That Was a Long Time Ago

 

LATE FAME (A) - A recent New Yorker cartoon finds a man hunched over a desk, surrounded by piles and boxes of documents, as his wife walks into the room and asks him, "What if nobody wants your papers?" Worse, what if somebody does care about your work from decades ago but it just doesn't matter.

 

Willem Dafoe captures the pathos of a man who had a brief moment in the sun in his early 20s -- he published a book of poetry in 1979 -- but who is now content to punch the clock at the post office and mix up tuna sandwiches when he gets home. If there ever was a muse, it long left Greenwich Village.

But then he gets rediscovered by a clique of pompous writers in their 20s who lure him out of retirement to join their analog world of trust-fund artistes. Dafoe's Ed Saxberger is flattered, and he is further intrigued when the boys' own muse, the dimestore diva Gloria (Greta Lee), swans into the proceedings to suck up the oxygen in the room with every appearance.

Three powerful lead performances propel this downbeat comic drama from director Kent Jones ("Diane," "Hitchcock/Truffaut"), who paces it masterfully and who knows how to mine the subtle emotions from the calculating script by Samy Burch ("May December"), who adapted a novel from Arthur Schnitzler (who also inspired "Eyes Wide Shut"). The third key player is Edmund Donovan as Meyers (the boys prefer to refer to each other archly by last name), the head of the Enthusiasm Society, a rich kid who knows he was born on third base but who seems to have genuine passion for Saxberger's book ("Way Past Go") and affection for the old poet. His haughty group is resentful of modern slaves to technology and social media, though they haven't given up their cell phones. The members seems to have genuine artistic ambitions as they performatively jockey for positions at this rich boy's Algonquin Roundtable. 

The lived-in main characters will actually evolve -- though mostly unravel -- across 96 taut minutes. Saxberger seems torn between savoring the long-overdue recognition and knowing that trying to re-create his youthful accomplishment is a fool's errand. He has been content to hang out with his age-appropriate friends at a corner bar, shooting pool and listening to Lou Reed on the jukebox. It is understandable that he will fall for Gloria, who most surely is overcompensating for insecurities with her exaggerated manner as if she has just escaped Kurt Weill's Berlin and infiltrated Joe College's fraternity during the coonskin Jazz Age. 

Lee is mesmerizing, whether she is bantering and flirty or uncorking a couple of torch songs that seemed to genuinely drop the jaws of the extras she performs for. Donovan, too, betrays a certain level of poseur anxiety as Meyers, a charming young man but a directionless writer who could be accused of not having any there there. Actor and character both exude charisma, but Meyers lets slip a little neediness that undermines any confidence he might have had as a young rich white man with New York at his behest. (One of the funniest lines is when Meyers raises a glass and purports to reclaim a forgotten practice: "A toast!")

This is, of course, Dafoe's movie to carry, and there is no other pro who could out-act him in such a role. (It's refreshing to watch him be "normal" here, like in "The Florida Project," rather than ratcheted up in a Wes Anderson freak show.) He has a face that speaks volumes and a Method actor's ease with sorting mail or making a sandwich. Jones knows how to stay out of the way of such performances in pursuit of a finely tuned script. 

Burch has an ear for awkward interactions and natural dialogue. When we finally hear one of Saxberger's poems, it zings with grit, gravitas and legitimacy. It all builds to a bittersweet and satisfying conclusion to a minor-key story of three ships that happened to have passed in the night.

THE DRAMA (C-minus) - Dumb and pointless is a deadly combination for a movie. When you don't care about the main couple -- who seem mismatched from the start -- it's difficult to stick around to find out what happens to them. 

 

Zendaya and Robert Pattinson have zero chemistry together, and maybe that's the point, because a drunken revelation by her character, Emma, a week before their wedding ceremony gives him pause and ice-cold feet about going through with the marriage; maybe they are making a mistake after two years of dating. This is another narrative misfire from Norway's Kristoffer Borgli, who struggled in his previous offbeat outing, "Dream Scenario" ("There are some interesting ideas here, but they never gel"). 

It is just too difficult to care about what happens to these two. Get married, or don't. Life will go on. It is also ludicrous that, with just one week to go until the wedding ceremony, the couple are still taking dance lessons and finalizing the menu, the guest list, the DJ and their vows. This is a movie that takes place in an alternative time-space continuum that is convenient for the plot.

The revelation at the core of the film is also odd and underwhelming. It has to do with something Emma planned to do as a high school sophomore but didn't actually do. Sure, it's disturbing, but it shouldn't necessarily be a deal-breaker more than a decade later for her nerdy British fiance. The revelation comes during a session of "What is the worst thing you've ever done" with their best-friend couple Rachel (an off-key Alana Haim) and Mike (Mamoudou Athie, the best part of the film) while knocking back a few too many wine samples (another thing Emma and Charlie have left to the last-minute, apparently). 

Zendaya has a wispy presence in a role that calls for some heft, and Pattinson has been better before, especially in last year's relationship meltdown "Die My Love." It all leads to a ridiculous climactic reveal involving one of Charlie's co-workers along with some improbable wedding toasts. Nobody would act like these characters in real life, and if they did do some of the things Borgli requires of them, why would we care how it all turns out?

BONUS TRACK

The "Late Fame" soundtrack is effective, especially the song over the closing credits (which I could not find). Greta Lee knocks out a spare but rousing version of "Surabaya Johnny," which was recorded by Bette Midler in 1973:

Double Feature: It's a Living

 A pair of films featuring Alia Shawkat ("Nasty Baby," "The Intervention"), who surely is banking dollars while awaiting substantive scripts to be offered to her.

ATROPIA (B-minus) - Alia Shawkat carries this shambling narrative from first-time writer-director Hailey Gates, about a group of actors sequestered in the California desert who role-play terrorist scenarios for U.S. military personnel poised to be shipped to Iraq before the 2006 surge. 

 

Shawkat (whose Iraqi father, Tony, co-stars) plays Fayruz, an American actress who believes that this military exercise will lead to a big break in Hollywood, if only she can finagle juicier dramatic parts in the various simulated war-game scenarios. She will eventually fall for Abu Dice (Callum Turner), one of the military men portraying an insurgent. They have to sneak around, because everything in The Box is monitored, and participants are required to stay in character 

This all has a jangly "MASH"-like black humor to it at times, but Gates has a tough time corralling it all into a coherent story. Tim Heidecker and Chloe Sevigny are wasted in minor roles as the administrators of the production; their deadpan readings come off merely as not funny enough. Shawkat can do only so much. Turner -- whose appeal comes from a ranginess and beady eyes (every generation gets the Richard Gere it deserves) -- can be blandly alluring at times, but his comedic chops are a little under-developed. 

Historical hindsight allows Gates to make the case that the U.S. government was sending woefully unprepared young men to their eventual doom in a vicious quagmire in the Middle East. The director shows an eye for arresting visuals -- a tender moment between the two stars is shot via night-vision technology -- but it would require a little more discipline to maintain focus and produce a tighter story. Shawkat's magnetic personality can take a movie only so far.  

THE WRONG GIRLS (C+) - This unnecessary but amusing stoner-buddy comedy asks the long-lingering question: What if Cheech and Chong spent a whole movie doing psychedelic drugs too? 

 

Kristen Stewart and Alia Shawkat are all-in as buzzed roommates who inadvertently intercept a briefcase full of vials containing an experimental psychedelic potion. Of course, in stoner-comedy fashion, the dullards decide to sample the glowing liquid. The secret substance gives them telepathic abilities, allowing them to hear each other's thoughts, as well as the thoughts of their two fraidy cats, Dio (voiced by Seth Rogen) and GG (Kumail Nanjiani). 

This one starts out stupid and somehow gets dumber as it goes along. Shut off your brain and let the idiot plot unfold (or, more accurately, unravel). Appreciate Stewart's willingness to get silly as Frankie and Shawkat's skill at finding an ounce of emotional depth in the well-meaning pot-head Molly. Give points to Zack Fox as the level-headed boyfriend of Molly. And watch Chris Estrada nearly steal the movie the girls' blathering nerdy vato neighbor Jose.

This is also a debut feature, and Dylan Meyer has an idea that is about as clever as a late-series "Get Smart" episode, and her production budget must have been squeezed. There are scenes that involve Tony Hale where it's obvious that he's not actually on set with Stewart, but instead stand-ins are doing the heavy work. Rogen and Nanjiani might as well have phoned in their lines, which are about as funny as lines written by actual cats. Kate McKinnon injects some life into the proceedings as the scientist behind the concoction, and McKinnon is smart enough to know that if the potion has a complicated, hard-to-pronounce name, it gets funnier each time you say it in a heavy accent. (A nod to Dr. Michael Hfuhruhurr?) Geena Davis shows up at the end for a pointless cameo.

I laughed just enough to consider this a minor success. The gals bond over a love of Celine Dion. The bad guys are Danish (instead of, say, Russian or German). Shawkat's character tries to remember her roommate's major before getting kicked out of Stanford: "That train thing ... you know, where you ... make stuff?" (Engineering.) Stewart gets a late laugh with her theatrical line reading of the phrase "FEDERAL BUILDING" when seeing it depicted in big letters. You kind of have to be there to appreciate the humor, and the big question you should ask yourself is whether you want to be there in theater watching these hijinks. 

BONUS TRACK

"The Wrong Girls" has a giddy soundtrack. Early on we get a chunk of a sentimental favorite, Tacocat's "Bridge to Hawaii":

 

Mannequin Pussy shows up as the concert band in a pivotal early scene, with "I Got Heaven":

Noir Chroncles: Suspicion

 

REAR WINDOW (1954) (A) - Alfred Hitchcock's first of four consecutive collaborations with screenwriter John Michael Hayes succeeds as much through dialogue and narrative flourishes as the director's patented visuals. It is clever, funny, sexy and, as you'd suspect, suitably suspenseful.

 

That suspense is awfully muted, though, and it is leavened with a good deal of dry comic line readings and a touching relationship tussle between James Stewart's injured photographer L.B. Jefferies and Grace Kelly's dilettante Lisa Fremont. Throw in well-timed wisecracks from Thelma Ritter as Jefferies' day nurse and Wendell Corey as skeptical detective pal Tom Doyle, and you probably have one of Hitchcock's better comic offerings.

You also have one of the master's better set-ups. It's as if we are sitting in Stewart's lap in his temporary wheelchair as we view the goings-on in the courtyard of his Manhattan apartment complex, where we watch a cavalcade of characters try to distract us from the suspicious activity of a man across the way who is suspected of killing his invalid wife, who may just have slipped out while Jefferies nodded off and taken a train upstate for some R&R. We see "Miss Torso," a dancer who exhibits limber moves while she goes about her household tasks; a frustrated songwriter haggling with writer's block; "Miss Lonelyhearts," who play-acts dates with fictional suitors; newlyweds who shut their shades and apparently are going at it like giddy rabbits; a couple who sleep on their balcony and lower their fluffy dog to ground level in a basket; and, of course, jewelry salesman Lars Thorwald (Raymond Burr), who engages in sketchy behavior at all hours of the day and handles rope, a knife and a saw. 

Doyle reluctantly digs around and comes up with a rational answer for every bit of evidence Jefferies tosses out. Lisa and the nurse, Stella, get in on the investigation, sneaking across the way to sniff out the activities. Lisa is at least guilty about nosing around in other people's business without any proof; she tells Jefferies, "We're two of the most frightening ghouls I've ever known." 

This all unfolds over a running time just shy of two hours. With Stewart in command, we don't mind how long it takes to sort out. The various scenes he monitors play out like an advent calendar come to life. Jefferies -- who broke his leg on assignment shooting an auto race -- is a well-carved character. While Lisa is a vision to behold -- swoon with Hitchcock's camera when Kelly first emerges in closeup, a shot that then melts into a slow-motion kiss -- Jefferies is a restless globe-trotter who also is suspicious about his long-term chances settling down with what seems to be a perfect woman. (She serves him a candlelight dinner while wearing an $1,100 dress.)

Stewart and Hitchcock were reviving a collaboration that would soon produce "The Man Who Knew Too Much" and "Vertigo" (each two years apart), and Stewart's lowkey Everyman persona seems to rein in Hitchcock's more extreme tendencies. There's a lot going on in "Rear Window," and I don't just mean the intricate set pieces. Stewart is both leading man and set-up man. (Ritter gets most of his underhanded pitches. She notes that she once treated the director of GM and knew it was a case of nerves on the brink of the 1929 stock market crash: "When General Motors has to go to the bathroom ten times a day, the whole country's ready to let go." Also: "You'd think the rain would've cooled things down. All it did was make the heat wet.") 

Jefferies is the director of the action before his eyes, stuck in the chair with a zoom lens as his main tool. In that way, Stewart and Hitchcock are the perfect co-leaders here, executing Hayes' perfect script. Sit back and wait for the wry ending.

THE MALTESE FALCON (1941) (C+) - Heavy with dialogue and excessive exposition, this classic film with a vaunted reputation doesn't hold up to modern scrutiny. Like "Citizen Kane," it might have been provocative for its time, and we should be glad that it made Humphrey Bogart a star, but in the end it's a sloppy and confusing story with not much at stake.

Bogart is fantastic as Sam Spade, the slick-talking gumshoe who walks a fine line between the cops and robbers after his PI partner is offed during a surveillance operation. However, Mary Astor is staid and dull as the aspiring femme fatale; she comes from the old-fashioned fainting-couch school of overacting. Sidney Greenstreet and Peter Lorre (below) are both delicious in their own unique way as the bumbling globe-trotters in pursuit of the jewel-encrusted statuette of the black bird that has been coveted for centuries all over the world.

 

The plot -- from writer-director John Huston adapting the novel by Dashiell Hammett -- is convoluted from the start. By the time the final half hour lumbers in, the characters take turns dumping lines and lines of exposition. And it all leads to a frustrating anti-climax. 

But you can see why this early noir is considered one of the all-time greats. Bogart propels the narrative as a one-man plot driver. The corpulent Greenstreet is having a ball as a bon vivant villain. And Lorre is a bundle of nerves who tosses out line readings as if he is learning English on the spot. The one-liners from Hammett and Huston fly by almost two quickly to appreciate. A classic line from Bogie: "When you're slapped, you'll take it and like it!" And he's not even addressing a woman! 

Dragged out to 100 minutes, the film falls apart in the final act, as the lack of chemistry between Bogart and Astor just drains the final scene of any true drama. "Citizen Kane" or "Casablanca" this is not.

BONUS TRACK

The music in "Rear Window" is dreamy at times. That includes an instrumental version of "That's Amore" and a group singalong to "Mona Lisa." Here is Bing Crosby with "To See You (Is to Love You)":

New to the Queue

 All the time in the world ... or at least in the city ...

Willem Dafoe plays a poet rediscovered decades after his initial blip of a success in "Late Fame."

We are willing to shut off our brains and watch a stoner comedy starring our gal Alia Shawkat and Kristen Stewart, "The Wrong Girls."

An HBO documentary from Penny Lane ("Hail Satan?," "Nuts") about the odyssey of an owl that escaped from a New York zoo, "Wild Inside."

We are willing to give Jane Schoenbrun ("I Saw the TV Glow") another chance, with her neo-slasher take, "Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma."

A found-footage memory experiment about growing up in Lebanon, "Do You Love Me."

Now & Then: Missed Connections

 A pair of films, 37 years apart, from Hungarian filmmaker Ildiko Enyedi:

SILENT FRIEND (B) - This contemplation of the connection between humans and plants -- and between humans across generations -- is languid and effervescent. It's easy to lope alongside and to drink in, but you might miss a tangible aftertaste. 

We lock in first on Tony Wong (Tony Leung), a neuroscientist who studies the brain waves of babies and compares them with the pings and zaps he can coax out of plants, in particular a massive, ancient ginkgo biloba tree in the middle of a storied college campus in Germany. Flash back one hundred years to that same campus and a much younger tree, and we see a youthful Grete (Luna Wedler) soldiering through some sexist oral exams to secure her spot as the first female student. She will end up skewing toward photography, as a way of capturing her research samples.

 

In between these eras are a pair of characters attending the university during the student activism of the 1960s. There we find a young woman, Gundula (Marlene Burow), attaching electrodes to a beloved geranium that sits in her dorm window. She entrusts the plant to a fellow student, Hannes (Enzo Brumm), to water and to monitor the continuous printout that resembles a seismometer, its jagged arm recording something coming off the plant. Hannes learns to interact with the geranium, developing a form of communication that is quaint and magical. 

Writer-director Ildiko Enyedi smoothly bops around among the three eras, casually spending time with each of her main characters as they go about their quirky research, often wordlessly. She unfolds this over 147 minutes that never feel like they are dragging. She avoids silly attempts at magical realism, and instead leaves a lot to the imagination of her characters and of her viewers. Leung, in particular -- the veteran from such classics as "In the Mood for Love" -- takes a laid-back, wistful approach. It helps that he is glumly corsetted in a COVID-19 environment (which has interrupted his regular research), spending much of his time alone or zooming with a French colleague (an underused Lea Seydoux). 

Patience is required. This played to a well-attended screening at 4:30 on a Friday, and the audience was mostly rapt. My mind wandered a couple of times into a hallucinatory zone, while I let the simple story wash over me, and I'm sure Enyedi won't mind if your neurons wander off a bit while she entertains you. 

MY TWENTIETH CENTURY (1989) (B-minus) - Ildiko Enyedi made her name with a somberly entertaining dabbling in magical realism somewhere in the realm of Krzysztof Kieslowski and Guy Maddin, a fairy tale about twin sisters separated during childhood and living dramatically different lives at the turn of the 20th century.

 

Dorota Segda stars as both Dora and Lili (and as their mother in an early birth scene), with Dora (above) as the good-time floozy who likes to steal from her marks and Lili as an earnest revolutionary in pre-World War I Europe. Threaded through the narrative is Thomas Edison's invention of the light bulb and the onset of the modern world. 

The sisters, who communicate to the viewer through their thoughts that advance the narrative, will pass through the same spot right before midnight on New Year's Eve at the dawn of the year 1900, but they don't interact. In an echo of Kieslowski's "Blind Chance," the siblings are essentially two ships (or trains) passing in the night. One man will interact with both of them, separately, and of course confuse the two of them. 

This is a movie unafraid of of straying from a traditional narrative -- the stars in the sky communicate with characters (recalling "It's a Wonderful Life"), and the camera travels to far-flung places like Burma, where we hear the thoughts of apes in the wild. And the bombs wielded by revolutionaries are cartoon-like -- black balls with a wick sticking out of the top. (Maybe that is historically accurate.)

Segda is arresting in both roles, finding nuance in the two women and contrasting Dora's joie de vivre (which rings hollow at times) with the mousier Lili. Each has a distinct way of dealing with the oppressive male gaze of the era. A climactic scene in a house of mirrors (a little too on-point) pays homage to Orson Welles. Despite the derivative nature of the film, Segda can make this quite moving at times. 

Doc Watch: Old World

 

POMPEI: BELOW THE CLOUDS (C+) - The idea here involves a study of Naples and Pompeii, under the glower of Mt. Vesuvius, as volcanic tremors beset the residents and otherwise life goes on as it has for a couple of millennia since the infamous eruption of 79 A.D. With an eye also on continued archeological digs, this luscious black-and-white documentary from Gianfranco Rosi is intrigued by the contrast between the old world and modern life, presented most notably through residents' mundane calls to the fire department during the series of tremors.

 

This is all presented without narration or even sufficient context in many places, and so Rosi leans on academic lectures and incidental conversations to get some points across and help orient the viewer. Random scenes occur, as if excerpted from a stem-winder by legendary documentarian Frederick Wiseman ("City Hall," "In Jackson Heights"). Children work with an elderly tutor. Ukrainian grain is elegantly dispensed into a storage facility -- a gorgeous visual, but to what end? One scene of two Muslim sailor bros lifting weights and discussing weighty issues has the whiff of being somewhat scripted or staged. Again, what's the point here, besides a sociological study of this place during this moment in time?

A lot of time is spent in tunnels. Scenes artfully lit by flashlights provide a whiff of film noir. Statues and frescoes are scrupulously revered, as you'd expect of Italian classicists. The turgid establishing shots -- while lovely -- can get repetitive and frustrating. The second half goes heavy into the art and excavation detective story and feels like a niche polemic that translates poorly from Italian. The visuals would be fun to watch for an hour, but at 114 minutes, it's just too ponderous.

What's most interesting are the random phone calls that come in to the fire department, many ostensibly about the recurring tremors that have residents on edge, but others are off-topic, like a report of a stranded kitten, or the old man who calls in every evening to ask what time it is. (That thread will culminate in a harrowing domestic-abuse call.) Now that focus on a dispatch center would make for a more interesting film.

FIUME O MORTE (B-minus) - Let's go back a century and revisit the onset of the fascist regime in Italy, when a rogue poet took over the Croatian town of Rijeka after World War I. 

Writer-director Igor Bezinovic creates a fun and amusing romp that sheds light on the period when Italian separatists violated the post-war international treaty and grabbed Rijeka from the newly formed Yugoslavia. The uprising was let by Gabriele D'Annunzio, a writer and bon vivant, who, in defiance of the Italian government, marched into Rijeka (under the banner of the film's title, "Fiume or death") and brought it under the Italian flag. It was dubbed Fiume and was known grandly as the Italian Regency of Carnaro. D'Annunzio boldly destroyed the bridges to the Croat sister city across the river, Susak. Eventually, Mussolini and the fascists took over Italy and embraced Fiume, which would not return to Yugoslav control until after World War II. D'Annunzio himself burned bright and ruled for only a little over a year, until he ran afoul of Italy's rulers and was run out of town.

That's a lot of history, and it was intriguing to be able to learn much of it from this entertaining documentary. Bezinovic begins with person-on-the-street interviews to gauge the awareness of Croatians about that time around 1920. He then recruits several actors to portray D'Annunzio and an army of extras to help re-create photos and film footage from that time. 

One problem is that Bezinovic drags out this sobering romp to nearly two hours. He also is not helped by comparisons to a much more serious film of more recent vintage. "Fiume o Morte" owes quite a debt to Robert Greene's "Bisbee '17," which is much more somber and profound in looking back 100 years at an atrocity. That film involved the brutal repression of union activity at the mines in Bisbee, Ariz., in 1917, and Greene also hired actors to re-enact some of the horrific events.

By contrast, Bezinovic keeps things in Croatia light-hearted; he seems to have confidence in his compatriots and their long memories and firm spines against any potential return of authoritarianism near their border above the Adriatic Sea. While that makes this film feel inessential at times, it certainly is an entertaining way to learn some rather obscure history. 

BONUS TRACK

The bouncy trailer for "Fiume o Morte": 

 

The Noir Chronicles, Part 2: On the Edge

 If it's July, it's the annual Guild Cinema festival of film noir. We managed to catch well more than half of this year's 10 entries present in double features over 10 days. Part 1 is here.

THE LAWLESS (1950) (B+) - A strong no-name cast takes on this tale of a small (and small-minded) town and its prejudiced treatment of Mexican fruit-pickers. Lefty director Joseph Losey hammers his message with emphasis, but he skirts the pitfalls of melodrama as he teams race issues with a slap at the tabloid media as well.

 

Lalo Rios plays Paul Rodriguez, who works with the more dour Lopo, who gets into a fender-bender with a group of Anglo teens, who call them names and start a fight. Things snowball for Paul from there, as accidental misdemeanors and felonies accrue during the hunt for him. Meantime, former big-city newsman Larry Wilder (Macdonald Carey, above), strikes up a flirtation on the the other side of the tracks with a news competitor, Sunny Garcia (the sunny Gail Russell, above), and he comes to the defense of Paul, all while the rest of his colleagues and competitors dish out salacious rumors. ("What is it with newsmen?" one character wonders. "Why can't they be normal?")

As Paul remains at large, and misunderstandings mount, a small-town mob gradually builds, and Wilder's news offices (The Union) become the target of their wrath. Losey ("The Sleeping Tiger," "The Big Night") has his heart in the right place, and he crafts an earnest, thought-provoking narrative that builds suspense across 82 taut minutes. Carey and Russell have a solid chemistry, and the cast is able to find enough nuance in their characters to avoid the cliches of the day. An A for effort.

SPOTTED: Pulp reporter Jonas Creel is played by Herbert Anderson, who would go on to play the father on "Dennis the Menace" (billed here as Guy Anderson). ... This was also the film debut of 19-year-old Tab Hunter as one of the Anglo troublemakers. ... John Hoyt, who plays an upstanding father here, would be the grumpy grandpa on "Gimme a Break."

RUTHLESS (1948) (B+) - This story of a dynamic titan of industry has a surprisingly soft underbelly. It's a love triangle with a twist, using flashbacks to tell the story of boyhood pals who fall for the same girl -- and then in adulthood for her doppelganger. 

Zachary Scott ("Guilty Bystander," "Born to be Bad") is the suave hero, Horace Vendig, who came from a broken home, with a derelict father, but is raised by a wealthy family. The scenes of youth take up the first half of the film. As a boy Horace is played by Bob Anderson, who also played a young George Bailey in "It's a Wonderful Life." In college, Horace steals Martha (Diana Lynn) from his pal Vic (Louis Hayward) and then dumps her to pursue a business career in New York City (after a stint at Harvard). Approaching middle age, Vic shows up with Mallory (Lynn again) on his arm, and the same dynamic threatens to play out again. 

This has the mood, demeanor and patter of a classic soap opera. Scott is an appealing stony leading man ("I'm an adding machine"), and it's hard not to get hooked on the melodrama, despite the corny production. It's a tale of repressing our negative memories and soldiering on. Throw in a creepy Sidney Greenstreet (bragging about having a wife just old enough to vote and spouting ominous Bible passages) and another smoldering love interest in the form of Martha Vickers ("The Big Sleep"), and it can be a heady mix of romantic intrigue and high-wire high finance.

SPOTTED: Raymond Burr plays our hero's wayward father during the boyhood flashbacks. Do you prefer him on TV in "Perry Mason" or "Ironside"?

BOUND (1996) (B+) - Leave it to the 1990s to come up with the idea of a film noir led by two erotic femmes fatale. Gina Gershon and Jennifer Tilly steam up the screen and team up to try to bilk a bunch of goombah mobsters out of a suitcase full of $2 million.

 

This is the stylish debut of the Wachowski siblings, who would eventually go down the "Matrix" rabbit hole. The first half hour is as cheesy as lipstick lesbianism gets; it would make Zalman King blush and Adrian Lyne roll his eyes. Gershon and Tilly are not shy in their two main love scenes, the second one more explicit than the first, but nothing that would be considered shocking these days.

Gershon plays Corky, the tough ex-con who does handyman work and is neighbors with Tilly's femme Violet and her mobbed-up oaf, Caesar, played to the hilt by Joe Pontoliano, who made his bones as a made man throughout his acting career. Corky and Violet (who essentially has an arranged set-up with the boorish Caesar) concoct a scheme to rob Caesar and his bosses of a $2 million score. Corky lines out a scenario that will make Caesar and his compadres turn on each other.

The Wachowskis certainly know their way around a stylish visual palette, toying with the idea of the two women on opposite sides of thin walls. The mob stuff is pro forma (Pontoliano did much better work on "The Sopranos"), but the suspense builds nicely, and the two leading ladies are hard to resist as they fight for their freedom.

SPOTTED: Mob nepo baby Johnnie Marzzone is played by Christopher Meloni, who would go on to star as Det. Stabler on TV's "Law & Order: SVU."

NIGHTMARE ALLEY (1947) (B) - Like Zachary Scott in Ruthless, Tyrone Power methodically builds a devious character -- this time a carnival barker who steals a scam mentalist routine and uses it to con society suckers out of their riches.

Scott is Stanton Carlisle, who worms his way between Mademoiselle Zeena (Joan Blondell) and her alcoholic co-conspirator, Pete (Ian Keith), managing to push Pete out of the way so that he can work with Zeena and learn the code she uses to feign extra-sensory abilities that wow the crowds. Stan also makes his move on cute young Molly (Coleen Gray), the skimpily clad assistant to the strongman, Bruno (character actor Mike Mazurki). 

 

Stan eventually takes over the act and makes it big in Chicago, in part by working on the side with psychologist Lillith Ritter (Helen Walker), who has no qualms about sharing secret recordings from her patients' therapy sessions to help Stan get background dirt that he can use to pretend to read the minds of those patients who attend his shows. Eventually, Stan will imbue his act with an evangelical fervor, and you can expect his hubris to bring him to a crisis point.

It's a great story, even at times it strains at the length of 111 minutes. The script -- by Jules Furthman, who worked with William Faulkner on "To Have and Have Not" and "The Big Sleep" -- is sharp and never hangs Power out to dry. Director Edmund Goulding is fond of classic blocking like in the image above, which gives this a bit of a soap opera feel in spots. The bookending ending is a little too convenient, but this early noir has enough gravitas to keep you intrigued until the end.

SPOTTED: I don't know who "Carnival Patron" Chet Brandenburg is, but he has 477 IMDb entries. He appeared as a "barfly" in 29 different titles. He was in 44 episodes of "Gunsmoke," 8 episodes of Bonanza, 15 episodes of "The Outlaws," and 79 episodes of "The Life and Times of Wyatt Earp," including as a barfly in at least one episode of each TV series. 

BONUS TRACK

Over the closing credits of "Bound," the hit single "She's a Lady," written by Paul Anka and performed by Tom Jones: