When A Stranger Calls

(1979)

"Every babysitter's nightmare becomes real..."

"When A Stranger Calls" came out the year after the original "Halloween", and although it is not as widely acclaimed or known, it's just as scary, if not scarier, in a much more subtle manner.

The film starts off with Jill (Carol Kane), a young babysitter minding two small children for the evening, the children having already been put to bed for the night by the parents before they leave. She begins to receive anonymous, frightening phone calls with the caller ominously asking, "Have you checked the children?" and "Why haven't you checked the children?" then hanging up. Scared, she calls the police, who at first tell her to calm down, then instruct her to try to keep the caller on the line if he calls again, so the call can be traced. When she obliges and they trace the call, the real terror starts. I remember when I first saw this film, and my reaction to this revelation was unparalleled by any film I had seen at that time.

I am trying not to give away too much - if you haven't seen this film, be careful of other online reviews; I came across several that were real spoilers, and without any forewarning.

The first part of "When A Stranger Calls" is very fast-paced, then the middle part takes the audience seven years ahead; Jill is now a married mother. The film slows and becomes more of a psychological study; the criminal from the beginning sequence has escaped from the asylum. Along his wanderings he comes across Tracy (Colleen Dewhurst), a tough barfly he fixates upon. John Clifford (Charles Durning), who was the police detective investigating the original case, re-enters the scenario to try to track down the escaped madman, Curt Duncan (Tony Beckley).

This part of the movie is slower but much more interesting, in my opinion, and shows how scary a film can be without any real gore factor. Tony Beckley (in his last role) is very convincing as a murderous madman; his careful and understated portrayal make the character Curt Duncan even more terrifying. Colleen Dewhurst's performance as Tracy helps this part of the film move very well (she was always an extremely good actress) and she makes Tracy's toughness, vulnerability, and smarts very believable. Charles Durning as Detective Clifford is a typical part for him, and he handles it well, with his usual street-savvy tough-guy exterior aplomb.

The direction by Fred Walton, and the subtle, creepy soundtrack help push this film beyond the realm of being just another standard 1970's scream-inducing shock flick.

The Manchurian Candidate (1962 & 2004)

(1962, 2004)

"Why don't you pass the time by playing a little solitaire?"

This is a review and comparison of the 1962 and 2004 film versions of "The Manchurian Candidate".



The 1962 film features Frank Sinatra as Cpt. Bennett Marco, Laurence Harvey as Sgt. Raymond Shaw, and Angela Lansbury as Mrs. Iselin, in the three lead roles.

The 1962 version: "The Manchurian Candidate" is based upon the 1959 book by Richard Condon, which was an immediate success. The film, however, was a flop at the time it was released, and after the assassination of John F. Kennedy the following year, was withheld from the public until the late 1980's by Frank Sinatra, who had purchased the rights to it.

The story in brief: Raymond Shaw is an ex-prisoner of war (and Congressional Medal of Honor recipient) who, as it turns out, was brainwashed with the rest of his infantrymen while captured in North Korea. He, however, has been programmed to kill, unlike the rest, who were merely made to believe (and recount, when queried) that "Raymond Shaw is the kindest, bravest, warmest, most wonderful human being I've ever known in my life", who saved their lives. After two years back home, though, Cpt. Marco and some of the others have started having nightmares in which glimpses of the truth come through. Cpt. Marco cannot reconcile the dreams with what he feels in his heart, and starts to search for the truth.

The brainwashing sequences are chilling, using as one technique 360-degree camera rotations to pan the room in a circle, as one long shot, to show what at first seems to be a garden party of elderly ladies talking about "Fun With Hydrangeas" (with the soldiers inexplicably on the podium as guests), until the camera rotates back around...and the elderly ladies have become an assortment of Russians and Chinese officials. This scene in itself involved quite a lot of filming, as the same shots and angles had to be used for many of the juxtapositions of the characters.

Angela Lansbury is Mrs. Iselin, married to Raymond's stepfather (obviously a characterization of the real-life Senator McCarthy). The plan is for Raymond to assassinate the presidential nominee at a certain pivotal moment, so that Senator Iselin can further his career and the advance of the Communist Party infiltration into the US government. This is also with the help and control of his manipulative, controlling wife. Angela Lansbury was masterful in her role as one of the greatest female villains in the history of film. In real life she was only a couple of years older than Laurence Harvey, yet she plays his mother in the film. She is completely believable, however, and without the use of any aging makeup. Frank Sinatra, known for insisting on only doing one take because he believed in spontaneity, gives what is possibly his finest film performace. Laurence Harvey brings a great deal of complexity to the part of Shaw, making the character of Raymond Shaw sympathetic and warm in addition to his mostly cold persona.

Harvey's performance is what ultimately makes Shaw's character, and the film, succeed, in my opinion. Shaw's love interest Jocelyn (played by Leslie Parrish) helps flesh out his portrayal of Raymond, as we get to really see what he could have been had he been able to live on with Jocelyn and the warmth with which he was welcomed into her family. The rounding out of his character adds a great deal to the tragedy and horror of his murdering her, and her father, while he is under control of the brainwashing. In the original film, I am always struck by how Laurence Harvey steps over her body on the floor, on his way out, and he starts to walk as if his knees are buckling...and then on the way out you see tears streaming down his face. He's still in brainwash-mode, but something's coming through; Harvey's performance was absolutely great in this movie; he is alternately chilly, condescending, terrifying, warm, boyish, and "loveable". But he ultimately commands sympathy and empathy...a beautiful performance that never fails to move me upon each re-viewing of this mesmerizing film.

The only complaint of characters I have is of Rosie (Janet Leigh), who seems completely unnecessary, but in those days it was often common to have a love interest for the protagonist, whether or not her presence furthered the story at all. But whereas the character of Jocelyn is completely needed for Shaw, Rosie seems rather arbitrary.

I have the Special Edition DVD release of the original; I definately won't be buying the remake.

The 2004 version/comparison of the two films: I rented and watched the remake recently, out of curiousity, in addition to an attempt on my part to be open-minded (for once, lol) about a remake of a classic. Well, once again I was disappointed with a modern remake of an old Hollywood classic. And to compare them makes the remake look even worse.

For instance, the first five minutes of the 2004 version look like a VH1 ad, of course. Viacom = Paramount = VH1.

The characters aren't developed enough to make the audience particularly care about them; especially Liev Shreiber as Raymond Shaw. In the original, there was a lot of background on Shaw's relationship with Jocelyn, and you actually developed sympathy for him; but mainly, Laurence Harvey was an outstanding actor. The heartfelt love between Raymond and Jocelyn was expanded upon much more, in addition to the warmth Raymond shared with her father, Senator Jordan. As a reseult, the girl's and her father's murders in the 1962 version was much more horrifying. In the remake, there's no underlying emotion when he kills them. As a result, we, as the audience, really don't care.

"Why don't you pass the time by playing a little Solitaire?" to trigger the brainwashing "spells" is a lot creepier and more ominous (especially as it would come at inopportune times, in the original, such as when Shaw would be sitting in a bar) than the person's name just being repeated, in full, to incite the brainwashing. Also, in the remake, they saw fit to have some kind of silly pale "aura" every time the influence of the brainwashing came to the surface. In the original, Harvey would get a really peaceful expression on his face, and that was enough, and it was much creepier. Uhm, you know, as in acting to create the feeling? Remember acting, instead of just special effects? Liev Shreiber tries his best to emulate Laurence Harvey in the original; it's apparent that he studied the 1962 version. But trying to mimic another actor's performance usually isn't a good technique, and this is no exception. Whereas Harvey was able to be sympathetic and expressive, in addition to being cold, Shreiber is just plain cold. He's just not a good enough actor; at the very least, he's not in Laurence Harvey's league. His characterization makes Shaw completely uninteresting and stiff, and a lot of what made the original film work so well is the overwhelming empathy the audience cannot help but have for Shaw.

Sinatra's performance was much better, and much more sympathetic, than Denzel Washington's. Denzel Washington mostly just clenched his jaw, and I usually like his performances.

Also, in the original, it seems more believable that Rosie would let a strange man into her apartment, in those days. Sinatra's character comes across as actually ill, and in need of sympathy, instead of just crazy. In the remake, Rosie basically just comes on to Captain Marco when he's on the train. Sure, invite him on over, girl! It was obvious right then and there that she was in on it somehow, in the remake.

Meryl Streep as Mrs. Iselin in the 2004 version seems to be re-running her same exact mannerisms and characterizations as for her role in "Death Becomes Her", and just only slightly toned down. It seems evident that she drew on her own past performance in another movie, and a comedy no less, for this.

In the scene where she gets ready to kiss Shaw on the mouth, I wondered, "In the original, she kissed him, what's she going to do in this one?" Well, she just kisses him, thankfully, but the camera cuts away right as the kiss starts. In the original, Lansbury's character kisses Shaw full on the mouth, which of course makes your skin crawl, even in black and white, and even though Lansbury had her hand over their mouths, it was obvious she was full-on kissing him. In the remake they brushed over it and really avoided the intensity that scene had in the original. And the level of evil and menace Lansbury brought to the role isn't even touched by Streep's over-the-top perfomance.

If it ain't broke, don't fix it, as the saying goes. Forget the remake. See the original if you haven't already done so, and add it to your collection.

A Place in the Sun

(1951)

"A Place in the Sun" tells the story of George Eastman, a poor relation who goes to work in his rich uncle's factory. He starts at the bottom level, working the production line, and gets involved romantically and sexually with co-worker Alice Tripp, all the while yearning for the unattainable - the gorgeous Angela Vickers. However, by the time he is able to finally be with Angela, his relationship with Alice interferes with his plans.

The film is based on the novel "An American Tragedy", written by Theodore Dreiser in 1925. Elizabeth Taylor, who was only 17 at the time, was cast as Angela Vickers, the beautiful and rich love interest of George Eastman (Montgomery Clift). Shelley Winters is Alice Tripp, the woman who becomes a burden to Eastman; an obstacle to his love for Angela and her way of life. Stevens was reticent at first to cast Winters in the dowdy role; at the time she was known for portraying glamorous types or sexpots. She convinced Stevens to cast her by showing up in his office for her appointment with him dressed for the part, including a mousy hair color, rather than her usual platinum blonde, sitting silently when he came out and didn't recognize her for several minutes as he glanced around his outer office at the actresses waiting to see him.

Raymond Burr, best known for his TV role as Perry Mason, plays a Perry Mason of sorts in the film: the prosecuting attorney, Frank Marlowe.

This was the first of three films that Taylor and Clift made together; and they became instant friends upon meeting for the first time for the making of "A Place in the Sun". The chemistry between the two is evident, although Clift was homosexual in real life. They remained close friends until his death in 1966, at age 45, from a heart attack. Taylor has remarked that her first kiss with Clift in the film was the second time she had ever been actually kissed - the first time was two weeks before filming started.

Director Stevens decided to take the story and set it in post-war times instead of in the 1920's, when the novel takes place, to take the atmosphere of wartime out of the feel of the story. The lushly filmed lake scenes have the look of an Ansel Adams photograph - color would have been superfluous. The masterful use of shadows is evident throughout, and Stevens' several excruciatingly tight closeups of Taylor and Clift together serve to highlight her beauty and the chemistry between the two lead actors, heightening the sense of danger and romance.

"A Place in the Sun" was nominated for nine Academy Awards, winning six, including Best Director for George Stevens. It's a gripping, beautiful film, albeit a highly romanticized Hollywood version of the true story.

Dreiser's novel was based on an actual murder case of 1906 - the case of Chester Gillette. Below is a link to a story about it:

Crime Library - The Chester Gillette Case

Belle de Jour

(1967)

"Belle de Jour" is generally considered to be director Luis Bunuel's masterpiece; a surprisingly revealing and seemingly personal venture into the world of eroticism and its deviances. It's a truly surrealistic exercise in ambiguity, fantasy, and reality. The line that separates them is blurred so much that the famously mysterious ending has had critics arguing for decades over its meaning.

The gorgeous Catherine Deneuve, resplendent in her icy prime, portrays Severine Sevigny, the middle-class wife of Pierre, a doctor. She is frigid, virginal, yet seemingly happy enough in her bourgeoisie life and its trappings. However, upon hearing about a local clandestine brothel from a friend, she pays a visit to the madame, and becomes a prostitute, going by the name of "Belle de Jour", as she can only work in the afternoons. She apparently fully realizes and enjoys her sexuality, despite her guilty conscience, exclaiming that she "can't help it".

She certainly doesn't need the money. She's bored with her life and her marriage, needing a "firm hand" to lead her; a need which the madame, Anais, who is obviously attracted to her, almost immediately recognizes. Her sweet and conventional husband is unaware, treating her much like a child, and the audience cannot help but believe that even if he knew of her true nature, he would not understand or empathize. She keeps her two worlds neatly separate until a patron of hers (whom she herself enjoys) becomes obsessed with her, and all is threatened.

The fantasy sequences are usually signalled by the sound of carriage bells, but by the end of the film the viewer is no longer able to differentiate between what is another one of Severine's fantasies and what is reality. Even Bunuel admitted to not knowing himself. He said that "by the end, the real and imaginary fuse; for me they form the same thing."

That Alfred Hithcock in particular admired this film comes as no surprise; Deneuve would have been the perfect Hitchcock heroine: an icy blonde who becomes "a whore in the bedroom", as Hitchock was fond of saying he preferred in his leading ladies. But this remark is not meant to simplify the story, its telling, or Deneuve's remarkable performance, which is what truly draws the viewer into the film.

"Belle de Jour" was Bunuel's first foray into the use of color, and he employed it to great effect. From the fall colors displayed in the landscape scenes, to the subtle shades in Deneuve's clothing, the contrasts are set. While the world around her explodes in glorious hues, Deneuve's character is defined by her couture, if staid, wardrobe of tan, black, and white.

"Belle de Jour" was unreleased for many years due to copyright problems, but finally re-released in 1995 through the efforts of director Martin Scorcese, and released on DVD in 2003. I've watched it twice in the past week and am still at a loss to describe it very well; suffice to say that I am in awe. It's an amazingly erotic film without any explicitness, and one that I expect hasn't lost any of its effect over the years. As the subject matter is handled very tactfully and without any actual sex scenes; a great deal is left to the viewer's imagination - which only serves the heighten the mysteries inherent at every turn in the film. The viewer is however drawn into the sense of feeling to be a voyeur into Severine's secret life; the careful choreography of scenes and camera angles contribute to the uncomfortable sense of intrusion by us, the viewers.

There are many sub-stories and small mysteries in the film; for instance one of the most widely debated upon by critics is the mystery of "what is in the Asian client's little box?" that he presents first to one prostitute, who quickly refuses, then to Severine, who tentatively agrees. All the audience know is that it's something with a insect-like noise, and when the client leaves, Severine is sprawled face-down upon the bed, the sheets thrown about, and obviously pleased with whatever took place in the interim.

"Belle de Jour" was awarded the Golden Lion at the 1967 Venice Film Festival, as well as the award for Best Foreign Film in 1968 from the New York Film Critics Circle.

Interesting side notes: Bunuel himself had a shoe fetish, which helps explain the numerous shots of Deneuve's beautifully clad feet throughout the film, and the fact that every time she goes shopping, she buys shoes, and seems to enjoy taking them out of their box to admire. Bunuel also appears in the film in a cameo as a cafe patron, and in another scene his hands are shown loading a gun.