Closer to the Moon (2014)

Directed by Nae Caranfil; produced by Michael Fitzgerald, Denis Friedman, Alessandro Leone, Bobby Paunescu and Renata Ranieri

 

It’s 1959 in Bucharest, and young Virgil (Harry Lloyd) is hired as an assistant to a famed but drunken movie-director (Allan Corduner). A year later, Virgil is part of the crew filming a documentary about one of communist Rumania’s most infamous crimes: the armed robbery of the state bank. Treated as a political crime, the perpetrators have been arrested and condemned, but the story hardly ends there, as both Virgil and the state’s security service attempt to find a motive behind the daring and inexplicable caper.

 

Based on the exploits of the Ioanid Gang, Closer to the Moon of course takes liberties with the truth, but in so doing creates an entertaining and tragic tale of despair and defiance. It is sometimes rated a black-comedy, which shows the span of the genre: it does not extend to the ridiculous as does, say Dr Strangelove, nor does it treat horror as humour, as in Little Shop of Horrors. Here, the comedy is black because the characters laugh in the face of darkness.

 

The cast, mostly British with some Americans, is uniformly good. Essential to the plot is the belief that the five ‘gang members’ – Max (Mark Strong), Alice (Vera Farmiga), Razvan (Joe Armstrong), Iorgu (Christian McKay) and Dumi (Tim Plester) – are strong friends who know each other very well. The actors leave the audience with no doubt about that. Also giving fine performances are Lloyd as the impressionable but not foolish Virgil, and Anton Lesser as Holban, a frazzled and crafty secret-police officer, who is almost sympathetic.

 

The writing is good, and involving. It needs to be, since the film tells the viewer very near the start that the gang have been arrested and sentenced to death. It also captures the levity of the friends but makes clear the seriousness of not just the situation but the setting, which, in turn, involves the motive.

 

The motive, which interests both characters and viewer, has been thought insufficient by some reviewers. In a way, it is similar to the reasons that actuated the title character in the film Stander (reviewed on this blog in November, 2019); like that film, also based on true events, there is no way of knowing what motivated the characters; in real-life the Ioanid Gang’s reasons remain obscure. A huge amount of Rumanian currency is stolen but, as Holban explains, such cash – like all cash from communist countries – is worthless outside its homeland, and spending extravagantly within its homeland would inevitably and swiftly draw the authorities’ attention.

 

In movies, as in reality, motive depends not on the world’s understanding but on the characters’ perceptions. In Closer to the Moon, the thoughts and personalities of the gang are depicted well enough that the motive is plausible. It may be, in fact, that the reasoning is more explicable to those who have felt oppression – personal or institutional – than otherwise.

 

Aside from such intricacies, Closer to the Moon is entertaining, which is probably the most important factor in such a film. Though we know the ending, the beginning and middle of the caper are told only as the story unfolds, and this is the process that holds our attention; that and the characters. Also of interest is the view of a population in a totalitarian state, the routine and secret spying the government conducts, and the routine and secret lives the people lead to evade it.

 

A sad and amusing tale of desperate individuals, Closer to the Moon is a crime-story with a difference.

Detective Story (1951)

Directed and produced by William Wyler

It’s a hot summer afternoon in New York City, and the men of the 21st Precinct’s detective squad are having a typical day: shoplifters, embezzlers, thieves and victims come and go through their rooms. But for Detective First Grade Jim McLeod (Kirk Douglas), the day will be anything but typical, and will end in a way he never dreamed.

Despite being labeled by some as film noir, Detective Story has few elements of that genre. It is a crime-story and a character study, a psychological thriller of an unusual pattern – and a very good movie. It was originally a stage-play, and this is reflected in the settings, which are almost exclusively the detectives’ squad-room and its ancillary offices. Yet for this, it makes a compelling movie, thanks in part to the directorial skills of Wyler.

For the rest, the actors must be credited, in particular Douglas. His character calls for a great deal of emoting, and few actors emote like Douglas. At times, this may seem like over-acting, but in terms of McLeod’s personality, it’s not; it’s what happens when someone like McLeod is faced with what he finds in the story.

Detective Story is one of the few films I’ve watched in which the main character becomes less and less likeable as the movie progresses. Whether this was intended or whether there was meant to be more sympathy for McLeod, I can’t determine. But I am sure everything unfolds for the viewer as it is meant to. McLeod is an unbending man, the stone-hearted enforcer of the law, whose past will not allow him another way of seeing the world, or of interpreting the law.

Douglas does an excellent job of showing how intransigence can lead to tragedy, and how refusing to bend can lead to breakage. But the movie would not have worked without the successful performances of other actors, notably William Bendix in an atypical role as a soft-hearted policeman, and Horace McMahon as the head of the squad, who sticks up for his men no matter what, even if he hammers them for stupidity or negligence in private. Lee Grant is a stand-out in her first movie, nominated for an Oscar for her part as an awkward thief who is a witness to all that goes on in the detective squad during the day. Eleanor Parker’s role is pivotal yet, ironically, what she does or says isn’t that important; it’s her character’s past that matters.

The writing must be commended, though the story itself is melodramatic and relies on coincidence. It is better in the details. I liked that each detective was involved in more than one case at a time, moving from typing up a report on a burglary to joining others in a search to questioning someone else’s suspect. One detective (Bert Freed, later the first actor to portray Columbo) has the ill luck to arrest a shoplifter at the end of his shift, and therefore must spend hours of his own time following up the case. These elements lend realism to the background of the more emotional main story.

While the plot itself is rather contrived, and one may end up caring more about the subordinate characters than the principal, Detective Story is an excellent piece of cinema, with involving direction and fine acting.

 

Topsy-Turvy (1999)

Directed by Mike Leigh; produced by Simon Channing Williams

By 1885, the partnership of W. S. Gilbert (Jim Broadbent) and Arthur Sullivan (Allan Corduner) had created numerous operatic successes at the Savoy Theatre, making them immensely popular and wealthy. However, Princess Ida, their latest work, is not what previous operas had been; critics are luke-warm and attendance is down. Much worse, Gilbert seems to have run out of imagination, and Sullivan longs to escape the frivolity of their productions and compose something meaningful. Despite the determination of the Savoy’s owner, Richard D’Oyly Carte (Ron Cook) and his highly capable secretary, Miss Lenoir (Wendy Nottingham), the star duo of the West End is about to break up.

Topsy-Turvy may be the best depiction of the production of a stage-work ever filmed. There have been some good ones, but the amount of detail, the range covered, and the story - or stories - told in this movie are phenomenal. It’s as if the narrative, which deals with The Mikado from inception to the end of its first performance, was conceived as a means of describing every aspect of a Victorian-era stage-play.

The performances are excellent, from top to bottom. Almost every character existed in real life. Though the centre-piece is the partnership of Gilbert and Sullivan, we see their separate lives (their collaboration was professional, and they appeared to be little more than friendly acquaintances beyond that), as well as those of actors, managers, relatives and loved ones.

The script, by the director, flawlessly provides great insight into personalities and habits, often through no more than a few minutes of screen-time. A good example is when Fanny Ronalds (Eleanor David), a leading singer, hosts an afternoon’s musical entertainment, and sings Sullivan’s ‘Lost Chord’; this is a reference to her talent, her social life and her association with a particular song, all in one scene.

The various actors of the day, George Grossmith (Martin Savage), Richard Temple (Timothy Spall), Jessie Bond (Dorothy Atkinson) and others, are brought to life with their unique personalities and concerns. Each is a professional, worried about giving as good a performance as possible, but also about their careers and personal lives. These are happy, sad, dour, carefree, funny and humourless people, each ‘serious about their craft’, as might be said today.

A movie two and two-thirds hours long might seem lengthy enough to pack in all it needs to say and show, but what is surprising is not only how smoothly and quickly the time goes by, but how much is put into the film, without anything being rushed at all. For instance, we see not only full-cast rehearsals, but also Gilbert going over the minutiae of the script with two or three actors in a pokey basement room, in which individual words in the play’s dialogue are debated.

Gilbert was a very detail-oriented writer. For H.M.S. Pinafore, he had a scale-model of a naval warship built for him to study, and for The Mikado, he worked closely with the costumer on authentic Japanese dress, and with visiting Japanese men and women on proper deportment. Director Leigh is just as exacting. The authenticity reminds me of that in Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World.

Something that is essential to the enjoyment of Topsy-Turvy, I think, is how Leigh treats the times and the people. The Victorian era is often ridiculed for its morals and supposed hypocrisy (I’m sure our own epoch will be dealt with similarly in a short while). But when Durward Lely (Kevin McKidd), the respected lead actor, objects vehemently to the shortness of the Japanese gown he must wear, calling it ‘indecent’, even ‘obscene’, Gilbert first reasons with him, then orders him, to wear it. At no point is Lely’s concern laughed at, nor is the viewer invited to snicker.

Not to have taken the Victorian setting seriously would have created a disaster, no matter how seriously the subject was treated. Indeed, the secret of Topsy-Turvy’s success may be manifold but could be summed up in the word ‘respect’: respect for the characters, the setting, the art, the process of creating. Just as the use of detail reflects Gilbert’s, so too does any chastisement of Victorian ways and means: gently, and while nonetheless living by those ways and means.

Topsy-Turvy is enjoyable from pretty much any aspect. Most importantly, however, it is an involving and entertaining movie of high quality.

Storm Warning (1951)

Directed by Stuart Heisler; produced by Jerry Wald

On her way to an assignment, fashion model Marsha Mitchell (Ginger Rogers) stops in the small town of Rock Point to visit her sister, Lucy (Doris Day), whom she hasn’t seen since before the latter’s wedding. Marsha’s troubles start with the unfriendliness of the residents and escalates as she witnesses a murder committed by the local branch of the Ku Klux Klan. When she realises that Lucy’s husband, Hank (Steve Cochran) is involved, she is conflicted about whether to testify about the killing, caught between the pressure of the district attorney (Ronald Reagan) and threats from the Klan.

This is an entertaining crime drama, the principal flaw of which comes from what it is not, rather than what it is. The story is satisfactory if not new, with Marsha being forced into a situation in which she must make very difficult choices. The crusading prosecutor, the harried witness, the victims, the villains are all fairly standard elements in such a movie.

It’s the acting and some of the writing that raise Storm Warning above the usual fare. The script does a good job of creating an air of fear, though it can’t quite decide whether it should let the ‘silent majority’ of townsfolk off the hook, or implicate them as ‘silent accomplices’ in the evil of the criminal organisation in their midst. This is shown in a scene featuring a reporter trying to broadcast a radio story. It is in creating individual characters, however, that the script rises above the standard.

Hank is one of the best depictions I’ve seen of the usual member of hate-groups. Not too bright, willing to go along with the crowd - indeed, wanting to be part of the crowd - self-important, Hank avoids responsibility when he thinks it will lead to trouble, then defiantly boasts of it when he will be lauded for it. Bullying toward the weak, and cowardly when trapped by the strong, the character even includes the childish delight in repeating jokes long after they become tiresome, as long as he once got a laugh from them.

As regards, Reagan was criticized and ridiculed after he entered politics - especially after becoming U.S. president - but he was a good actor, if not a very good actor. He plays the same sort of character in most movies; his range is limited, but within that range, he is capable.

Ginger Rogers shows once again that the creation of strong women was superior in films of the 1940s and ‘50s to that of our own time. Lauren Bacall, Katherine Hepburn, Bette Davis, Rosalind Russell almost always portrayed strong characters - with weaknesses, certainly, but they didn’t need a gun or a sword to demonstrate their strength; (I think Davis may have shot a couple of people…)

Cochran is a large part of why his character came across so clearly. In one very tense scene with Rogers, he is menacing, the scene very tense and actually frightening.

Now, for Storm Warning’s flaw, which may be big or small, depending on how one wants to view the movie. The story is about the Ku Klux Klan. It is usually referred to in the dialogue as “the Klan”, but its full name is used at least once. One of the group’s purposes was to intimidate blacks and to ‘keep them in their place’, as the Klan saw it. While opposed to others (eg. liberals, Jews), blacks were the principal target. Yet in Storm Warning, there is no mention of this. Indeed, the only black people seen are a few extras, and they have no lines.

The reason for this omission could not have been to soft-pedal the Klan. It is called racist and bigoted, childish and stupid. It is depicted as tolerant of murder, robbery and torture to reach its goals. Yet it is shown as a kind of Mafia, a general criminal organisation.

The only reason I can suggest for this tactic was that, while the Klan was generally seen as evil, movie producers (and the company leaders above them) deemed racism too off-putting to the general public (and therefore too harmful at the box-office.) This is a shame, because Storm Warning could have had the impact of a more powerful movie such as No Way Out (reviewed in this blog in June, 2021), released the previous year. It may have been that those concerned in Storm Warning simply didn’t want the possible controversy, even if some of the film’s scenes demonstrated a willingness to push convention.

I would, then, recommend Storm Warning as an effective crime drama, with good performances – excellent, from some of the cast – while sighing for what it could have been.