Hyena Road (2015)

Directed by Paul Gross; produced by Paul Gross and Niv Fichman

The only movie of which I know about the Canadian military in Afghanistan, Hyena Road opens with a small sniper team, led by Warrant Officer Ryan Sanders (Rossif Sutherland), on a mission. That mission almost completed, the team is attacked by Taliban fighters before it can be extracted, and is saved by the intervention of an enigmatic man (Niamatullah Arghandabi), who shelters them in his house. This leads to the involvement of intelligence officer Pete Mitchell (Paul Gross), who believes the man is ‘the Ghost’, a legendary mujahid, famous for battling the Soviets. A plan is evolved to try to persuade the Ghost to help in the current struggle against the Taliban.

Hyena Road is a very good foray into the lesser-charted waters of the Afghanistan conflict. While parts of the plot are familiar to any war-movie viewer (eg. action is centred on small-unit fighting) and others are melodramatic (Sanders is romantically involved with his commanding officer (Christine Horne)), the complicated nature of the story justifies the setting. There is concern over whether the Ghost will help the Canadians, whether he can be trusted in any way; a local power-broker, who has aided the Allies in the past, may be playing his own sinister game; over all is the eponymous highway, a road being driven into Taliban territory in order to shake their hold. Small-scale politics and shifting allegiances have always played a part in Afghanistan’s conflicts, and they are incorporated here.

The action scenes are very good, exciting; a running gun-battle in the streets of Kandahar is fittingly claustrophobic. There was a time when home-grown Canadian films were so low-budget as to look almost home-made; those days are clearly over. Without computer-graphics, Hyena Road makes very good use of location (filmed partly in Jordan, some of which looks convincingly like Afghanistan, and partly in Manitoba, which does not, just in case you are wondering) and extras.

The acting is more than competent. Leading man Sutherland is son of veretan actor Donald Sutherland and half-brother of Kiefer. Director Gross became famous as Constable Fraser in the television series Due South. The other performers are much less known, but no less creditable.

Something that I found different about the movie is its sense of optimism, admittedly guarded. This is only once explicitly stated, but is also found in the reactions of characters to battle, the comradeship between the soldiers, and between Mitchell and his principal Afghan contact (Nabil Elouahabi); this, in spite of the death and destruction prevalent. Hyena Road is not a flag-waving propaganda film (though there is a glimpse of a Canadian flag actually waving), but it presents the Canadian, and, by extension, the Allied, efforts in Afghanistan as being positive, on the whole. Whether or not this is accurate, whether or not the viewer agrees, it does make the film less somber than it might have been.

Hyena Road has nothing that quite lifts it into the realm of excellence, but it is a fine study of war in a highly, but localised, political environment, with a setting that makes a difference.

The Haunting (1963)

Directed by Robert Wise; produced by Robert Wise (uncredited); Denis Johnson, associate producer

It’s easy to make a horror movie. They seem to be produced by the dozen every year. It is not easy to make a frightening horror movie. I have seen very few in my time. Producers, writers and directors seem to confuse bloody murder with horror. While real murder is indeed terrifying, I find its on-screen counterpart to be, for the most part, unimaginative, repetitious and boring. I have never found The Haunting to be boring, perhaps because it relies on terror, not horror.

This adaptation of the Shirley Jackson novel The Haunting of Hill House is about four people who come to a mansion to investigate its sinister reputation for paranormal activity. Leading the team is Dr Markway (Richard Johnson); Theo (Claire Bloom) is a psychic, and Eleanor (Julie Harris) experienced the supernatural as a child. Luke (Russ Tamblyn) is set to inherit the house one day, and comes along to look after his property. What they find is something none expected - or wanted.

This is by far the scariest film I’ve seen and, while, based on my assertion that I haven’t seen many that would qualify for scary, it may seem an empty superlative, I can assure you that The Haunting is hair-raising on its own merits. The director and writer knew that what one doesn’t see or hear, or sees or hears indistinctly, is much more unnerving than what is right in front of one. Incoherent voices, sounds that can’t quite be made out, something on the other side of a closed door… These are the sources of real fright.

Photographed in black-and-white, the movie accentuates shadows and light, distorting the already slightly off-kilter Hill House. Rooms are large but paradoxically claustrophobic; ceilings are low; corridors are abnormally long. The setting is as disturbing as the plot, and is handled by film-makers who know their craft.

The cast is excellent. Johnson portrays Markway stolidly, as an open-minded man, though logical. Tamblyn is at first annoying, but as he begins to realise something is amiss with Hill House, he starts to become a bit more responsible. It is the two women, however, whose characters are best-drawn. Bloom is rather cynical, even cruel at times, but is the first to be truly terrified by the house, perhaps because of her psychic abilities, the same abilities that give her a superior air. Harris is superb as Eleanor, fragile but who nevertheless made me think that there was something hidden all the time in her personality.

Though this is essentially a four-person film, there are supporting players. Among them, Rosalie Crutchley is a stand-out. Her droning, monotone warning of the dangers inherent in the house after dark is creepy; ignored by the other characters and given in the background, it is an harbinger of what will come.

This version of The Haunting is not to be confused with the overblown re-make from 1999, the definition of someone’s misguided belief that bigger is better. But if you like your horror movies scary, if you like your thrills implied rather than obvious, if you like your scripts intelligent, then see this film. But, as one professional movie-reviewer stated, “See it with a friend.”

Corvette K-225 (1943)

Directed by Richard Rosson; produced by Howard Hawks

Canada’s contribution to winning the Second World War, particularly in the air and at sea, was out of proportion to its relatively small population at the time. The Royal Canadian Navy, perhaps not surprisingly, specialised in escorting convoys from North America to Europe, guarding the precious merchantmen against German submarines. For this task, a new type of ship was created. The corvette, taking its name from a ship of similar size and purpose in the days of sail, was the smallest ocean-going fighting vessel; the RCN manned dozens.

Corvette K-225 is the fictional story of one of these ships, HMCS Donnacona. Its captain (Randolph Scott) had just lost his previous ship to a deadly submarine attack, and is obsessed with getting back to sea. Aided by his surviving crew, he must whip a new complement of officers and men into shape, even while sailing the ruthless Atlantic. It’s just a matter of time, however, before the u-boat wolf-packs find this latest convoy and close in.

Though not up to the standard of the more episodic The Cruel Sea, which benefitted from superior writing and the fewer constraints of peace-time filming, Corvette K-225 is nonetheless an exciting action film with the addition of being informative, for anyone even mildly interested in the naval sphere of World War Two. The script provides a great many facts about corvettes and convoys, most of them delivered incidentally or implicitly. We see the Donnacona being launched, fitted and manned; we see it in training and in battle. We see the cook serving as barber, the cramped quarters and minimal comforts. The planning of the convoy is just as interesting, the conference of the convoy’s senior officers is detailed, and clearly taken from real life.

The action is quite thrilling and, though we can be assured that the ship will triumph over its tribulations, the script keeps us guessing as to who will survive and whether the ship itself will see land again. The climactic battle between the corvette and a surfaced submarine is almost topped by the storm scene mid-way through the movie, a scene which will probably make a landlubber queasy. There was a joke in the RCN that ‘corvettes would roll on wet grass’ – a sea with waves higher than the ship would be proportionately intimidating.

While the script is good, the story is melodramatic. The taciturn captain, driving his men and himself hard, falls in love with the sister of one of the officers he lost with his first ship. He then finds that her younger brother will be joining his new crew. The love-interest is unnecessary though harmless; it is pretty much forgotten after the ship leaves Halifax. A more satisfying aspect is that the ship’s crew is not filled with the oddballs and misfits that populate many war movies, unrealistic caricatures created for laughs or memorability. There are more flesh and blood people here.

The actors give good performances. Scott is rather unemotional, but that’s more his character than his talent, and Ella Raines, in her first movie, does very well with what she is given, an indication of how she would handle the more substantial roles to come. Barry Fitzgerald is an unlikely but convincing long-time sailor. There are a remarkable number of then unknown actors who would become more famous: a very young Cliff Robertson; Peter Lawford; Robert Mitchum, already a veteran of several films but still uncredited; gravelly-voiced Charles McGraw, as the chief engineer; Ian Wolfe, a third of the way through his seventy year acting career.

Corvette K-225, then, is an entertaining yarn with adequate performances and a sense of realism: all together, a fine slice of history, served up as exciting fiction.

The Upturned Glass (1947)

Directed by Lawrence Huntington; produced by Sydney Box and James Mason

British films noir differ from their American counterparts in a number of ways. The protagonist in the British version of this genre is rarely a private detective, and if there are police involved, they are usually secondary or even tertiary characters, looking into matters in the background. The hero is often someone investigating a crime of which he or someone for whom he cares is accused, or trying to battle his way out of a situation that is, at worst, the result of his folly, rather than criminality. There is also frequently a large dose of psychology.

Some of these characteristics, especially the last, are present in The Upturned Glass, a largely effective story of love and revenge. James Mason plays a brain surgeon who, after a lifetime of detachment, falls in love with a married woman. This is usually a recipe for disaster in movies, and this case is no exception. After devastating news, Mason plots his revenge against the woman he views as responsible for the destruction of his happiness. This plan proceeds rather differently than expected.

Narrated partly in flashback, the story itself is successful for the most part. The movie really belongs to Mason and his performance. He depicts his character as very emotionally aloof, yet with deep feelings once they are aroused. He never sheds a tear, but his sense of pain and loss are conveyed very clearly. A moment when he is asked if he has children pays dividends when Mason answers, “No,” with a shrug of the eyebrows, yet paragraphs are spoken by the action.

Other performers are just as good, though not as central to the story. Pamela Kellino (Mrs Mason at the time) co-wrote the screenplay and plays a villainess most convincingly. Rosamund John, the love interest, is rather bland, though perhaps deliberately so, in view of Mason’s initial apathy toward her, stated explicitly in the narration. Brefni O’Rorke (in his penultimate film) has a small but important role as an alarmingly amoral doctor. Kellino’s collaborator on the script, and the original story’s author, John Monaghan, has a bit-part as an American soldier.

The direction is very good, creating some truly tense moments, especially after a murder is committed.

But what lets the movie down is the abrupt and nonsensical ending. It comes out of nowhere and doesn’t fit with either what had happened before or with the characters. Perhaps there is a connection with the theme of madness which is touched upon in the film. (An interesting digression could have been made into the implied theory that all murderers are insane to some degree or another; this could have been contrasted or compared to O’Rorke’s character.) Unfortunately, I don’t think that was the reason for the unsatisfying conclusion. It may have been caused simply by the desire to see justice done, regardless of how it fit with the story, or it may have been that the writers genuinely felt that the finale completed the movie. I disagree with this.

The Upturned Glass, therefore, is an excellent example of how British movies treated the noir genre, but not an entirely successful film.

Prisoner of Honor (1991)

Directed by Ken Russell; produced by Richard Dreyfuss and Judith James

The Dreyfus Affair was a scandal that divided France, bitterly and at times violently, for more than a decade in the 1890s and 1900s, the repercussions of which may not yet have ended. It began when a French Army captain, Alfred Dreyfus, was convicted of treason, having been accused of passing secrets to Germany. The fact that he was a Jew, and that evidence against him was flimsy, caused a rift in French society. Anti-clerical republicans ranged against pro-church monarchists and the nation was in turmoil.

In an effort to calm matters, the army’s general staff assigned Colonel Henri Piquart to inquire into the matter. It was assumed that because he was a regular officer, disciplined and anti-Semitic, the court-martial’s verdict would be upheld. Piquart was astounded to find that the sole piece of proof against Dreyfus was a memorandum so badly forged as to be almost a joke. While Piquart may have disliked Jews, what he disliked even more was injustice. When his indignant report to his superiors was rejected, he began fighting for the truth so unrelentingly that his career suffered - he was banished to the command of an obscure colonial regiment - his personal life was ruined, he was insulted, vilified and had even to fight a duel. But honour was all to Piquart, and nothing would suppress it.

Recently, I reviewed a comedy starring Richard Dreyfuss called Let It Ride. Four years later, he portrayed a very different character in this very different film, showing his versatility and talent. Confusingly, Dreyfuss does not play Dreyfus, but the unforgiving Piquart, and he does it very well. A history lesson, Prisoner of Honor is also a character study, the story of a man who was so devoted to right and justice that he was willing to let his own life be destroyed rather than do the wrong thing. Piquart’s drive for Dreyfus’s vindication is so great that he even has a falling out with the wrongly convicted criminal himself. After ten years, Captain Dreyfus was recalled from his prison cell on Devil’s Island and tried once more. Again found guilty, the establishment decided at last to appease their detractors and granted Dreyfus a pardon. The poor man, content to be removed from his hellish incarceration, accepted this. Piquart did not, because it left Dreyfus still, legally, guilty; his honour remained sullied. One of course sympathies with the victimised captain; the colonel’s unremitting demand for justice is both unreasonable and admirable.

There are other characters here who are equally interesting, though they are given much less time to develop. Ironically, Dreyfus himself, played by Kenneth Colley, is almost incidental to the story. Another person for whom one feels- almost reluctantly - sorry is Peter Firth’s Major Henry. He has a secret and when it is revealed, his desperate disappointment at how he too is betrayed by his superiors - much less expectedly than with Dreyfus - is almost pitiful. A host of excellent and familiar actors, including Peter Vaughan, Brian Blessed, Oliver Reed and Jeremy Kemp, appear in minor roles.

The direction is pretty straightforward; a relief, since the director is the usually flamboyant Ken Russell. Here his style is nearly pedestrian - at least for Russell - but this is a character study and historical drama, not a fantasy horror film (e.g. The Lair of the White Worm) or an adaptation of a D.H. Lawrence novel (eg. Women in Love). Russell tells a story, largely unembellished but intriguing. The writing as well, competent and lean, is not extraordinary.

The draw here is the story - as opposed to the script - and Dreyfuss’s Piquart. The tale is one of treason, sordid betrayal and heroism, the likes of which only real life can make. But Piquart is not a hero for the twenty-first century, with its simple-minded belief that all must be black and white. Like most humans, he comprised both good and bad. An anti-Semite, he became a Jew’s foremost champion; his character would allow no other behaviour. It is clear that he, as much as Captain Dreyfus, was a prisoner of honour. It is good to note, though, that both men were eventually vindicated. Piquart died years later in a riding accident, no doubt urging his horse forward regardless of all obstacles.

Twentieth Century (1934)

Directed and produced by Howard Hawks

Oscar Jaffe (John Barrymore) is the great man of Broadway, the producer of numberless hits, who runs his theatre like a prince does his realm. His latest discovery - and paramour - is Lily Garland (Carole Lombard), whom he transformed from a lingerie model into a star. Driven to distraction by Jaffe’s egomania, she flees to Hollywood, where she becomes equally successful in motion pictures. Now, Jaffe needs a hit, he needs inspiration, he needs Lily - but there is no way she will ever return, willingly, to his embrace. But, as always, Oscar Jaffe intends to have his way.

This first of the screwball comedies has an impressive parentage. Not only is the leading man one of the great actors of early movies, a rarity who made the transition from silent films to talkies, and the leading lady one of the lights of 1930s comedy, but the writers are the winning team of Ben Hecht and Charles MacArthur, with uncredited contributions by Preston Sturges. This noted, Twentieth Century is not up to later entries in this genre, such as His Girl Friday. Like the latter, Twentieth Century came from a play (by Charles Bruce Millholland), and shows its origins a bit more. It is almost as if those who would go on, not to better things but more precise things, were honing their skills here.

But good Hecht/MacArthur and good Hawks is better than the best from many others, and Twentieth Century is fun entertainment. At its centre is Barrymore’s Oscar Jaffe. To write that he has a bit of an ego is similar to saying that Hitler liked things ‘just so’. His claim, made before each production, that he loves all his actors, is then followed by a demonstration of how much more he loves himself. Jaffe, in fact, holds actors in pitiful contempt, but his entire behaviour is based on the most exaggerated performances one can see on stage. Barrymore must have had a break-down after the demands of this role, in which everything is over the top.

Lombard matches him, though her histrionics come later, after she is an established diva, with an ego of her own. There is a scene in which both are collapsed in chairs wailing about their respective lots in life; they resemble a couple of escapees from a lunatic asylum.

The writing is sharp, as may be expected from Hecht and MacArthur, and utilises a number of innuendo which had to be used because of the censorship of the times. Personally, I find that such restrictions helped good writers: when one has fewer tools with which to work, one must become skilled at one’s trade. I’ve always preferred the implicit to the explicit in film scripts, anyway.

Twentieth Century won’t be for all twenty-first century tastes, but for those who like their comedy frantic, and a little different than that of today, this vintage film has aged very well.

Let It Ride (1989)

Directed by Joe Pytka; produced by David Giler

Let It Ride is the story of an inveterate horse-race gambler who has ‘a really good day’. Richard Dreyfuss plays a man appropriately named Trotter, who has decided to give up gambling. Then he overhears two men talking about a sure thing at the race track. He can’t resist betting $50 on the horse; this results in a $700 win. Through a series of events, Trotter spends the whole day at the track, betting. Will his luck holds as he ‘lets it ride’?

This is a movie I first saw when it was newly released in 1989. I liked it. I thought it was fun. Either it or I have changed in the intervening years. Let It Ride is not a bad movie, but it’s not a good one, either.

I admire Dreyfuss. I find him usually a likeable actor, with whose characters one normally sympathizes. He is a versatile actor, as well, who can perform equally in comedy and drama. Let It Ride definitely fits into the former category, but veers sometimes into farce, while trying to boast elements which are quite serious. That’s one of the problems.

Trotter is clearly a man with an addiction. He finds a sure thing and bets, and is genuinely intending to leave at that point. But the men who provided the first tip generously provide a second. Trotter decides to wager again. Anyone could find himself making the same decision. But then he keeps going, basing his choices on, for instance, horses that no one else expects to win. His continuation is because of his feeling that ‘this day is different’ and that he ‘can’t lose’. His wife (Teri Garr) actually tries to leave him because his gambling, and gets drunk over his addiction. This is not the stuff of comedy. If the plot were driven by a series of coincidences that Trotter could not ignore, a series of tips that were too good to pass up, like a situation that snowballs, the basis for the comedy would be less tragic. Having a wife who is utterly miserable because of her marriage is not funny, either.

The supporting characters are largely obnoxious. David Johansen, as Trotter’s best friend, is a jerk, who swerves from supporting Trotter to denigrating him, to trying to get him arrested out of spite. As well, Johansen’s overacting is tiresome. Trotter’s cronies in the race-track’s bar run equally hot and cold. The only character who comes across as someone you wouldn’t mind knowing is Robbie Coltrane as a track employee. I imagine the intention was to create a group of people similar to those in Damon Runyon’s stories - the song “Can Do”, from Guys and Dolls figures prominently in the film; if so, the intention was not fulfilled.

Trotter himself is portrayed unevenly. Most of the time, he is sympathetic, but even he becomes a crass boor at some points. Dreyfuss flips - probably with the writing and direction - from level comedy to broad slapstick and back again, and the viewer never knows if the movie is meant to be realistic or not.

Let It Ride could have been a compact and tidy film with good laughs and even with a moral thrown in (or not, depending on the point of the story). Instead, it becomes a good example of a promising premise spoiled by indecisive execution.