Tag Archives: Debra Paget

Film Review: Broken Arrow (dir by Delmer Daves)

Posted on by Lisa Marie Bowman

The 1950 film, Broken Arrow, takes place in the years following the Civil War.

Having survived the war, frontier scout Tom Jeffords (James Stewart) just wants to get away from his fellow countrymen for a while.  During the Civil War, Jeffords saw the worst that humanity had to offer and the experience has left him cynical about the idea of bringing civilization to the American frontier.  Tom just wants to be left alone.  Still, when he comes across a 14 year-old Apache who has been shot in the back, Tom stops to help.  Though wounded, the Apache still tries to attack him.  He’s learned not to trust the white man.  Broken Arrow is a film that suggests that he has good reason not to.  Indeed, Broken Arrow was one of the first major Hollywood productions to attempt to treat the American Indians with sympathy and fairness.

Tom saves the Apache’s life and reunites him with his tribe.  When the Apaches attack and kill a group of nearby gold prospectors, they allow Tom to live but they warn him to stay out of their territory.  However, circumstances make it impossible for Tom to do that.  When Tom arrives in Tucson, the citizens are incredulous that he allowed the Apache child to live.  When Tom learns the Apache language and customs and marries an Apache woman named Sonseeahry (Debra Paget), it causes the other whites to distrust him even more.  However, it is Tom’s eventual friendship with the Apache chief Cochise (Jeff Chandler) that eventually lands Tom in the middle of the conflict between the Apaches who want to preserve their way of life and the white men who want their land.

Broken Arrow is a well-intentioned film, in the way that mildly liberal films from the 50s tended to be.  The U.S. government and its citizens are criticized for breaking their promises and their treaties to the Apache but the film’s ultimate message is one of compromise and understanding.  The bigoted whites may be the villains but then again, so is Geronimo (Jay Silverheels) for refusing to accept Cochise’s desire for peace.  Cochise is the film’s hero specifically because he calls for setting aside differences and living in peace with the white man, despite his own distrust of their leaders.  The majority of the extras were Apache, though Neither Jeff Chandler nor Debra Paget were of Native descent.  Both of them give good performances that largely avoid the stereotypes of the time.  Chandler received his only Oscar nomination, for Best Supporting Actor, for his performance in this film.

That said, the unnominated Jimmy Stewart dominates the film and that’s not really surprising.  (It should be noted that, while Stewart was not nominated for this film, he was nominated for his performance in Harvey, that same year.)  Stewart may have first found fame as the happy and go-lucky face of Middle America but his experiences in World War II left a definite mark on him.  He returned from the war a much more serious figure and every character that he played (even the lovable Elwood in Harvey) had more than a hint of melancholy to him.  Stewart plays Tom as being a troubled soul, someone who is still struggling to come to terms with the destruction and cruelty that he saw during the Civil War.  There’s an authenticity to Stewart’s performance, leaving little doubt that he understood exactly what Tom was going through.  Broken Arrow ends on a note of compromise and racial harmony but it’s a sad film because we know what waits in the future for Cochise and his people.  Tom Jeffords fights to bring peace to the frontier but it’s a peace that won’t last.  And, as played by Stewart, Tom seems to understand that better than anyone.

Horror Film Review: The Haunted Palace (dir by Roger Corman)

Posted on by Lisa Marie Bowman

In the 18th century, the inhabitants of Arkham, Massachusetts yank Joseph Curwen (Vincent Price) out of his mansion and tie him to a tree.  They accuse Curwen of being a warlock who is in league with the devil and who has been bringing young women to his “palace,” and putting them in a trance.  They burn Curwen alive but, before the flames are lit, they also give Curwen a chance to speak and curse both them and their descendants.

You really do have to wonder about the logic behind witch (and warlock) burnings.  They seem counter-productive because they always give the accused just enough time to cast one final curse before being burned to a crisp.  Indeed, you have to wonder why witches and warlock were allowed any final words to begin with.  I mean, at some point, you would think everyone would notice that the final words were always a curse.

Anyway. 110 years later, Joseph Curwen’s descendant, Charles Dexter Ward (Vincent Price, again) rides into town with his wife, Anne (Debra Paget).  He is stunned to see that Arkham has apparently fallen on hard times, with many of the town’s people being horribly disfigured.  It’s explain to him that the disfigurements and the poverty are all a result of his ancestor’s curse.  That’s going to make things a bit awkward, considering that Charles Dexter Ward has not only inherited the Palace but he’s also inherited a copy of Necronomicon and a legacy of messing with Cthulhu.  The townspeople don’t want Ward around but he and Anne decide to spend the night in the Place regardless.

Of course, it doesn’t take long for Curwen’s spirit to possess Charles.  Soon, Charles is trying to resurrect Curwen’s mistress, Hester (Cathie Merchant) and pursuing Curwen’s goals of breeding a race of super humans by forcing the women of the town to mate with the fearsome Yog-Sothoth.  Charles also seeks vengeance on the descendants of those who burned Curwen at the stake, as if all of the poverty and the deformities aren’t punishment enough.  Again, this is why you don’t give warlocks and witches a chance to get out one last curse before being executed.

Though The Haunted Palace is usually considered to be a part of Roger Corman’s Edgar Allan Poe cycle, the story itself is actually based on H.P. Lovecraft’s The Case of Charles Dexter Ward.  (In Lovecraft’s novella, Ward seeks out his evil ancestor whereas, in the film, Ward is more or less an innocent victim.)  The film’s title comes from a Poe poem, which is recited at both the beginning and the end of the film.  But the film itself, with its references to the Cthulhu mythos and its hideous New England setting, is definitely a work of Lovecraftian horror.

Fortunately, it’s an effective work of Lovecraftian horror, one that captures the feeling of people unwisely trying to control a force of evil that they cannot begin to comprehend.  Roger Corman keeps the action moving quickly and creates a gothic atmosphere of impending doom.  Vincent Price, toning down his usual theatrics, is chillingly evil as Curwen and sympathetic as Charles.  The film’s strongest performance, however, comes from Debra Paget, who desperately tries to free her husband from Curwen’s control.  Any woman who has suddenly felt as if she can no longer recognize the man who she once loved will be able to relate to Paget’s performance.

The Haunted Palace is a strong entry in the films of Roger Corman and Vincent Price and one of the better adaptations of the work of H.P. Lovecraft.

Horror Film Review: Tales of Terror (dir by Roger Corman)

Posted on by Lisa Marie Bowman

Eh, anthology films.

I have to admit that I’ve never been a huge fan of anthology films.  Anthology films are almost always a bit uneven.  Some filmmakers are better suited to making short films than others and, as anyone who has ever sat through one can tell you, sitting through a boring short film is actually worse than having to watch a boring long film.  Too often, anthology films are just a collection of boring short films.  If you get lucky, there might be a good segment hidden amongst all of the bad segments.  But even so, that often means sitting through 30 minutes of bad filmmaking for 15 minutes of something that’s moderately entertaining.

1962’s Tales of Terror is an anthology horror film.  Directed by Roger Corman, the film is a part of his Poe cycle and features adaptations of three Poe short stories, Morella, The Black Cat, and The Facts In The Case of M. Valedemar.  While it definitely suffers from the flaws that afflict many anthology films, Tales of Terror is saved a bit by the presence of Vincent Price.  Price not only appears  in all three of the films but he also provides the narration that links each film.  As I mentioned when I reviewed The Premature Burial, one cannot underestimate the importance of Vincent Price and his unique style of acting when it comes to discussing Corman’s Poe adaptations.  With his dramatic flourishes and his theatrical style of speaking, Price was the perfect star for these films.  As an actor, he perfectly complimented Corman’s flamboyant and colorful direction.  It also helps that Price himself seems to be truly enjoying himself in all of these films.  His eccentricity brings the film’s to life.

As for the separate stories that make up Tales of Terror, things get off to a rather macabre start with Morella.  Leonora (Maggie Pierce) returns home to visit her father (Vincent Price), who is now a drunken wreck who continues to blame Leonora for the death of her mother, Morella (Leona Gage).  Morella died while giving birth to Leonora.  Leonora is shocked to discover that her father is keeping her mother’s decomposing body in the mansion.  Leonora, who is suffering from a terminal illness, tries to take care of her father.  However, Morella’s spirit remains in the house, leading this story to a rather depressing and unsettling ending.  This story was effectively done, playing out like a particularly morbid companion to The Fall Of The House of Usher.

The Black Cat is presented as a comedy, starring Peter Lorre as a man who becomes convinced that his wife is cheating on him with a snobby wine taster who is, of course, played by Vincent Price.  This overlong segment did not work for me and I have to admit that a lot of that is because I love cats, black cats in particular.  Beyond that, the humor is a bit too broad.  Corman could do comedy, as he showed with Little Shop of Horrors, but he seems to be trying a bit too hard here.

Finally, the third segment is The Facts In The Case of M. Valdemar, in which Vincent Price plays the title character.  The dying Valdemar employs a hypnotist (Basi Rathbone) to put him in a trance to help relieve his suffering.  However, the hypnotist hopes to marry Valdemar’s wife (Debra Paget) and, after putting Valdemar into a trance, he leaves the dying man there.  Valdemar, whose body starts to decay, cannot die.  But, once he becomes angry enough, he can still rise from his bed to seek revenge even as his body putrefies.  This segment was the best of the three, featuring Price’s best work in the film and also a wonderfully villainous turn from Basil Rathbone.  The makeup effects that were used to capture Valdemar’s decay remain effectively frightening today.

Tales of Terror is two good stories and one mediocre one, which is better than the usual anthology film.  Still, not surprisingly, the main reason watch is for the wonderful Vincent Price.

Film Review: The Ten Commandments (dir by Cecil B. DeMille)

Posted on by Lisa Marie Bowman

Though you may not know it if you’ve only seen the film during one of its annual showings on television, the 1956 religious epic, The Ten Commandments, originally opened with director Cecil B. DeMille standing on a stage.  Speaking directly to the audience, DeMille explains that, though the film they’re about to see me take some dramatic license with the story of Moses, it still based on not just the Bible but also the accounts of Philo, Josephus and Eusebius.  He also tells us that The Ten Commandments is more than just an adaptation of the Book of Exodus.  Instead, it’s a film about every man’s desire to be free.

Demille concludes with: “The story will take 3 hours and 29 minutes to unfold.  There will be an intermission. Thank you for your attention.”

To be honest, it’s kind of a sweet moment.  Cecil B. DeMille is a name that is so associated with (occasionally overblown) epic filmmaking that it’s easy to forget that DeMille was one of the most important names in the artistic development of American cinema.  He was there from the beginning and, unlike a lot of other filmmakers, he was equally successful in both the silent and the sound era.  Say what you will about his films, DeMille was a showman and he handles the introduction like a pro.  At the same time, there’s a real sincerity to DeMille’s tone.  After you listen to him, you’d almost feel guilty if you didn’t sit through all 3 hours and 29 minutes of his film.

That sincerity extends throughout the entire film.  Yes, The Ten Commandments is a big, long epic and some members of its all-star cast are more convincing in their roles than others.  And yes, the film can seem a bit campy to modern viewers.  (In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if it seemed a bit campy to viewers in 1956 as well.)  Yes, The Ten Commandments does feature Anne Baxter saying, “Oh Moses!  You sweet adorable fool!”  But it doesn’t matter.  Even the most ludicrous of dialogue just seem right.  The film is just so sincere that it’s difficult not to enjoy it.

In the Book of Exodus, Moses is described as having a speech impediment and even tries to use it as an excuse to get out of going to Egypt.  That’s actually one of the reasons why Moses brought Aaron with him to Egypt, so that Aaron could speak for him.  In the movie, Moses is played by Charlton Heston, who comes across as if he’s never felt a moment of insecurity over the course of his entire life.  But no matter.  Heston may not by the Moses of Exodus but he’s the perfect Moses for the DeMille version.  When Heston says that Egypt will be visited by plagues until his adopted brother Ramses (Yul Brynner) agrees to allow the Jews to leave Egypt, you believe every word.  (Aaron, incidentally, is played by the legendary John Carradine.  He doesn’t get too much other than respectfully stand a few feet behind Charlton Heston but still: John Carradine!)

And really, anyone who dismisses The Ten Commandments out-of-hand should go back and, at the very least, watch the scene where the Angel of Death descends upon Egypt.  The scene where Moses and his family shelter in place while the screams of distraught mothers echo throughout the city is chilling.  Ramses may spend most of the film as a petulant villain but you almost feel sorry for him when you see him mourning over his dead son.  When he sets off after Moses, it’s not just because he’s doing what villains do.  He’s seeking vengeance for the loss of his first born.  For that brief moment, Ramses goes form being a melodramatic bad guy to being someone with whom the viewer can empathize.  Brynner, with his burning intensity, gives a great performance as Ramses.

As I said before, this film has what, in 1956, would have been considered an all-star cast.  Watching the names as they show up during the opening credits — Cedrick Hardwicke!  Yvonne DeCarlo!  Woody Strode!  Debra Paget! — is like stepping into a TCM fever dream.  Some of the performers give better performance than others.  And yet, even the worst performer feels as if they just naturally belong in the world that DeMille has created.  John Derek may seem rather smarmy as Joshua but his callowness provides a good contrast to the upright sincerity of Heston’s performance as Moses.  Edward G. Robinson’s cries of, “Where is your God now!?” may have provided endless fodder for impersonators but just try to imagine the film without him.  Even Vincent Price is in this thing!  He doesn’t have his famous mustache but, as soon as you hear his voice and see that famous glare, you know that it’s him.

Of course, when you’re growing up and The Ten Commandments is on TV every year, you mostly just want to see the scene where Moses parts the Red Sea.  The Ten Commandments was nominated for seven Oscars but it only won one, for its special effects.  (The prize for Best Picture went to another epic, Around The World In 80 Days.)  Today, the film’s special effects may no longer amaze viewers but there’s still something rather charming about the Red Sea parting and then crashing in on the Egyptian army.  The scene where the Earth opens up and swallows those who worshiped the Golden Calf remains impressive, if just because all of the extras really look terrified that they might die.  And while the Pillar of Fire may look a bit cartoonish to modern eyes, that’s a huge part of the film’s appeal.

The Ten Commandments is a big, long, sometimes silly, sometimes effective, and always entertaining epic.  It’s a grand spectacle and one that I usually watch every year when it shows up on television.  I missed this year’s showing but, fortunately, I own it on DVD.  It’s a sincere epic and a difficult one not to like.

 

30 Days of Noir #24: Fourteen Hours (dir by Henry Hathaway)

Posted on by Lisa Marie Bowman

As a genre, film noir has always been associated with crime: murder, brutish gangsters, seductive femme fatales, and occasionally a cynical private detective doing the right thing almost despite himself.  However, not all film noirs are about criminals.  Some are just about desperate characters who have found themselves on the fringes, living in a shadow-filled world that appears to be monstrously indifferent to all human suffering.

That’s certainly the case with the 1951 noir, 14 Hours.  The film centers around Robert Cosick (Richard Basehart, who previously played a murderer in another classic noir, He Walked By Night).  Robert isn’t a gangster.  He’s not a private detective.  He doesn’t carry a gun and he doesn’t provide any sort of hard-boiled narration.  In fact, for the majority of the film, Robert is defined by less who he is and more by what he’s doing.  Robert Cosick, having earlier checked into a room on the 15th floor of a New York hotel, has climbed out of a window and is now standing on a ledge.  Robert says that he’s going to jump.

What has driven Robert Cosik to consider such an extreme action?  The film never settles on any one reason, though it gives us several clues.  When his father (Robert Keith) and his mother (Agnes Moorehead) show up at the scene, they immediately start bickering about old family dramas.  When Robert’s ex-fiancee (Barbara Bel Geddes) begs him to step in from the ledge, he listens a bit more to her than he did to his parents but he still refuses to come in from the ledge.

But perhaps the real reason that Robert Cosick is out on that ledge can be found in the film’s shadowy visuals.  Directed in a semi-documentary fashion by Henry Hathaway and featuring harsh, black-and-white cinematography that’s credited to Joe MacDonald, Fourteen Hours emphasizes the indifference of the city.  From the menacing landscape of concrete buildings to the crowds gathering below the ledge to see if Robert lives or dies,  New York City is as much as a character in this film as Robert, his family, or the cop (played by Paul Douglas) who finds himself trying to talk Robert into reentering his hotel room.  When night falls, the city may light up but it does nothing to alleviate the shadows that seem to be wrapping themselves around Robert.  For the fourteen hours that Robert is on that ledge, he may be the center of the world but the film leaves little doubt that New York City will continue to exist in all of its glory and its horror regardless of how Robert’s drama plays out.  Whether he lives or dies, Robert appears to be destined to be forgotten.

When the film isn’t concentrating on the cops trying to talk Robert into getting back in the hotel room, it shows us the reactions of the people who see him standing out on that ledge.  (If this film were made today, everyone would be holding up their phones and uploading Robert’s plight to social media.)  Some people are moved by Robert’s struggle.  For instance, a young woman played by Grace Kelly (in her film debut) reaches a decision on whether or not to get a divorce based on what she sees happening on the ledge.  Two office workers (played by Jeffrey Hunter and Debra Paget) even strike up a romance as they wait to see what will happen.  Some people view Robert as being a madman.  Others see him as being a victim.  And then there’s the many others who view him as being either a minor distraction or a piece of entertainment.  For them, it’s less important why Robert’s on the ledge or even who Robert is.  What’s important to them is how the story is going to end.

It’s not a particularly happy film but it’s made watchable by Hathaway’s intelligent direction and the performances of Paul Douglas and Richard Basehart.  With its theme of instant fame and hollow indifference, it’s a film that remains as relevant today as when it was initially released.