The acting is good. Cotten, an old pro, easily captures the desperation of a man in love with someone he should never have married, hoping to recapture what he never had in the first place. Monroe’s performance is adequate, and she satisfactorily conveys the impression of a woman tired of what she sees as the constrictions of her life.

The story is a good one, if rather predictable. There is an inevitability to the actions which, to the director’s and writers’ credit, does not make the finale expected. The air of Greek tragedy pervades the tale, and the roar of the water over its precipice lends a background noise of doom.

Unfortunately, the actual script does not create sympathetic characters. None of the four major personalities are that likeable. The Cutlers are not unlikeable, but neither are they people anyone would go out of his way to meet. Adams (later to work under his birth name of Max Showalter) is annoying much of the time, something I ascribe to the writing and directing (the flaw in Hathaway’s work mentioned earlier) rather than his acting. Ray grins like a silly child most of the movie; I expected him to burst out giggling half the time.

Rose is meant to be the villainess of the piece, so her cold and calculating manner is deliberate. But George embodies the adage of ‘no fool like an old fool’ rather too well, and his petulant, abrasive behaviour does not invite sympathy. And though Polly tries to help, but even her willingness seems one of convenience: she wants to assist but only if it’s not much trouble. All of this means that there is no one to root for, no point of view the audience will favour.

Niagara is an entertaining movie to an extent, but the lack of sympathetic characters leave it with the feeling of watching events re-enacted for a true-crimes tv series, rather than a dramatic film noir.

Cornered (1945)

Directed by Edward Dmytryk; produced by Adrian Scott

Laurence Gerard (Dick Powell), a former Royal Canadian Air Force officer, returns to France shortly after the World War. When his aeroplane was shot down, he had joined the French Resistance, and married one of its members. After Gerard was captured, his wife and fifty others were executed on the orders of a Vichy French official named Jarnac. Though the latter was officially dead, few believe it, and Gerard sets off to find him, the trail leading through France, to Switzerland and, eventually, to Argentina, where the Canadian finds himself involved in a much bigger affair, with more at stake than mere vengeance.

An interesting and involving movie, Cornered’s only real flaw is the overly-convoluted plot, which may have some viewers lost, especially in the matter of an abundance of French and Spanish names that are only imperfectly identified with their owners. This is exacerbated by some aliases being used by those involved. It is a good story, though the writers seem so intent on it that they forget some issues. For instance, Gerard is too impatient to wait for a passport to travel to France, yet he has one very shortly afterward when journeying to Argentina.

Aside from the fact that the plot line is a bit too clever for its writers’ own good, the script is satisfactory. Gerard is a hothead, too anxious to find his wife’s killer to think things through in a number of cases. He comes up against several people who are cooler and more intelligent than he, which leads to complications, especially since there is no certainty as to whose side they are on. This creates a character who is fallible and credible. It’s interesting that others in the film - both friends and enemies - rightly discern Gerard’s flaws, and comment upon them.

Other characters are believeable, too, including the conniving Incza (Walter Slezak), the untrustworthy Madame Jarnac (Micheline Cheirel) and the steady and competent Diego (Jack La Rue). Unlike many secondary characters in other films, these hold their own against the lead, thanks to the writing that creates them.

The acting is also convincing. This is only the second of Powell’s movies after he determined on a change of course for his career, leaving behind the bouncy, young-at-heart characterizations from comedies and musicals, and taking on the tough, hard-boiled rôles of private detective, man with a mission, and the like. Gerard is cynical and single-minded, not even really sympathetic in many ways. Nonetheless, the personality fits well with the story.

The supporting players give commendable performances. Mention has been made of their characters; it is the acting that makes them ambiguous in their morals and motives, the actors giving credence to the writing. That writing, incidentally, does something clever in having Gerard told that Jarnac, a man well-versed in hiding and evading, won't be anyone Gerard knows, thus saving the audience the disappointment of trying to guess the villain from among the people they have already met.

Despite some troubles with the density of the plot, Cornered is an enjoyable, two-fisted film noir that rivals many from a richly entertaining movie era.