The Accused (1949)

Directed by William Dieterle; produced by Hal B Wallis

Wilma Tuttle (Loretta Young) is a psychology professor in a California university. Without meaning to, she interests one of her students, Bill Perry (Douglas Dick), who fancies himself a ladies’ man. After an ill-advised trip to dinner with him, in order both to discourage his advances and encourage his undeniable academic potential, Wilma is attacked by Bill and, in defending herself, kills him. Fearing the publicity that a scandal would bring, she tries to disguise his death as an accident. This brings complications when both Bill’s guardian, Warren Ford (Bob Cummings), and the investigating police detective, Dorgan (Wendell Corey), suspect murder.

This is an interesting movie, but not for the right reasons. It starts off well, with Young giving a good portrayal of a career woman, taken seriously by her peers and taking her work seriously in turn. The lead up to the assault is good - even if a viewer might think Wilma foolish for going out with Bill at all - and the fear and panic conveyed by Young during and immediately after the homicidal event are convincing. It is the story thereafter that misdirects the viewer.

The ‘misdirection’ cited here isn’t a reference to red herrings or hidden clues. Rather, the audience, while maintaining its emotional sympathy for Wilma, finds its dramatic sympathy transferred. At some point, her reaction to the police investigation becomes more entitled than victimized. She becomes disdainful of Dorgan and his inquiries, implying that he should know better than to suggest she did something wrong.

Corey, for his part, makes Dorgan more and more likeable as the movie progresses. He is shown to be less a seemingly misogynistic cop and more someone who doesn’t really like having to put people in prison. His approach to his work is intelligent and conciliatory. Cummings, playing a lawyer and love-interest for Wilma, on the other hand, becomes increasingly self-righteous the more he realises that Wilma not only killed a man, but then tried to hide it. His argument near the end is so outraged that he appears to be daring anyone to think Wilma guilty.

This is the fault of the writing, which, in terms of dialogue, is quite good. Nonetheless, such tedious arrogance from people who should know better alienates much of the sympathy for Wilma, who is both perpetrator and victim, and gives it instead to the detective. The love affair between Ford and Wilma, as well, comes across as unrealistic. The vagaries of human affection are perfectly legitimate catalysts in real-life love, but in a work of fiction, we need a bit more to go on.

The story seems rather flawed as well in that even if the truth were revealed and Wilma was acknowledged as the killer, there is no evidence of a deliberate murder, and more than a reasonable doubt as to anything other than self-defence. The viewer might feel that a knowledgeable prosecutor would not allow the matter to come to trial.

There is some good acting in The Accused, though it is in the supporting roles. In particular, Dick gives his villain a mixture of charm and smarm important to the part. Corey’s work as the soft-spoken and increasingly demoralised detective has been mentioned. Unfortunately, the two leads either don’t imbue their characters with enough credibility - in particular, it’s hard to believe the bland and uninteresting Wilma Tuttle could so strongly attract three men - or the writing isn’t up to providing them with the material for it.

The Accused is a good story let down by indifferent writing and characters the audience eventually comes to disregard.

Strangers on a Train (1951)

Directed and produced by Alfred Hitchcock

Guy Haines (Farley Granger) is an amateur tennis champion travelling to his home-town to persuade his unfaithful wife (Laura Elliott) to divorce him. He wants to marry Anne Morton (Ruth Roman), the daughter of a wealthy senator, who will sponsor Guy’s planned career in politics. On the train home, Guy meets the odd Bruno Antony (Robert Walker), who, among other schemes, has evolved a ‘perfect murder’ plan. He and someone he has just met would ‘swap’ murders. As an example, Bruno suggests to Guy that Guy kill Bruno’s hated father, while Bruno will rid Guy of his troublesome wife. Guys dismisses Bruno as a tedious crackpot - until Bruno confronts Guy with evidence that he has fulfilled his half of ‘their’ plan.

I saw and reviewed Shadow of a Doubt in early September, and found that Hitchcock movie wanting in a few aspects, principally in the story. Eight years after that production, the same director came out with a much better thriller in Strangers on a Train. In this film, the writing - the story, in particular - is better, the actions of the characters, including the police investigators, are better shaped.

The initial meeting of Guy and Bruno is particularly well-handled. Guy is a fairly ordinary man in his attempts to humour the fan who pushes himself on Guy, and in an environment from which the latter cannot escape. But giving Bruno an inch just leads to him taking miles. Many viewers will have been in a similar situation - though without the results seen in Strangers on a Train.

Bruno’s character is sharply drawn. Even though we never know what exactly his psychological problem is, we can see almost from the start that this is a disturbed individual. Like mold that slowly spreads across a slice of bead, Bruno’s unnerving effects grow as the audience comes to know him. His dialogue is especially good, revealing a man who is apparently sympathetic - sycophantic at worst -  but is actually resentful and filled with hate. He speaks of admiring people who “do things”, yet insinuates that Guy, at least, achieved those things because of money or position. Even innate talent appears resented by Bruno.

The character is portrayed with a knock-out performance by Walker, in his penultimate role. He deserved at least to be nominated for an Oscar. Granger has the less showy role but also gives fine work. He provides Guy with a sense of growing desperation, even claustrophobia, as metaphoric walls start to close in on him. Patricia Hitchcock, the director’s daughter, plays Anne’s sister, and does a very good job. She certainly didn’t need her father’s name to make her own.

In smaller parts, Elliott makes Guy’s wife the sort audiences dislike, though she manages in her few scenes to give a bit of depth to her character. (As an aside, Elliott, under the name Kasey Rogers, had a recurring role on the tv series Bewitched, as did Marion Lorne, who plays Bruno’s pampering and protective mother.)

Hitchcock’s direction seems more lively in Strangers on a Train than in Shadow of a Doubt, though the latter’s setting did require a gentler approach. Bruno’s psychopathy stands out more than did Charles Oakley’s, which also gives greater scope for direction. The climax, featuring an out-of-control carousel at a fair-ground, is very exciting, and a worthy ending to an engrossing film.

Strangers on a Train was not Hitchcock’s first film of the 1950s, but it helped usher in what may have been the best decade of the director’s career, and stands alone as one of his most entertaining creations.

I Married a Witch (1942)

Directed and produced by René Clair

Before she is burned as a witch in the seventeenth century, Jennifer (Veronica Lake) lays a curse on her denouncer, proclaiming that the marriages of all his male descendants will be torments to them. Eons later, the spirits of Jennifer and her father, a warlock, are accidentally released, and, seeing the latest descendant of her old enemy, politician Wallace Woolley (Frederic March), she determines to marry him and cause his turmoil personally. But soon, she realises that love can be just as strong and magical as her own powers.

A screwball comedy that might be farce, I Married a Witch reminded me rather a lot of a Preston Sturges comedy, one reason perhaps being Lake, who was in his excellent Sullivan’s Travels. It came as only a moderate surprise, then, when I learned that Sturges was easily on associated with the film, as was writer Dalton Trumbo. The latter had troubles with Sturges and left the production. Sturges had troubles in turn with Clair and left the production. March and Lake disliked each other throughout filming. It may be a wonder that I Married a Witch was made at all, and that it is a good movie.

Granted, it is not up to the standard of Sullivan’s Travels or The Palm Beach Story, but the writing creates some memorably funny scenes. The election night sequence is top-notch, and the first meeting of Jennifer and Wallace is also fun. The acceptance of Jennifer’s nature by Wallace and his best friend, Dudley (Robert Benchley) was a good idea, as it adds to their incredulity and exasperation at events. As well, moments that might have been considered risqué in 1942 give credibility to Jennifer’s character, such as when she pursues March by showing up in his bed wearing his pyjamas.

The story implies that witches are a breed apart - Jennifer is alleged to be about 200,000 years old - and inherently evil. The latter quality is manifested in Jennifer’s father, Daniel (Cecil Kellaway), who is a truly malevolent character without much motivation except to cause problems, not excluding death. His cruelty is rather off-putting. There is no insight into the why and wherefore of their race, or an explanation of their powers or their extent. They are, apparently, able to affect the judgement of millions of people, yet are unable to prevent being burned alive.

Lake’s personal troubles and difficulties with her co-stars led to her having rather few good movies to her credit. Nonetheless, she was a capable actress and, as may be seen here and in other films, she had a talent for comedy. March, one of the great actors of the era, was less favoured for laughs. Originally, Joel McCrea was sought for March’s role, but begged off as he did not fancy working with Lake again. He, or Cary Grant, would have had the better knack for such a part. On the other hand, they may have over-shadowed Lake, which probably would not have benefitted the movie.

Benchley handles his side-kick role very well, though he could have received more to do, while Susan Hayward has a smallish - considering her resumé to date - and uncharacteristic role.

The direction is good, Clair electing to go for the laughs in people’s reactions, rather than their actions. There is nothing particularly innovative about the direction, but that likely would not have been the way to go in a light comedy anyway. Strangely, the production values strike me as being on the cheap side. It may be the spartan furnishings and décor of the Wooley home, but it does not look like much was spent on the sets.

I Married a Witch is a good, amusing, if not hilarious, comedy, profiting from Lake’s performance and a slightly restrained though observant direction.

Brick (2005)

Directed by Rian Johnson; produced by Ram Bergman and Mark G Mathis

Brendan Frye (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) is a high school student, a loner, whose one passion is his former girlfriend, Emily (Emilie De Ravin). When he discovers that she’s been murdered, he begins an investigation into her death, an investigation that uncovers competing drug rings, hidden motives and, maybe, Emily’s killer.

In some ways original, in others traditional, Brick is certainly imaginative and entertaining. It takes a film noir approach, with a hard-boiled detective, and puts it in the context of a high school. As in a Dashiell Hammett story - apparently Red Harvest served as a great inspiration to the writer / director - the protagonist is an outsider, aloof from the various cliques in his world, but smarter than most of their members.

He has an ally in Brain (Matt O’Leary), another student, probably another outsider, who knows much of what is going on in the school. He takes the place of the film noir detective’s informant. Veteran Richard Rowntree plays Assistant Vice-principal Trueman, the ‘cop’ in the piece. Laura Zehetner and Meagan Good play femmes fatale.

The writing is good, though some of the dialogue is lost in what is meant to be the school’s argot, reminiscent of the slang of 1940s movies. The situations created are involving and, in some cases, clever. There is a scene in which Brendan is called into Trueman’s office and it becomes the moment in many black-and-white detective movies when the cop hauls in the private eye for questioning. Using phrases like, “I don’t want you busting into home-room” instead of “breaking up my office” comes close to satire, but the actors’ earnest performances overcome any such close calls. There is action, too - Brendan receives enough beatings to rival a Rockford Files episode - and a tense climax.

That Brick does not entirely persuade one that it takes place in a high school, or at least a high school in the real world, is one of the faults of the script, and also of the direction. With that in mind, however, I doubt that it was the intention of Johnson to create an ‘after-school special’ type drama.

One weakness is the superficiality of the characters’ exposure to the audience. This isn’t to say that they are shallow people, but the viewer does not get to know them well. And Emily, the victim, seems a very unlikely girl to attract the affection, indeed, the obsession of three disparate boys. There is also the episode of Brendan’s illness, which he exhibits two thirds of the way into the film, as if he were sick or poisoned. This is never explained.

This is stylized film noir in a unique setting. Thus, while school cliques and attitudes are evident, there is no going to class, there are no teachers, except for Trueman, there is no home-work. Granted, the action takes place in just two days, and those two days may be seen as extraordinary, but one must, for good or ill, view the setting as providing a stage, and not an interactive world.

Gordon-Levitt represents one of the few successful transitions from child-actor to adult-player, and he largely carries Brick. I think he may be in every scene, and he conveys well the moody, even morose character that many high schoolers affect. The other performers do equally well, though with much less screen-time. If the characters they portray don’t really act their age, it is not the actors’ fault.

The often fearful and anxious world of high school translates easily and rather disturbingly into that of film noir, and this isn’t a kids’ movie. Aside from the unease that comes from too many teenagers behaving like adults, Brick nonetheless proves an enjoyable, if dark, suspense/crime drama.

History of Violence (2005)

Directed by David Cronenberg; produced by Chris Bender and J. C. Spink

Tom Stall (Viggo Mortensen) has a good life with his wife and children in a small Indiana town. He is well liked and his diner is popular. One night, though, two murderous robbers invade his business and threaten his staff. Tom, with no choice, kills them both. Following the ensuing publicity, he is visited by a thoroughly unsavoury man named Fogarty (Ed Harris), who opens up a chapter of Tom’s past he tried to forget, and threatens the future that Tom hopes to have.

In February, 2023, on this blog, I reviewed Eastern Promises (2007), a crime-thriller directed by Cronenberg and starring Mortensen, and thought highly of it. Two years before that film’s production, the pair collaborated on History of Violence, a more thoughtful, though bloodier story. As the title implies, death and mayhem figure prominently but they have a point and are not included just for the sensation of it.

The story, adapted from a comic book, allegedly did not meet with Mortensen’s approval when first submitted to him. Largely re-written by Cronenberg, it became less about the violence and more about what the violence does to people. There are several episodes of brutality and killing, but each introduces an element of a character’s personality, or changes it in some way. Rather than a tale of events, it becomes one of cause and effect.

The script itself does not provide much in the way of memorable dialogue, but it doesn’t try: it provides ordinary conversations about ordinary things. It does, however, create interesting and thought-provoking situations. A good sub-plot involves Tom’s son Jack (Ashton Holmes) being bullied at school. That situation demonstrates that, contrary to the old adage, violence really does solve some problems. It almost always, however, creates new ones, problems which are sometimes worse, or at least harder to solve, than the original.

The characters are well-written. Tom Stall is an mundane man. In his previous life, he was also an mundane - though criminal - man. In both phases, though, he comes up against extraordinary conditions, and these are what determines the direction of his character. His aforementioned son is an atypical movie teen, humorous, caring toward his parents and decent. This made his sub-plot involving.

While the actions of the characters share the spotlight with the characters themselves, it is the actors that make or break History of Violence. Mortensen is excellently cast. He manages to make Tom Stall both ordinary and unusual, and successfully conveys the impression of a man who is violent but doesn’t want to be. Maria Bello plays his devoted wife who suddenly discovers she isn’t sure who it is she’s devoted to. Holmes is a thoroughly believable young player, while Harris delivers a chilling portrayal of a man who would be most likeable, if he weren’t a sadistic killer. Note should be taken of the almost amusing interpretation by William Hurt of a mob-boss, the main characteristic of whom is exasperation that things are not working out for him. Filmed in Canada, the smaller roles are filled by Canadian actors, most notably veteran Stephen McHattie, as one of the robbers.

Though not for all tastes, History of Violence is not a bloody free-for-all, but, rather, a study of how physical destruction, even if it helps a situation, is nonetheless corrosive and hurtful.

Shanghai Express (1932)

Directed by Josef von Sternberg; produced by Adolph Zukor

An assortment of passengers fill the first-class carriages of the train travelling from Peiping to Shanghai. Captain Harvey (Clive Brook) is a doctor in the British Army; an old love of his is now better known as the ‘coaster’ - prostitute - Shanghai Lily (Marlene Dietrich); an enigmatic Eurasian, Mr Chang (Warner Oland), has a secret agenda. But this is no ordinary journey: China is in the midst of a civil war, and nothing is certain. As one character responds to a wager as to how late the train may arrive: “This is China; there is no guarantee that we will arrive at all.”

An intriguing film for a number of reasons, Shanghai Express stands out today principally for the direction and cinematography. Sternberg worked a great deal with the contrasts between light and dark; shadows were a method of his telling a story, and that method is shown to full effect here. Anyone interested in film history, or interested in how images in a movie can tell a story, as opposed to actions and dialogue, will be entertained by Shanghai Express.

The writing brings out some intriguing incidents and characters. Based loosely on a real-life event of a warlord holding a train’s passengers hostage, Shanghai Express creates a genuinely tense situation, partly due to the direction and partly to Oland’s depiction of a rebel general’s unpredictable behaviour. The characters are a diverse lot, and not as stereotyped as they first appear. Mr Chang and Mr Carmichael (Lawrence Grant), in particular, develop as the movie progresses, and Anna May Wong, as another ‘coaster’, gives a fine performance.

The dialogue can seem stilted by today’s standards, though this is partly the fault of the delivery. That delivery is mainly flawed due to Brook’s stiff manner of acting. A Silent Era star, Brook made a successful transition to sound, but carried with him a certain woodenness that worked better (though not really all that well) without sound.

Dietrich was a bit of a revelation to me. I had seen her in later films (eg. Witness for the Prosecution, Judgment at Nuremberg) but not in her early roles. Her manner in Shanghai Express is a combination of cynical, breezy and amused, and it fits very well with her character. She is most convincing in every mood her character adopts. The supporting roles are well filled.

The use of location is successful. Some of the footage is actually from China, and gives a lively impression of some of the country in the early 1930s. The dress, the mannerisms, how technology blends - or doesn’t - into the setting, are all captured almost incidentally, yet fashion a convincing atmosphere. Such episodes as the train stopping for a cow on the line, the railway passing through markets, so close to the stalls that soldiers on the train spear fruit from merchants with their bayonets, undoubtedly came from real life.

An enjoyable movie in its own right in many ways, Shanghai Express is also entertaining as a slice of cinema history and technique.