Dog Tales I: Lassie (1943-1945)

Not to be confused with Won Ton Ton, the dog that saved Hollywood. (Ahem)

Lassie, the regal collie, may be the best-known dog on an international level, far eclipsing her predecessor Rin Tin Tin, a German Shepherd who similarly enjoyed a career in film (primarily during the silent era), and whose descendents appeared in a radio series, a TV show in the fifties, and whose ‘life story’ was depicted in the 2007 film Finding Rin Tin Tin.

Lassie excelled in media perhaps because her timing was perfect: Eric Knight’s book was published in 1940, adapted into a film three years later, and the devotion between a happy-looking dog (a collie’s long jaw and floppy ears make it far film-friendlier than German Shepherds) and a young boy were well-suited for weary international wartime audiences wanting escapist tales where man and beast were supportive of each other to the point of near-death.

Moreover, as evidenced in Lassie’s second film (set in Nazi-occupied Norway), German Shepherds were depicted as authority tools of Nazi masters, whereas the British collie came from a stock not refined in the art of crowd control, or hunting down Jews (as dramatized in the terrifying 1949 Polish film, Border Street / Ulica Graniczna).

In Son of Lassie, there’s a moment when a Nazi officer confronts the collie outside of a prisoner yard with his trusty German Shepherd; his dog is clearly feared by the inmates, whereas the inmates all reach out to touch Lassie through the barbed wire fencing because of the breed’s respected virtue as a loving, loyal friend.

That scene’s a stark dramatization of a two breeds that have been worked into very distinct roles in human society, and media-wise, it probably didn’t get corrected until (as much as I hate to say it), the TV series The Littlest Hobo (argh) made the German Shepherd a loyal breed instead of a weapon of sorts.

See, collies just don’t have the image problem associated with other breeds, and that gave MGM’s franchise a lot of life. Warner Home Video’s 2-disc set, TCM’s Lassie collection, gathers the first 4 films released back in 2004, whereas the other 3 remain unavailable on DVD (although they do air time from time-to-time on TCM).

Film Score Monthly, however, have somewhat bridged the gap with a limited 5-CD set featuring surviving music from the series in the aptly titled Lassie Come Home: The Canine Cinema Collection (1943-1955), goosed with a rare Elmer Bernstein score for the 1955 short film, It’s a Dog’s Life.

.Now let’s get back to Lassie.

"Ooja-booja, mon ami cheuveuse!"

Most of the DVD transfers in the TCM set date from the mid-00’s, and while it may seem frivolous to suggest the entire series deserves full HD transfers for loaded Blu-ray discs, it ain’t, because certainly with the first two films, the Lassie series represents some of the best outdoor Technicolor cinematography on record, and if you were blown away by The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938), the Lassie series would be equally jaw dropping on BR, since the core sequences in each film involve a search or trek through wild terrain, be it mountains, glaciers (!), or a treacherous swim.

MGM’s series entries weren’t big budget productions, but their embracive use of splendid locations gave their simple stories of boy / man / girl + loyal dog extra oomph.

None of the DVDs include commentaries, featurettes or interviews (people are aging, some are dying…) but if WHV were to plan a 7-film BR set, it would benefit greatly from input by historians and fans, since the films continue to endure as dog-friendly, family classics. I can’t imagine what parents do when they realize their child won’t stop crying until they get their own Lassie.

Eeesh.

In any event, I deliberately dove into these family films because I wanted to see if a cynical writer with allergies towards dogs, cats & birds (feathers, people, it’s the fine plethora of feathers that itch the nasalium nostrixta) could handle period kid-flicks.

Answer: mostly yeah, but as I said, there are aspects that should keep adults content.

For example, MGM drew from a fine stable of character actors, and the series also functioned as training ground and test projects for up-and-coming talent.

The first film, Lassie Come Home [M] (1943), features a big-eyed Roddy McDowall (thankfully no longer billed under that pretentious banner “Master Roddy McDowall, as done for How Green Was My Valley), and Elizabeth Taylor in her second film.

The sequel, Son of Lassie [M] (1945), features the physically handsome / nasally voiced Peter Lawford; pretty June Lockhart, all bubbly and glowing in her Natalie Kalmus-approved Technicolor Red dress; and pig-tailed Terry Moore (soon to appear in Mighty Joe Young, where she perpetually spouted more somfistakated dialogue like ‘Oh Joe! Come on Joe! Hurry Joe!’).

I’ve uploaded reviews of the first two pooch films, and will follow up with not only the rest of the Lassie films in MGM’s franchise, but related pooch movies about loyal dogs, because apparently I’ve lost some of my cynicism for family fodder.

Of course, all it takes is a film starring an ugly child and a dog with grotesque strands of drool (see Turner & Hooch. Go on. Watch the head shaking sequence, and call me wrong), and I’m reset back to Cynic 1.0.






Mark R. Hasan, Editor
KQEK.com

Soundtrack News & Other Tidbits

I think I’ve found the best time to post the full tally of current and upcoming score releases: mid-month / near-end. It’s after all the biggies have been released, and the biggies of the coming weeks have been announced, and the fact it takes a good chunk of hours to check out various sites, do some scoping, and update my Master List of soundtrack labels (which keeps growing).

I’ll keep this brief due to time issues, but prior to the mega-list, I have to mention a few nice surprises.

I love reading Glenn Erickson’s DVD Savant columns & reviews, and he’s so well-nestled among film fans that include filmmakers and preservationists. Ergo, another update on the status of Windjammer, the epic 1958 film produced in the knock-off Cinerama process known as Cinemiracle.

Never heard of Cinerama? Don’t worry, because it didn’t live long, but this nascent 3-camera, super-widescreen process is the reason standard widescreen filmmaking (2.35:1) came back in the fifties after the first formats died during the Great Depression.

Sound was costly enough for theatres, so most gave a big NO to the studios when they wanted to improve the filmgoing experience with wide format movies around 1929. Fox Home Video, prior to abandoning their regular wave of classic films on DVD, produced a wonderful 2-disc edition of Raoul Walsh’s The Big Trail (1930), shot in the Grandeur format.

When widescreen film returned to cinemas, it came via Cinerama, a process beautifully documented by filmmaker David Strohmaier in his must-see film, Cinerama Adventure (2002). Apparently restoration work is happening on the first Cinerama film, This is Cinerama (1952), as evidenced by the promo trailer archived on YouTube in the Smilebox format.

Also on YouTube is a trailer for Windjammer, which DVD Savant believes will also make its way to HD this year. Hopefully the films will make it to Blu-ray in factually loaded special editions, and film prints will once again be in circulation at the handful of remaining theatres equipped to exhibit this widescreen granddaddy format on planet Earth.

Here’s a prior press release regarding the Windjammer restoration project, and a website devoted to the film and much Cinemiracle publicity ephemera. Hopefully the inevitable BR release (it has to come out on home video) will boost an interest in the release of Morton Gould’s score, which came out on a Columbia LP during the film’s original theatrical release, as discussed by simpatico fans at FSM’s message board a while ago.

Moving on.

Elizabeth Taylor passed away yesterday at the age of 79. Undoubtedly the airwaves have been filled with tributes and archived interviews, and my own will follow this weekend when I review a set of her early films, including Lassie Come Home (1943), years before she started getting her own starring vehicles at MGM, and gained solid career footing in films like Father of the Bride (1950).

Back to film scores.

Twilight Time’s just released a DVD of John Huston’s The Kremlin Letter (1970), and their next title is Richard Fleischer’s Violent Saturday (1955). The DVDs can be ordered from Screen Archives Entertainment, and each film comes with an isolated music track.

Robert Drasnin’s score for Kremlin is also available on CD via Intrada, and the label also released Hugo Friedhofer’s Violent score a few years ago as part of a CD double-bill with Leigh Harline’s for Warlock, another fine CinemaScope production.

Most important factoid: another ‘scope film (in 2.55:1, no less) is rescued from oblivion, and it’ll be interesting to watch the film with Friedhofer’s music solo. I still content he’s one of the most underappreciated composers from the fifties, and his scoring approach (particularly in the surround sound ‘scope productions) establish the parameters for how composers should use bass, and envelope audiences in 4.0 and later 5.1 environments.

Next.

I’ve placed online-only scores from labels at the top of the list, and am working on a way to find exclusive iTunes releases, because I’m pretty sure there’s music that falls under collector radars simply due to the volume of new, older, and archival film music that keeps coming out.

Trust me, I still have the odd eighties Intrada catalogue in a drawer that lists maybe 15-20 new releases for the next month.

Two more things.

Rue Morgue reviewed the video game Dead Space 2, and I’ve posted a review of Jason Graves’ fun, dissonant score that should only be played loud at night in a dark room. An interview with the composer is available at the G4 website.

And lastly, U.K. label Finders Keeprs (I love that name) has been slowly putting out material by Polish composer Zdenek Liska (The Shop on Main Street), and a series of albums featuring music from Jean Rollin films.

I’ll have a review of several Liska scores in the coming weeks (including one rarity, with its corresponding film), but collectors should check out the label’s website. They feature a wild collection of music from around the world, mostly from the trippy sixties and seventies, but their art direction for limited LP pressings is fantastic.

The only label that comes to mind with any equivalent bonus material – reproductions of ephemera as inserts in deluxe gatefold or standard sleeve packaging – is Screen Archives Entertainment, in their Albert Glasser diptych Tokyo File 212 (1951) and Huk! (1956) – the latter film still in my top want-to-see-now list.

Now to shut up, get on with more finger-hurting typing, and let you peruse the Master List.

.

.

Online only via iTunes and Amazon.com

Dead Space 2 (Jason Graves)

Dragon Age II (Inon Zur)

.

.

.

.

Alhambra (Germany)

Dschungelkind (Annette Focks)

Im Himmel, Unter der Erde (Karim Sebastian Elias)

Schicksalsjahre (Wolfram De Marco)

.

.

.

.

Anti (USA)

Rango (Hans Zimmer)

.

.

.

.

Beat Records (Italy)

Beware the Darkness (Fabio Frizzi) --- ltd. 500 copies, late March

Cugni carnali / High School Girl, aka Hot and Bothered (Claudio Mattone) --- late March

Campa carogna la tagliacresce / Those Dirty Jobs (Nico Fidenco) --- late March

Etoore lo fusto / Hector the Might (Francesco DeMasi) --- ltd. 500 copies, late March

La pardona e’servita / The Mistress is Served (Stevio Cipriani) --- late March

Tutto a posto e niente in ordine / All Screwed Up (Piero Piccioni) --- ltd. 500 copies, late March

.

.

.

.

BSX Records (USA)

Megaforce (Jerold Immel) --- ltd. 2000 copies

Perkins’ 14 (Kostas Christides) --- ltd. 1000 copies

.

.

.

.

Cometa (Italy)

La ragazza alla pari / The Best, aka Au-Pair Girl (Enrico Pieranunzi, Giovanni Chimenti) --- late March

Mannaja / A Man Called Blade (Guido and Mauzizio De Angelis) --- late March

.

.

.

.

DigitMovies (Italy)

Il grande attacco (Franco Micalizzi) --- early April

La cripta e l’incubo (Carlo Savina) --- early April

Stridulum (Franco Micalizzi) --- early April

.

.

.

.

él Records (UK)

Beat Girl (John Barry)

Strada, La / Le Notti Di Cabiria (Nino Rota) --- April 4

.

.

.

.

Film Score Monthly (FSM) (USA)

Homecoming: A Christmas Story, The (Jerry Goldsmith) + Rascals & Robbers: The Secret Adventures of Tom Sawyer & Huckleberry Finn (James Horner)

I Spy, Vol. 2: The LPs (Earle Hagen)

Robinson Crusoe on Mars (Nathan Van Cleave)

Telefon (Lalo Schifrin) + Hide in Plain Sight (Leonard Rosenman)

.

.

.

.

Finders Keepers Records (UK)

Frisson des vampires, Les (Acanthus) --- CD + LP

Jeunes filles impudiques (Pierre Raph) --- LP

Mala Morska Vila (Zdenek Liska) --- CD + LP

Saxana – The Girl on a Broomstick (Angelo Michajlov) --- CD + LP

Solla Solla (various) --- CD + LPs

.

.

.

.

GDM (Italy)

America paese di dio / So This is God’s Country? (Angelo Francesco Lavagnino, Armando Trovaioli) --- ltd. 500 copies, late March

Ballata per un pistolero (Marcello Giombini) --- ltd. 300 copies, reissue, late March

Da uomo a uomo / Death Rides a Horse (Ennio Morricone) --- ltd. reissue, late March

Dinamite Jim (Nico Fidenco) --- ltd. 500 copies, early April

Disubbidienza, La (Ennio Morricone) --- CD Club

L’Uomo che ride: original (Carlo Savina) + rejected (Piero Piccioni) scores --- ltd. 500 copies*

Ringo il volto della vendetta (Francesco DeMasi) --- reissue, ltd. 300 copies, late March

Tedeum (Guido and Maurizio De Angelis) --- early April

Uccideva a freddo / The Cold Killer (John Ireson, Wyman L. Parham) --- mid-April

Vita a volte e’molto dura, vero provvidenza?, La (Ennio Morricone) --- ltd. 750 copies, early April

.

.

.

.

Heristal (Italy)

Ennio Morricone performed by Movies Trio

.

.

.

.

Intrada (USA)

Battlestar Galactica (Stu Phillips) --- ltd. 3000 copies

Cliffhanger (Trevor Jones) --- 2 CDs, ltd. 2000 copies

Exposed (Georges Delerue) --- ltd. 1000 copies

House of Usher, aka Fall of the House of Usher (Les Baxter) --- ltd. 1200 copies

Kremlin Letter, The (Robert Drasnin) --- ltd. 1000 copies

Trail of the Pink Panther (Henry Mancini) --- 1200 copies

Those Magnificent Men in Their Flying Machines (Ron Goodwin) --- 2 CDs, ltd. 2000 copies

Wrongfully Accused (Bill Conti) --- ltd. 1500 copies

.

.

.

.

Kritzerland Records (USA)

Audrey Rose (Michael Small) --- ltd. 1000 copies

Carnival – London cast (Bob Merrill) --- ltd. 1000 copies, early April

Counterfeit Traitor, The (Alfred Newman) --- ltd. 1500 copies, early April

Ordeal by Innocence (Pino Donaggio) --- ltd. 1000 copiess

.

.

.

.

Lakeshore Records (USA)

Beastly (Marcelo Zarvos)

Drive Angry (Michael Wandmacher)

Source Code (Chris Bacon) --- March 29

Super (Tyler Bates) --- April 5

.

.

.

.

Legend Records (Italy)

Guendalina + Nata di marzo / March’s Child + La parmigiana / The Girl from Parma (Piero Piccioni) --- ltd. 1500, late March

Moses the Lawgiver (Ennio Morricone) --- ltd. 1500, 2 CDs, late March

Valdez il mezzosangue / Chico, aka Valdez’ Horses (Guido and Maurizio De Angelis) --- ltd. 1500 copies, late March

.

.

.

.

Mark Isham Music / MIM (USA)

Mechanic, The (Mark Isham) --- see website for various release versions

.

.

.

.

MovieScore Media (Sweden)

Cuckoo (Andrew Hewitt)

Herencia Valdemar II: Sombre Prohibida, La (Arnau Bataller)

Land That Time Forgot: The Fantasy Film Music of Chris Ridenhour, The

Mega-Shark vs. Giant Octopus: The Monster Film Music of Chris Ridenhour

Monster Mutt (Chris Walden)

2012 Supernova: The Sci-Fi Film Music of Chris Ridenhour

.

.

.

.

Naxos (USA)

Carmen (Ernesto Halffter) --- March 29

.

.

.

.

Nuba Records / Karonte Distribution (Spain)

Retornos (Sergio Moure)

Secuestrados (Sergio Moure)

.

.

.

.

Perseverance Records (USA)

Death Warrant (Gary Chang) --- ltd. 2000 copies, mid-March

Slipstream (Elmer Bernstein) --- ltd. 3000 copies, late April

.

.

.

.

Phantom Soundtracks (USA)

Alien Terrain (Demetri Fox)

.

.

.

.

Quartet Records (Spain)

Il Peccato (Antonio Perez Olea) --- ltd. 500 copies

La Notte (Giorgio Gaslini) --- ltd. 500 copies

.

.

.

.

RCA (USA)

Bette Davis: Classic Film Scores of Bette Davis (Max Steiner)

Citizen Kane: Classic Film Music of Bernard Herrmann

Elizabeth and Essex: Classic Film Scores of Erich Wolfgang Korngold

Laura + Forever Amber + The Bad & the Beautiful (David Raksin)

Now Voyager: Classic Film Score of Max Steiner

Spellbound: Classic Film Scores of Miklos Rozsa

Sunset Boulevard: Classic Film Scores of Franz Waxman

.

.

.

.

Silva Screen (USA / UK)

Being Human (Richard Wells)

Biutiful (Gustavo Santaolalla)

Doctor Who: A Christmas Special (Murray Gold) --- late March

Promise, The (Debbie Wiseman)

Rite, The (Alex Heffes)

.

.

.

.

Sony (Italy)

Come un delfino (Ennio Morricone) --- late March

.

.

.

.

Times Square Records / Silva Screen (USA)

Sufis at the Cinema: 50 Years of Bollywood Qawwali & Sufi Song 1958-2007 (various) --- 2 CDs

.

.

.

.

Trunk Records (USA)

Primitive London (Basil Kirchin)

.

.

.

.

Twilight Time / Screen Archives Entertainment - DVDs with isolated scores (USA)

Kremlin Letter, The – DVD with isolated track of Robert Drasnin’s score --- ltd. 3000 copies

Violent Saturday – DVD with isolated track of Hugo Friedhofer’s score – litd. 3000 copies, April 12

.

.

.

.

Universal Music (USA)

Paul (David Arnold / various) --- April 5

.

.

.

.

Varese Sarabande (USA)

Battle: Lost Angeles (Brian Tyler)

Fringe: Season 2 (Michael Giacchino)

Hop (Christopher Lennertz) --- April 5

Ironclad (Lorne Balfe)

Largo Winch II (Alexandre Desplat)

Ligne Droite, La (Patrick Doyle)

Princess of Montpensier, The (Philippe Sarde) --- Apr. 5

Pushing Daisies: Season 2 (Jim Dooley) --- Apr. 5

Randy Edelman: ThePacific Flow to Abbey Road --- Apr. 5

Yeux de sa mere, Les / Hos Mother’s Eues (Gustavo Santaolalla)

Your Highness (Steve Jablonsky) --- Apr. 15

.

.

.

.

Warner Bros. Records (USA)

Danny Elfman & Tim Burton Anniversary Music Box, The --- 16CD deluxe set + 1 DVD + book, ***released date updated to April 15th at Amazon.com [non-limited set; does not incl. 17th Bonus Disc with ltd. pre-order set from Dec. 2010]

.

.

.

This handy-dandy list was compiled from various sources, including catalogue announcements at Screen Archives Entertainment, Soundtrackcollector.com, Chris’ Soundtrack Corner, and Intrada.

.

.

.

Mark R. Hasan, Editor
KQEK.com

Soundtrack Reviews

It’s Monday, and the second day of spring, and it’s rather blacchy outside in Toronto,  with the kind of clouds and wetness that mean only one thing: it’s an Advil Day.

However, spring brings warmth (and horny raccoons), sunlight (when available), singing birds (and giant mutant house centipedes), and assorted flora (on which the spiders should be resting, rather than inside my recessed light fixtures).

Just uploaded are a pair of soundtrack reviews: Nuno Malo’s gorgeous music for Amalia [M] (MovieScore Media), of which the film should’ve been released in Canada (don’t we have the largest Portuguese population outside of Portugal?); and Dan Marocco’s guitar-friendly Brotherhood [M] (Lakeshore Records).

Coming soon: a review of the superb documentary Harlan: In the Shadow of Jew Suss (Zeitgeist Films), and as a contrast, Sharktopus (Anchor Bay), with reviews of some bug-eyed monster music.






Mark R. Hasan, Editor
KQEK.com

Gangsters: Part II

Like the prior installment, Part II deals with the second pair of gangster films in TCM’s Prohibition Era set, this time spotlighting James Cagney.

The Public Enemy [M] had Cagney playing Tom Powers, a bad boy who gets into bootlegging and organized crime while his brother recovers from the horrors of WWII.

Tom loves his Ma, has loyal friends, and uses a grapefruit to silence his moll’s incessant complaining at breakfast. But as with all psychopaths, the end must come, and his curtain call is an uncompromising shocker that caps a pioneering genre entry whose structure and template still work, 80 years later.

When Cagney made The Roaring Twenties [M] in 1939, he had pretty much been run through the genre machine by the studio, playing every configuration possible, and was ready to move on to comedies, dramas, and flag-waving musicals such as Yankee Doodle Dandy (1941).

In his final gangster saga of the thirties, he’s Eddie Bartlett, a WWI vet who returns home, finds his job’s been taken, and discovers the girl who wrote him during the war is a high school snot in knickers. Several years later he’s found a solid career making, selling, and stealing booze, with solid professional relationships with two fellow veterans: a lawyer, and a psychopath named George, played by Humphrey Bogart before he shook off his skin of amoral slime and donned a slick suit and graduated to a romantic leading man in Casablanca (1943).

Naturally, Cagney can’t play the same character as Tom Powers, but there are similarities which I’ve tried to neatly dissect and compare in a review. Even with the obvious parallels, The Roaring Twenties is solid entertainment, and while it might be lacking the pre-Code naughtiness of The Public Enemy, it makes up for it with pure verve, due to an outstanding cast, and solid direction from one of my favourite directors ever – Raoul Walsh, director of Objective, Burma! [M] (1945), one of the best action / war films ever.

Cagney would return to the gangster film in White Heat (1949), part of Warner Home Video’s other TCM Gangster collection that I’ll cover shortly, but both aforementioned films prove the resilience of the genre, regardless of the decade, or setting.

Guns, contraband and fast cars also figure in Christopher Rowley’s Death of a Snowman [M] (Synapse), a 1976 gangster film from South Africa. Never heard of it? Neither had I, and while glaringly crude at times, there’s something intriguing about this effort to make a standard genre film in Africa, with a mixed cast, grungy locations, and an early film score co-composed by Trevor Rabin (Armageddon).

In Part III, I’ll cover another pair of vintage Warner Bros. crime thrillers, plus another recent South African gangster film. The Editor’s Blog will also spotlight a pair of striking Johannesburg structures that were part of the skyline (to some extent) in these South African crime classics.






Mark R. Hasan, Editor
KQEK.com

TV Noir (sort of): Part I

Film noir was never exclusive to a single medium. The French critics coined the term for the gloomy, psychological thrillers made in postwar America, and the genre never fully dissipated or went out of vogue because it left a strong impression on young moviegoers and idiot box watchers, many of whom grew up and became writers, filmmakers and technicians.

Whenever a classic crime novel or crime film was remade, the genre continued to survive, and noir would’ve made its first penetration into TV in 1964 had NBC not rejected Don Siegel’s remake of Robert Siodmak’s 1946 film The Killers due to some muttering about 'excessive violence.'

I’ll get back to Siegel’ version in a later blog (avec a related review), but noir was certainly attractive to filmmakers working in TV, and a number of classics were in fact remade over the last 30 years – not a bevy bunch, but a measurable  handful.

The problem with these works is, good or bad, that besides airing in syndication after their original broadcast dates, few ever made it to home video, so they’ve disappeared from view.

Some might argue the inherent ineptitude or crapulence by hack directors to capture the allure of a vintage noir film with colour film and sets leftover from an old Columbo episode deserve to be ignored, but I think one can learn from mistakes, and in Part I of this series, we’ll begin with a doozey.

Film noir means black film in French, but the term isn’t exclusive to black & white films. I’ve tried to argue the point, but some purists don’t listen. It’s not about the lack of colour; noir is a simple term for a genre that includes moody cinematography, mentally warped characters, guilt, crimes, white lies, bad social behaviour, forbidden love, duplicitous love, murderous thoughts mistakenly uttered in public (‘If you say that again, why I’ll KILL YOU!!!’) in a fit of rage or lack of any judgment, etc., etc., etc.

It’s a bigger genre than you'd think, and noir movies filmed in colour qualify by virtue of sharing the same type of storylines, characters, gnashing music, and tough talk.

There’s noir in crazy Sam Fuller’s House of Bamboo (1955), Allan Dwan’s deliciously sleazy The River’s Edge (1957), and John Stahl’s Leave Her to Heaven [M] (1946) – all colour flix.

Leave Her to Heaven is one of the films I’d want to have in my possession if I was stranded on an island with a perpetually functional DVD player and monitor (and electricity and cheesy poofs).

It’s got Gene Tierney still in love with her dead dad, nice guy Cornel Wilde almost destroyed by Tierney’s obsessive love (Bye-bye, little Danny Boy!), blazing Technicolor, gorgeous set designs, striking streamlined architecture, rustic locations, and Alfred Newman’s booming score that begins with a timpani pall of doom and gloom (and leaves little doubt Wilde is going to get screwed).

Two and a half weeks ago, Bell sponsored a free weekend of screenings at the TIFF Bell Lightbox (TBL! Remember?) and among the classic movies being offered was Leave Her to Heaven – an actual print, splatted on the big screen in Cinema 3, which has great sound. (That’s where they also screened Jaws last fall, which sounded amazing in a simple surround sound scheme.)

The theatre was maybe a third full, but that's because A) most of the world has yet to experience the pure evil of Gene Tierney's luscious Ellen; and B) there were also plenty of Powell & Pressbuger films to catch, and some people needed to eat and have periodic breaks to go pee-pee.

I was impressed when I saw the film in my teens, courtesy of Elwy Yost's TVO series Saturday Night at the Movies, but besides the performances, there was Alfred Newman's memorable score (surprisingly sparse for a noir, if not a glossy Fox production), Leon Shamroy's stunning cinematography (particularly Tierney's ash scattering sequence on horseback), and the quotable dialogue, of which "There's nothing the matter with Ellen. She just loves too much" is the ultimate character understatement made by a mother who knows the damage wrought by Ellen's possessiveness and cruel demands on her father and adopted sister Ruth (quietly portrayed by Jeanne Crain).

Seen on the big screen, it's surprising how well the film moves in spite of lengthy sequences where there's very little music. Main Titles and ash scattering scenes aside, I can't recall the specifics of any other cues, except perhaps brief connective music that add extra dramatic meat when there's a switch to a new location.

Director Stahl relied on camera movement, crisp sound effects mixes, and the Technicolor palette to maintain a strong pace, but he also had a first-rate cast of stars and character actors.

Also of note are the impeccable costumes, designed to reflect the gradual shift in dominance between Ellen and sister (er, adopted cousin) Ruth.

An avid gardener, Ruth initially wears prissy, simple clothes with patterns and uninteresting colours, whereas glamorous Ellen is the stylish one, often custom draped in textiles dunked in colours flattered by the Technicolor film stock.

The filmmakers couldn't show (or chose not to dramatize in separate scenes) the gradual and very illicit romance between Ruth and still-married Richard, so their relationship was inferred by Ruth's clothing: smart blouses with shoulder pads and dramatic colours, and pigtail-free hair that reflect a woman instilled with the confidence to see Ellen for the bitch that she is, and stand up to her.

As a contrast, Ellen's pregnancy mandates large robes, and the satin fabric makes her resemble a chintzy dolly instead of a powerful matron-in-waiting.

More striking is her confession scene with Richard. Standing with her arms looped in the sleeves of her brown, monk-like robe, her effort to seek contrition become even more heavy-handed when she kneels for forgiveness in a pose straight from a pious religious drama.

One could argue the costumes were designed purely for subtext, and create a bit of unmistakable symbolism, but Leave Her to Heaven isn't a pious moral drama; it's melodrama with stealth sleaze and forbidden behaviour accented with a twisted sense of humour. Like Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho, only a second viewing brings out the clever in-jokes.

Tierney's monk robe reinforces her character's phoniness, whereas the glamorous moo-moo she wears while pregnant illustrates the ridiculousness of a child-hating bitch carrying a wee one she will never love because she's using her pregnancy as another weapon to maintain control on nice guy Richard.

Pauvre schmuck.

Jo Swerling's dialogue sparkles with double-entendres not wholly about sex, but ill emotions, morbid obsessions, and portents of murderous deeds.

During the TBL screening, everyone got a few solid chuckles from Ellen and Richard's repartee during their first meeting on a train, as well as a dinner scene at the ranch with Ellen's family.

SPOILER ALERT

.

.

Also memorable was Ellen's cruel rejection of her fiance, Russell Quinton (Vincent Price) - a scene that's important because it pays off when Quinton vengefully bullies Richard and Ellen during questioning at the film's closing murder trial.

Now, the actuality of an ex-lover allowed to be chief prosecutor in the death of his ex-fiancee is ridiculous, but Price sells it beautifully, beating the truth of illicit love from Ellen and Richard with exceptional ruthlessness.

Scorned in front of Ellen's family, and forced to return home and face ridicule by his peers for not getting the girl, Quinton exerts payback like a bulldog, and breaks down the defendents until they implicate themselves: Ruth planning a rendezvous with Richard in Mexico while Ellen was at home, and Richard always suspecting his wife murdered his handicapped brother Danny.

The lack of a flashy editing style may be reflective of the period, but director Stahl trusted the audience to use their brains and tie together the burgeoning lover affair.

Case in point: Ellen, irate that Richard's book is dedicated to Ruth ('the gal with the hoe'), skims through the pages of the advance copy and starts to put two and two toegther, realizing the vacation Ruth is describing in idle chatter is a secret rendezvous. Ruth, in fact, couldn't care less what Ellen suspects, because she knows Richard will leave the satin bitch.

Ellen's realization, Ruth's sly pride, and the book's cover art alluding to the Mexican hot spot are covered in one long medium shot, and it works. Audiences are forced to listen to the dialogue, watch the actors' reactions, and scan the shot themselves, picking up the humour on their own. Stahl's direction may have been a bit sedate here; or maybe he knew that audiences would have a bit of fun discovering Ruth's plans before Ellen - putting them on Ruth's side without breaking the film's 'third wall.'

.

.

END OF SPOILERS

These are all very powerful components, and it's morbidly fascinating to see how Leave Her to Heaven was compacted into a TV movie starring Patrick Duffy as Richard, Lonnie Anderson as Ellen, and Glynnis O'Connor as Ruth.

Retitled Too Good to be True [M], this 1988 production had a few plot modifications and several secondary characters were reconfigured, split up, or dumped, and none of it really worked.

This naturally begs the question: Why mess with a classic?

Because it's a great story, and every producer thinks he / she can make it better.

Not so, and if you read the review of the Duffy-Anderson effort, you'll know why.







Mark R. Hasan, Editor
KQEK.com

The Walking Dead

Now up & running is a review of Anchor Bay's shiny Blu-ray edition of The Walking Dead [M], AMC's rather daring series which premiered in 2010, and returns in the fall of 2011 - meaning those hooked on the series won't be sated with more tales of emotional trauma from a world overrun by zombies for MONTHS.

Damn!

I still think series creator Frank Darabont benefitted from the allowances ABC made towards the makers of Lost, whereby stories often focused on the offside, private moments of characters rather than the next big pre-ad break shock; and the upped gore level in Dead Set (2008), the brutally violent U.K. series that made it okay for filmmakers (and satirists) to indulge in slimy viscera and serious bodily trauma on TV. Darabont gave free license to effects meisters KNB, and the results are pick-axes to the head, gunshots inflicted upon various facets of the head, and a lovely moment involving the smearing of rotting internal organ matter on clothes.

Bear McCreary's sparse score isn't yet available on CD, but in our interview [M] last year, he reflected on working with Darabont, and some of the scoring ideas for the series.

Coming next: thoughts on the recent screening at the Tiff Bell Lightbox (TBL!) of Leave Her to Heaven (1945) and a review of the 1988 TV remake. What? Didn't know there was one? I'm sure stars Patrick Duffy and Loni Anderson also forgot. Or tried to, after firing their agents.






Mark R. Hasan, Editor
KQEK.com

Soundtrack Reviews

This one’s a quickie, as I’m finishing up on several themed blogs & reviews for this week.

Just uploaded are reviews of Jason Graves’ score for the video game Dead Space 2 [M] (released by E.A.R.S.), Andrew Hewitt’s Cuckoo [M] (MovieScore Media), and Alan Ari Lazar’s music for Gangster’s Paradise: Jerusalema [M] (Lakeshore Records).

The last film [M] I reviewed last week, and is part of a series on gangster films (of which another trio will be up shortly).

Coming next: an examination of the thematic links between the zombie and post-apocalyptic disaster genres in AMC’s wonderful series The Walking Dead (Anchor Bay).

Oh, and just in case this may never have crossed the mind: in this blog (as well as its Word Press clone), when you see the following – [M] – it means there’s a link to a mobile version of the review.

You’re welcome.






Mark R. Hasan, Editor
KQEK.com

Gangsters: Part I

Here’s a slightly different spin on reviewing TCM’s latest group of classic films sets: along with reviews of one pair of classic gangster films, I’m adding either a contemporary classic whose roots lie in Warner Bros.’ vintage ‘torn from the headlines’ crime films of the thirties, or a title you may have missed because the local distribution channels missed it, or it’s been forgotten for whatever silly reason.

Here’s a case in point:  the first pair from TCM’s Greatest Gangster Films Collection (Warner Home Video) are Little Caesar [M] and Smart Money [M] - both from 1931, and both superb in spite of being in black & white, mono, and made 80 years ago.

Chief reasons to catch these gems: Edward G. Robinson’s extraordinary performances, and the meanness and naughtiness that vanished once the vile Production Code became law in 1934, disallowing all kinds of behaviour, dialogue, visuals, inferences, and things we completely take for granted today.

Tied to the two classics is Gangster’s Paradise: Jerusalema [M] (Anchor Bay), Ralph Ziman’s 2008 ‘inspired by true events’ crime drama based on a real-life figure who managed to snooker abandoned apartment buildings from landlords during the eighties in Hillbrow, the once crime-drenched inner city of Johannesburg, South Africa.

Originally released as Jerusalema, the film may have been overshadowed by the Oscar-winning success of South Africa’s other recent gangster film, Tstotsi (2005), but it shouldn’t be overlooked.

Ziman shot a film no one wanted to finance using old Soviet-era film cameras in dangerous locations in and around Hillbrow, and it’s a compelling update on the Little Caesar template of a kid who becomes a thug, thief, gangster, slum lord, and eventually must fall from grace.

I’ve posted reviews of the films and their extras (including vintage short material on the Warner discs), and the next pair of gangster films will also be accompanied by another South Africa crime film.








Mark R. Hasan, Editor
KQEK.com

Soundtrack News & Reviews

Just uploaded are three new soundtrack reviews, although I before I get to the links, Soundtrackcollector.com recently reported composer Mark Isham has established his own soundtrack label, and is releasing the score to The Mechanic in three formats: EP versions of cues from the score, the complete original score, and a 2-disc edition with both soundtrack versions.

What’s intriguing is that years ago, when Isham recorded an audio commentary track for the Blade (1998) DVD, he mentioned the eventual release of the electronic music in EP / dance club versions. Now, that edition never happened, but it is interesting that The Mechanic seems to be a fulfillment of that concept of creating two versions of a soundtrack: film score, and a version that’s unfettered by the time constraints of a specific scene, with room for improv and development.

Isham’s background includes electronics, orchestral writing, and jazz – he’s recorded non-film, jazz fusion albums in the past, not to mention composed jazz cues for Little Man Tate (1991), Cool World (1992), and Quiz Show (1994) – and it’s not unusual for composers to reinterpret film works as standalone concept albums.

One could argue the edited album versions of scores conceived by Jerry Goldsmith for The Boys from Brazil (1978) or Poltergeist [M] (1982), for example, qualify, if not re-recorded albums with different cue arrangements, like John Williams’ Jaws (1974), but three distinct examples of genuine concept albums come to mind:

--- Malcolm X (1992), where Terence Blanchard released a score and jazz improv couplet (each very different from the other).

--- El Topo (1970 ) – Alejandro Jodorowsky’s score was released by Apple Records (and reissued by Anchor Bay in their Jodo boxed set), whereas jazz fusionist Martin Fierro crafted his own (and frankly awesome) theme extrapolations for the album Shades of Joy.

--- The Sweet Smell of Success (1957) – Elmer Bernstein’s score (with heavy theme repetition) was released on its own, as was the full Chico Hamilton + Fred Katz jazz combos, although in the case of the latter, the B-side was one long improv collage of the pair’s own themes.

Note how these three all share jazz elements, which is perhaps why Isham felt it was not unusual to extrapolate material from existing themes.

In any event, if a theme can go through various permutations and cover versions, there’s no reason why a composer can’t re-explore some work he felt might have been restricted by the limits of a film’s edited and mixed soundtrack.

Now then, just uploaded are reviews for a trio of scores from La-La Land Records: Dominic Frontiere’s The Rat Patrol [M], John Debney’s The Young Riders [M], and James Horner’s Jade [M].

Of the three, Frontiere’s is the most satisfying, and I’m frankly stunned that so much care went into recording the series’ music in stereo in Munich. The score elements sound pristine, and this is my favourite archival release of 2011 so far.

Now if only La-La Land could release a multi-disc set of The Invaders, featuring Frontiere’s original scores (about 2 or 3 of Season 1’s episodes featured full scores) plus those composed by newcomers for Season 2.

If I say it three times, it will happen: The Invaders. The Invaders. The Invaders.







Mark R. Hasan, Editor
KQEK.com

The Sights & Sounds of Driving Angry

Yes, this shot is real.

It’s clear Quentin Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez put their own personal stamp on the grindhouse or exploitation genre with their respective Grindhouse films in 2007 via Death Proof and Planet Terror, respectively, but neither film was particularly good, and most fans seemed to agree the fake trailers were the best parts of what was an audacious attempt to create little homages to the sleazy, violent films the two directors love so much (plus me , too).

Rodriguez’ effort, Planet Terror, felt like a sick & slimy Italian horror film shot very quickly somewhere in the U.S. with familiar American faces, but as happens with the director’s films, story and script don’t always get the attention they deserve.

Sure, you can argue it’s supposed to be loose and fun, but if you scraped away all the dirty visuals, jump cuts and weird elements like an amputee girl outfitted with a machine gun peg-leg, Planet Terror kind of meandered.

Tarantino’s Death Proof, in turn, has a spectacular car crash and chase in the finale, but everything in between is bitchy characters bitching for long sessions, and there’s just not enough Car. If it’s about a Car that can smash-up other Cars without killing its driver, there should be Action, not indulgent dialogue scenes that tested the willpower of QT’s fans.

Maybe the two films could’ve benefitted from a little bit of Nicolas Cage instead of ensemble casts yapping away for interminable periods.

Now, Patrick Lussier isn’t the strongest horror director out there, but he finally found the ideal project where he showed some directing chops. Cage, Amber Heard (star of All the Boys Love Mandy Lane, still under a 5-year quarantine lockup courtesy of the Weinsteins), and William Fichtner sell the goofy dialogue, but there are many Cars, much driving, and many screeching tires and gunfire, which is why Drive Angry 3D is a better, stronger, and faster film than the aforementioned Grindhouse diptych.

I’ve uploaded a film review [M] of Lussier’s movie, which was shot using the Red camera, and in a true 3D format instead of all this re-rendering nonsense that creates COAPS - Cranial Orbital Aches & Pains Syndrome. That’s when the images come off all fuzzy, the colours are weak, and you get little tiny pains from behind your eyeballs and experience visions of floating cucumbers with Cyclops eyes and bad breath.

Go ahead. Google it, because it’s real.

If you catch Drive Angry in theatres, you’ll also be treated to 3D trailers for Sucker Punch, Priest, and Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides. Oh, and a flat trailer for Fast Five, the necessary fifth film in the Fast & Furious franchise because the world never tires of Dominic Toretto’s exploits in automoboobles.

Also uploaded is an interview with composer Michael Wandmacher [M], who scored Drive Angry with plenty of angry bluegrass music. My review of the soundtrack album will be in an upcoming Rue Morgue issue, but in four words: the score is excellent.

Coming next: a review of the still difficult-to-digest Steven Spielberg film version of Alice Walker’s Pulitzer Prize-winning novel, The Color Purple, now out in a gorgeous Blu-ray edition from Warner Home Video, plus an early Spielberg TV movie, 1972’s pre-Poltergeist [M] spooky house film, Something Evil.

This is where I make a loud ‘Moo-hoo Ha-ha!’ sound, but feel free to use your own variation.








Mark R. Hasan, Editor
KQEK.com