#253. La Strada (1954)

 

A.K.A. The Road

 

If I were to make a list of movie characters that need to be protected at all costs, Gelsomina would probably land in my top ten. She's the picture of innocence, childlike wonder, and heartbreaking despair (with an unspoken depth that's incredibly moving, in a Forrest Gump kinda way), and Giulietta Masina perfectly amplifies these qualities via her diminutive size and broad facial expressions.

 

She's really the ideal protagonist through which Federico Fellini (my first movie of his, by the way) can tell this touching and delicate tale of two lonely souls who desperately need love in their lives. It's simply impossible to watch this woman and not feel for her, and she also makes a perfect foil for Zampanò, whose all-consuming anger lies at the exact opposite end of the emotional spectrum.

 

You wouldn't necessarily expect to buy into a genuine connection between these individuals, but the road trip structure and dire, isolating lifestyle do suggest a certain co-dependency, and they're both so damaged and pathetic that you find yourself hoping for them to make the realization. And, as despicable as he might be, seeing Zampanò get there too late is enough to turn him into an equally tragic figure in my eyes.

 

Grade: A

 

#238. The War of the Worlds (1953)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 1

 

Let's start with the positive: this is probably the most visually stunning sci-fi movie to come out of the '50s. The use of Technicolor brings a lot of beauty and legitimacy to the concept, and it causes these already impressive effects (the ships, the creatures, the death rays, and the explosions all look amazing) to pop that much more.

 

Unfortunately, as predictable as this may sound, the human stuff is where the movie continues to lose me. While the sheer volume of destruction is enough to provide some adequate stakes, and the tight nature of the script mostly keeps things from getting too draggy, the characters are simply vacuums of personality (which isn't exactly helped by the performances), and it quickly causes me to disengage with what should be a fun story.

 

Similarly, the resolution's a total letdown (I can still recall laughing out loud the first time I saw it), but it mostly gels with the hokiness at play, while also wrapping things up fairly tidily, so I won't complain about that one. Instead, I'll say that, despite the bulk of this thing being a bit silly and dated for my liking, I can at least respect how influential the technical and genre components have proven to be.

 

Grade: B-

 

#231. Sayonara (1957)

 

 

It must've been exhausting to be a casual moviegoer in the late '50s. With cinema waging war on the new medium of television, pretty much every release was now two-and-a-half hours long (if not longer), subject matter had largely become weighty and self-important, and the entire concept of brisk pacing was basically thrown out the window.

 

For these reasons, I've always found it slightly daunting to go back and watch a movie from this era (especially because its brand of spectacle doesn't necessarily lend itself to smaller home screens), but I can get on board with an elongated runtime if, say, there's enough thematic depth and purpose to justify it. And that's where Sayonara mostly succeeds in my eyes.

 

Sure, the movie's needlessly bloated, with a presentation that can definitely feel preachy and drab, but this gives it the necessary room to explore some delicate topics in a way that would've been really progressive for the time (hence the Oscar nods). This, combined with the passionate performances, significant story/character developments, and immersive settings (there's something about Japanese architecture that I find incredibly soothing), was enough to keep me invested in the relationships.

 

Grade: B+

 

#219. The Vikings (1958)

 

 

The problem I tend to have with historical epics from the '50s and '60s is that they're usually devoid of personality, so The Vikings has an automatic leg up on the competition merely by being charismatic and boisterous and kind of pulpy. The presentation's still a little on the dry and earnest side for my liking, but there's enough exuberance and energy throughout that I was honestly surprised by how invested I was.

 

You can also really feel the communal effort with this one. The writing's got some morally compelling character dynamics, the cast (particularly Kirk Douglas and Ernest Borgnine) brings a lot of welcome flavour and intensity, the cinematography, courtesy of Jack Cardiff, is rich, beautiful, and atmospheric, and Richard Fleischer ties everything together with his textured direction. A lot of people are firing on all cylinders here.

 

So even if a handful of the slower scenes somewhat impair the pacing (the lead-up to that final battle is perhaps the worst example), and the relationship between Jamie Lee Curtis's parents is a total afterthought, the otherwise unique interplay, exciting bursts of action, and keen mix of opulence and depravity ensure that this is ultimately a higher-tier swashbuckler. 

 

Grade: A-

#196. Singin' in the Rain (1952)

 

Prior Viewings: 3-4

 

I usually feel a slight sense of trepidation when it comes to tackling the more popular and acclaimed movies, but not so much here. And I think that's because Singin' in the Rain is so pleasant and likeable and beautiful and entertaining that the positives basically speak for themselves.

 

Like, where to start? The gorgeous Technicolor? The catchy songs? The athletic choreography? The breathtaking pastel sets? The funny dialogue? The sharp industry satire? It's all so marvelously composed and effortlessly executed (despite the fact that these numbers are clearly exhausting) that you can't help but smile through the entire thing.

 

And unlike a lot of musicals from the time (or any time), there's not a single dull moment throughout. The title sequence, "Make 'Em Laugh", and "Good Morning" are all rightfully immortalized, but then you've also got the lovely "You Were Meant for Me", the energetic "Moses Supposes", and the show-stopping "Broadway Melody", as well as a fun showbiz plot and a cute romance in between all the winning numbers. It's about as joyous and perfect as Old Hollywood gets.

 

Case in point: the movie has appeared on pretty much every significant film list there is (including a top ten placement from both the American Film Institute and Sight & Sound), and you almost never hear any objections.

 

Grade: A+

 

#185. Monkey Business (1952)

 

 

The Howard Hawks one, not the Marx Brothers one. Though, while I've never seen the latter, I have a sneaking suspicion that the two are pretty similar on a tonal level (which stands to reason, given the title).

 

Monkey Business is something of a throwback to the screwball comedies of a slightly earlier era. It doesn't necessarily reach the same delirious heights as a few other Cary Grant movies, but, between the fountain of youth premise, the two lead performances (especially Ginger Rogers, who's really going all out here), and Hawks's snappy direction, it mostly compensates with similar amounts of buoyancy and energy.

 

It's also got some of that characteristic Old Hollywood charm that you can't help but smile at, from the the director saying "Not yet, Cary" when Grant opens the front door prematurely (I'm not always big on fourth wall jokes, but that one was cute and creative enough to tickle me), to the adorable and surprisingly elaborate chimp antics, to seeing our dignified actors behave like juveniles. Sure, the whole thing's pretty rudimentary, and not exactly clever or consistent, but it's also affable, amusing, and animated enough that I can agree with its "minor classic" status. 

 

Grade: A-

#171. Tea and Sympathy (1956)

 

 

You can almost always tell when an older Hollywood movie is based on a play. Sharp writing and stagy direction aside, they tend to be a lot more socially and politically progressive.

 

Granted, you can still feel the Hays Code holding this one back from delving even deeper into some of its heavier topics, but it's nevertheless incredibly thoughtful and delicate in its outlook, especially by '50s standards. The themes of toxic masculinity and conformity hold up all too well, the forceful melodrama is generally cogent and earned, the two Kerrs (no relation) bring a necessary amount of warmth and heart, and the beautiful technicolour fits right in with the large sets and heavy emotions.

 

Sure, it's all kinda preachy and romanticized, but I think most of us prefer a little sentimentality in these kinds of movies. It gives the characters and their feelings that much more vulnerability and relatability. If you don't agree, however (and you might be right not to; some of these scenes have a bit of a Disney Channel vibe), the ending is a nice, understated little return to reality, one that's so touching that I forgive it for stepping on the even better forest scene that comes just before it.

 

Grade: A-

#157. Where Danger Lives (1950)

 

 

"Lovers on the run" is generally a rock-solid premise, and while Where Danger Lives is pretty generic for the most part, I think it manages to shake up the formula just enough to keep this sparse plot fairly interesting. Our hero is bruised and confused (sustaining one of the meanest concussions in film history), our femme fatale may or may not be totally certifiable, and we're not even certain that these two actually need to be running in the first place. It's all very vague and delirious, which I kinda liked.

 

Similarly, the adventure angle allows for a few nightmarish stops, from the used car salesman to the sketchy pawnbroker to the Whiskers Week wedding (seriously, what the hell was up with that town?). Maybe these aren't the most thrilling or memorable scenes ever filmed, but I'd say that they're paced and performed capably enough to get the job done, while also being stylistically woozy and paranoid in a way that suits both the urgent tone and dazed state of mind.

 

Aside from a tragic lack of Claude Rains (which is especially inexcusable when you consider that his six minutes of screen time are easily the best ones in the movie), and the fact that the big reveal is exactly what you're expecting it to be, I was mostly along for this tight, tense, and somewhat silly little ride. 

 

Grade: B+

 

P.S. If you're a fan of Robert Mitchum's sleepy eyes, you really need to see them in action here. They're puffier and droopier than ever.

 

#149. Mr. Arkadin (1955)

 

 

A.K.A. Confidential Report

 

With the obvious exceptions of Citizen Kane and Touch of Evil, Orson Welles as a director kinda frustrates me. I'll watch a movie like Mr. Arkadin, and I can absolutely see the strokes of genius - it's there in the non-linear storytelling, the unusual camera angles, and the uses of light and shadow. And yet, there's also something laboured and unsatisfying about it, which always keeps my enjoyment at arm's length.

 

Much of that probably comes down to the script, which is so confounding and nonsensical that I struggled to get attached to anything. But I also couldn't quite get past the surprisingly sloppy execution, which includes obvious dubbing, rushed pacing, clumsy narration, and chopping editing. And even if you can blame those on the studio, that doesn't explain the bland characters and wooden performances.

 

It's a real shame, because, again, you can see the potential buried underneath these shortcomings. But promise and goodwill only go so far, and this one is simply too all over the place (or, if we're being less charitable, downright unfinished) for it not to ultimately feel like another Welles work that comes up just short. 

 

Grade: B-

#133. The Hanging Tree (1959)

 

 

Part of what made the '50s such a great decade for westerns was a willingness to get substantially grayer with character and theme. So even if The Hanging Tree hits a lot of familiar notes (the movie reminds me a lot of something Anthony Mann would've made), it still manages to feel fresh and modern thanks to its moral ambiguities and darker tones.

 

I think the casting of Gary Cooper also plays a role in this. We're so used to him being the flawless hero that it's immediately compelling to see him in a more mysterious light. Granted, Doc Frail is mostly good in his nature, but that manipulative, controlling side is always present, enough so that you begin to question the role this guy played in his own backstory. Makes for a strong protagonist, as well as an endearing romance - especially because Elizabeth sees right through him (even when she can't actually see).

 

More than anything, though, I just love the style of these classics. This is a western that you can really bask in, with its beautifully-photographed scenery, slow-yet-captivating pacing, and superb staging. And I think every movie's better off with an on-the-nose title song, no matter how much it clashes with the overall mood.

 

Grade: A-

 

#130. Scrooge (1951)

 

 

A.K.A. A Christmas Carol, as it's known in the States (and presumably Canada, considering everyone I've ever discussed this movie with uses that title).

 

Prior Viewings: 4-5

 

We all have that one version of A Christmas Carol that we cherish most, the one that we hold especially dear because it introduced us to the character. Well, Scrooge is mine. It was always my dad's favourite, and I've shared that sentiment ever since we first watched it together.

 

Beyond nostalgia, part of the reason why I continue to love this telling is the eerie and foreboding tone (those ghosts creeped me out as a kid), as well as the deeper dive into the Christmas Past portion (which paints a more detailed portrait of the character). But let's not bury the lede here: the reason to watch this one is Alastair Sim, who, for my money, gives the greatest Scrooge performance of all time.

 

Some actors excel at the villainous stuff, while others are more believable in their redemption. Sim is one of the very few who nails both. You totally buy him when he's cantankerous and miserable (though, even in his worst moments, there's still something nakedly desperate about his expressions and deliveries that generates some sympathy), just as you totally buy him when he's doing headstands and laughing like a schoolboy. Wonderful performance, and one that really brings out the emotions of the story.

 

I'm sure I'll cover my share of adaptations over the coming Decembers, but this one will likely always be the gold standard in my eyes.

 

Grade: A

 

Merry Christmas, everyone!

#127. White Christmas (1954)

 

 

I'm starting to notice a trend with these Golden-age Hollywood musicals. They always start off so warm and likeable, and then the magic starts to wear off a bit once the conflict is introduced.

 

The first forty-five minutes or so of White Christmas are adorably sweet (perhaps to a sickly degree, but I have no problem with it). The tone, the comedy, and the chemistry are all a joy to behold. But then we reach Vermont, and are presented with one of those tedious and bizarrely common misunderstanding subplots, and it really starts to harsh the mellow for me - especially because we have to spend upwards of half an hour watching these two romantic leads argue with each other over literally nothing.

 

Fortunately, everything else keeps spirits bright. The songs are still pleasant, the performances are still charming, and, most of all, the whole thing just looks fantastic. Between the VistaVision format (which this movie was apparently the very first to use), the Technicolor processing, and the beautiful sets, every single frame pops off the screen, really adding to the buoyant mood and colourful presentation.

 

Wouldn't have minded a little more Christmas, though. Outside of the title track and the closing scene, you might as well have called this movie Green Summer. 

 

Grade: B+

 

#107. Sawdust and Tinsel (1953)

 

 

I know I'm not always super patient when it comes to older foreign filmmakers, but I can usually vibe with Ingmar Bergman. His knack for cold, steely atmospheres, hypnotically-paced stories, and haunting looks at the darker side of humanity all have a way of sticking with me, and Sawdust and Tinsel is no different.

 

This is one of his earlier movies, and, as such, you can tell that he hasn't quite perfected his formula just yet (the writing, in particular, is more scatterbrained than usual). But it's still a stark, powerful tale of sex, loyalty, and aspiration, as well as the mistakes that come with combining all three. And the grotesque circus setting really emphasizes both the plight of the characters and the chaos of their situation.

 

Shot by Sven Nykvist, in the very first of his many collaborations with Bergman, this one's also got a lot of the trademarks that you'd hope to see from these two: the gloomy imagery, the surreal moods, the subtle implications, the lack of sound. It actually feels like a silent film in many ways, with strong emotions and powerful visuals to match.

 

Grade: A-

 

#98. Fear and Desire (1952)

 

 

A.K.A. Shape of Fear

 

Prior Viewings: 1

 

Glad I finally got to see a version of this that doesn't look like it was filmed on newspaper.

 

Most people place Fear and Desire at the very bottom of their Kubrick ranking. Even Stanley himself disowned it (which is no surprise, considering how big a perfectionist he became). I don't disagree with those assessments, but I will say that, watching this one again, there's more promise here than I once thought.

 

Granted, it still feels like a first effort, with forced abstractions and clunky narration, but I started to notice the stylizations this time. There's a lot of stark lighting and harsh angles and extreme closeups, all of which drive home the madness that Kubrick would soon be renowned for (with shades of Paths of Glory and Full Metal Jacket sprinkled throughout), even if these qualities aren't fine-tuned just yet.

 

You might think I'm being kind to the movie simply because I'm a fan of its director, but I'd argue that the inverse is more accurate. If I had no idea who was responsible for this, the keen eye and strange vision on display here would be enough to make me curious about anything else carrying the same credit.

 

Grade: B-

 

#90. Sudden Fear (1952)

 

 

The first thirty minutes or so of Sudden Fear are decent enough, if a bit dry and conventional. But once everyone's intentions come into focus, and Myra listens to that SoundScriber recording (including a skip on "I know a way," which was a fantastic touch), we abruptly swerve into thriller territory, where the movie had me hooked right through to the end.

 

Perhaps the strongest element here, along with the glossy cinematography, is our protagonist's arc. I love seeing her transformation from a woman in peril to someone who suddenly understands her predicament to a fighter who now has to figure out what to do about it, all on her own. It's immediately compelling, and made all the better by Joan Crawford's heightened vulnerability. She was born for the kinds of roles that capitalize on her wide-eyed looks of shock and anger.

 

Granted, both her performance and the movie's overall presentation are probably verging on being over-the-top, but I honestly prefer a little hyperbole in my noirs. Gives them some needed energy, y'know? And besides, the whole thing's so twisty and shadowy and emotion-heavy that the storytelling feels consistent, and therefore largely believable.

 

Bold statement, but I stand by it: this movie's as taut and entertaining as anything Hitchcock made up to this point.

 

Grade: A

 

#79. Desk Set (1957)

 

A.K.A. His Other Woman, as it's known in the U.K. (much better title, in my opinion). 

 

My experience with Tracy-Hepburn movies hadn't extended beyond Guess Who's Coming to Dinner (the final time they worked together), so I wanted to try a second one. I chose Desk Set, more or less at random, not realizing at the time that it was their second-to-last collaboration. Apparently, I'm destined to tackle their films in reverse order.

 

Anyway, I thought this one was an absolute delight. Beyond Tracy and Hepburn's obviously fantastic chemistry, the CinemaScope format really pops, the dialogue has charm and flavour, the women share a nice camaraderie, and it's even got a corporate setting, which is an absolute favourite of mine. There's something I find incredibly cozy about office sets in movies, and this is one of the comfiest ones I've ever seen. I could live in that reference library.

 

There's also a Christmas portion, which only adds to the overall joyfulness of it, and even the somewhat dated premise (though, in fairness, many people are still afraid of being replaced at their jobs by machines) creates a cute, era-specific atmosphere. The '50s sure knew how to churn out warm, bright, colourful romantic comedies, huh?

 

Grade: A

 

#67. The Long, Hot Summer (1958)

 

 

I struggle with these Dixieland adaptations. No matter how good the acting actually is, all the fake accents always seem so phony and exaggerated to me, and I find that they hurt the movie's overall legitimacy as a result.

 

That's certainly the case with The Long, Hot Summer (or, as I'll be referring to it from now on, the second best novel-inspired Southern melodrama from 1958 that stars Paul Newman and features the word Hot in its title), but I think my primary issue is that the plot doesn't really interest me. These characters and their interpersonal conflicts do have some potential, but everything's too bogged down by wearisome direction and sluggish narrative progression for any of it to keep me invested.

 

Still, I guess the movie's fairly well-shot, particularly in regards to the location work, and the heat is certainly palpable, through both the visual textures (this thing is sweaty) and the obvious chemistry between Newman and Woodward. It's not a total bore, but the bland story, forced theatrics, and unconvincing conclusion keep it from fully catching fire for me.

 

Grade: B-

 

P.S. Orson Welles is somehow both the best and worst part of this movie. His performance is frankly embarrassing, and not at all believable, but the energy immediately ratchets up a notch whenever he's on screen.

 

#57. Shane (1953)

 

 

As someone who grew up watching those 100 Years... 100 ____ countdowns over the years, I can confidently tell you that Shane is one of the American Film Institute's all-time favourites. It's on both movie lists, the western list, the hero list, the cheers list, and the quotes list (where the line is literally just "Shane! Shane! Come back!"). Despite their consistent attempts at selling me on its greatness, though, I'd never felt especially compelled to watch it before now. And I think that's because, in basically every other context, all you ever hear is that it's boring, sappy, and overrated.

 

Well, I've now finally seen the movie for myself, and while I can definitely understand where those detractors are coming from (this thing is undeniably slow and cloying, and Alan Ladd isn't exactly the coolest hero ever), I'm siding with the AFI on this one. I tend to love a "small community rises up against the evil corporation" premise, and it makes for a great good vs. evil narrative here. As conflicts go, it's certainly on the simplistic side, but I think most of us prefer when older westerns are black and white like that.

 

The movie's also got a strong cast, some beautiful Technicolor landscapes, and a generally heartwarming feel to it. Definitely not overrated in my eyes - though I do agree that the kid could've stood to be less annoying.

 

Grade: A

 

#37. The Man with the Golden Arm (1955)

 

 

The thing about addiction movies is that they tend to come off like extended PSAs. I'm not saying that they shouldn't exist, but I am saying that you need to bring either a new perspective or some unique stylizations in order to keep everything from feeling cliche.

 

But while the former is mostly what you expect (once Frankie steps off the bus and starts bragging about how clean he is, you know where things are headed), Preminger accomplishes the latter through some cool backlot sets, consistent camera movement, and jazzy scoring. It's not the kind of atmosphere you'd expect to find in this kind of drama, but it's hectic and grimy enough to work.

 

What also works is the performances, Sinatra's especially. Even though his arc plays out somewhat predictably, he manages to sell it all with terrified expressions and wavering deliveries. The movie never hits quite as hard as, say, The Lost Weekend, and it sure takes a while to get going, but it's a daring endeavour all the same, with enough earnestness and twisty storytelling to keep the subject matter interesting. 

 

Grade: B+

 

#8. Strangers on a Train (1951)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 1

 

I think a lot of the best thrillers often have simple concepts. Maybe that's because they tend to be more relatable, or maybe it just makes for more streamlined storytelling. Either way, Strangers on a Train is about as simple as it gets (to the point of being parodied many times over), which is what allows the suspenseful set pieces to take center stage without much fat getting in the way.

 

Also, the movie's directed by some guy named Alfred Hitchcock, who, not to tell any tales out of school or anything, wasn't too bad at making an effective thriller. You can see it in his pacing, in his moody lighting (this might be his most visually appealing black & white endeavour), and in his cheeky sense of humour, but I think you can also see it in his understanding of "moments". And this one's got three of his very best: the murder as reflected in the sunglasses, Bruno staring at Guy amid a sea of head-swinging tennis onlookers, and the exciting carousel climax. Granted, nearly every scene is inventive and entertaining to some degree, but these moments are where you start to understand why everyone refers to him as The Master. 

 

Grade: A