Showing posts with label Ophuls. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ophuls. Show all posts

Saturday, August 25, 2012

Caught

















CAUGHT            C               
USA  (88 mi)  1949  d:  Max Ophüls

A somewhat downbeat and dreary take on the American Dream, filled with a nightmarish pessimism about the corrupting influence of money, and considering when this was made, it’s a prescient comment on the otherwise sunny decade of the 50’s in America, a decade of supposed optimism and promise, an era when Americans pulled themselves out of the doldrums of the post-war trauma of the 40’s and moved to the suburbs, building new lives for themselves and their Baby Boomer children.  Clashes between Communism and Capitalism were just beginning, and German director Max Ophüls was driven out of Europe by the Nazi’s, emigrating to the United States where he was fired from his first job by Howard Hughes.  This film may be the director’s revenge, taking aim at the huge ego and tyrannical style of Hughes who surrounded himself with Yes men, throwing around directives and always telling others what to do, but leaving himself isolated and alone in the process, much like Charles Foster Kane living alone in his massive estate of Xanadu at the end of CITIZEN KANE (1941).  After Kirk Douglas and Ginger Rogers dropped out for what were considered script differences, Robert Ryan and Barbara Bel Geddes were borrowed from RKO to make this picture, where Ryan as international business tycoon Smith Ohlrig (modeled after Hughes) is a ruthlessly impatient man used to getting his way, but also subject to heart ailments when he doesn’t, momentarily turning him into a panicked weakling in desperate need of his life saving emergency medicine.  But this is a starring vehicle for Bel Geddes as Leonora, who is seen initially in her cramped apartment paging through magazines, picking out extravagant jewels and minks that in her eyes define success.  Saving her money to attend a charm school learning manners and etiquette, her idea of femininity is modeling fur coats in a department store, hoping to catch the eye of a rich millionaire who will sweep her off her feet at the perfume counter.  For many women in the 50’s this aptly describes the American Dream, as going to college and choosing a career was never the first option, which always remained finding a wealthy husband. 

Despite receiving an invitation to an exclusive party on Ohlrig’s yacht, Leonora spends most of the day pouting instead of primping, ending up going at the last minute where she misses the ride, left alone at the pier waiting in the darkness for someone to pick her up.  When a man arrives from the yacht, she asks for a ride, but he has important business to take care of, but brings her along, eventually driving her to his mammoth estate on Long Island, but she refuses to come inside.  Bel Geddes is a nice girl, perhaps overly sweet and naïve, and a bit mousy, always second guessing and questioning herself, while Ryan is bluntly direct and to the point, icy cold, never mincing words, refusing to ever let anyone, even his doctors, make decisions affecting his life, where on the spot he decides to get married just to prove his psychiatrist wrong.  When he picks Bel Geddes, you’d think she’d be the picture of happiness and bliss after their marriage, but instead she mopes around in a gloom of self-doubt, rationalizing that it was never about the money, when it was obviously about the money, then convincing herself  “he wasn’t like that before we were married,” when in fact he was exactly like that from the moment she met him, a dictatorial control freak who always has to have it his way.  Adapted from the Libbie Block novel by Arthur Laurents, who also wrote Hitchcock’s ROPE (1948), the problem is a weak script, as all the characters, including the leads, come off as too one-dimensional, where none of them are that interesting, where Curt Bois (who calls everyone “darling”) as Ohlrig’s assistant, was apparently hired to play the piano 24 hours a day, so everytime Ohlrig arrives home, he reminds Leonora that it’s time for them to go to work, playing the same tune over and over again to the point of near madness.  They fall into predictable patterns, become mired in their own delusional traps, where all Ohlrig wants is some eye candy on his arm who waits on his beck and call, like a hired employee, but when he discovers he can’t order her around like the rest of the staff, she bolts the first chance she gets.

Making a new life for herself, she finds another small, cramped room and a job as a receptionist for a pair of young doctors serving mostly poor kids, which is where she meets James Mason (in his first American picture) as Dr. Larry Quinada, who hires her, though after a few weeks he questions her disorganization, as her desk is a mess, and she continues to hold onto her idealistic views on marriage, advising women patients in the waiting room on the art of marrying a rich husband, even after discovering what a sham her own life has become.  But instead of motivating her to improve her skills and make better choices, Leonora ends up running away in shame, where Ohlrig sweet talks her back to the mansion, but she quickly discovers ulterior motives behind his actions, as he’s already orchestrating her life again as if nothing’s changed.  Running back to the good doctor, things improve momentarily, expressed in a dizzyingly choreographed dinner sequence between the two of them as they end up doing the waltz on a crowded dance floor, where Lee Garmes’ camera swoops around walls peering in and out of the rooms, creating an idyllic moment when he asks her to marry him.  Complications ensue, however, as she’s already married and pregnant, and neither one to the good doctor, so rather than tell him, she again drops out of sight until the doctor tracks her down, where Mason and Ryan have a mano a mano talk, as Ryan lowers the hammer and sadistically reveals the facts of life.  Despite the conservative nature of the times, being cooped up in the mansion of a man who has no interest in her, who in fact openly despises her, does not seem to be the right environment to live or have a baby, especially when she’s met someone who actually cares about her.  But in this film, that’s not an option, where instead there’s a contrived ending, where Mason gives a long involved speech to Bel Geddes in the back of an ambulance, an ominous picture of melodramatic destiny and gloom, where one finds freedom and hope in the ultimate tragedy of their lives, pulling success out of failure, which may as well be an answered prayer to “lead us not into temptation (money), but deliver us from evil (corrupted power).” 

Thursday, May 5, 2011

Day of the Outlaw

















DAY OF THE OUTLAW                     B+
USA  (92 mi)  1959  d:  André de Toth

You won't find much mercy anywhere in Wyoming.          
—Blaise Starrett (Robert Ryan)

A spared down, low budget, mercilessly bleak, Black and White American “B” western from the late 50’s, adapted from a Lee E. Wells novel, the last western made by this director known for his grim psychological dramas, this one defined by the tough as nails intractability of the lead characters, none of whom can stand up to the barren ruggedness of the natural outdoor landscape, which kicks human butt in this movie.  Shot on location in the Oregon Cascades during the winter, featuring the visibly identifiable Three Sisters Mountains as well as Mt. Bachelor, a lone peak that stands alone.  When one thinks of winter movies set in the snow, THE THING (1951) and again in (1982), DR. ZHIVAGO (1965), MCCABE & MRS. MILLER (1971), QUINTET (1979), THE SHINING (1980), FARGO (1996), THE SWEET HEREAFTER (1997), and WINTER SLEEPERS (1997) come to mind, most all shot in color, but this movie is set at the end of the road, where “the trail ends in this town. There's no place to go but back.”  Of course, in this film, back is not an option.  One must defy death. 

Taking place in a small isolated settlement of only twenty people in Wyoming, the ire of cattle rancher Blaise Starrett (Robert Ryan) is raised when farmers begin to place barbed wire fences around their property, which violates the original credo of the free and expansive American West.  This is no small disagreement, as men’s livelihoods are at stake, where everything depends on protecting what’s theirs, and if neither side backs down, something’s got to give.  Femme fatale Tina Louise as Helen Crane is married to one of those farmers, but as women are scarce in this neck of the woods, she’d been carrying on an affair with Starrett before she married her husband.  Yet when a shootout looms, she’s willing to throw herself at Starrett if it means he’ll spare her husband’s life.  Not so easy.  This is the West where men are used to having their way and not letting anyone interfere, especially a “pig-belly farmer.”  Just as a bottle is about to drop off a bar spelling the sign for the bullets to fly, they are quickly interrupted by a rag tag group of cutthroat outlaws who grab the men’s guns and immediately take over the town in a psychologically unsettling siege, completely shifting the balance of power. 

Led by Burl Ives as deserting Army Captain Jack Bruhn, carrying sacks of stolen gold, they are just ahead of the tracking cavalry but need to ride out the night in a safe and warm place, where Bruhn needs a bullet extracted from his chest, but despite his men’s preference for women and whisky, Bruhn tells the local folk to hide their liquor and protect their women, as both are hands off to his men, claiming he needs them all sober when they leave at dawn.  With his men itching to get what they want, knowing there’s a long ride ahead, they continually press the boundaries and tempt fate.  Bruhn always seems to magically appear just as his men are about to stray, bullying them into backing off.  But they do convince him that there’d be no harm if he’d allow a social dance with the town’s four women.  “We only want to borrow them - - we'll give them back.”  Diametrically opposite to the grace and sweep of most dance sequences, think of the opulence of Max Ophuls or the legendary grandeur of Visconti’s THE LEOPARD (1963), this one is painfully difficult to watch, as the endless barroom piano music never ceases, growing more and more physically aggressive as the men try to catch a kiss as the women continually back away in disgust.  This is as raw and primitive as it gets, but in some strange and delirious way an antecedent to Béla Tarr’s hypnotic but mind numbingly repetitious dance in SÁTÁNTANGO (1994).

When morning comes, Bruhn is barely alive, but he’s too stubborn to recognize it, commandeering Starrett to lead them safely through the mountains, though the snow has made them completely impassable at this time of year, a fact Bruhn comes to realize but withholds from his men, but that doesn’t stop them from what feels like a suicide march, telling Starrett:  “I guess every fool has his reason.”  If Bruhn’s deteriorating condition is not enough, the elements have turned so hostile, where frozen breath can be seen coming from both the men and their horses, with snow up to their bellies, completely covering the landscape, the horses can barely find a way to take one step after another, yet they’re forced to push on.  Rarely are animals seen exerting themselves in this level of difficulty where there are no CGI special effects, they are simply staggering to keep their feet in the brutally harsh conditions.  Beautifully shot by Russell Harlan, knowing what’s inevitable only adds to the pounding psychological dread of this death march, as the men soon start to turn on one another in an insatiable display of greed and avarice, where the music by Alexander Courage is heavy handed and amped up to the max.  Imprisoned by the snow around them, it’s apparent there is no escape, as first horses and then men do start to die in the blistering winter cold where the wind is too ferocious to even light a fire.  It’s telling that in this exceedingly concise rendering, there are no shots of the cavalry, and by the end, no one is pointing a gun at these men’s heads, yet they feel a compulsive desire to follow this mythical trail to that elusive freedom that never arrives, to make that last great escape.  Instead they ride into their own trap.  The story isn’t entirely bleak, as de Toth even adds an element of dark humor to show the demise of one of the last holdouts.  By the end, however, none of the original issues that were worth dying for at the time hardly seem to matter any more.