For about five minutes in 1982, Lewis Collins was whispered to be a likely successor to Roger Moore for the James Bond series. This seemingly unknown film — titled WHO DARES WIN in the United Kingdom — acted as his screen-test and based on his performance alone, I would have loved to see Collins step in as 007. He has Timothy Dalton’s serious gaze and Daniel Craig’s action physique. THE FINAL OPTION, written by Reginald Rose (THE WILD GEESE) and directed by Ian Sharp (who shot second unit for GOLDENEYE), was rushed into production in the wake of the terrorist capture of the Iranian Embassy in London and successful rescue by Special Air Services. The plot here is more dramatically arched: Frankie Leith (Judy Davis) the former lover of SAS agent Peter Skellen (Collins), leads a group of terrorists to capture an embassy in England and the agent goes undercover to convince Leith to let him join. With expected violent results.

I’m not going to spend a lot of time on the film, as it’s not all that great, but there are nifty scenes and performances, and I still own the long out of print LP soundtrack with an awesome theme by the killer Roy Budd (GET CARTER). As stated, the main reason to watch THE FINAL OPTION is to pretend Collins is in a James Bond film; he’s quite intense and engaging. Another reason is to see the brilliant Judy Davis heft a machine-gun in her low-cut evening gown while mouthing political platitudes in a not-quite-right American accent, replete with lots of “fucking, man.” There’s also Edward Woodward in fine stock form as a SAS Commander and Richard Widmark as The American Diplomat.

I also enjoy the debates between the terrorists and their hostages, ridiculous though they be, since I’m a sucker for Stanley Krameresque adversarial dialogues. Even better are the action beats, with lots of rappeling and shooting, and Davis’ last moment is one of the most memorable scenes in 80’s action cinema. THE FINAL OPTION is still unavailable on DVD here, although you can pick it up on Region 2 under its original title. If you want a cinematic flashback to Reagan era jingoism and heroics, this is an interesting and underlooked timepiece.

     Don’t Bother to Knock is a lesser known noir from 1952, though it does have some major names attached to it. The leading roles go to noir veteran Richard Widmark as Jed Towers (great name); Anne Bancroft in her first film role is Jed’s off again, on again lady Lyn Lesley and the incredible looking Marilyn Monroe plays the mixed up Nell Forbes. In addition, to the stars, the supporting case also has some noir heavyweights, including Elisha Cook Jr. (is there a film noir that doesn’t have him somewhere in the cast) as well as Jim Backus and Willis Bouchey. Also included in the cast is the sister of James Cagney, Jeanne Cagney.

     The film is directed by Roy Ward Baker, who is not a big name in film noir, though he did direct Linda Darnell in Night Without Sleep and Robert Ryan in Inferno. The film is based upon a novel by Charlotte Armstrong and the screenplay is by Daniel Taradash. Taradash has some quality screenwriting credits, most notably From Here to Eternity for which he won an Oscar. He is also credited as one of several writers on the Bogart noir Knock on Any Door.

     Two things this film is probably most noted for: one is its attempt to highlight Marilyn Monroe as a serious actress and not just a pretty face, and two is just how concretely it illustrates mental disturbance as an illness. For the time, it was a really disturbing picture of mental illness and its self-destructiveness. Marilyn simply cannot help but ruin everything she touches.    

     The plot centers around an elevator man in a swanky hotel named Eddie (Elisha Cook Jr.) who has gotten a relative of his, Nell a job as a baby sitter. Nell is supposed to watch this little girl while her parents attend a banquet where the father (Jim Backus) gets some sort of award.

     As this is all getting set up, you see Jed Towers in the hotel drinking away his sorrows due to, of course, woman troubles. The woman is the hotel lounge singer Lyn Lesley. There is a small hint of trouble with Nell in the beginning. You can tell early on that Nell has had, at the very least, some bad luck and that Eddie is a father figure of a sort, trying to get her back on her feet.  

     While Nell is babysitting, she begins trying on the clothes and jewelry of the little girl’s mom. Nell catches the attention of Jed through the window as she twirls around in the dress and jewelry. Jed gives her a call in an attempt to get over Lyn. Nell agrees to allow Jed to come to her room with a bottle while the little girl sleeps. Jed doesn’t know that Nell is just babysitting.  

     It doesn’t take long for Jed to realize that Nell is not quite playing with a full deck and he soon tries to get himself out of the situation. Initially, he does distance himself from Nell and tries again to patch things up with Lyn, but it is a film noir and you know that he is going to get sucked into the mix in ways that are out of his control. This is when Nell really begins to crack-up.   

Noir Elements 

     Some of the more notable features of film noir are missing from this film. It is not a hard-boiled crime flick. It doesn’t have any stunning cinematography, and the chiaroscuro lighting is done with a very light hand. However, the film is most certainly a noir.

     The focus is on Marilyn and her disturbed character Nell. What really puts Don’t Bother to Knock in the category of a film noir is its depiction of cynicism, fragmentation and how deeply it delves into an unhinged world. Of the 4 main characters, there is not one who seems to be at peace with themselves or the world they live in. Also, for most of the movie, Nell, Jed and Lyn all seem to be riding along on the wings of fate. They don’t seem to have any control over what is going on with their lives. This lack of control of one’s own life is a staple of film noir.

     Don’t Bother to Knock was certainly ahead of its time when it comes to showing realistic depictions of someone on the brink of either suicide or a total meltdown. The scars on Nell’s wrists are certainly something that would have been at least a little shocking to audiences in 1952.

     Another thing film noir is noted for is snappy dialogue and there is plenty of that. Most of it coming from Widmark’s character or Joe the bartender played by Willis Bouchey. When asked by Widmark if he and his wife fight much, Joe quickly replies “Some of the time she sleeps.”

Recommendation (Spoilers) 

     Though I would not call this film a must see, it is a film that I recommend, mostly because of the excellent work of the cast.

     Marilyn is amazing to look at and she pulls off the role. Despite her voice and her naïve appeal, she still shows the evil that is within her. She is capable of anything and if it were not for the fact that it would not have made it past the censors in 1952; I would have believed that her character would have pushed that little girl right out the window. 

     The cinematography is not the best and the direction is average, but the cast is excellent and they all pull off their roles admirably. If it were not for Marilyn, you would come out of this film talking about the beauty of Anne Bancroft. If you are wowed by Marilyn and/or Richard Widmark then this certainly is must see. They are both great in this film. Widmark is not quite as good as he is in Kiss of Death or Pick up on South Street, but it is certainly a worthy effort from him.   

“My counsel says we were not aware of the extermination of the millions. He would give you the excuse: We were only aware of the extermination of the hundreds.” This quote is one of the most shocking and yet stunningly truthful quotes I have heard in a film. It is one of many shocking and intense words spoken throughout in the movie. Furthermore Judgment at Nuremberg is one of the most absorbing movies on this subject that can be seen. Even though most if not all of it is dialog it is very much a haunting film. This film is loosely based on the trials in Nuremberg in 1948. Right from the start the movie captures your mind and never lets it go.

The acting was collectively amazing. One of the best casts ever assembled which included Spencer Tracy, Montgomery Clift, Judy Garland, Richard Widmark, Burt Lancaster as well as international stars Maximilian Schell and Marlene Dietrich. It is not just the fact that this is a star studded cast that made it so great, it was the way everyone appeared to blend in together. Maximilian Schell gave the performance of his life in this film playing the defense lawyer for Burt Lancaster who give two superb narratives that will certainly stay in your mind forever. Schell’s character use of logic is that of something which will mesmerize use you whether or not you agree or disagree with what he says. Richard Widmark playing the prosecutor gave the type of supporting performance that was necessary for Schell to shine. The way both actors fed off each other was a joy to watch. Then of course the tiny appearances of Garland and Clift were excellent and worth every second they spent on camera. I usually find myself frustrated with cameos and actors receiving recognition for them but this film used cameos to their full potential plus more. Then of course Spencer Tracy and Marlene Dietrich provided such great presence and were perfect for the lead.

The direction of Stanley Kramer was spectacular as the film intensified more and more as it wore on. It was always engrossing and never let up. The writing of Abby Mann was great, filled up with great material and narratives allowing every actor in the cast to give a superb performance. There were many memorable quotes as well. The writing carried the film forward and allowed all the potential and talent to push this film to another level.

Judgement at Nuremberg is not just another movie. It is a very thought provoking movie. More than that though it is haunting. Just thinking about the course of the events being talked about in the movie became subtly haunting in a way I really didn’t expect. What was the most compelling theme of the film though was the way it illustrated how we need to as  society separate what we feel with what has to be truly done, with what is truly right.

Alan Smithee(o Allen Smithee, Alan Smythee,Adam Smithee) è uno pseudonimo utilizzato in quel di Hollywood, sia da registi che da sceneggiatori, per disconoscere la paternità di una propria opera o di un proprio soggetto, vuoi per le pressanti intromissioni delle varie majors,che impongono tagli o rimaneggiamenti vari, vuoi perchè quella che sulla carta era una buona idea all’atto pratico si è poi trasformata in un qualcosa la cui unica fonte ispiratrice sembra essere la mediocrità:in tal modo ci si protegge sotto l’egida dell’anonimato,denunciando, in ultima analisi, gli abusi dei “mercanti del tempio”.
Il debutto di cotanto nome avviene nel 1969, durante la lavorazione del western Dead of a gunfighter (Ultima notte a Cottonwood), quando il protagonista Richard Widmark, non essendo in buoni rapporti con il regista Robert Totten, ne ottiene la sostituzione con Don Siegel:questi, terminate le riprese, rifiuta però l’accredito,sostenendo che, dopotutto, gran parte del film era stato girato da Totten; Widmark ancora una volta oppone i suoi capricci da star e rifiuta una tale ipotesi.
Ma siamo ad Hollywood, dove tutto ciò che si crea lo si distrugge e lo si trasforma:ecco giungere in soccorso Al Smith come pseudonimo di comodo, solo che vi è già un regista con tale nome…Nessun problema,dal magico cilindro spunta il nome di Smithee, la doppia e finale, rara avis,dà sicurezza ed esoticità;una volta avuto il suggello della Director’s Guild of America, il sindacato rappresentativo dei registi cinematografici e televisivi americani, il nome del valente cineasta comincia a diffondersi, tanto da comparire in circa trenta film, soprattutto televisivi, di fantascienza ed horror(uno per tutti: The birds II Land’s End,’94, sorta di seguito di The Birds di Hitchcock), con qualche “eccezione d’autore”(Ore contate,Backtrack,in seguito Catchfire,Dennis Hopper,’89; l’edizione tv di Dune,David Lynch), ma anche telefilm o videoclip musicali.
Nel ‘97 Arthur Hiller dirige Hollywood brucia(Burn Hollywood burn), dove il protagonista è proprio un regista che di nome fa Alan Smithee, alle prese con un importante film che vede tra i suoi protagonisti Stallone e la Goldberg;visti i pesanti interventi della produzione sulla sua opera, non potendo celarsi dietro lo pseudonimo,non potrà far altro che rubare il negativo per poterlo bruciare;in questo affabulante gioco di realtà che supera la finzione e viceversa, Hiller quando notò che la casa di produzione preferiva al suo montaggio quello dello sceneggiatore, per protesta decise di accreditare il film a…indovinate un po’…
Dopo questo film la Director’s Guild stralciò la convenzione, non ritenendola più valida, ma ciò non vuol dire che il buon vecchio Smithee sia scomparso del tutto, film degni di tale “marchio dell’infamia” ne circolano tanti, compaia o meno il suo nome nei titoli di testa…
Acta est fabula;questa è Hollywood bellezza, non puoi farci nulla.

Il y a certains réalisateurs comme Anthony Mann, Jules Dassin ou Jacques Tourneur qui restent inexplicablement confidentiels alors qu’ils méritent d’être reconnus par un public beaucoup plus large. Fuller fait partie de ceux-là et cela m’attriste énormément. Il me fallait donc ici, à ma modeste échelle, réparer ce qui est à mon sens une véritable injustice. Le port de la drogue (titre français stupide tant il n’a rien à voir avec le film) est un film les plus célèbres de son réalisateur autant que du film noir.

Au départ il y a le vol d’un portefeuille dans le métro de New York. Le pickpocket Skip McCoy (Richard Widmark) dérobe la jeune Candy (Jean Peters). Ce qu’il ignore c’est que le portefeuille contient un microfilm contenant des informations secrètes que les communistes pourraient exploiter (c’est là qu’on mesure les différences entre la version française et l’originale – pour éviter des problèmes d’exploitations dûs à un caractère anti-rouges trop marqué, les exploitants en France décidèrent de remplacer les communistes pour des trafiquants de drogue). Se croyant en position de force, il décide de marchander sa découverte mais ne mesure pas le déchaînement de violence que cela va engendrer. L’agent communiste auquel Candy est lié est prêt à tout pour récupérer le microfilm. Il tue Moe, la sympathique moucharde vendeuse de cravate (interprétée par Thelma Ritter) et se lance à la poursuite de Skip McCoy après avoir tenté de tuer de Candy. Tout cela donnant lieu à des scènes assez remarquables (on pense en particulier à celle où sur un bateau, le personnage de Widmark vient récupérer le corps de sa vieille amie, Moe, afin de lui éviter le terrible anonymat de la fosse commune).

Généralement considéré comme un classique du film noir, Pickup on South Street ne manque pas de qualités. Fuller, à la manière d’un Dassin, filme l’intrigue aussi bien que l’environnement. A sa caméra n’échappent pas les bas-fonds auxquels le réalisateur à le bon goût d’opposer la ville, froide et impersonnelle. Pas de drogue donc, nous sommes à l’époque en plein maccarthysme et les films anti-cocos sont monnaie courante, mais bien un brulôt. Prestation une nouvelle fois remarquable de Richard Widmark malgré, semble-t-il, ses difficiles relations avec Fuller. Faisons fi de son aspect politique tendancieux, ce film, d’une violence rare pour l’époque, ne doit en aucun cas être ignoré.

Part One

Klaatu Barada Nikto! was originally published in the August, 2008, issue of Urbanite magazine, which featured short fiction intended, I suppose, as beach reading material. With a similar purpose in mind, I’m posting it on the blog this first week of August, 2009, but in three installments. Each part runs just a bit over 1,000 words, so it’s an easy read. Part 2 will post this Wednesday and part three posts on Friday.

I watched as dried sweat made white lines on the colored men’s skin, which was not just brown but had purple and blue in it, even some green, especially in the shadow parts. Their muscles bulged from the stuff they moved: lumber, vegetables, crates of oysters. New sweat washed away old and changed the line patterns on their chests and backs like a crazy Picasso couldn’t make up his mind. The men did a song I couldn’t make out, but the tune kept perfect time with how they moved on the gangplank. When they went from the bright sunlight into the shadows they got to be invisible, but their song kept on, lower, and mixed in with the clang noises from the shipyard, the bells and horns and whistles off the ships. Wave sounds came up from the pier pilings and brought the oily water smell to my nose, a sharp chemical odor, soft at the edges. A white bay steamer waited for sunset to sail. Rows of skipjacks with furled sails the color of old ivory, cleaned of oysters, fish, crabs, corn, and melons from across Chesapeake Bay, rocked in the tide.

Later, at Wilson’s Light Street newsstand, under the restaurant awning next to Cross Street Market, I asked him about shadows in movies. Big mistake. I expected he’d preach about movies that had important messages for U.S. citizens, but instead he went off on his own subject.

“Indulge me on this, Andy,” he said. “Popcorn has two flavors. Ever notice that? On top popcorn tastes one way, but on the bottom of the bag it’s different.”

I knew that, but it never came in my brain to mention it. I decided to play him some. “Why is that, I wonder?”

“Gravity,” he said. “Because it’s heavier, butter sinks to the bottom.” Wilson smiled. “Go ’head, tell me I’m wrong.”

I just nodded. Sometimes Wilson tried to shame me with his words, the strangest talk of any person I knew, white or colored. Right then a girl strutted up the sidewalk across the street. Wilson saw her and hollered, “Hey, Shirley!”

She stopped, looked over. “Yeah, Fool, what you want?”

“How you doin’, babe?”

“I’m all right.”

“Good! Good!” Wilson gave her his one-hundred-watt smile. “Doin’ all kinds of shit myself just to avoid other shit.” He paused dramatic, then, “Where you goin’ at?”

“Store.” Then Shirley got prissy fast, hands on her hips. “Why?”

“You got a dollar?”

“Yeah, so what?”

“On your way back, Sweetness, bring me a pair of socks.”

Shirley looked at Wilson like he was crazy — slowly shook her head — smiled and went on. Wilson started to sing, mostly to himself:

Blow it, preach it, Say a taste tonight.

Make it talk tonight.

Blow that shit, man — Work it on out.

Then he turned my way. “Don’t mind me, Andy — I lost what little sense I had three girlfriends ago.” He pointed at Shirley, halfway down the block. “Pay attention,” he said. “See what I did there?”

Was that supposed to be funny?”

“Gals like it when you tweak ’em.” Wilson put his arm around my neck like he was my buddy. “The other thing you should know is this: The Beacon has the best popcorn of any theater in Baltimore.” Wilson laughed big again. “Look and learn kid,” he said. “Look and learn.”

Wilson was this colored kind of guy who looked like Satchmo but not fat. I figured he was 13 or 14. Maybe 16. Hard to say with colored people because they looked younger than they really were. And for a long time I couldn’t tell them apart, either, but later I figured that was dumb. Colored people are as different as you and me. If you can’t see that you don’t have eyes. But all that off to one side, Wilson drove me nuts with his wise-ass ways — expert on everything, crazy stuff. Like he claimed white people couldn’t dance, said they just “vacillate” to the music. Is that even a real word? When I called him on it, Wilson backed off and said he’d agree that white people were born with the same rhythm as colored people, but they were scared of it. Scared of it? Right there I did him like he did me and just changed subjects.

“Well,” I said, “Bob Hope is great on the radio.”

“Hope does the same material every week,” Wilson said, “only the names change.”

“Jack Benny’s good.”

“Who’s he think he’s kidding with all those stupid hair jokes?”

“Burns and Allen?”

“They still on?”

“You like anything, Wilson?”

“Only radio joker with half a brain is Fred Allen,” he said. “Allen’s smart and funny.”

“I don’t get that guy.”

Wilson smiled. “Of course you wouldn’t, Andy.”

Now what did he mean by that tone of voice — some kind of disrespect? I just let it go. Anyways, my secret job was to learn all I could about the newspaper business. I watched how Wilson kidded people and made change and such. He didn’t seem to mind that I hung around, but he didn’t volunteer information, either. The wind shifted and rain started. We moved his stacks of papers to the other end of the awning to keep dry. He took a News Post and opened it to the movie listings. After five minutes of no talk Wilson finally said, “Andy, you seen Panic in the Streets with Richard Widmark and Jack Palance?”

“Yeah,” I said, and right there I thought I had him. “Palance plays the bad guy, see — name of Blackie. This doctor chases him ’cause —

” Wilson looked surprised. “A doctor chased him?”

“Thought you seen it.” “Didn’t say I saw the damn thing, wanted to know if you did.”

“Yep, caught it at the Echo on Fort Avenue. See, Widmark plays this health doctor and he’s gotta find Palance ’cause Palance has the plague and . . .”

“Shut up!” Wilson hollered. “Shut yo’ fat white mouth!” He laughed. “Don’t ruin it for me, Andy — Christ!”

“I didn’t tell the plague details. That’s the real story.”

Wilson just put his finger on his lips.

“You gotta see Palance,” I said. “Face like Frankenstein. There oughta be a law against that much ugly in public.”

Wilson sort of smiled. “Sounds good” was all he said.

I had won! For once I shut Wilson down cold.

Part 2 of Klaatu Barada Nikto! will post this Wednesday.

Directed By: Sidney Lumet
Written By: Paul Dehn & Anthony Shaffer (Uncredited) ;
Based on the book By: Agatha Christie
Cinematography By: Geoffrey Unsworth
Editor: Anne V. Coates 

CAST: Albert Finney, Sean Connerey, Lauren Bacall, Ingrid Bergman, Martin Baslam, Anthony Perkins, Jaqueline Bisset, Richard Widmark, John Gielgud, Vanessa Redgrave, Rachel Roberts, Michael York

This is a well made film but it is another case of a film that didn’t touch me at all. The actors and the film go through all the motions without leaving a mark or a single memorable thing. It’s a movie you can forget about easily right after seeing it.

It is a murder mystery. But it feels rather bland and way too long after awhile you just want it to be solved already but once it is there is still another 30 minutes.

Albert Finney’s performance is one of the few interesting things about this movie.playing the detective Hercule Ooirot a police detective on vacation. At first I thought he had a disability then realized he was just playing French. Ingrid Bergman Won a Oscar for Best Supporting Actress for this film for her interrogation scene that is shot in one take and lasts over 5 minutes.

It’s a all star ensemble film though there are major screen legends in the film, Except for a few there isn’t much for them to do or to play with just sketches of characters.

Director Sidney Lumet has made many films so you forgive him once in awhile for a DVD. This film is well made but feels like hack work like there is littleto o Inspiration for him in making the film. Sure he has good actors and pulls good performances from them but with this cast it wasn’t going to be hard no matter who directed it.

Yet I still Found myself bored for the most part with this film. It doesn’t really come alive until the third act. When all is revealed. After awhile I just wanted them to get on with it already. It felt at times to get repititous. Yet I am still slightly recommending it. Especially if mysteries are your thing. But I get the feeling I would have enjoyed it better reading the book.

GRADE: C-

Reporter Ben Munceford and Lieut. Cmdr. Chester Potter, the doctor, are flown out to sea at the same time to board the destroyer,  Bedford. Upon arrival there is immediate tension with Ben being denied access for reporting and even greater tension between Captain Finlander and the doctor. The doctor has been flown out to join the crew as part of the Navy’s request, not the captain’s. It is obvious that Captain Finlander is a very hard nosed captain and has the respect of every one of his men, running a very tight ship, it is his way or the highway. The Bedford’s purpose is to patrol looking out for Russian submarines, and after spotting one, the tension builds even more as Captain Finlander seems hell bent on driving the Russian sub to the surface, even though the sub has made it to international waters. You’ll have to watch to see how this builds and what happens.

Reporter Ben Munceford is played by Sidney Poitier (Best Actor for Lilies of the Field). It is refreshing to see a film so old, 1965, and not to have any mention of race. Poitier makes a great reporter, very inquisitive and in the end challenging Captain Finlander on what is right, wrong and motives of the captain. The doctor is played by Martin Balsam (Best Supporting Actor for A Thousand Clowns, 12 Angry Men). Balsam has some very nice scenes with the Captain, especially when the Captain gives his opinion on why the doctor is really there, having joined back into the service after resigning previously. Of course not to forget the great Richard Widmark who plays the captain. Widmark is absolutely perfect for this type of role, having played similar roles in Midway, Coma, and The Swarm. 

This movie was a real sleeper for me, having enjoyed it much more than expected. Of course I like war films and anything involving water, so I was probably destined to like it. If you liked Crimson Tide and The Caine Mutiny, you will really like this film. Worth watching for sure.

The past couple of days has seen me watch four movies – two from the past five years and two from the late 60’s and 70’s – two each starring the same actor; one role as a roguish hero and the others as questionable figures. The actors are Christian Bale and Richard Widmark.

Bale has been an interesting character since his first appearance as the 13 year old in Spielberg’s EMPIRE OF THE SUN, growing up into movies like AMERICAN PSYCHO and the new BATMAN franchise. Which coincidentally is one of the movies I’m going to talk about. Of course, there’s not much that hasn’t been said about this movie, as it totally overwhelmed the box office in 2008; and left me absolutely floored. Of course this is THE DARK KNIGHT. The latest in the franchise from Christopher Nolan’s refreshening of the Caped Crusader’s movie franchise. I saw the movie five times just in its opening weeks in the box office, and watched it a number of times when it was first released on DVD. But, just for lack of anything else interesting to watch, the other night I put it on and was once again dragged fully into Gotham City and watching the exploits of Batman, The Joker, Harvey “Two Face” Dent and Captain/Commissioner Gordon.

Over anything else there is just something in the way that Nolan creates movies that draw me in. I was partially obsessed with his original jump into the Batman mythos with BATMAN BEGINS but it was his 2006 movie,  that was apparently the break between these superhero movies that really drew me in – THE PRESTIGE (A movie that I also saw four or five times in the theater, and was my favorite movie of that year.) – also starring Bale.

But in THE DARK KNIGHT, we get another peek into the character of Bruce Wayne (Bale), as we see that he’s still learning and doesn’t completely know how to deal with the fact that this avenger he’s created hasn’t inspired good as much as copy-cats that wear bat masks with hockey pads; and masked criminals that “just want to watch the world burn”. It’s something that helps to make Bale’s Bruce Wayne more human, and fallible than any of the other actors that have taken on the mantle – other than possibly in the animated series from the mid nineties. The heart-breaking realization that we get when he’s hinging his entire future and desperation that Harvey Dent can take the legitimate place the Batman has created, so Wayne can have a life with his love Rachel – who has fallen for Dent.  We know that Wayne is lost to always be Batman, and the only person he has to keep him company is his aged butler Alfred. We also, once again get the pompous act – which as we all know, Batman is the real personality and Bruce Wayne the mask – of Wayne acting the part of spoiled trust-fund wunderkind; flying in late to his own party, stealing away with an entire Russian ballet troupe (as an alibi) and of course sleeping during his own business meeting. (Which presents him as the partying rich kid who doesn’t know when it’s bed time, but in fact is his time of respite for his night time activities.) It’s a fascinating role and performance; the transformation, and the much ballyhooed deep voice, of Batman is really my favorite interpretation and what I would imagine close to what this comic book hero would be in reality.

The flip side of this, and the role Bale took on directly before putting on the Batman suit for the first time was in the Brad Anderson (SESSION 9) directed suspense/thriller, THE MACHINIST (or EL MAQUINISTA in Spanish, as this was a Spanish-financed film). The role of Trevor Reznik, is a man who has not slept in a year and in that time has lost so much weight that he has essentially become a walking skeleton. A feat accomplished by Bale’s losing of around 60 pounds for the role. The man walks in a daze, works at his machine shop, possibly having visions in his mind-dulled, sleepless existence and encounters with a strange co-worker with toes for fingers and an airport waitress. Then there’s his steady hooker acquaintance, Stevie, played by Jennifer Jason Leigh.

If nothing else this movie is amazing to watch, just to see a man who is literally wasting away – both as a movie character, and the actor that has actually put himself  through this transformation to play the man. Of course, the weight-loss, and sleeplessness is part of the plot and again Bale shines – not just because of his pallid complexion – in a role that I have no problem believing is more truth than acting. I believe that he was so tired that he’d be falling asleep during filming and that his tiny frame would have troubles maintaining the action of running let alone carrying anything heavier than a book or cup of coffee.

The movie actually opens over black, with the grunting and struggling of Bale’s character attempting to wrap a dead body in a carpet. The man we see throughout, not able to experience the pleasure of sleeping with the prostitute, Stevie; showing that he’s astute in the rules and laws governing his workshop – and correcting his manager – and finally in the realizations of what is real and what is delusion, makes Trevor Reznick the questionable figure – not really bad, but having done some unheroic things.

On the other side, we have Richard Widmark, who in the 1940’s became well-known for his performances of sinister villains in movies. Most noticeable about him was the blonde hair, the mischievious grin and a giggle that was what lead to his only oscar nomination (KISS OF DEATH). He lived and worked through what was the golden age of cinema and mostly got to work in the genre we now call “film noir”. It was only later in his career, when he was really allowed to break out of the mold of a villain and given parts more heroic. One such role was in an early movie directed by the legendary Don Siegel, MADIGAN.

Widmark got the title role – and even appeared in a later television series, despite it kind of ret-conning events in this movie – as the cop not afraid to bend the rules in order to serve (a kind of) justice. Between he and his partner (Harry Guardino), the Chief who is a good guy with some mud on him (played by James Whitmore), these were the beginnings of what would lead into the renegade cops of the 70’s and 80’s like DIRTY HARRY and Riggs and Murtaugh of the LETHAL WEAPON series.

In MADIGAN, Widmark’s character and his partner bust in to take in a heavy, they’d been sent to pick up, only to be caught off guard by a naked lady and both allow the bad guy to escape and to take their guns. This leads to them being given 72 hours to track the guy down before their heads roll. Madigan also has to deal with his wife, who is always seemingly stuck inside and was looking forward to the upcoming policemen’s ball. We see Madigan making the rounds, busting some heads and trying to avoid encounters with the Commissioner (played by Henry Fonda).

In the end, we see him lead the charge and make a sacrifice that our heroes usually are put in the position to make. In this instance leading to an acceptance for being a good cop and a surprising death. All of which makes this character one of Widmark’s more memorable heroic, if flawed, roles.

And finally, in more of a supporting role here (but one that lead me to look up Widmark’s other credits and inspired the correlation between these and Bale’s roles) is that of Tagge in Stanley Kramer’s 1977 suspense/thriller (see, how this is matching up?) THE DOMINO PRINCIPLE, starring Gene Hackman and also Candice Bergen, Mickey Rooney and Eli Wallach.

The story focuses on Roy Tucker (Hackman), a convict who had been imprisoned for murdering a friend of his, and the ex-husband of his current wife (Bergen). One day he’s told that he’s going on a work day, when instead he’s lead into an office, where Tagge is sitting and starts to question him. Soon, it’s revealed that Tagge’s arranged for Tucker to be let out of prison, with a lot of money and a house in a foreign country. The only drawback is that he’s going to have to do something for Tagge and his mysterious partners. What this winds up being is a political assassination, which has seemingly been setup for a long time, possibly even including the framing of the original murder that got Tucker in prison.

Widmark’s role here is mostly as sort of Tucker’s handler and the guy who presents himself as being on Tucker’s side – as long as things are going smoothly. Seeing as Widmark was around 63 when this movie came out, it’s reasonable that he’s not quite as involved with the action. But, with that grin and the way he presents himself, he’s still got an air of menace to him – and when standing opposite the six-plus feet of Gene Hackman, that’s a tall order to fill. We get tastes of both sides of Widmark throughout the movie. He’s calm and seems to be playing the good cop at times, and others he’s tricking and pulling the strings to get Tucker to do what needs done all the way to the end; which has some interesting twists for both Hackman and Widmark’s characters. The real tragedy of Widmark’s death in THE DOMINO PRINCIPLE is that even though he’s never fully been on Tucker’s side, it’s still Hackman’s reaction to seeing that Tagge is about to die that really lets us know how well, Widmark has played his mark. And then, the final moment of the movie is probably up there with THE CONVERSATION in us seeing how things aren’t going to work out that well for Hackman’s character.

The sort of funny divergence of directions that these two actor’s characters take are interesting. Widmark’s are sort of making a sacrifice for the greater good; while Bale’s are left having to deal with the situations they’ve put themselves in. (At the end of THE DARK KNIGHT, he’s become the fugitive and outlaw that the public had wrongly labeled him, in order to preserve the image of another and in THE MACHINIST, Trevor is ultimately taken to task and holds himself responsible for the actions that had lead to his current state.)

Ultimately though, both of these actor’s greatest skill is giving us characters that are flawed and not in a position to answer or solve all of their problems; sort of a big screen version of us. These are only two movies from both of their oeuvre of movies, and I look forward to making my way through more of Widmark’s movies of the past, and continuing to see what Bale does in the future.

Knowing my love of films and since I often assigned certain movies for extra credit, one of my high school honors history students once asked me what I considered to be the best movie ever made. My answer to the young man was, and still is, “Judgment at Nuremburg.” It’s about the war crimes trials at the end of World War II that exposed the holocaust, the systematic murder of 12 million people. Using fictional characters, Abby Mann wrote the 1961 Oscar-winning screenplay, from which I will share some excerpts.

Stanley Kramer skillfully directed one of the finest casts ever assembled: Spencer Tracy played one of the judges of an American tribunal; Burt Lancaster played conscience-ridden Ernst Janning, one of the four Nazi jurists who were being tried; Richard Widmark played the American prosecutor; Marlene Dietrich was the wife of a previously convicted and executed German military officer; Judy Garland was Irene Hoffman, a non-Jew whom the Nazis sentenced to prison for having a relationship with an older Jewish man; and Montgomery Clift played a laborer whom the Nazis sterilized because of mental incompetence. Even though each performance was a tour de force, it was Maximilian Schell, as defense attorney Herr Rolfe, who walked away with the statuette for Best Actor.

Most importantly, “Judgment at Nuremburg’ is a movie that matters. It reminds us of who we are. Spencer Tracy as Judge Haywood said it this way: “A country isn’t a rock….IT’S WHAT IT STANDS FOR. It’s what it stands for when standing for something is the most difficult. Before the people of the world, let it be noted that … this is what we stand for: justice, truth, and the value of a single human being.”

After Osama bin Laden’s criminal conspiracy that resulted in the attacks on the Twin Towers on 9-11-01, the American people had the support of virtually the entire world. Had we concentrated our retaliation on the invasion of Afghanistan, the overthrow of the Taliban government that provided sanctuary for al Qaida, the rebuilding of that country, and the pursuit of bin Laden, we probably would still have universal respect.

Sadly, the Bush-Cheney regime chose to turn to what Vice President Dick Cheney called “THE DARK SIDE.” Judge Haywood warned: “How easily it can happen. There are those in our own country who today speak of the protection of survival. A decision [may] be made in the life of every nation at the very moment when the grasp of its enemy is at its throat that it seems that the only way to survive is to use the means of the enemy.”

Mad terrorists certainly make the world a dangerous place; but if they cause us to practice what only the “bad guys” do, they will have won. Since 9/11, we have invaded Iraq on evidence based on lies, have wiretapped American citizens without warrants, have suspended habeas corpus allowing us to imprison individuals indefinitely without ever bringing charges against them, have sanctioned torture as we have seen in films of Abu Ghraib prison in Iraq, been embarrassed by conditions at Guantanamo in Cuba, set up “dark sites” (secret prisons) in eastern Europe, and practiced “extraordinary rendition” whereby people are arrested or kidnapped and sent to prisons in countries like Egypt that are known for their torture expertise.

Everything we know about torture tells us that it doesn’t lead to the truth. In 1633 when the Catholic Church wanted Galileo to deny that the Earth revolved around the sun, all they had to do was show him the rack and explain how it worked: how it separated the muscles and bones from the body. He relented: the Church was right – the Earth did stand still. The current Republican presidential nominee John McCain often reminds us of his being tortured for five years by the North Vietnamese. He has admitted that everyone has his breaking point and that even he eventually told them whatever they wanted to hear.

Maximilian Schell as Herr Rolfe tried to defend his fellow German citizens: “These brutalities were brought about by the few extremists, the criminals. Very few Germans knew what was going on – very few. None of us knew what was happening….”

Burt Lancaster as defendant Ernst Janning confessed his own guilt: “My counsel would have you believe we were not aware of the concentration camps – not aware! Where were we? …Where were we when our neighbors were dragged out in the middle of the night to Dachau (a Nazi concentration camp)? Where were we when every village in Germany has a railroad terminal where cattle cars were filled with children being carried off to their extermination? Where were we when they cried out in the night to us? Were we deaf, dumb, blind? … Maybe we didn’t know the details. But if we didn’t know, it was because WE DIDN’T WANT TO KNOW.”

Janning explained how the unthinkable could happen: “What difference does it make if a few political extremists lose their rights? What difference does it make if a few racial minorities lose their rights? It is only a passing phase. It will be discarded – sooner or later. …The country is in danger. We will march out of the shadows. We will go forward. ‘Forward’ is the great password. And history tells how we succeeded…. And then one day, we looked around and found that we were in even a more terrible danger…. What was going to be a passing phase had become a way of life.”

Judge Haywood reflected on Ernst Janning, a man who had known better but, for love of country, still worked with the Nazis: “If he and all the other defendants had been degraded perverts, if all the other leaders of the 3^rd Reich had been sadistic monsters and maniacs, then these events would have no more moral significance than an earthquake or any other natural catastrophe. But this trial has shown that under a national crisis, ordinary – even able and extraordinary men – can delude themselves into the commission of crimes so vast and heinous that they beggar the imagination.”

The Roman emperor Marcus Aurelius, who was possibly the closest example of Plato’s ideal of a “philosopher king,” wrote, “THE MOST COMPLETE REVENGE IS NOT TO IMITATE THE AGGRESSOR.” His reign was the climax of the 200-year grandeur that was the Roman Empire. His death began its 300-year gradual decline and ultimate fall. Events occur more quickly now. We would do well to heed his advice.

It’s too bad we can’t require everyone in our three federal branches of government to see “Judgment at Nuremburg” every two to four years. Nevertheless, another four years of Republican/Bush-Cheney misrule should not be an option. Hopefully, an Obama-Biden administration will restore our moral authority.  We must remember who we are.

by David Offutt
A version of this essay was published September 5, 2008,
in the El Dorado News-Times as a letter to the editor.

Title: Judgment at Nuremberg
Year: 1961
Director: Stanley Kramer
Writer: Abby Mann
Starring: Spencer Tracy, Burt Lancaster, Richard Widmark, Marlene Dietrich, Maximilian Schell
Music: Ernest Gold
Distinctions: Oscars for best screenplay (non-original) and actor (Schell); currently #144 on IMDb’s Top 250
Synopsis: an American tribunal for Nazi judges
Length: 186 minutes
How I saw it: on video (rented from Netflix), yesterday
Subjective Rating: 6/10
Objective Rating: 8/10 (points off for pacing and music)

Interesting, but very, very long. I like how the camera’s always moving, especially the fast zooms. I’m a sucker for fast zooms. The music is a silly mess; I can’t even figure out what effect it was meant to have.

Who is cooler than Lee Marvin, anyway?

A series of noir and neo-noir films are being featured by Criterion  right now.

FOX studios has a noir series.

Warner Brothers does too.

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