When Ladies Lasted Last And Gentlemen Did Not Eve Span-David Niven’s “The Lady Says No” (1951)-A Film Review

When Ladies Lasted Last And Gentlemen Did Not Eve Span-David Niven’s “The Lady Says No” (1951)-A Film Review

DVD Review

By Laura Perkins

The Lady Says No, starring David Niven, Joan Caulfield, 1951

One of the most fortunate things in my life, my professional career I should say which I am restarting here after a short hiatus at another publication, has been having Sam Lowell’s pithy comments and helpful hints along the way. (In the seemingly necessary to include interest of full disclosure these days Sam and I have been long, very long time, companions and he was the one who got me the lush long-time assignment at The Daily Literary Digest before luring me back to this publication where I had been a free-lance stinger when I was younger and when the publication was strictly hard-copy under Allan Jackson’s editorship now ended.) Two that apply to this review of 1950s The Lady Says No since there does not appear to be any other socially redeeming quality to recommend it is that, one, when all else fails for a “hook,” the hook being what you hang your hat on when reviewing films you can always use the old “slice of life” bit which I will invoke here. The other that applies is based on Sam’s old habit when he used to drink heavily and carouse with wicked women (before he met me and his match) was to just take whatever the studio publicity department put out, rip off the title and submit under your own by-line. And nobody complained. Of course today for old time films you have to cheap sheet Wikipedia and click and paste to do the same job. For the life of me I can’t figure out this silly film and so I was sorely tempted to just do that but no, this lady says no, I will trudge along trying to give the “skinny” as best I can.             

Of course if we are talking today, talking in today’s #MeToo whirlwind then something like the lady, or rather woman, says no that had a whole different and less menacing connotation back when this film was made for public consumption (although the overriding issues of male authority dominance and expectation and female subordinate resigned acceptance or flagrant abuse were I would argue not far from the surface then either). That is where blessed Sam’s “slice of life” snapshot theory comes into full force. It is extremely hard to see how a film like this, even a comedic film such as this would have any cache at all today. Certainly, the results, the ending could bear no weight today.

Bill, a globe-trotting photographer, played by David Niven, is on assignment to photograph and do a story on best-selling author Dorinda Hatch, played by foxy Joan Caulfield who has created a whirlwind in the eternal male-female, no, female-male battle of the sexes-so-called by calling for her version of an unarmed insurrection against Neanderthal males and his publication wants the scoop. As it turned out, as expected in the twelve millionth rendition of the Hollywood boy meets girl story that has saved many a studio (and incidentally got Sam on the road to taking credit for studio copy once he realized that half the films in that cinematic land depended on this beautiful little trope), there is some chemistry between them. Despite Bill’s hunter-gatherer manner and Dorinda’s obvious Seven Sisters naivete rampant in those day about what was what in the sexual wars for inexperienced young women-and ask Sam men too. The whole theme hinges on whether Dorinda’s naïvete or Bill worldliness will out in the end.

If it was just a matter of that battle royal this would be a thin-and shorter-film but the thing gets rounded out when the two sides start crusading for their respective positions among the GIs and their wives at Fort Ord out in Big Sur-Carmel-Monterrey country in California. (A place where Sam and I have gone many times especially when he gets into his Jack Kerouac and the beats mood and insists we go back to Todo El Mundo south of Big Sur where he hung out in the old days.)   Dorinda starts her own little rebellion (with some push-back) among the Army wives womenfolk in her fight. And here is really where this is a 1950s time capsule (maybe before actually) as a film all the while despite Dorinda’s feminist convictions she is inexplicitly attracted to Bill, uses whatever wiles, female or otherwise to tamp that madness, those hormones, down. You already know the ending, know it if you have been in anyone of the twelve million girl meets boy efforts Hollywood has put out in its existence. Not surprisingly despite the film’s origin in 1951 there is nothing of the red scare Cold War night and atomic thunder coming hellishly down on the world in this one. Nothing either that would pass muster with today’s audiences except members of the lonely-hearts clubs. Nothing that would resolve the eternal conundrum since Adam and Eve times, maybe before.

      

An American Werewolf In London-No-A British Werewolf In Spain-Hammer Productions’ “The Curse Of The Werewolf” (1961)-A Film Review

An American Werewolf In London-No-A British Werewolf In Spain-Hammer Productions’ “The Curse Of The Werewolf” (1961)-A Film Review

DVD Review

By Sarah Lemoyne

The Curse Of The Werewolf, starring Oliver Reed, 1961     

No,  I am not going to use this space to further the “dispute,” the piddle that I can see old wise and wizen Sam Lowell calling his classic “tempest in a teapot” with Seth Garth over my so-called indiscretion, my faux pas if you will, about snitches, finks, you know guys and gals who squeak to the law for some reason usually to save their own asses, my expression from stir, from jail. Jesus with that “stir” I am starting to write like Seth. That came about when as I saw it Angela DeMarco in my review of Married To The Mob was ready to play ball with the law to get out from under the mob which was crowding in. I said it was in the interest of love as well since Angela had a thing for Mike the FBI guy who was following the mob and following her. That was then and this is now when I am on a different crusade and if Seth wants to make something of it, wants to wonder why I am defending who I am defending then bring it on, just bring it on. Hell, you’re the one who said I such be more assertive so live with it.     

This is the real deal I care about today. I am here to tell you that werewolves like some other furry animals like ferrets, weasels and coyotes, have taken some terrible public relations beating in novels and on the screen and I going all out to defend these poor creatures who have been misshapen by situations not of their own making. Case number one, the case before us which will serve as a not gentle reminder of what humans, what you and I have don’t to make werewolves even more hated by the general population than Frankenstein who at least had the defense that he was created by some evil genius as we celebrate the 200^th anniversary of his creation, of his first publication.

Take the poor werewolf Leon, played by a very young and hungry actor Oliver Reed before he hit Hollywood and the glamour rounds, in the film under review The Curse Of The Werewolf. A few things different here or there, maybe a mother who could have nurtured him rather than dying in his time of need or have not been so mesmerized by a wretched prisoner in milord’s castle where her own mother worked like a slave to provide for that bastard duke.  

Naturally though, or it seems natural now after I have a few reviews under my belt, a story goes with it as the short story writer and gadabout Damon Runyon used to say as a lead in to some of his work, about how I wound up doing this review, this review in defense of werewolves which before I delved into the matter I could have not given a damn about (my expression although when my editor saw where I was going with the review his said the same thing. A review which will be one of eight in this Hammer Production series which is what that studio made its nut on. When I was hired on here as a stringer by site manager Greg Green I was given the six- part Hammer Production series of psychological thrillers which the studio produced in the late 1950s, early 1960s. I had done two which were subsequently published, and which Greg said were good for a new hire.

Then office politics, the “good old boy” tradition which Greg was brought in to break up according to Leslie Dumont came to the fore when old time critic Sam Lowell saw the reviews and complained to Greg that he should have given the assignment since he had previous done a six- part film noir series that Hammer produced in the early 1950s. I was kicked off of that series unceremoniously and Sam was given the assignment. Not only that but he had the right, the effrontery really, to give his slant on the two film reviews I did to in what he called “the interest of completeness.” Worse, worse by far, was that whatever Sam’s reputation in the industry half the time he has some stringer do the review under his name again according to Leslie Dumont and that is what he wanted, wants me to do, including essentially to trash my own reviews. I complained very loudly and to “buy me off” I was assigned by Greg to do this series. (I will say as well as further ammunition since this is also well known in some circles, and I will name names if I get any blowback on this, that many times in the old days Sam would if he had some weekend tryst planned or wanted to get drunk with the boys he would just grab whatever the studio publicity department put out on a film, cut the top off and submit that as his masterpiece. Things must have been pretty lax since according to my sources they were all published here under his name.)

So here goes.          

Of course as a kid I was afraid of horror movies, afraid of Freddie Kruger on Nightmare On Elm Street and Jason in the ten million Halloween productions. I don’t remember if beyond American Werewolf in London I had seen any classic werewolf movies and that is not germane to my defense anyway. What is germane, what we all have to think through a bit is how to treat sentient creatures who have been abused and screwed up by human endeavor. The new model has come to us recently via the love affair between a mute young woman, a human, and a creature from the Amazon in The Shape Of Water. So whatever “crimes” a “monster,” a creature, a werewolf commit they cannot be held to the same standards as human beings who after all created the bad situation in the first place. I think in this film it was mainly a question of misunderstandings and spite which produced the ill effects.           

Aside from some religious, apparently Catholic teachings about the sad fates of those humans who lose their souls and hence are prime candidates for werewolf-dom, beautiful Leon really never had a chance to grow up and be somewhat normal. What can you expect when some damn Spanish nobleman showing the degeneracy of his class a couple of hundred years ago when he did some poor beggar wrong and kept him captive in his private prison and forgot about him. Forgot about him except the guy had to be fed and one of the feeders who was a young mute girl who didn’t flinch at his condition. Then as the young girl grew to womanhood the damn nobleman decided he want to take the “right of the first night with her.” She refused and found herself in the private prison with that crazed and apparently sex-starved mad man. The poor bugger died after having his way with her and when she decided to go to the nobleman to seek her revenge she killed him brutally out of hand. Good riddance.

Good riddance except, and here there is a strain of credibility, that poor girl after running away from the crime scene was found by a river by a kindly gentleman who took her in along with his wife and thereafter found that she was with child. The portents were not good when she died in childbirth and the gentleman and his wife raised Leon who exhibited some strange and bloody quirks even when young. Not good    

That was where the good gentleman went to the Church to see what could be done and was told the tale about soul lost and about the power of romantic love to conquer this beastly behavior. And it almost worked once Leon became smitten by the daughter of the guy he was working for in a winery when he came of working age. Almost but the power of evil was too strong and everything came to a head one horrible night after Leon had gone on a mad man killing spree and the towns people sought vengeance. Poor bedeviled Leon cornered, that kindly gentleman put the required by tradition silver bullet in the lad and that was the end of that poor misbegotten werewolf.

Except for one last comment that Hammer Productions known far and wide for its low- cost films must have spent about three dollars turning beautiful Leon into a raggedly werewolf that even I was not afraid of, not at all. That sentient being deserved better. And maybe Seth Garth does too but don’t tell him that.

Sure Rob Banks-As Willie Sutton Said-“That Is Where The Money Is” Chris Pine And Jeff Bridges “Hell Or High Water” (2016)-A Film Review

Sure Rob Banks-As Willie Sutton Said-“That Is Where The Money Is” Chris Pine And Jeff Bridges “Hell Or High Water” (2016)-A Film Review   

DVD Review

By Seth Garth

Hell and High Water, starring Chris Pine, Jeff Bridges, Ben Foster, 2016

I was more than happy to take this assignment from Greg Green our site manager and a guy who has proven to be a great editor over time. I am happy because I always am ready, willing and able to review a Jeff Bridge’s film ever since I first saw him way back when in The Last Picture Show and have wondered ever since why, until Crazy Hearts several years ago, he had not won an Oscar for his many great performances. I am happy also because any film that starts with a Townes Van Zandt song (Dollar Bill Blues) and a slew of other cowboy-etched efforts will immediately draw my attention. To add another point I am always happy to review a modern cowboy film where the actors, or one actor Chris Pine, who plays somber brother Toby to Ben Foster’s wild boy Tanner, remind me of the late Sam Shepard and his stoic routines playing a man of the West.

But most importantly for this film Hell and High Water I have been given an opportunity to answer back to young and up and coming film reviewer Sarah LeMoyne about something she wrote about my attitude toward snitches in her review of 1988’s Married To The Mob. There Sarah castigated me, and by implication half the older male writers at this publication because, come hell or high water, we are since corner boy days very, very squeamish about finks, you know snitches in that case by that role of one ex-wife of a mob hit man to the FBI. As Sarah said in the interest of love that woman had every right to snitch. I went crazy when she mentioned to her take when she asked my opinion. Now I get a real rebuttal since I am sure that she would not want anybody to snitch to the Texas Rangers on sexy and cowboy handsome Toby who after all was not doing it for the mob, just a job, but for his sons. Sarah can stew in her juices on that one until she replies in some future review she writes-if she gets one.                 

  

But on to the real deal, on to the “skinny” as Sam Lowell who backs me up 100% on this snitch business. Toby and Tanner, one thoughtful the other a wild boy, brothers are robbing banks to right some wrongs to their family but also as just mentioned to ensure that Toby’s sons don’t have to grow up and be dirt poor like he had grown up in rural Texas. Why banks. Well as the title to this review points out in regard to a classic statement on the matter by the famous, or infamous, bank robber when asked- “that is where the money is.” That was Toby’s plan in any case. You might ask why banks in this day in age but it seems down in prairie Texas and maybe plenty of other places as well the branches of major banks are not up to snuff necessarily on the latest security technology. So the boys play out the old Wild West banking robberies scenario to further Toby’s plan for his sons. Tanner, a jailbird is just along for the adventure, for the blood sport, for kicks and because Toby is his brother.

Come hell or high water though, using that phrase again in a different context, the law, here the well-known Texas Rangers, headed by a pair of agents, one the almost retiree Marcus Hamilton, played by versatile Jeff Bridges, are on the case. The wily old Marcus has the case half figured out before noon that these robberies were planned and were aimed at a particular banking system. All they had to do was wait it on at one of the branches and the game would be over. Old Marcus proved to be right except before the end his partner was killed by the warrior king Tanner in a shoot-out scene very reminiscent of the final showdown between the character played by Humphrey Bogart in High Sierra and the coppers also after a failed robbery with deaths involved. Well Tanner was doomed anyway. Toby is another story since he actually was able to succeed in his plan-in the short run. See Marcus figured him in on the caper as well but couldn’t quite get anybody else to connect the dots. He and Toby have a final verbal confrontation before the curtain closes leaving everybody to wonder what will happen next. Making me try to get Sarah LeMoyne to squirm a little over whether she would turn Toby in, snitch on the guy. For now that’s it.