Showing posts with label George Stevens. Show all posts
Showing posts with label George Stevens. Show all posts

Saturday, February 16, 2013

Hud












































































HUD                            A               
USA  (112 mi)  1963  ‘Scope  d:  Martin Ritt

This world is so full of crap, a man's gonna get into it sooner or later whether he's careful or not.       —Hud (Paul Newman)

A moralistic western about an aging cattle rancher (Melvyn Douglas) and his good-for-nothing son (Paul Newman), with bleak overtones about the careless indifference for the incoming future, distinguished by career-defining performances, where Newman is absolutely brilliant as Hud, the angel who has fallen from grace and leaves behind a dark trail of self-centered contempt for others to wallow in.  Patricia Neal, winning an Academy Award as Best Actress, making much more of the role than was written, is a housekeeper who fills dual roles as the absent mother, respectful and affectionate with widower Douglas and his parentless grandson, while also personifying a sassy seductive temptress in Hud’s eyes.  Beautifully shot on ‘Scope in black & white by cinematographer James Wong Howe, where the most exceptional scenes of the film were shot on location, some outdoors at night, where the incandescent fireflies are each perfectly illuminated as they fly through the air during some of the more intimate conversations, but also over the opening credits, where long shots of a lone vehicle traveling across an empty expanse of a horizon were duplicated by David Lynch in THE STRAIGHT STORY (1999).  The spare music by Elmer Bernstein also perfectly matches the downbeat mood of the film.  Other than the terrific performances, where Douglas (Best Supporting) and Neal won Oscars, while Newman was also nominated, and was robbed, the award going to Sidney Poitier for his upbeat performance in LILIES OF THE FIELD (1963), what immediately stands out is the thematic resemblance to SHANE (1953), including the use of the same small kid from that film who yells out his name at the end, Brandon De Wilde, now grown up to a 17-year old idolizing teenager who follows Hud around everywhere.  In each film, legacy matters. 

This is the first Larry McMurtry novel, Horsemen, Pass By, to be adapted into a movie, and the bare bones setting matched with the lacerating dialogue speaks volumes, as the film continually surprises with worldly cleverness, as Hud is a wise ass who doesn’t give a damn about the past or the future, as all he can think about is today, right here and now.  His smug attitude of defiance and self-certainty is linked to his closest companion, the everpresent bottle, where he continually prances around with an air as if he’s seen it all, been there, done that, and what it all amounts to in the end doesn’t mean squat.  While his aging father agonizes over every decision, filled with the regrets that come with a lifetime of hard times, Hud just chucks it all as a huge waste of time and feels responsible for nothing and nobody but himself.  Easy come, easy go.  While his good looks and charm are enough to get what he wants most of the time, he’s not against using underhanded methods to get the rest.  When the kid follows him around all the time, it flatters him and appeals to his sense of vanity, but he just as easily swats him away like a fly whenever he feels like he’s being a nuisance.  In the same way that John Wayne played a loathsome character in THE SEARCHERS (1956), where his familiarity as the western hero was somewhat confusing to audiences, as it is here with Newman playing such a bitterly repugnant and cynical man without the slightest hint of scruples, yet it’s Paul Newman, one of the most principled men on the planet.  This dual edge may be difficult, especially to younger viewers, as they so easily look up to this guy.  His stud-like confidence and air of nonchalance is the stuff teenagers dream of, yet his despicable attitude toward others is blatantly crude and offensive.  This also explains why this is among Newman’s best performances, as he’s utterly believable in this role, a perfect fit as if he was born to play Hud.  He’s never looked more comfortable onscreen, and for that matter, neither has Patricia Neal.  It’s simply a perfect fit of two minds racing similarly, feeling the same sexual tension, yet reacting to it in such different ways.  As Neal points out, Hud is “hard” on everyone, the kind of guy who goes about everything in the wrong way. 

Melvyn Douglas plays the Raymond Massey character in EAST OF EDEN (1955), a man with a minister’s scruples who painstakingly tries to show the young grandson how to do things the right way, even when it’s hard, in contrast to Hud who always takes the easy road.  Hud drives a flashy pink Cadillac convertible that collects married women and whisky bottles in the back seat, while Douglas is the paternalistic character who has to deal with the most adversity.  He steadfastly insists on abiding by the law and being morally upright.  The good and evil scenario is perhaps a bit too obvious, but Douglas in his gruff voice as a grandfatherly old man is a real scene stealer and speaks from the gut, where it’s hard not to be moved by his life affirming moments onscreen, as he’s the real man who’s seen it all, who’s made something out of nothing, not the pretender like Hud who’s never helped a living soul in his entire life without asking for payment in return.  Douglas’s message of hard love is the message of the film, as he’s given his grandson something that he can take with him wherever he goes, reminding him “Little by little the look of the country changes because of the men we admire,” while Hud pretends to be a bigshot, but he’s always a guy who’s too big for his britches.  In the end, who has the most to show for their lives?  Who leaves the most behind?  Who has actually built a legacy?   Hud is the kind of guy who is all show, who thinks he’s got what he wants, especially with the good looking girls who are actually married to someone else, but in the end it’s all an empty pipedream, where the devastating emptiness couldn’t be more pronounced.  A few more years of hard drinking and he’ll be ready to pull up a chair in Eugene O’Neill’s The Iceman Cometh.  For all of Hud’s bitter cynicism, this is a surprisingly smart and deeply reflective film about ethics, individualism, and what’s become of the frontier spirit that built the West, well written, brilliantly acted, and given such naturalistic performances where these characters literally come alive on the screen, where one can see much of the same blisteringly raw and lonesome material of smalltown Texas used again in yet another major McMurtry work, The Last Picture Show (1971). 

Of note, during the free screening of a perfectly restored 35 mm print of the film at Block Cinema at Northwestern University (where all films winning an Academy Award are being restored on 35 mm prints), family members, including the two youngest daughters of Patricia Neal were present, Lucy and Ophelia, taking questions after the film.  Patricia Neal attended Northwestern University and the family decided to donate all of her letters and personal material to the university for their archives.  Neal was married to British author Roald Dahl, so the kids (there were three older children as well) were raised outside of Oxford in England.  Neither had yet been born at the time of the film HUD, and their mother had a stroke while pregnant with Lucy, remaining in a coma for three weeks, having to relearn how to walk and talk, ending up with a healthy baby but a lifelong limp, working more sparingly after that.  Afterwards, she became an advocate for rehabilitation therapy, where Fort Sanders Regional Medical Center in Knoxville, Tennessee has a wing named after her.  She later divorced and moved to Martha’s Vineyard, where she died at age 84 from lung cancer.     

Friday, April 22, 2011

Raintree County


















RAINTREE COUNTY                        C-                   
USA  (168 mi)  1957  ‘Scope  d:  Edward Dmytryk 

I have no idea what attracted the studio or the big name stars to this wretched material, adapted from a Ross Lockridge Jr. novel, an author who at age 33 committed suicide after long term bouts with chronic depression, but the barely tolerable writing is horrendous throughout, making this a perfect example of the extravagance and over indulgence of the Hollywood studio system, costing $5 million dollars for MGM, much of it on the lavish costumes, holding the dubious honor of being the most expensive movie ever made at the time of its release.  The film is memorable more for its folly than anything else, as even the performances of Elizabeth Taylor and Montgomery Clift seem mysteriously disconnected.  Clift was drinking heavily at the time, arousing red flags from all who knew him, eventually suffering a tragic auto accident halfway through the production which was shut down for more than two months waiting for him to recover, leaving his face disfigured, not to mention a resultant addiction to alcohol and pain killers for the rest of his life.  This off-screen tragedy, not the film itself, led to a box office success, as viewers were curious to pick out the scenes shot before and after the accident.  In addition, this is the first film to ever shoot Montgomery Clift in color.  Shot by Robert Surtees, the last of the Hollywood films to use a super large ‘Scope aspect ratio of 2:55:1, it was meant to be screened on 65 mm film, giving the film an especially luminous quality, but since so few theaters could accommodate this change, it was instead released in traditional CinemaScope.  Following their brilliant work together in A PLACE IN THE SUN (1951), making them, according to Clift’s biographer Patricia Bosworth, “the most beautiful Hollywood movie couple of all time,” this is the second film where Taylor and Clift, extremely close lifelong friends, worked together, while the truly bizarre film SUDDENLY LAST SUMMER (1959) would be their last.

Set in a small town in rural Indiana before, during, and after the Civil War, the studio felt this could rival GONE WITH THE WIND (1939) in its epic historical scope, but don’t even think about it.  The only similarity is the histrionic over-acting of both Vivien Leigh and Elizabeth Taylor, with Leigh winning and Taylor nominated for a Best Actress Award, and the politically incorrect depiction of slavery, which is a little disconcerting in both films.  After a 5-minute orchestral prelude, the film opens in an idyllic setting, where star students Johnny (Clift) and his sweetheart Nell (Eva Marie Saint) meet in the forest at a local creek exchanging graduation gifts.  Their open minded professor (Nigel Patrick), however, makes no bones about his attraction to a young chestnut haired student (Myrna Hansen) and is eventually run out of town on a rail at the discovery of his attempted indiscretions. Clift is the school valedictorian and his family and the town have high hopes for his future.  Elizabeth Taylor arrives a half hour into the film and catches Johnny’s eye as Susanna, a wealthy Southern belle from New Orleans, an aristocrat with slaves and property, whose purring, still girlish voice and heavy accent feel forced and completely unnatural, initially filmed in a heavily stylized and dreamy setting, as if the angels are singing in the background.  Lee Marvin makes an appearance as Orville “Flash” Perkins, a loudmouthed braggart and a drinker who challenges Johnny to a race, both thinking they are the fastest runners in the territory, which leads to a 4th of July fiasco, where they both amusingly get intoxicated before the race.  Afterwards, Johnny and Susanna have a picnic in the woods where they go swimming together in the creek, leading her to return several weeks later announcing she’s pregnant. 

Johnny, of course, does the honorable thing and agrees to marry her, taking a riverboat journey south to meet her relatives in New Orleans, discovering their views favoring slavery as well as their belief that Abraham Lincoln was tainted with Negro blood.  Perhaps the most despicable scene is Johnny’s insistence that Susanna free her slaves, which she announces at a party in front of her relatives, one of whom dons a blackface and prances around as the stereotypical yet horribly demeaning depiction of a darky.  At this point, Taylor’s exaggerated over-the-top drama kicks in, revealing she’s a deeply troubled woman hiding family secrets, as her mother slowly went insane, causing her father to bring back a Negro women from Cuba to take her place in the home raising the children, but the two of them were apparently shot in a fire that destroyed her family’s plantation, a traumatic incident from childhood that continues to haunt her.  Johnny remains reassuringly supportive, even after Susanna admits she was never pregnant, but desperately wanted his love, but she is possessed by visions, like a dark curse, eventually disappearing without a trace with their son, apparently gone to Georgia following the outbreak of the Civil War, which leads to an intermission at the 2-hour mark. 

The final section drags on with the least impact and is not really necessary other than to exploit the war, becoming ludicrous at times, especially when Johnny joins the Northern army largely in a desperate attempt to seek out his missing family in the South.  Johnny joins up with an Indiana regiment that includes “Flash” Perkins and his old professor, now a war correspondent, and follows the track of Sherman’s march to Atlanta.  Surprisingly, along the way, they run into the home of the Cuban woman that helped raise Susanna, where friendly family slaves have his son safely hidden away.  It’s here that Johnny learns Susanna had a breakdown and has been admitted to an insane asylum.  Carrying his son on his shoulders, Johnny fends off Rebel soldiers, which even for a soap opera is just beyond belief, as is the rescue scene in the asylum.  Unfortunately, in order to bring in the Civil War and tie up loose ends, they extended an already overlong film an extra hour without ever offering a truly gripping scene.  In my view, this is one of Taylor’s worst performances, as she’s completely on a different wavelength than everyone else in the film, allowed to over act while embellishing narcissism and nonstop hysteria on camera.  This simply doesn’t suit her since she’s such an adult, naturalistic force onscreen, but not here, as she’s continually portrayed as damaged goods.  Clift, on the other hand, has much greater screen chemistry with Eva Marie Saint, something that Susanna eventually realizes before bringing the curtain down in dramatic fashion.  The director never gets a grip on the material and allows the film to continually meander, presented almost as a fairy tale, never for a moment sensing any urgency or real life emotion.