House of Wax

In the early 1950's television had erupted into the pop culture world, initially devouring cinema, which suffered greatly at the expense of the new medium which customers could get for free from the comfort of their own living room. The great innovators that they were, studio heads began plotting ways to get people back into theaters, and this thinking if what led to the 1950's and early 1960's being the golden age of the epic. Studios had to give people something they couldn't see on a small, black and white 16 inch screen. Another, more kitschy, but less remembered ploy to win back customers was 3D. Used today as more of a gag, 3D was an honest attempt to distinguish cinema, and Warner Bros. poured a lot of money into the innovation. Their most ambitious gamble was 1953's "House of Wax". A remake of the studio's own 1933 film "Mystery of the Wax Museum", "House of Wax" is a virtual scene for scene remake of that film, with a few key differences. For one, it is in lush technicolor, it also has the added appeal of being filmed in 3D (which serves for some rather superfluous shots while viewing it at home now, 50 years later), but most significantly, it stars Vincent Price as Prof. Henry Jarrod. Lionel Atwill was the mysterious doctor in the 1933 original, but he cannot possibly compete with the handsome and charismatic Price, who would go on to become a horror icon throughout the 1950's and 1960's. As the brilliant sculptor a little too in love with his creations, Price perfectly balances the artistic genius with the sadistic madness his character is ultimately consumed by. At the time every studio was struggling from the effects of television, but Warners had been in a rut for several years in addition, and "House of Wax" turned into a huge money maker for them (their biggest hit since 1947's "Life With Father"), turning Price into a bona fide star. While watching today, the film can come across as somewhat campy, mostly because of the poorly staged setups for 3D, and the stilted acting from virtually everyone other than Price, but enjoying it for what it really is: a showcase for Vincent Price and a visually stunning film by director Andre De Toth, the film is a horror masterpiece.

As the film opens, Henry Jarrod is showing his business partner his latest prized creations, all painstaking recreations from history, including Joan of Arc and Marie Antoinette, two statues he has spent particular time and attention to. His partner, Matthew Burke, keeps trying to convince Jarrod to focus more on gory, sensational stuff, to give the public a show, but Jarrod sees his work as art, not as cheap thrills for the amusement park crowd. The two start arguing over money, and Burke considers burning down the museum to collect the insurance money, an idea Jarrod vehemently opposes. Their argument soon turns violent as the two begin to fight. Burke subdues Jarrod and manages to light fire to a number of the statues, before narrowly making it out of the building before it is completely consumed by the flames. Jarrod however is not believed to have escaped. Cut to some years later and a new wax museum is nearly ready to open, except no one knows who its mysterious benefactor is. Of course it is Jarrod, now confined to a wheelchair and with a decidedly maniacal streak to him, but otherwise appears healthy considering the last time he was seen. Now seemingly taking his partner's advice, Jarrod's new museum is almost entirely comprised of shocking, violent scenes, some eerily recreated from actual events, such as Jarrod's partner, who was found hanged to death in an elevator shaft. Running parallel with Jarrod's re-emergence into society is a gruesome figure who stalks the streets at night, and two mysterious men who steal bodies from the city's morgue. While the astute viewer will realize that the gruesome figure is in fact Jarrod himself, exacting his revenge first on Burke, then setting his sights on two pretty young women, Sue Allen and Cathy Gray, De Toth keeps this information concealed, dropping clues, but for the most part keeping the two stories (Jarrod and the re-opening of the museum, and the mysterious figures prowling the streets) seperate. Soon after Sue Allen disappears, her distressed friend Cathy Gray makes the acquaintance of Henry Jarrod, thanks to her friend, Scott Andrews, a promising young art student himself and admirer of Jarrod's work. Cathy too is impressed by Jarrod's charisma and devotion to his art, but is taken aback when she thinks Jarrod's new Joan of Arc statue bears a striking resemblance to her missing friend Sue.

Cathy is troubled by the Joan of Arc statue, and begins snooping around Jarrod's museum after its grand opening, lingering at the base of it and staring at what she thinks is her friend. Jarrod keeps pursuing her to model for his new Marie Antoinette statue, and Scott tries convincing her too, as he is now apprenticing in Jarrod's workshop with Igor, Jarrod's mute assistant (played by an impossibly young, and quite scary looking Charles Bronson, billed as Charles Buchinsky). Eventually Cathy relents, and cannot help but be placated by the charismatic Jarrod, who seems so in love with his statues that she is willing to forgive the strange coincedence. That is until she realizes, amidst continuing newspaper coverage of bodies snatched from the morgue, the phantom figure who chased her through the streets, and Jarrod's ability to recreate real life crimes with uncanny accuracy, that Joan of Arc is Sue, a point confirmed by a birthmark the statue would never simply have. Cathy is now convinced of the diabolical methods Jarrod employs to supply his museum with the latest marvels, and when Scott confronts Jarrod about it, he strikes him, revealing the hideous figure who had been stalking the streets. After the fire, his face horribly disfigured, Jarrod fashioned for himself a wax mask of his old face, and continued his artistry, albeit with a twist of the macabre. Jarrod captures Cathy and has her bound in his laboratory, in preparation to be covered in the scalding hot wax, while Igor and Scott fight in the museum above. Scott very nearly is beheaded by the all too real guillotine in one of the exhibits, and manages to subdue Igor. With the help of the police, Scott bursts into the laboratory moments before Cathy is to be killed and pushes Jarrod into the boiling vat of wax, ironically killing the crazed artist. Finally, in an epilouge befitting modern day horror movies, the police are discussing the fallout of the case and how Igor is in prison, still practicing his teacher's craft. One of the policeman then displays a terrifying wax mask of Igor, thrusting it at the audience (aided by the 3D technology) for a final "boo!" scare, as well as setting up a sequel (which never happened, thankfully). While Vincent Price would unfortunately go on to become somewhat of a caricature in horror movies, long after his nickname the 'Grand Guingol" became outdated, his work here, is incredible, and the film itself is a true horror classic.

Jezebel

If there is one thing to remember from William Wyler's antebellum soap opera, "Jezebel", it is that red dress. The dress (actually black to create greater contrast given the black and white cinematography) is an icon, on par with Judy Garland's ruby slippers, and James Dean's fire engine red jacket. Today relegated as a smaller, black and white version of "Gone With the Wind", "Jezebel" does bear several on screen similarities, as well as off screen connections, to its more famous counterpart, but that does not diminish its impact upon viewing. It is true, the film takes place in roughly the same time period (New Orleans instead of Atlanta), and impressively (through sets and costumes) recreates the antebelleum South on the sets of Warner Bros. backlot. The most popular rumor though, revolves around how Bette Davis came to star in this film. Under contract with Warners, Davis was one of the first stars to chafe under the studio system, taking Jack Warner to court over her contract and threatening to move to England to void her contract. The two sides settled; Warner promised Davis better roles and in return, probably ruined Davis' chances of starring in "Gone With the Wind". The casting of the main role of Scarlett O'Hara contains enough drama to be a compelling film of its own, and at the time Bette Davis made it known loud and clear that she wanted it. Warners was not about to let its biggest female star make a guarenteed box office smash for another studio without compensation of some kind, and insisted that MGM take on Errol Flynn as Rhett Butler if they were to have Davis. Knowing that this stipulation would be a poison pill (Davis had already made a film with Flynn, "The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex", and hated him after that experience), and that MGM would never take on two combatant stars to play two of the screen's greatest lovers (even if theirs is a tumultuous relationship), Warner allegedly "made it up to" Davis with the role of Julie Marsden in "Jezebel", a role oddly enough Vivien Leigh (who would ultimately play Scarlett) turned down. Still with me?

As the film opens, Julie Marsden is the belle of New Orleans. She is young, beautiful, wealthy and engaged to Preston Dillard, also young, handsome, and wealthy (played by Henry Fonda). While we never doubt Julie's love for Preston, we certainly doubt his love for her. Preston is as stoic and proper as they come, and it is instantly obvious that he chafes under the free spirited Julie's ways. Julie would rather die than be told what to do, an ultimatum put to the test when she refuses to compromise for tradition. The Olympus Ball, attended by all of New Orleans society, dictates that the women wear white. Julie insists on wearing a blood red gown to the dance, dismissing the objections of her family, and especially Preston. She shows up at the ball seemingly invincible, then learns just how grave a mistake she made. Immediately ostracized from society for her blatant faux pas, Julie has her heart broken by Preston, who calls off their engagement. The severity of Julie's mistake is compounded when she goes an entire year without seeing Preston, who moves to the North to attend to his family's banking matters. Just as he is to return, New Orleans is in a panic because of an anticipated yellow fever outbreak. Julie's family plans to move out to their country estate, Halcyon, but Julie is entirely preoccupied with Preston's return, thinking he is coming back to marry her. Julie is absolutely stunned when Preston instead introduces his wife, Amy to the family. She immediately reverts to her scheming ways, and sets Buck Cantrell, a family friend and former lover of Julie's, against Preston and his new Yankee wife. When Preston is called back into the city to help Dr. Livingston, another family friend, Julie goads Buck and Preston's brother Ted into a duel, in which Ted kills Buck. Julie's guardians, specifically her Aunt Belle who always took her side, renounce their guardianship of her for what she did, and it is here that Aunt Belle refers to Julie as a "jezebel", for using her femininity to fool men into killing each other. Julie is to be thrown out of her own home by her family, but everything is halted when word arrives that the fever has reached epidemic level in the city and the governor is forbidding anyone outside its limits from re-entering. The reality soon sets in amongst Julie and Amy: Preston is behind the fever line.

Back in New Orleans, the city is in chaos. Martial law has been instated and troops are patrolling the streets, piling up the sick and the dead together and shipping them to Lazarette Island, a former leper colony in the Mississippi delta. Preston and Dr. Livingston find refuge in the bar of a hotel, where all those not infected have seemingly turned. Just as Preston learns of Buck's death at the hands of his brother, he collapses, and Dr. Livingston makes his unfortunate prognosis: yellow fever. Removing Preston to his family's home in the city, word gets back to Halcyon of Preston's condition. Julie immediately sneaks back into the city with the help of one of the family's slaves, a treacherous row boat ride through the bayou, and takes up vigil by his bedside. A few days later, Amy, Aunt Belle and the rest of the family are permitted inside the city limits, but Preston's condition is the same, which means he must be taken to Lazarette island. Amy insists on going with him, but Julie, in an impassioned speech, offers up her own life to be with him, arguing that she has a chance of nursing him back to health and helping them both survive the horrors of the island. The film ends with Julie, an unconscious Preston on her lap, being driven away in a wagon, presumably doomed, but finally together. The arc of Julie's character is very similar to that of Scarlett O'Hara; she begins the film as a spoiled and petulant child, who through complete loss and utter humiliation emerges as a strong, selfless character. Of course Scarlett O'Hara throws it all away again when her vices return, driving the love of her life, Rhett Butler, away from her, while Julie is ultimately reunited with Preston. This film was a huge success for Warner Bros., and it won Bette Davis her second Oscar for Best Actress, and secured Fay Bainter Best Supporting Actress for her portrayal of Aunt Belle. At the time Warner Bros. was second only to MGM in terms of star power and quality productions, and it was films like these, which combined a strong cast, meticulous sets and art direction, gorgeous costumes (by famed designer Orry Kelly) with an immesenly talented director (not Warners' go-to director for A-list films, Michael Curtiz, but the extremely capable William Wyler, whose long, illustrious career was just getting started). "Jezebel" may be dismissed as "Gone With the Wind" lite today, but it packs enough power and prestige to firmly stand on its own.

Doctor Zhivago

David Lean is perhaps the only director to combine Old Hollywood style with New Hollywood sensibilities. His epics were as long, star studded, and flat out big as any Cecil B. DeMille directed, yet he infused them with subtext and subtlety that DeMille never knew he never knew. Lean's "Lawrence of Arabia" is arguably the most impressive film ever made, considering Lean crafted this incredibly nuanced epic, anchored by one of the greatest performances ever (by a virtual unknown no less) and he did it all in the middle of the Arabian desert! One would think then, that after the resounding success he experienced with "Lawrence of Arabia", Lean would have tried something a little different, perhaps a drawing room piece, with no mind boggling exteriors and casts of thousands. One would think wrong. Barely a year after finally completing the staggering undertaking that was "Lawrence of Arabia", Lean gathered much of the same crew, including such notables as screenwriter Robert Bolt, composer Maurice Jarre, cinematographer Freddie Young, and production designer John Box, and this time took them to the other extreme, the bitter cold. "Doctor Zhivago" is a great big sprawling romantic epic, complete with the stunning visuals Lean made himself famous for with "Lawrence of Arabia" but also managing the same intimate moments which elevated him to the elite class of epic directors. Lean was seemingly begging for trouble when he got back behind the camera of such a behemoth, but he pulled it off a rare second time in a row. Considering that this film was met with a fraction of the critical acclaim he received for "Lawrence of Arabia" but several times its box office take proves that not everyone agreed with me, yet I have to salute Lean for denying the odds and pulling off an impossible production not just twice in a career, but twice in a row!

The epic begins with a close up of one of Lean's regulars: Alec Guiness. Told through extremely extended flashback, the story is that Guiness, as General Yevgraf Zhivago, believes he has found the illegitimate child of his half-brother, the titular Dr. Zhivago, and his lover, the beautiful Lara Antipova. Flashing back to some 35 years prior, the recently orphaned Yuri Zhivago has just been adopted by the generous Gromeko family and moved from his home in the desolate tundras of northern Russia to the regal splendor of artistocratic Moscow. The Gromeko's raise Yuri as their own son, nurturing his love of medicine and blessing his relationship with their daughter, Tonya. Flash forward about fifteen years and Yuri and Tonya are now engaged to be married, he a successful young doctor and romantic poet in Moscow, and she the radiant daughter of a wealthy family. Everything is fine, until one day fate intercedes on a personal and historical level. Soon after catching a glimpse of the stunningly beautiful Lara (played by the stunningly beautiful Julie Christie) on a street car, the fire of revolution begins to burn inside Yuri as he witnesses the Czar's troops cut down a peaceful protest of the artistocracy. Later, we learn that Lara, the woman Yuri cannot help but be intrigued by, is the daughter of a seamstress, who stays financially afloat through her relationship with the morally corrupt, but politically rich Victor Komarovsky. Lara's mother no longer good enough, Komarovsky begins making overt sexual advances on young Lara, escorting her to dinners and operas, much to the chagrin of Pasha, Lara's idealistic fiancee, also unfortunately a callous wimp. One night, after being nearly raped by Komarovsky, Lara finds him at the home of a wealthy couple for a Christmas party, the same party attended by Yuri and Tonya, and she shoots him. Pasha follows her and escorts her out after the scene she has made startles everyone into inaction. This is the night that all of their lives first converge, and despite the cataclysmic events that are to follow, their paths will keep converging for the rest of their lives.

Yuri and Tonya get married and have a child, establishing themselves in Moscow as a prominent couple. Lara and Pasha get married and move away from Moscow. Komarovsky disappears, after being rejected by Lara. Soon though the event foreshadowed the night of the protest comes to fruition: the Russian Revolution. Yuri, on medical assignment for the Czar's troops, meets Lara again. He is instantly reminded of the smoldering courage and determination she showed that night at the party, and the two fall into a platonic love with one another. Neither wanting to dishonor their spouses, they instead bond over Yuri's poetry, two romantic souls together in the wild. When revoltion strikes, Lara leaves to her husband and Yuri returns to Moscow, where the elegant mansion he was raised in has been seized by the Bolsheviks, and divided into living quarters for some eleven families! Barely welcome in their own home, the outsiders resent the Gromeko's for their past decadence, Yuri, Tanya, their son Sasha and Tonya's father seek respite in the Gromeko's summer estate, in the distant countryside. After surviving a treacherous train ride to the distant outpost, dodging the warring Bolshevik factions the Red Guards and the White Guards, the beleagered family arrives at the estate, where they live in relative peace for sometime. However this soap opera is far from over. On one of his routine trips into town Yuri discovers that Lara is living there, and this time, he cannot avoid falling into a sexual relationship with her.

Living a double life of course gets Yuri into trouble soon enough. One day going into town Yuri is abducted by mercenary troops and forced into servitude as their doctor. He goes several years without seeing Tonya, his son, or Lara, as he is forced to participate in the merciless raids the troops conduct. Finally sneaking away, Yuri famously crosses seemingly all of Russia to get back to the summer estate he had been staying at. Certain critics seem to harbor a certain degree of animosity towards Yuri for cheating on his quite lovely wife, but it should be noted that when he is faced with the decision to return to one woman, he chooses his wife. However he returns to find the estate deserted. Devastated he wanders into town and finds Lara and her daughter still there. Their tearful reunion is short lived however. Komarovsky, somehow still with plenty of money and influence despite the complete destruction of the artistocracy, emerges, offering Lara and her daughter safe passage, since the Bolsheviks are allegedly pursuing Yuri for his romanticized poetry. Yuri convinces Lara to go with the lecherous Komarovsky, vowing to find her again, and the haunting shot of her being driven away in a sleigh, knowing full well it is the last time she will ever see him again, is one of the film's most powerful. Devastated a second time, Yuri returns to Moscow, finds his wife and son, and lives in relative obscurity. Until one day, while riding the same street car he first spotted her on, Yuri sees Lara walking in the street. He quickly disembarks and gets within a few yards of her when suddenly, he suffers a fatal heart attack, collapsing dead on the street. After treking hundreds of miles on foot to be reunited with her, he ends up missing her forever by a few feet. And so we return to Alec Guiness, still questioning the girl, of whom he is now completely confident is his step niece. He allows her to leave, his conscience satisfied. I always find it interesting, personally, in a movie that exceeds three hours, what the first and last shot is, and here, we simply have a medium shot of the dam the girl is crossing as Guiness looks on, a rather inconspicuous end to a truly incredible film.

North by Northwest

Alfred Hitchcock's nickname was "The Master" because his films were simply good enough to warrant such a hyperbolic name. Hitchcock's genius is even more regarded today as scholars point out the limits to which he was able to push certain boundaries, incorporating sexually and psychologically subversive elements into his films right underneath the noses of the clueless censors, albeit resorting to clever ways in most instances. But in the latter stages of Hitchcock's career, after he burst onto the Hollywood scene in the early 1940's, and his less distinguished period after the allure wore off a bit from the mid 1940's through the early 1950's, Hitchcock became more overt with his subversiveness. "Vertigo" might as well be a David Lynch movie, considering the extremes it goes to depicting a man obsessed with his dead lover. And "Psycho" is arguably the first film to to graphically depict the mind of a serial killer. Sandwiched neatly between these two endlessly debated films came arguably Hitchcock's most easily accessible Hollywood vehicle ever, "North by Northwest". Starring Cary Grant as Roger O. Thornhill, a dashing, debonair older gentlemen who looks great in a suit (he might as well have been playing himself), an ad man mistaken for a double agent after another agent turns up dead, Thornhill literally races across the country, dodging a shadowy villain named Vandamm, government agents, and a mysterious blonde (a staple of Hitchcock's, among others he uses here). "North by Northwest", while light years removed from the brooding, cerebral drama of "Vertigo" and the audacious and probing suspense of "Psycho", proves Hitchcock's greatness. His ability to jump back and forth between heavy and light, without mortgaging quality in the process, is a trait demonstrated by precious few filmmakers.

As the film opens, we meet Roger Thornhill, a seemingly absentminded advertising executive. He is twice married (and divorced) and reluctantly accepts constant supervision and advice from his mother. After he is kidnapped by a mysterious figure named Vandamm, played with typical cold steel by the great George Mason, who thinks he is a CIA agent named George Kaplan, Thornhill is released, and in the first of many memorable set pieces, finds himself framed for murder in the lobby of the U.N. From here on, the film operates at a break neck speed. Thornhill quickly finds himself being pursued by both Vandamm's men, who think he is Kaplan, and the government and other authorities, who think Thornhill killed the man in the U.N. Aboard a train to Chicago Thornhill meets Eve Kendall, a prototypical Hitchcock blond. Portrayed by Eva Marie Saint, oozing equal parts sex appeal and elegance (a Hitchcockian must), Kendall soon draws Thornhill into her web, convincing him she is an ally, amidst their (for the time) scandalous banter. Of course, nothing is what it seems, and soon Thornhill comes to suspect Kendall is involved in what is going on more than she initially intimated. After parting ways, Thornhill, in perhaps the film's most celebrated sequence, matches wits with a crop duster. After disembarking a bus on a deserted stretch of highway, Thornhill is chased down by the diabolical plane (perhaps influencing Spielberg's "Duel" some fifteen years later with the faceless vehicular terror!) and narrowly escapes.

He next finds himself forced to think fast when he is cornered at an auction house by both the government and Vandamm's men, led by ruthless henchman Martin Landau. (For years, rumors have persisted that Landau's character is gay, however I have seen this film several times and still fail to pick up on any such attributes) Realizing that the government is the lesser of two evils, Thornhill begins to make a scene at the auction house, bidding a couple dollars for priceless antiques and artifacts, to the point that he is finally escorted off the premises by the police, much to the chagrin of Vandamm's goons. Now in government custody, Thornhill is told that there is no George Kaplan. The name is made up, an elaborate government ruse to confuse and entrap Vandamm, with Thornhill as the patsy. Thornhill tries to act offended and walk out, until he is told that Eve Kendall is also a government agent, and her association with Thornhill has jeopardized her cover. Forced back into the deadly game, all the players converge at Mount Rushmore. (Hitchcock was denied his request to shoot there, thus the scenes in the visitor's center are set against an elaborate matte painting, and the actual scenes atop the rock are carefully constructed sets) As Thornhill and the goons tangle on the top of the monument, providing Hitchcock's tongue-in-cheek working title for the film "The Man in Lincoln's Nose", the film takes a pretty wild cut, going from Thornhill's outstretched hand, in a will-he-or-won't-he reach Eve moment, to his pulling her up into the sleeping rack aboard their train cabin. Presumably the chase is over, Hitchcock ends with one of his celebrated "slip by the censors" moments: as Thornhill and Eve embrace, pulling the sleeping bunk shut with them in it, we quick cut to the train's exterior, rushing into a tunnel! The perfect sublime moment to Hitchcock's most sublime entertainment.