Reviews

This beautiful movie is a fine work of art and tells us the Sweden of Garbo and Ingrid Bergen still lives. Only the title seems out of line. The story isn't about heaven or music or even Sweden. All of its beauty is devoted to love; free love. It's real, awesome beauty, too! We're offered a superb cast of cinematic actors, topped by Michael Nyquist, whom I'd never before seen. He's the bona fide charmer in this story; never taking a false step; until we see the end of it all.

It begins as a paean to sensitivity and inclusive love. The love of people and of music. The setting is Sweden; Norrland, and we have nothing but exquisite Swedish acting. The music also becomes incomparable as the plot thickens. No one could ever deny the sheer talent that went into As It Is In Heaven. The young Swedish heroine Lena, played by Frida Hallgren, actually convinces us she's an angel who can see other angels. Spoilers ahead: Only we find out in time she's a seductress, of whom the whole town is resentful except one young autistic character, who really resembles an angel. Lena comes to represent in this story, the supposed power of free love over Christian love.

With no apologies.

Most of the others in this town, who join in their church's choir; are portrayed as rough, morose and unromantic overall. Their pastor is exposed gradually as a vile hypocrite, and he comes to hate our musician hero Daniel; who takes away his Christian congregation. How? With LOVE! Whereas, Lena the angelic heroine is seen as bold goodness and honesty; because she's liberated and always cool. Bed-hopping and stripping naked are seen here as angelic because: After all this is the Sweden of Garbo and Ingrid Bergman. Graphically we learn this is hardly As It Is in heaven.

Love conquers all, we're hammered at. The writers tell you how unhappy people of faith always are. They're wife-beaters, bigots and false prophets. And they know nothing about LOVE. Only a cupid from Sweden can explain love to movie fans. We must be taught there is no sin in any sexual way, no penalty for it, and no impediment at all to immorality. All that isn't pumped up is Swedish homosexual love.

In the golden years of Hollywood Greta Garbo as Anna Karenina had to step into an oncoming train paying for her sexual liberation. Now a film from her homeland tells us we should give up all those superstitions about free love's consequences. (Just stick to the script, where they'll tell you all the inside scoop.) This film deserves a 4 for great acting. Not a film for your children to see. Unless you want to see them become oversexed romantics.

I saw this one years back on a perfectly awful VHS print. Now I have the sparkling DVD copy; which is awesome. I'm always worried about praising any Catholic-themed film. Too many people simply have no interest, for their own reasons.

I have obvious *spoilers* about this one: Firstly, it doesn't say anything sinister about the Italian clergy. And leave out a gang of Cupertino delinquents, why; you have no Mafiosi.

If you don't care for the holiness hook in your stories you'll hate The Reluctant Saint. Ignore this one.

However; if you love Italy as I do; this one's a treat! A true joy to watch and also rocks with Nino Rota's humorous film music. Where it really shines is in the superb acting; you'll be amazed! Imagine a German actor playing a half-wit Italian stable boy and doing it ten times more convincingly than anyone could expect. We never had a smarter, better actor than Maximillian Schell. He leaves you breathless! What we see at last is an actor of real RANGE! Is that all? NO; the fine Italian actress playing his Mama; Lea Padovani, is perfect in the role of a suffering matron who becomes the happiest Mama in the world! She is truly lovely! Akim Tamiroff played a remarkable Bishop Durso; in what I would say is the best movie role he ever got. In all his other roles he was a caricature of the buffoon. Here he's the blessing over all the other Catholic nuances; you gotta love him! Ricardo Montalban, I'm afraid; didn't seem happy in the part of the heavy. He just acted sullen.

Producer-Director Edward Dmytryk made a superb film. The reviews were unflattering even for 1962. It's not surprising. That's when car chases, explosions and death all became popular. And we all know any Italian movie with brutal Mafiosi would have gotten rave reviews.

To me this film is a classic; and I rate it at 9 from a hard ten; as they say in Vegas. Ciao, Ragazzi!

Like others, I'm tempted to say this is the greatest film I've seen in my whole life; and I am already 73! That's a lot of movies! This is the greatest of all! I can't say it's on account of Masina; an actress of wonderful talent. Because, in some of her other Fellini roles, she didn't come across as this stupendous. Then it must be what her husband, the inimitable Fellini did for her acting. That's more likely. Everyone knows he was a genius. Giulietta Masina as Cabiria may have been a stroke of that genius, matched with an unforgettable Nino Rota film score, and the undying magic of Rome. Masina was a RIOT of feminine personality and rose to Fellini's greatest occasion in film. All the actors in this gem of a movie are splendid!

Now; there is a lovely spiritual aspect to Nights of Cabiria. I suspect hardly anybody in the millions who have seen Cabiria over many years realizes it. Now we'll have a spoiler with the secret aspect realized:

Despite her facade of insouciance and exuberance; Cabiria is dejected at the squalor of her prostitution; and how men have exploited her once-innocent youth. She reveals it for a fleeting moment. Before the ostensibly miraculous image of the Virgin, Cabiria breaks down and pleads: For a change in her hopeless life.

In the following scenes, disappointment sets in. Both for her and others in the so-called pilgrimage. Her acting, of a slightly rummy prostitute laughing at the notion of innocence and faith, becomes literally heartbreaking. Only Giulietta could have played these scenes.

Rather than continue on the spoiler sequence and a final denouement; I suggest viewers hereafter pay attention during the much-admired ending. Everyone knows by now she's leaving Rome. She's disposed of her property and for love's sake Cabiria puts her past behind her. Then we're led to see her last agony toward the end. While Rota's absolutely smashing score is played by a group of adolescents, she sheds one last tear and smiles into Fellini's camera. Because her prayer before the Virgin is answered. It's been very painful, but her life has changed at last!

There is nothing surer than how photogenic Tuscany is during either day or night. I'm very familiar with the present-day Arno River locales and people who live there. So I expected a fine film, if not something to rave about.

Spoiler alert: Nothing is fine about Night Of The Shooting Stars. It's good travelogue footage missing the high points. All the actors are capable given the poor screenplay they were dealt. The writers merely dismiss any truth other than the civilians' necessarily panicked desperation when fascist bullets are flying.

Despite their innate Italian faith, not one Tuscan seems to believe in any Catholic doctrine and the San Lorenzo tradition is attributed here to simplistic legend. The very idea that somehow the sensitive bishop portrayed at bogus Mass is consecrating a stout loaf of deli-baked bread is so preposterous no one could take this place for 20th century Italy.

That Nazi occupiers no matter how beastly, would corral an entire village of civilians, including women, bishop and children; at their basilica and summarily blow them to bits inside, makes absolutely no sense. One has to wonder if this pair of Italian writers were blowing cocaine as they developed their silly plot. Furthermore, they WOULD have to reach for scenes like Tuscan ragazzi spying on a urinating lady and masturbating like toy monkeys, to add gravity to the situation. Later they have some oaf eating busted watermelon off a woman's teat? Give us a break! By the time this all ended, I was shooting off stars! Here's an awful movie without one iota of credibility. Two thumbs down /

It was understood this would be a sorely depressing film, considering the unpleasant subject. I never read this novel, but any screenplay it contained would have tended toward low expectations. Even in this era of cloned flops.

--Spoilers coming: Here we see nothing uplifting, not even the growing children. I've known some wonderful kids with Down's Syndrome. A sweet Downs child is usually more than able to capture your heart by sheer innocence and good will.

Here the daughter Phoebe has that responsibility thrust on her because all the other characters are dreadful. They only convey grief and/or ignorance of the subject matter. Ostensibly because this novel all occurs in unenlightened days when Downs babies were referred to as "Mongoloid idiots." But in this plot there can be no excuses. Because her father, this "Memory Keeper" is a practicing physician. Yet, from panic he condemns his baby girl to an institution that seems nothing more than a zoo. Emily Watson's role is supposed to show love and compassion. She's this plot's lynch-pin. But what she acts out is deadpan worry. Both the mother who was deceived, and her boy the twin brother, are played with less nuance than her Downs-afflicted daughter emotes.

Indeed, she carries on cheerfully. The plot, however, sags in all the important places. Except for some tearful expressions by Mom and Dad in early development, hardly any acting of significance is filmed. IMHO, the director of this movie ought to bow out of the profession and let others take the blame for depressing, bad films.

I couldn't help seeing some of the negative remarks here, making light of a truly venerable French film. They don't come any more glamorous.

Seeing Ingrid Bergman as captured by Jean Renoir also reduces the cavils to ordinary vanity on the part of pompous reviewers. After all, it's Le Comedy Francais, not Ingemar Bergman diamond-cutting. To understand this kind of refined madcap, you have to lighten up! Even today with two world wars and world-wide depressions behind us; Ingrid the mother of all film actresses appears effortlessly artful and glamorous. Champagne doesn't age as spectacularly as this movie has. Together with the grandiose military posturing of Jean Marais, and with France in its Belle Epoque, Renoir gave us his own brilliance to treasure. Spoiler alert: Sorry to say poor Mel Ferrer alas, was out of his league. But he never danced better. The cameras betrayed his inner ardor, he was in love with Ingrid, as what virile hunk wouldn't be, holding her close? I'd have tumbled for her in a New York minute. The camera never loved her more audaciously either. Here is a lovely old movie with class.

I have only two plebeian thumbs. They serve little purpose here but to contradict so many art connoisseurs in these pages who presume to teach Jean Renoir et Companie how to film a French romantic farce. Well, I offer two thumbs up! To all who remember the grace and beauty of Ingrid Bergman, then: SEE THIS JOYOUS MOVIE!

Fifties Hollywood sometimes was simply overpowering.

Brando never did better work than On The Waterfront, IMHO. Working with a monster like Elia Kazan, one might expect nothing but excellence; yet Marlon Brando was above any direction on the set. A documentary of Kazan's splendid career shows him with Marlon. Advising, apparently, how the upcoming scene was to be played.

A spoiler coming up: You can see the actor's eyes glaze over. Nobody instructed him. Talking to Brando was useless. The inner "method" just went on auto-pilot and it was faultless. When brought to bear on such a terrific script, he could only be pure dynamite. And Waterfront was the Brando script above all others.

We must remember; he made a boatload of turkeys too. But here, and in Streetcar or Viva Zapata, he was in the ZONE.

I'm not dazzled by his acting in The Godfather as much as in this role. The Godfather for me was Al Pacino's triumph.

Recently I once more watched On The Waterfront. Brando is still exciting even after all these long years. Surprisingly, I had to realize that in this film, with all his mannerisms, he had so stolen the movie that Eva Marie Saint's remarkably skilled performance was almost buried under Brando's. At least for me, and I suspect many others. Her part got less direct attention despite being every bit as important in the story. Now I realized what a great actress she always was. I believe this was Eva Marie's greatest role too!

It was the property, of course, which raised Marlon Brando to his career-best. He never made another film so deserving of honors. Not in Desiree as Napoleon, Guys And Dolls as Sky, nor the other lesser titles. Maybe closer in Zapata or Streetcar Named Desire. Yet they weren't real vehicles for him, nor was Vito Corleone. This was a marvelous story and gave him his best part: Terry Malloy, in On The Waterfront.

The tremendous Kagemusha is growing old. Kurosawa's genius, however, never dies, and this phenomenal three hours of Japanese color is as young as any film in the archives. The 180 minutes fly by watching such splendor. There are many memorable minutes that flare out brightly in this unbelievable film. Too many to bring back in one review.

--Spoilers:

I'm especially thrilled to think of Shingen's royal crest, with this motto. The great Shogun: "Swift as the Wind, Silent as the Forest, Merciless as Fire, and Immoveable as the Mountain." Yet, his banner at the final frames of this gorgeous movie; with those words on it, lies beneath the waters of a seashore; finally beaten down. Kagemusha, his shadow warrior is seen above it, lamenting.

Leading up to the climax, a particularly exquisite scene has the victorious foe Oda Nobunaga singing defiant words of a mighty Samurai. For the life of me, I wish I understood them. This wonderful actor, Daisuke Ryu; is absolutely mesmerizing as he dances, holding a fan in his hand! Only Kurosawa could have directed it.

The thief who is made Kagemusha had the best lines in this script; Tatsuya Makadai, on his knees but laughing. He responds to the Lord; who denounces him: "ME, the THIEF? I only steal coins, You steal whole domains!"

What an unforgettable film!

I'm forever a William Wyler fan. Yet must agree that he had a peculiar take on this Bronte classic. For one thing Cathy is far from a typecast Hollywood heroine. The love affair of Heathcliffe and Catherine demanded better than Merle Oberon, IMHO. This Mexican production directed by the legendary Luis Bunuel has a far lovelier girl in Cathy's role. Irasema Dilian underplays Cathy with listless gravity that ideally serves her sexual attraction.

It's plainly what this brilliant director took from Emily Bronte's own Gothic palette.

Spoilers near:

Just look at this creature so hysterical about Heathcliffe *here Alejandro* as to die for love of him. Irasema was likely directed to taunt her weak husband openly, displaying her passion for Alejandro. Dilian is poker-faced throughout, yet ravishing to look at. Just as the great novel paints her. Bunuel features the unlucky spouse as just a poor cuckold and nothing more.

As for Jorge Mistral; he was a top-notch matinée idol in Mexico, with nothing to ask of anybody in Wyler's film, not even Olivier. Of medium stature with virile good looks, he recalls Jeff Chandler to me. Not a bad Alejandro (Heathcliffe.) Mistral's brooding portrayal of Bronte's anti-hero is very persuasive. It's quite clear Luis Bunuel knew what he wanted for this important part. The other actors take some warming up to; but no more than those in Wyler's Wuthering Heights.

Willy Wyler wasn't crazy about Laurence Olivier as Heathcliffe, bawling him out mercilessly on set. So also David Niven as Cathy's brother; --Wyler laughed to his face saying: "Look at him! An actor who can't ACT!" Of course that role was tripe, just as in this Spanish-spoken script.

In Bunuel's version, the settings are bright, hardly dismal. Yet photographer Agustin Jimenez caught them as sober and forbidding enough. Playing an orchestral Love/Death sequence of Wagner's Tristan and Isolde at intervals of unpleasant stress for the lovers didn't seem very Gothic at all, unfortunately. It came together smartly, however. As a romance too obsessive not to end in tragedy. Excellent contrast to the Hollywood rendition in which Heathcliffe and Cathy ended up embracing amidst towering clouds, like angelic beings. Luis Bunuel's version is superior. I suspect Emily Bronte would have preferred it.

What is most agreeable about Mapp & Lucia is the principals' refusal to age and settle down like elderly simpletons. They're still so full of life! Spoiler alert:

Just seeing and hearing the boisterous piano duets of "Giorgino" and Lucia quickly has your Chuckle-O-Meter pop-popping. That happy pair dresses with such flair as only English society ever learned to do properly. What wondrous costuming! Watch for the Rolls Lucia casually rides in. It's a stunning antique!

Whereas Prunella Scales, their nemesis Mapp, has the opposite end of the spectrum, and is nevertheless a scream herself. Other members of this devilish cast amuse with consummate skill as well, most of them not intending to amuse us. Nigel Hawthorne never had a funnier role. This is comedy without malice or guile; as Brits do best.

I wouldn't part with my DVD album, or a brace of VHS classics: "Mapp and Lucia." Go find them at a B/Noble near you! Until then;

Au Reservoir!

Just saw the DVD and I couldn't be more pleased.

We all knew Albert Finney is a monumental star; not only in Brit cinema, but altogether on the screen. Ever since he was a young beau.

Now in his elderly career he looms larger than most; and the role of Winnie proved easy as pie to this wonderful trouper. I have visited his beautiful estate, Chartwell. It's stupendous; here we see how he loved it. Meaning as well his love for the British Empire. The story of his unbelievable resurgence to power during the Gathering Storm that was apparent only to him, is certainly dramatic. That's the core of this triumphant role for Albert Finney.

Finney's Churchill makes an entire era return to life again, such is the manic strength of his acting. He becomes Winston Churchill.

Spoiler alert! All the rest of this cast help make it lovely and nostalgic; Linus Roache as Ralph Wigram and Lonnie Barker, playing Inches the faithful butler: Who isn't afraid to scratch back at his dominating master; a sweet spot of comic relief. I only found Vanessa Redgrave barely suitable for such an important role as Clementine the adored wife. While she was having affairs the Old Man was saving the world from Adolf Hitler. That probably casts her in a bad light, of course. The production and acting are outstanding; as we've become so used to in numerous British TV movies. To see Albert Finney at his apogee, watch The Gathering Storm!

It's not surprising to see so much negative commentary about Ben Stein's mild documentary; since the same knee-jerk motivates every atheist who buys Richard Dawkins books. Plain disrespect for Christians meets the immovable object, faith.

Stein didn't slander anybody for not having even an iota of tolerance for metaphysics. ***Spoiler alert,*** He only stated some truths about other historical Darwinists like Margaret Sanger and Adolf Hitler. A fact that simply stands out about them is how affected these people were by the idea of racial purity. They had to be Darwinists to embrace the dubious credo of eugenics; even to the point of Hitler's hatred for Jews.

You can't invent such morbid truths. Hitler believed in Darwin as an ostensible supporter of his genocidal hatred. Sanger also championed abortion because she believed in survival of the fittest as taught in Darwinist theory. To her, allowing reproductive opportunity for unfit specimens would have to result in a weak and undeserving race of human beings. This is fact; not speculation or slander. Certain specimens must die for the betterment of our white race. Ben Stein gives his viewers only bare facts. Facts about what evolutionary theory has inspired in our recent past.

Yet, in our free society now we're barred from coming to truthful terms with all the accessible information. NO I. D. theory or speculation can have a place in scientific argument.

Stein only exposes all the hypocrisy. There IS no freedom of speech nor of inquiry in Academics. Even professors who have achieved renown lose their jobs and become outcasts, after allowing themselves any interest in Intelligent Design. WHY? Just because men like Dawkins flatly deny there can be a Supreme Being. It isn't slander to expose how Hitler might have followed a Darwinian illusion to the bitter end: to the extermination of every Jew he could arrest. Millions had to die on account of Hitler's belief in evolution and natural selection. This is mainly what Ben Stein makes us understand.