Mission: Impossible - Fallout (2018)

Directed By Christopher McQuarrie; produced by J. J. Abrams, Tom Cruise, Christopher McQuarrie and Jake Myers

Secret operator Ethan Hunt (Tom Cruise) is ordered by his superiors to track down missing nuclear weapons cores that are being purchased by the followers of his old enemy Solomon Lane (Sean Harris). This time, Hunt is saddled with a rival operator (Henry Cavill) from the CIA, and confused by his former ally and love interest, Ilsa Faust (Rebecca Ferguson). Naturally, he must solve his problems at high speeds and great heights.

This sixth instalment in the movie series is rather leaner on plot than earlier entries. The villains, an anarchist group dedicated to destroying ‘the old world order’ feels its aims can best be accomplished by killing and destroying as much as possible. Their motives are, in fact, one step removed from ‘just because’. What plot twists exist are contrived. Do you recall the Death Star in Star Wars? How it was impregnable - except against a torpedo fired down the conveniently unguarded vent that led directly to its engines? There is a bomb in Mission: Impossible - Fallout with similarly unnecessary - but more complicated - features.

As well, the plans laid by Hunt work out rather too well when they need to: when being chased on a motorcycle, he finds himself cut off by pursuers from several directions and flees down the only available route. This leads straight to his cohorts who are waiting for him, as arranged. That those chasing him were deliberately funnelled down several streets simultaneously - except the one required to be left open - is indeed a mission impossible.

But anyone going into this film expecting a plot as coherent and clever as an Agatha Christie novel is probably fooling himself in more important matters than an evening at the cinema. On the other hand, there is action a-plenty. Some of it is undoubtedly aided by computer-graphics. There is an extended car / motorcycle chase through the narrow streets and broad boulevards of Paris which I suspect was electronically enhanced. It is not as exhilarating as the foot race across London later on, or the climax.

The cast is aging. There is no doubt that this influences the film. It is now twenty-two years since the first Mission: Impossible movie, and Cruise is fifty-six. Still, his fitness and obvious enthusiasm for the role make his performance believable. His Ethan Hunt comes across as rather a super-man sometimes, able to do almost everything, but in some instances he invests the character with enough apprehension and concern, even fear, to alleviate the impression. There is one fight-scene in which, even with assistance, Hunt comes off second-best.

Mission: Impossible - Fallout’s editing could have been tighter, as the film runs 147 minutes, not all of that time necessary. And while the movie is not as good as the two preceding chapters in the series, it is exciting entertainment nonetheless. You may just have to push back your bed-time to see all of it.

99 River Street (1953)

Directed by Phil Carlson; produced by Edward Small

A former boxer (John Payne), still brooding over the bout that cost him his championship, now drives a taxi, and has modest dreams of owning his own gasoline station. His wife (Peggie Castle) is, to say the least, unsupportive, and belittles both his current status and future hopes. She is also having an affair with a criminal (Brad Dexter). When she is found murdered, the erstwhile pugilist’s explosive temper and new motive put him in a tight corner.

99 River Street is a fairly standard, low-budget film noir, but not a bad example for that. The script is good, while not very good, though it has a few decent lines in it. Mostly, it’s just straightforward. The story is simple, and the plot’s resolution is even simpler. As with many films noir, the reliance is on direction, setting and acting.

The direction, like the writing, is uncomplicated. For the best, most intense moments, it lets the faces of the actors get the point across. It does provide a few good fight scenes, especially when a thug (Jack Lambert, whose visage was made for movie villainy) takes a beating; one shouldn’t try to slap around a boxing champion, even a former champion.

But the acting clinches the movie. There are no Oscars to be distributed here, just good, work-a-day performances that are credible, and drive the characters. Payne convincingly portrays an angry, emotional man; his great regret over a lost fight does not give the impression of self-pity, but of a man who knows he was one punch away from greatness, a few seconds from everything he wanted. But he also creates a character who has, in a way, come to terms with the missed opportunity and is ready to move on. This dichotomy is not an easy impression to give the viewer.

Jay Adler has a good part as a deceptively slow, quiet purchaser of stolen goods, someone who becomes more dangerous the less menacing he seems, and Dexter, as the pale-eyed villain, would become a stapel of television, and one of The Magnificent Seven.

99 River Street may not remain long in the memory, but it is entertaining and involving while it lasts; another good night at the movies.

Dave (1993)

Directed by Ivan Reitman; produced by Ivan Reitman and Lauren Shuler-Donner

Temporary-employment agency owner Dave Kovic (Kevin Kline) has a part-time gig as an impersonator of the U.S. president (Kevin Kline). He is hired by the Secret Service to fill in for the American leader at the end of a fund-raising dinner; the president has more exciting plans. When the president has a stroke, the impersonator finds himself at the centre of a scheme by the White House chief of staff (Frank Langella) to use him for nefarious purposes. Dave is caught up in villainy, heroism - and a growing attraction to the the First Lady (Sigourney Weaver).

Clearly inspired by the Prisoner of Zenda, Dave is what would come from Anthony Hope meeting Frank Capra. Like the latter’s films, this one features a likeable fellow, not exactly naive, but definitely trusting, being thrust into a world he’s not prepared for, and, like Capra’s heroes, he finds his own ways of dealing with it. As he does, the viewer has a very good time.

Fun and funny, Dave profits immensely from the lead actor, Kevin Kline, who can handle comedy and drama equally well. His optimistic character is a decent, honest man but not incredibly so - witness his decision to take a few ‘souvenirs’ from the White House (e.g. towels, and such) - caring and happy-go-lucky. His determination to do some good in his new situation is balanced by his desire to enjoy himself, as well.

Langella, as the presidential chief of staff, has little stated motivation behind his action except a craving for wealth and power; his ally, the White House communications director (Kevin Dunn), is more reluctant in his criminality, and, fittingly, his motivation is even less defined. But we accept that they have been involved in wrong-doing for some time, so when we find, like the protagonist, that evil forces are at work, we accept them as such, without worrying too much about their origins. This is, after all, a light-hearted comedy, not a psychological study.

The script is good, clever at times, though not hilarious. There are some good lines that can be both entertaining and revealing (such as when the patently vain president regards his double and states, “You’re a very handsome man”) but, for the most part, it’s their delivery that provides the humour. Even Langella, better known for the intensity of his dramatic performances, proves himself quietly effective at comedy.

What will be lost on a generation watching Dave a quarter-century after its production are the effect of the many cameos by news media personalities (eg. Sander Vanocur, John McLaughlin), entertainers (eg. Larry King) and politicians (e.g. Alan Simpson, ‘Tip’ O’Neill) of the time, appearing as themselves. This elements does not, however, detract from the film’s present enjoyment, as they may simply be taken as what they are portraying, without their identities being known.

Dave is undemanding, almost gentle; it’s not a political thriller, though it does have a clever ending. It’s a light, enjoyable time at the movies - something one doesn’t find too often these days.

Downsizing (2017)

Directed by Alexander Payne; produced by Alexander Payne, Jim Taylor, Mark Johnson

A middle-class couple (Matt Damon, Kristen Wiig), at a financial dead-end, hear of a new process by which people can be shrunk to a height of five inches, making the cost of living tremendously cheap; for instance, a house that is the equivalent of 12,000 square feet is no bigger than a doll’s house. They decide to undergo the process, called ‘downsizing’, which takes them on a new and unexpected path in life.

Downsizing started out with a great deal of promise. The potential for such an imaginative premise is almost limitless. After the first fifteen minutes, I was expecting a social satire: it could explore the rights of the ‘small’ community, the problems with every-day living, their relations with normal-sized people. Instead, it goes nowhere. The original premise of the movie is abandoned and barely referred to again, after the first quarter of the film.

Instead, the story switches from a nascent social satire to social commentary. We see that the ‘small’ community of Leisureland has a slum, and we see the poor people living there. Why is there a slum? We learned earlier that it costs perhaps a hundred thousand dollars to be shrunk, yet there are thousands of poor people who have undergone the process. Some, it is true, were shrunk by dictatorial governments as punishment, but this is not indicated as the case with all the individuals we see. And if an effect of ‘downsizing’ is to reduce hunger - after all, a crumb of bread is the equivalent of a loaf - why do these poor need hand-outs? Perhaps the writers wished to show that even Utopia has its disadvantaged, but this is hardly an original argument; half the episodes of Star Trek or Doctor Who make such references.

At this point, we are introduced to a Vietnamese immigrant (Ngoc Lan Tran), a shrill and strident character who becomes Damon’s love interest, Wiig having been jettisoned abruptly by the movie much earlier. While the performance is excellent, the character is annoying and, much of the time, unintelligible. There is no chemistry between Damon and Tran, and no reason for the two characters to develop feelings for each other.

Not to worry, because the social commentary portion of the film is discarded in its turn. A sudden trip to Norway brings in the third plot-line, a doomsday scenario which is distantly related to ‘downsizing’, but doesn’t need it. This final part of the movie brings a revelation to Damon that the viewer didn’t know he either required or was considering. It certainly has nothing to do with anything that came before.

Downsizing seems to have been made by people who had several story ideas but thought they’d get the chance for only one movie, so they put everything into it. The process of ‘downsizing’ was such fertile ground for a film that it required people of extremely limited imagination not to make something of it. How would our bodies react to food? Would alcohol and drugs have the same effect on the ‘small’ as the normal-sized? A reference early on to side-effects only in some species of fish could have been exploited. As it turns out, being ‘small’ is exactly like being normal-sized, except that one is small. It’s like a science fiction series that depicts the distant future as pretty much like now, but with ray-guns.

Though the writers may have believed that the disparate parts of their movie were seamlessly woven together, they are in fact disjointed stories, connected only by the same characters. Wasted opportunities (not just in not exploring the ‘small’ world, but in putting time, effort and talent into the unoriginal and unimaginative majority of the film) make Downsizing disappointing and discouraging.

Tall Man Riding (1955)

Directed by Lesley Selander; produced by David Weisbart

After five years away, a cowboy (Randolph Scott) returns to the town from which he was driven by the rancher father of the woman (Dorothy Malone) he loved. He has vowed to destroy the cattle baron (Robert Barrat), and has found a particularly galling way to do it. But his basic decency and circumstances that he couldn’t have foreseen have the cowboy wondering if revenge is worth it.

The first half of Tall Man Riding is rather more complex than the story-lines of most westerns. There is a rivalry between cattle-men and settlers that is often seen in the genre, but in this case, the latter seem to be as murderous as the former. But the settlers are taking their lead from a ruthless saloon-owner (John Baragrey), with an agenda of his own, while the rancher is allied with people who are honourable. The plot simplifies itself in the second half, but that is the nature of complicated stories, as they explain themselves. I found the double-dealing and shifting alliances abnormal in a western.

Scott plays the stalwart character he often plays, but with a bitterness and angry violence that isn’t usual in his movies. With him, the viewer always knows what he is getting, but there is always a sympathy that he builds with his audience. He is more likeable than John Wayne in westerns, I think, but that may have to do with the unpleasantness in some of the latter's characters, such as in Red River and The Searchers. Scott offers few surprises, but pretty steady entertainment.

It’s interesting that westerns frequently offer strong female characters who, despite being socially subservient to the men in their worlds, are quick-minded and strong-willed. While Malone shows some of that in her character, the more watchable is Peggie Castle (whom Scarlett Johansson rather resembles) as the saloon-owner’s girl. She is playing a double game in more ways than one.

While the action is pretty routine, despite a good fistfight scene, the movie benefits from the story and from the performances. If you don’t like westerns, Tall Man Riding won’t convert you; if you do, you’ll like it more than many.

I Love You Again (1940)

Directed by W. S. Van Dyke II; produced by Lawrence Weingarten.

A boring, tight-fisted Pennsylvanian businessman (William Powell) inadvertently rescues a man (Frank McHugh) at sea; an injury during the episode cures Powell of what has been a nine-year bout of amnesia. He wakes up as the con-man he was, almost a decade before. Quickly reverting to his old self, he ponders the possibilities of his assumed identity, both financial and romantic - since his alter ego has been married to a woman (Myrna Loy) who now wants a divorce.

This silly but promising premise starts a lively comedy with two of the most prolific and enjoyable movie couples in history. Powell and Loy worked together in more than a dozen films, most notably the Thin Man series, but also in happily light and fun pictures as this. Powell usually has the snappier lines and faster delivery, though he necessarily often plays the straight-man to Loy’s smart and often dry retorts. Their chemistry isn’t even something the pair have to work at, and every moment they are together on the screen is bright.

But the two leads aren’t the only advantage of I Love You Again. McHugh plays more than just the usual dumb sidekick. His character, no stranger to running a confidence trick or two, cheerfully agrees to go along with Powell in this latest venture, and is almost as sharp a crook. He is never far behind in catching on to Powell’s ideas. He contributes more than low-brow humour. The other cast-members, including Edmund Lowe, and Jason Robards Senior (in a bit part as one of Powell’s underlings at a pottery plant), are all capable.

The script is not as sharp as other Powell / Loy projects but the stars make him hum along, though there is a segment with a Boy Scout troupe that drags somewhat, possibly because it has little to do with the plot or characters. There is good development in Powell’s personality, as he finds himself drawn both to Loy and the situation in which he could live.

This ‘taming of the con’ is predictable but carried through with charm, as is most of what Powell does. There’s a moment when he finds out how he proposed to Loy - the memory now lost, since his recovery from amnesia - and realises how disappointing he must have been to her. That one or two second reaction shows what Powell can do with an almost wordless opportunity. But comedy and laughter are the principal ingredients of I Love You Again, and in this, the viewer won’t be let down. In particular, I commend the minutes that follow the failed burglary.

A mostly smooth and fun movie, I Love You Again shows what good actors should also be: fine entertainers.

The Seventh Victim (1943)

Directed by Mark Robson; produced by Val Lewton

A schoolgirl (Kim Hunter) learns that authorities haven’t heard from her sister (Jean Brooks) in some time. Worried, the girl journeys to New York to find some clue to her sibling’s whereabouts. There, she finds that the mystery is not just about her sister’s current location, but why she is in hiding, and from whom she is hiding.

An intriguing premise begins this movie, which combines drama with psychological horror. Everything here depends on atmosphere, created not just by the director and cinematographer, but by the actors, producer and writers. For the most part, The Seventh Victim is a success, though it is let down by what I would call an incomplete script - as opposed to the story - and, possibly, too much editing.

Hunter, in her film debut, has to anchor the cast, and, though a neophyte, does a good job. Her character is fittingly innocent and puzzled, but also intelligent and intuitive. The young actress holds her own among the more experienced players. Included in that category is Tom Conway, whose resemblance to his brother George Sanders is more than physical: he plays the sort of casual cynic that we are used to seeing from Sanders. Brooks’s performance was perhaps the most difficult to render, and the most subtle to interpret. She had to convey both fear of, and indifference to, death, simultaneously, and succeeds.

The performances are assisted by the writing. In terms of character, it is very good. These are not two dimensional people. The friendship between Conway’s Doctor Judd and Erford Gage’s Jason Hoag, a poet, is a case in point. One a scientist, the other a dreamer, their relationship seems to consist of disdain and distrust, yet the viewer can see an alliance of sorts, especially at the end, when they show a surprising solidarity in their stand against the villains. But, much of the time, one is never sure of Judd’s loyalties, and the atmosphere is such that one can never really be confident even of a poet.

The atmosphere is key here. The use of shadows, camera angles and lighting creates scenes that are suspicious and tense. One of the earliest moments characteristic of this quality comes when Hunter and a private investigator (Lou Lubin) break into a building to examine a locked room. Confronted by the darkness at the end of a corridor, neither wants to venture into it. We are suddenly in a situation similar to children facing a monster in a closet at night, and the results are effective.

This very quality is one that would turn some viewers off. This is not a horror movie with monsters leaping from behind doors, or blood splashed on walls. The Seventh Victim aims to frighten, not startle or shock. But there is a certain truncated quality to the film, as if there was more that should have been written, more story left untold. Practically, an example may be the kidnapping of one of the characters: we are never told how the villains knew where she would be.

But for all its flaws, The Seventh Victim is worth watching, especially by a lover of movie technique. It must have been a contrast to the usual fare in cinemas at the time. Not only does it not mention the Second World War, then raging (indeed, Gage would enlist in the U.S. Army before the year was out, and be killed in battle in 1945), but its choice of villains - a cult of Satan-worshippers - must have been unique. Even here, the story avoids the easy way: the Satanists are ordinary people, but all the more sinister for that. And I was surprised the ending avoided censorship under the Production Code of the time. An atypical movie, both for its era and in general, The Seventh Victim is not excellent but is worth a viewer’s time.