Rachel, Rachel

The Rachel (Joanne Woodward) in Paul Newman’s directorial debut, Rachel, Rachel, has let her life go nowhere.  She is thirty-five, living with her overbearing, widowed mother (Kate Harrington) in the same baby-pink room she grew up in.  Her job as a second grade school teacher surrounds her with children that she grows to love, but can never call her own.  Her only real friend is a fellow teacher, Calla (Estelle Parsons), but there are some tensions between the two.

All that only scratches the surface of Rachel’s issues.  Her entire life, she has been surrounded by ideas and images of death and they seem to be the reason for her constant morbid fantasies.  Her father ran the town funeral parlor, attached to the house.  Her mother sweetly remembers the way he used to reek of embalming fluid.  It’s no wonder her daydreams are about being hit by a car on her walk to work or shoving a full bottle of pills in her mother’s mouth.

When the school year ends, a long summer with her mother looms ahead for Rachel, then an old childhood acquaintance, Nick (James Olson), asks her out on a date.  Rachel is the kind who makes excuses about her mother to avoid social situations, but Nick is persistent enough.  We get excited for her, thinking that this could be a real turning point for Rachel, who has never had any hope for romance in her life.  However, Nick is just looking for some action while he’s in town and Rachel is a virgin who remembers him best when his twin brother died and she watched her father get him casket-ready.  It can be hard to get past that in any relationship.

Woodward’s Rachel is wonderfully lowly and yet we try to hold out some hope for her.  Even through her more outlandish daydreams, she becomes a character that we feel sympathy for.  Surely everyone can recall a time of repression, self doubt or crippling social anxiety.  She brings out these ideas of shyness and depression that made me feel like she was just waiting to die.  When she finally has a chance for happiness, we’re afraid to be uplifted, and I think she was as well.  She has denied herself any sort of real happiness for so long, it’s hard to let go.

One scene that really shows Rachel’s drab and repressed personality is when Nick approaches her in the drugstore.  The shop is full of teenagers, celebrating the beginning of summer, wearing stylish, bright clothes, dancing and touching in ways that make Rachel uncomfortable.  My favorite image is a girl combing a boy’s long hair.  These kids are on board with the sexual revolution going on while Rachel is left behind with her manicured bangs and drab wardrobe.  Nick is in the right place to find some action, it’s just that the only woman of legal age does not quite realize his angle.  I think Rachel realizes how out of place she is among the crowd, so she’s already uncomfortable even before Nick starts prodding her for a date.

At first glance, Rachel, Rachel seems like the ultimate female mid-life crisis.  She hates living with her mom, her biological clock is ticking, being around kids all day doesn’t help and suddenly she has a lover.  These elements have made up countless terrible movies.  Here, Newman is crafty behind the camera, hardly letting anything slip a smile on our face, and that is a good thing.  With the quiet, thoughtful feeling of this film and the morbid ideas interjected, Rachel, Rachel is intriguing, beautiful but a bit depressing.

“He told me now they’re putting perfume in the embalming fluid.”

The Verdict

Frank Galvin (Paul Newman) is a down-on-his luck, alcoholic lawyer in Boston.  In the past three years, he’s had four cases and spends most of his time either at a bar playing pin ball and shooting whiskey or peddling his business cards at funerals.  When a friend gets him an easy hospital negligence case, it becomes a chance at redemption for Frank.

Four years ago, a young woman was given the wrong anesthetic while going into labor and has been a vegetable in a coma ever sense.  Her sister and brother-in-law are seeking justice from the Catholic hospital.  We get the feeling that the hospital and  archdiocese have something to hide, especially when they’re willing to settle.  This should be an open-and-shut case for Frank, earning him enough money to let him drink away the rest of the time he has left.

Going to trial is more important to Frank than settling, he even turns down a settlement of two hundred thousand dollars.  He seems to be risking everything for his own chance to prove himself to himself.  But for that selfish moment for redemption, has he underestimated his opponent, defense attorney Ed Concannon (James Mason), and put his trust in an enemy?

While all this sounds interesting, I think there are a very select few who would really enjoy this movie.  You see, it’s very quiet and its action consists of tense quiet moments, conversations and the subdued intensity within the courtroom.  To many, The Verdict would be two hours of quiet boredom.

However, I found a silver lining to all this quietness and found myself surprised at how tuned in I was to every word, action and soft sound presented.  I think that’s what viewers are supposed to do here, it’s like we’re listening for something important on a radio that keeps fading in and out.  There are many slow and quiet moments for us to focus all our senses on.  In one amazing shot, Frank is watching a couple Polaroids he just snapped of the victim in a coma develop.  They slowly come into focus and color, and the camera doesn’t look away.  All we hear is the quiet hiss and pump of the machines keeping the coma ward alive.  The longer we watch, wait and listen, these sounds become deafening, yet they aren’t really rising.  The Verdict is full of moments like this, where we wait, watch become enticed and agonized wanting that pin to drop and break the tension lingering in the air.  Though I would not recommend this film to the masses, those who find an appreciation for courtroom dramas, Sidney Lumet’s work and what I’ve described here are encouraged to seek The Verdict out.

“You guys… you guys are all the same!  The doctors at the hospital, you… it’s always what I’m going to do for you.  And then you screw up, and it’s, “Ah, we did the best that we could, I’m dreadfully sorry.”  And people like us live with your mistakes the rest of our lives.”

The Towering Inferno

When we hear such a dramatic name like The Towering Inferno we can instinctively do two things in the year 2011:  jokingly scream Oh the humanity! and grab a strong drink.  That is not a bad way to approach this film, but that is also stereotyping.  Sure it’s one of those 1970’s disaster films, but it is the best of them.  While the story lacks and is based on a whole lot of what-ifs, the action, suspense and cinematography are so well done you can’t just toss the film aside.

Paul Newman plays Doug Roberts, the architect of the new tallest building in the world, The Glass Tower.  But the building’s owner, Jim Duncan (William Holden) has decided to cut corners and employed his son-in-law Roger Simmons (Richard Chamberlain) to find ways to cut costs.  Unfortunately, he decided to swap out Doug’s electrical plans and put in cheap wiring that is sparking random fires all over the building during the grand opening party.  The party is on the top floor, and because of the spreading fire and lack of exits, they are trapped up there.  It’s up to the fire departments Chief O’Hallorhan, (Steve McQueen) to find a way to save the people and put out fires that are far beyond the fire fighter’s reach.

The film becomes a cautionary tale of epic proportions.  In the opening credits, the film is dedicated to all firefighters and they become the real heroes.  The overall lessons we’re supposed to learn from the film is that fire fighters deserve more respect and architects need to work with firefighters to build safer buildings.  I hope architects were scared straight.

There are a lot of great action scenes, full of fire, explosions and tense moments.  Most of the action was directed by Irwin Allen, not the credited director John Guillermin.  These great moments range from fire raging down hallways, stairwells crumbling away in an explosion, a failed attempt to run through a blazing room, an elevator full of women and children hanging by one cable and an amazing climatic explosion in an attempt to save the day.  It’s all a lot of fun, these scenes can feel like mini adventures that keep you on the edge of your seat.  One of my favorites, that I remember watching as a kid, is when Newman, two kids and Liselotte (Jennifer Jones) are trapped in a destroyed stairwell.  Below them is just a long pit and they have to shimmy down to the next floor on a twisted stair rail.  All the action scenes have a wonderful element of danger that is always shown visually in a way that really pulls the tension.

Alright, back to the Oh the humanity! side of the film.  While most of the action is done well with enough suspense to keep me semi-serious, there was one moment that left me rolling and probably pushed the feminist movement back ten years.  At a point in the film, a helicopter is sent to land on the building to rescue the trapped party goers.  Paul Newman takes ten women (ladies first) up to the roof and tells them to stay back so the helicopter can land.  Well they don’t seem to grasp this concept and the two stupidest women run past Newman and head for the chopper, right in the way of its landing.  Because estrogen and high heels are a helicopter’s natural enemy, it crashes, in a magnificent fireball.  That whole ridiculous scenario seems like a bad joke that just ends with the reasons women were confined to a kitchen.  Thanks ladies, you just killed the rescue crew.

Let me not completely encourage this idea, but if you’re looking for a decent film to pair a drinking game to, this may be your winner.  Now I have seen the horrible products of drinking to a film that was not thought out while sober.  Never decide that it’s a good idea to watch Pirates of the Caribbean and take a shot every time you hear pirates, matey, savvy and Captain Jack Sparrow.  Picking just one is a better idea, but everyone has already seen POTC a million times.  So, here is my proposed game to The Towering Inferno: a drink every time someone is on fire.  Exciting, eye-catching and only gets funnier as you play.  By my calculations, there are only six of these moments throughout the 2 ¾ hour film.  No one (off screen) should die and your designated driver still has a good film to watch.  This isn’t exactly Mystery Science Theater 3000 material, but who really wants to be subject to the quality of films like ‘Manos’ the Hands of Fate?  There’s not game in the world that can make that film enjoyable.

But seriously, The Towering Inferno is a good, film.  Whether you want to seriously contemplate the intelligent visual aspects, daring stunts or just kick back and enjoy the best of what the 1970’s disaster genera has to offer, I highly recommend it.  And the best part, it’s on Netflix Instant right now, available whenever you want it.

“Did you leave a cigarette burning?”

Cat on a Hot Tin Roof

Based on the Pulitzer Prize winning play by Tennessee Williams, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof examines the relationships and lies in a Southern family.  Brick (Paul Newman) is an ex-football player who drinks too much and has recently broken his leg in a drunken attempt to relive his days as an athlete.  His wife, Maggie (Elizabeth Taylor) knows the reason he drinks is guilt over a friend’s death.  The couple has not been intimate in a long time, while Brick’s older brother Gooper (Jack Carson) has five unruly children and another on the way.  Gooper’s wife, Mae (Madeleine Sherwood), is the ugliest little lady you can find in the south, but at least she’s fertile.  She lords it over the lovely Maggie and uses her pack of “no-neck monsters” to try to win over the favor, and inheritance, of her father-in-law, Big Daddy (Burl Ives).

Everyone is gathering at the plantation to celebrate Big Daddy’s sixty-fifth birthday.  The doctor has just lied to him that his cancer is cured, but the reality is that he doesn’t have much time left.  Still, all the family celebrates, except Brick who drinks alone upstairs, solemnly thinking about all the mendacity.  Big Daddy wants to leave the land to Brick, his favorite son, but first needs to confront his drinking problem.  When Brick accidentally lets it slip that his father is near death, Big Daddy has even more reason to try to patch things up with his son.

The great thing about this film is that there is tension between everything and no one is left out.  There’s Brick’s excessive drinking, leaving land to the drunk son rather than the first born with a family, Big Daddy’s death creeping closer, an unhappy childless marriage, guilt over a dead friend, Gooper’s unfulfilled need to please his father and those damn kids that everyone hates.  Most of the film is simply conversations, but they’re so fueled and blazing with all these problems, every word is important.  And when a new problem comes up, or a lie is found out, it’s like gas on the fire.

One thing I could not ignore is how horrible those bratty little kids of Gooper and Mae’s are.  They’re enough to make the calm and collected Maggie absolutely lose it, multiple times.  At one point, one of them sneaks into the room she and Brick are in and blow a shrieking whistle right behind her.  If all this fighting going on isn’t enough for your nerves, that whistle, and the other stunts those kids pull, can break them.

When the film came out, Tennessee Williams hated it.  In fact, he would tell people waiting in line for the movie, “This movie will set the industry back fifty years. Go home!”  The film had to change details in the play, including all references to homosexuality, a major theme in the play.  It was also the first film based on his work to be in color, which may have depleted the intended artistic tone.  But the studio wanted to make sure their audience could see Newman’s baby blue eyes.  What a priority.

Until I realized how disappointed Williams was with this film, I was leaning towards declaring it my personal Best Picture of 1958.  Plays by Williams are some of my favorite to read, but alas, I have not read Cat on a Hot Tin Roof yet, but now I absolutely have to.  For now, I have to agree with Williams, if someone cut out a major theme in my work, dolled it up with pretty colors when it’s supposed to be more bleak, I’d be angry too.

“There ain’t nothin’ more powerful than the odor of mendacity!”

Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid

Loosely based on historical fact, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid tells the tale of two infamous outlaws, their exploits and their run from the law.  Butch (Paul Newman) is the leader of the Hole in the Wall gang, who rob banks and trains.  The Sundance Kid (Robert Redford) is Butch’s right hand man.  Problem is, the ways of the old wild west are coming to and end and civilization, law and order are creeping closer to the gang.  After robbing the same train once too many, Butch and Sundance realize they’re being tailed, and they can’t seem to shake their trackers.  After some daring escapes, they decide to go to Bolivia with Sundance’s girlfriend Etta Place (Katharine Ross).  Bolivia should be far enough away from the law, right?  But a whole new world of challenges are there, and I can’t help but remember what Uncle Remus said, “You can’t run from trouble, there ain’t no place that far.”

The movie starts off well with some good old things we come to expect in westerns.  There’s gambling, some fancy shooting, a rivalry within the gang that Butch handles easily and a couple train robberies.  Those are all fun, especially the great scene where they use too much dynamite and blow the whole train car to toothpicks and the money just flies around them.  I cracked up.

After that, it becomes a very slow chase.  Through rocky desert, canyons and jumping into the river, it’s a great time to show off the beautiful land, but that excitement felt in the beginning is gone.  Soon they meander to New York for some photos and wind up in Bolivia.  When they arrive and see nothing but crumbling buildings, a family of hogs and a llama we were thinking the same thing:  Why the hell would they pick Bolivia?  Because it has a nice ring to it?  One thing to remember is that these were outlaws, not geniuses.  Not everyone in history made very good decisions.

In Bolivia, they fall back into old habits and start robbing banks.  Once they learn how to speak a few Spanish phrases, that is.  Nothing like pulling out a crib sheet in the middle of an armed robbery.  It’s funny, absurd and starts to bring back that fun we felt in the first half hour.

What the film does best is cinematography.  In the beginning we’re shown a little silent film explaining just a bit about Butch, Sundance and the Hole in the Wall gang.  Then the film starts up, borrowing the same sepia tones as the silent film and photos of the time and continues for a few scenes.  Color is introduced when we follow the duo out to the desert and there’s plenty of natural scenery that would be best in color.  It’s affective and the camera always captures the natural beauty we associate with the old west.

While I have some mixed feelings about the whole film, it ended well for me.  In the final scene, that excitement and gun-slinging that I was hoping for was back.  If it wasn’t for that very bad-ass last stand, I would have been disappointed.  This is not your typical western, Butch and Sundance have too many funny lines for that.  I usually enjoyed their banter, but it seemed too cute for outlaws at time.  And though Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head won best original song, the music just feels jarring in a western.  I mean, this was a western right?  It looks like it, but doesn’t sounds like it.

“You just keep thinkin’, Butch. That’s what you’re good at.”

The Sting

It was just an average 1936 day outside of Chicago for Johnny Hooker (Robert Redford) and Luther Coleman when they pulled a con on someone.  They didn’t realize the man they just got thousands of dollars from worked for Doyle Lonnegan (Robert Shaw).  Lonnegan is the notorious con man who has a murderous streak when he’s cheated.  When he has someone kill Luther, Hooker seeks revenge.

He finds Henry Gondorff (Paul Newman), a much more experienced con artist who lives next to a carousel.  Hooker convinces Gondorff to help him get Lonnegan.  Together, with a whole crew behind them, they hatch an elaborate scheme to con half a million dollars out of Lonnegan.  But Lonnegan is onto them, has men trying to kill them and Hooker left a counterfeiting trail for the FBI to follow.

From the moment we see Hooker sporting a maroon pin-striped suit, we label him a loose cannon.  When he loses all his money in a single spin of roulette, it’s confirmed.  Robert Redford expertly brings out the cocky kid just wanting revenge who’s in real need of the more experienced Gondorff.  With Paul Newman playing Gondorff, we know we’re in for a treat.  We first meet him passed out drunk on the floor, but it isn’t long until he’s molding the game around Lonnegan and keeping three steps ahead of him.  I especially enjoyed the scene where Gondorff pretends to be drunk during a crooked card game.

How do the two try to put Lonnegan over a barrel?  It’s more fun to watch and find out rather than to be told.  That’s what makes this such a good movie, the twists, the double-crossers only too late finding out they’ve been triple-crossed.  The surprises aren’t just for the bad guys, but for the viewer as well.  How did George Roy Hill know I loved surprises?

I’ll be the first to admit, the movie can feel long or boring in the middle, especially if you miss a piece of the puzzle.  You could get lost and thus, lose interest.  Thankfully those surprise moments bring clarification now and then and can keep you on track.  My advice; watch The Sting when you’re in a thinking mood, don’t just veg out to it.

“Sit down and shut up, will ya? Try not to live up to all my expectations.”

The Hustler

Rack ‘em up.  The Hustler is a story about pool.  The players got talent and the stakes are high.

Paul Newman stars as “Fast” Eddie Felson, a man looking to take on Minnesota Fats (Jackie Gleason) in a high stakes pool game.  Fats takes him on for forty straight hours, where at one point Eddie was up eighteen grand and loses it all back.  It’s a hard blow that leaves him broke, both in the wallet and spirit.  He keeps his few possessions (a suit, a suitcase and a pool stick in a case) in a locker at the bus station.  That’s where he meets Sarah, a girl who claims to go to college on Tuesdays and Thursdays and is always either drunk or drinking.  Romance flares up and Eddie moves into her modest one room apartment.  They’re strangers, openly keep secrets and an emotional distance.  Eddie lies, says he goes out to museums and concerts and that there’s a machine gun in his case.  Sarah doesn’t say where she gets money for food and college never materializes either.  Sarah learns that he’s a pool hustler when his old manager, Charlie, pays an unexpected visit.  Eddie still wants to go after Minnesota Fats, but Charlie doesn’t believe he can take him and offers to manage him while playing for lesser stakes.  They fall out over that and Fat’s manager offers to help Eddie, and eventually challenge Minnesota Fats again.  But when the time comes, it’s more than revenge against Fats that Eddie is out for.

Newman is rightfully nominated for best actor for his brilliant portrayal of a young man who doesn’t now when to call it quits.  Eddie’s got talent, but no character.  The look on his face during their first match is great admiration, he says Fats plays, “Like he’s playing a violin.”  But there’s that hint of a smirk that becomes his downfall.  When Eddie’s mad, he’s raging.  When he’s drunk, he’s wasted.  Newman plays Eddie with every nerve within him and gives Eddie a real soul among petty hustlers.

I also must commend Piper Laurie in her nominated role as Sarah.  She and Eddie are able to bond because they’re both a type of bum.  What type she is, a lady does not say.  She’s a lady and a lush, sometimes one more than the other.  Two scenes that I believe lead to the nomination were where Sarah is drunkenly using her typewriter on the floor and is caught in a weak moment with Eddie.  Here, defenses she’s built through alcohol and her own imagination are torn down and for once her emotions are pure and naked.  Laurie plays these moments up so beautifully that the viewer is much more engaged when…well, I will not give that away.

One of my favorite things, and the reason I believe The Hustler won best art direction and cinematography is the way the shots are set up.  Every set, and nearly every shot is set in layers.  Characters and props are spread across the screen like billiard balls across a sprawling pool table.  Movement is done more in depth within the sets than horizontally across the screen.  We are grounded in one room, but can see through three open doorways and action is brought closer and taken further way thought them.   It really is ingenius film making and brings the theme of pool outside the billiards room.

I thought about comparing The Hustler to a sports movie, you know because he’s playing a game, wanting to take on the best and the odds are against him, but it’s not that wishy-washy.  It’s not that kind of movie and I would feel like a jackass if I compared it to anything with a training montage or sweeping music at the big game.  This is more about the souls of men, rather than their game.

Watch this movie after you’ve played too much poker.  Or anytime really, I cannot recommend this movie too much.

“The pool game is over when Fats says it’s over… I came after him and I’m gonna get him. I’m going with him all the way.”

***Not that I didn’t like West Side Story, but I pick The Hustler as my personal winner for 1961.  Sorry Academy, we don’t always agree.***