The Secret Invasion (1964)

Directed by Roger Corman; produced by Gene Corman

In 1943, a British Army major (Stewart Granger) leads five condemned criminals on a secret mission to Axis-occupied Yugoslavia. Each man, promised a pardon in return for his co-operation, has a particular talent that may turn a forlorn hope into a victory for the Allies - if the prisoners don’t kill each other first.

The Secret Invasion may have served as inspiration for the bigger-budgeted and more famous The Dirty Dozen, made three years later. The lesser known item of any pair always invites comparison to its rival, and The Secret Invasion holds up well.

Most familiar with film-study know the name of Roger Corman. Though his movies are almost universally low-budget, they are often well-made with what they had to work with; Corman himself introduced a large number of now-famous names to audiences, and has been a huge influence on many directors and producers, encouraging especially independent film-makers. This movie is typical of his better pictures, making the most of its limited funds and working with a good story.

The location shooting seizes full advantage of the setting. The movie takes place largely in the then-Yugoslav city of Dubrovnik (formerly Ragusa), on the coast of the Adriatic Sea. The solid-looking stone buildings, red-tile roofs and formidable forts of the ancient town were put to good use. In particular, there is a roof-top gun-battle that must have taken some convincing of municipal authorities; the results are exciting.

The cast is good as well, though not first-class. One certainly can’t expect such a diversity in actors in many other movies. International-film star Raf Vollone, Edd Byrnes (best known as ‘Kookie’ from 77 Sunset Strip), perennial villain Henry Silva, Mickey Rooney (by this time, passing from his second phase of Hollywood stardom) and character player William Campbell, all seem to be of different acting types and from different genres of cinema, and so lend an authenticity to the motley make-up of the criminal team. The performances are varied but capable.

The story is more complicated than many action-flicks boast. Italy has just surrendered to the Allies, and the Germans are ready to seize Italian positions and personnel if the latter switch allegiance from Fascism to the Allies. The major and his men must rescue an Italian general, in German custody, whose pronouncement in favour of the Allies could bring thousands of Italian troops into the war against the Nazis. But there is deception to be found both at the team’s destination and even in their own numbers.

The script is the weakest element of the movie. The individuals of the mission come together too easily, too soon, and the major leading them comes to trust them too soon as well, for credibility. Some members are more believable than others: Vallone’s criminal mastermind seems to be anti-Fascist to begin with, and Silva’s assassin-for-hire probably sees the mission as no more than another job. But motivation is lacking.

By and large, however, The Secret Invasion is a good, entertaining adventure movie, with more than one twist in its plot.

The Martian (2015)

Directed by Ridley Scott; produced by Mark Huffam, Teresa Kelly, Simon Kinberg, Michael Schaefer, Ridley Scott, Aditya Sood

An emergency forces the latest manned mission to Mars to evacuate the planet but, in the confusion, one of the astronauts (Matt Damon) is believed killed and his body lost. He is, however, not dead, and, when he regains consciousness, must survive alone on an unforgiving planet, with no discernible chance of rescue until after his supplies have run out.

A couple of years ago, I reviewed Robinson Crusoe on Mars, a movie with a similar premise to The Martian. The two are interesting for their comparisons and contrasts. The earlier film incorporated more fiction in its science, partly due, no doubt, to its setting being much less known when the movie was produced than it is now. The Martian relies on real science, as opposed to conjectured science. It is neither a better nor worse film for that, but is, after all, quite different.

The Martian’s chronological setting is not given, wisely, and it can be assumed that it is but a few years in the future. The technology - as far as my limited grasp of such a subject allows me to judge - is almost all extant. Clearly, some items, such as the interplanetary spaceship that takes the explorers from Earth to Mars, and the landing craft, have yet to be built.

Nonetheless, they are credible and are, probably, already designed and simply awaiting a couple trillion dollars’ allocation. This use of existing and barely futuristic inventions makes the story believable. Using items that have yet to be conceived (eg. transporter beams, suspended animation technology) would have given the solutions to the problems too much of a deus ex machina feel.

More than the science, though, The Martian depends upon the leading actor, Damon. While unlike Robert Redford in All Is Lost, reviewed a few weeks back, Damon is not the only character in this film. Indeed, once his plight is established, the scenes alternate among Mars, Earth and the spaceship with the other astronauts aboard.

This gives a less claustrophobic feel to the movie than had All Is Lost. It also adds a sense of urgency; All Is Lost did not have that (yet the fact that no one knew the sailor was in danger lent melancholy, even despair, to his situation.) In The Martian, there is much more of an atmosphere of collaboration, reminiscent of Apollo 13; (one of the latter picture’s lines is used in The Martian.)

The script is good, but perhaps the weakest aspect of the film. We are not forced to infer what Damon is thinking all the time, as he records his thoughts and activities in a computer diary and, later, in communications with Earth and his fellow astronauts. There are some concessions to contrivance: Damon’s existence is due in part to finding potatoes stored by another explorer for a future Thanksgiving celebration, and Damon’s expertise in botany is essential to his survival; if he had been a geologist or astronomer, his chances would have been bleak. Also, the climax borrows more from Hollywood than NASA.

One feature that helped the script was that it included no villains. Jeff Daniels as the director of NASA comes closest, but his motivation is his responsibility to the entire space programme, while other characters have the luxury of worrying about one man. Chiwetel Ejiofor has a good role as the mission controller, and Sean Bean an atypical part as the diffident manager of the interplanetary spaceship programme. There are, perhaps, too many attempts to show how nerdy all the people at NASA are. This does provide a funny scene at a meeting when all the men present show their knowledge of The Lord of the Rings, with the lone and befuddled woman (Kristen Wiig) expressing half-feigned exasperation.

The direction, as may be expected from Ridley Scott, is very good. It manages to create a sense of the adventure’s breadth, almost epic in scale, while retaining an intimate feel as it puts us in close and immediate contact with people we don’t know but will learn about. There is a ‘docu-drama’ effect that works very well.

Despite the running time of nearly two and a half hours, The Martian never drags. It keeps artificiality to a minimum, and maximises its entertainment value.

 

 

The Mob (1951)

Directed by Robert Parrish; produced by Jerry Bresler

One rainy night, New York City police detective Johnny Damico (Broderick Crawford) witnesses a fatal shooting. The gunman identifies himself as a fellow cop and Damico sends him to call for back-up. Even though it’s only a minute later when Damico realises that he has been duped and the gunman is an imposter, the latter has disappeared. Disgraced and suspended, Damico is nonetheless given a chance to redeem himself. He is sent undercover to the waterfront, into which organised crime is infiltrating. Damico’s job is to find the Mob’s chief in the racket, something the man he saw shot died trying to do.

The most pleasant thing about choosing movies based on one- or two-line synopses of plots, which I often do, is that the gamble sometimes turns out much better than I expect. Broderick Crawford was a fine actor, an Oscar-winner, so he usually gives a very good performance. But The Mob sounded routine, a fun but undemanding time-filler. It’s not; an involving story and an entertaining script, combined with good acting from everyone concerned, make for a fun time at the home-cinema.

Crawford is not the usual leading-man material. Forty years old when he made this film, he looks fifty, with a baggy face, small eyes and a girth that seemed to grow with each movie. But studios in the 1940s and ‘50s were willing to go with unconventional leads, and here he is a sympathetic character the viewer supports. He is even given a love-interest (Betty Buehler); nowadays, even the least likely leading-man would be given a girl half his age with a swimsuit-model’s face and figure. Buehler, though attractive, looks and acts real, and has good rapport with Broderick.

In fact, the cast is exceptional: quite a few actors on their way up appear, including Richard Kiley as a longshoreman, John Marley as a Mob front-man, Ernest Borgnine as a mid-level villain, Neville Brand as a well-dressed thug, and a young Charles Bronson as a stevedore. The performances of even the ‘background’ actors are good.

The story seems to be mundane at the start. But quite a few personalities are introduced and it becomes a real guessing-game as to who is up to what. Few are who they appear to be, beginning of course with Damico, who must maintain his disguise throughout. His character is not the star of the police force; just a hard-working, low-ranking detective. But, despite his initial blunder that sets the story going, he is shown to be intelligent and quick; intuitive, as well. The story does present an unresolved question that is, however, neither vital nor difficult for the viewer to answer himself.

The script is sharp and fun. I’m surprised someone hasn’t written their doctoral thesis on tough-guy sarcasm of the 1940s and ‘50s. It is a dialect of its own. Broderick’s lines would impress the most smart-alecky wise guy in a Bogart movie, and the other characters are as quick. (For example, when asked why he is so eager to get a job on the docks, ‘Flynn’ (Damico’s alias) replies that he just likes hard work; another Irishman replies, “I thought you were Irish…”) None of this comes across as contrived. Instead, one assumes that this is the milieu in which the characters live, work and, probably, grew up.

The direction should be mentioned, as well. There are the expected action scenes, some well-staged fights and shoot-outs, but also instances of tension. The work behind the camera matches that in front.

While it may be considered a B-movie based on its less than A-list stars, The Mob is nonetheless a neat action/mystery/thriller, with above average work in all its major categories.

Man From Del Rio (1956)

Directed by Harry Horner; produced by Robert L Jacks

David Robles (Anthony Quinn) has been waiting for Dan Ritchy (Barry Atwater) in the little town of Mesa since before sunrise. Having practised with a revolver for five years, Robles wants to avenge four men whom Ritchy, an outlaw with a notoriously rapid draw, murdered in the far away town of Del Rio. To everyone’s surprise - perhaps, most of all, his own - Robles kills Ritchy. His fame spreads; the townspeople want him as their new sheriff to replace the effete incumbent (Douglas Spencer), while a local businessman (Peter Whitney) has plans to use Robles himself.

What may seem like a standard western of a certain sub-genre - the outlaw turned lawman - is in some ways rather different than one’s expectations. Certainly, the story includes a number of the usual elements, such as the outsider failing to fit in, a man mistaking fear for respect, and thinking that the use to which he is being put is giving him a place in society, when he is, in fact, viewed as disposable. But some aspects raise Man From Del Rio above the commonplace.

Quinn’s performance is very good. His initial scene, when Robles confronts Ritchy, is well done, the former stammering his way toward a challenge, seemingly trying to persuade both himself and his opponent that he has the nerve to go through with the duel. Quinn’s Robles is insecure, a man lurching from confidence to doubt and back again, depending on how he perceives the reactions of those around him. He gives the impression of a man who was never required to be strong, realizing that his strength comes from himself, and not his firearm: an old story, to be sure, but well interpreted by Quinn.

Other actors do well, but the writing is the superior draw here. The script itself is just above mundane, though it has its moments. There is a good analogy made regarding the townsfolk’s use of Robles, a character saying that when one uses a snake to kill the rats in a house, one doesn’t befriend the snake after it’s done its job. There is also a good ending, which is a contrast to most western movie finales, relying on nerve and tension, rather than action.

But it’s the characters that are of most interest. While Katy Jurado’s Estella, as the obligatory love interest, is not given enough motivation to fall in love with Robles, she is nonetheless a well-devised personality. Whit Bissell is best known for supporting roles in which he plays authority figures. Here he is the town drunk, Breezy. At first seemingly comic relief, like a Jack Elam role, Breezy’s mercenary amorality has sharp consequences. And Whitney’s character, Ed Bannister, is not the normal villain with an eye on a company’s payroll or a big bank deposit. He has grander schemes in mind; his retirement plan, in a way.

It’s of note that Robles’s Hispanic origin is hardly referred to, except by villains. Other gunfighters (ie. murderers) call him ‘boy’, despite his obvious middle-age. As no one else calls him this, it may be taken as a condescension, similar to the denigration implied when used of adult black men. Indeed, the townspeople, though most do not respect Robles, don’t seem concerned by his ethnicity, any more than they are by Estella’s; their disdain for the new gunfighter stems from his killings.

While Man From Del Rio probably won’t convert anyone who dislikes westerns, it will satisfy those who favour the genre, and may win over those who like a decent, small budget movie with a few twists to its seemingly routine tale.

All Is Lost (2013)

Directed by J. C. Chandor; produced by Neal Dodson, Anna Gerb, Justin Nappi, Teddy Schwarzman

An old man (Robert Redford) wakes in his ocean-going 40-foot sailboat to find that while asleep, his vessel has collided with an adrift shipping container. The hole in the boat’s hull is the start of an eight-day ordeal for the sailor, testing his endurance and resourcefulness, all of which may not be enough to survive.

Unique among movies I have watched, All Is Lost is the only one with just one character, one actor. Redford must carry this film, and it says much for his ability, and that of the director, that he does. This is the greater praise for Redford being a player for whom I don’t have an affinity. He strikes me as always having been aloof in his performances, and has, in my opinion, rarely created sympathetic characters, the sort you can like. Unlike other ‘stars’, leading men such as Paul Newman or Brad Pitt, who often come across as likeable, people with whom one might want to be friends, Redford’s roles are of people whom you may wish to have on your side, but wouldn’t really want to spend time with.

Here, however, that quality works in the movie’s favour. Alone in the middle of the Indian Ocean, Redford’s character, unnamed but listed in the credits as ‘Our Man’, has no reason to be ingratiating. He doesn’t try to communicate to anyone except when he sees passing ships; otherwise, he has no one with whom to interact.

Nonetheless, there is communication. It would be a poor actor and director whose movie is devoid of it. I have read other reviews stating that the audience learns nothing of the sailor. I wonder if the reviewers in question think about the films as they watch them, or even afterward. For one thing, as a preamble, before the first scene opens, we hear Redford speaking, probably a vocalisation of what he writes later; those sentences tell us much. The fact that he doesn’t look at a gift card he was given (by his family?) suggests more. He wears a wedding ring, but is sailing alone, likely around the world, and his boat is named the ‘Virginia Jean’. He is perhaps a widower. His expressions, his actions, what he does or doesn’t do, all tell us about the man. Trying to interpret such clues is part of a well-written movie’s viewing.

The writing is good, though I don’t imagine the script was very long. Despite the short recitation at the start and an obscenity shouted in despair two thirds of the way through (the manner in which it is issued also says something about the man), All Is Lost is pretty much a silent movie. The sort of film it is probably dictated more than a little improvisation.

The story, I suspect, presents most of the flaws in All Is Lost. There are a number of actions and omissions by the sailor which were probably viewed with frustration and incredulity by real-life seamen. If I had more nautical knowledge, I might have as much negativity to write about in this review as I do in regard to historical or war movies. But I can review only what I know. The little of which I am aware in terms of sailing did lead me to question some things, such as the man’s attempts to patch his hull, or his full rig of sails in a storm.

The direction provides plenty of excitement and tension. Storms cannot be avoided by the character, especially in the second half of the film, when he has no power over his own navigation. Redford clearly did some of his own stunts, particularly those in the water, remarkable for a man 77 years old at the time. As well, the less obvious qualities of the direction allow the viewer to understand reasons and thoughts without having them spoken. This is critical in an almost wordless movie.

Regardless of its problems - and this is not a perfect movie - All Is Lost is riveting, with excellent photography and acting. Perhaps the worst element is the title: whether the story ends well or poorly for ‘Our Man’ - and I won’t write which it does - the title will likely turn away many viewers who, even if they can tolerate a sad finale, don’t want to be burdened by a pessimistic film. Ignore the name, then, and think of All Is Lost as a perfect candidate for the title The Old Man and the Sea - if that hadn’t already been taken.