Doc Watch: Experiments in Cinema

 Four for the price of one!

PROCESSION (A) - Robert Greene scores again with this unique perspective on victims of abuse at the hands of Catholic priests. The gimmick here is that Greene assembles five such men (with an assist from a sixth) to collaborate and tell their individual stories by creating their own short dramatic films. If ever a gimmick was justified it is here, and not just because it pays off.

The men, now in middle age, experience therapeutic moments of emotional release while performing the mundane tasks of writing and laying out the visuals for the particular stories they want to tell. The sixth member stands in as a priest, and one young boy plays the victim in every version. 

Greene is a bold filmmaker, with hits and misses. In his last effort, "Bisbee '17," he similarly staged a centennial anniversary performance to tell the story of the union-busting at the mines in Bisbee, Ariz., in 1917. Greene is good at embedding himself in a situation such that you forget about his own presence and feel embedded yourself. He gains the trust of his subjects, who open up here in a rather matter-of-fact manner, without any faux dramatics, and genuinely bond and empathize with each other. Greene's tactic is truly effective and brings a fresh perspective on the banal evil visited upon these men when they were vulnerable boys.

ALL LIGHT, EVERYWHERE (A-minus) - "Who're you gonna believe, me or your own eyes?" -- Chico Marx. 

This fascinating documentary launches from the idea that the human eye is not perfect (it has a literal blind spot) and then explores the concepts of perception in an age of digital electronic surveillance, most notably police body cameras. It is an ambitious examination of the human gaze, a variation on Bentham's Panopticon.

Theo Anthony -- who struggled in a previous attempt at high-concept storytelling (the tedious "Rat Film") -- shows a stronger command of the subject from start to finish. He delves into the history of the moving image captured by devices, including the 19th century Venus transit across the sun and early 20th century pigeon-cams, linking them to coincidental military applications. Anthony more narrowly focuses on Axon, the company that makes body cameras and tasers, and its use by police in Baltimore in the wake of the death of Freddie Gray while in police custody.

A flat female narration adds an ominous overall tone to the production. A cocky Axon executive probably thought he and his company would come off as cool and cutting edge. The bottom line is that the eye sees what it wants to see. There is built-in bias in every observational tool, whether natural or manufactured. It's surprising to have that presented to us in this way.

PAPER & GLUE (B+) - This egregiously upbeat documentary follows J.R., whom we met when he teamed with Agnes Varda in "Faces Places," as he spreads his positivity through his grand-scale photography and art installations around the world. This is a feel-good movie in just about every sense, even if it mainly consists of J.R. tooting his own horn for an hour and a half.

This is another production from the Ron Howard stable of smarm (see also "Rebuilding Paradise"), so it can be a bit too sugary sweet at times. But J.R. is a truly engaging character, and he dreams big, so it's fun to follow him around and join in his projects. His shtick of blowing up portraits to monumental size has a primal appeal -- we all want to be seen, and having your mug on the side of a building or on a border wall certainly does that.

J.R. acts as an ambassador, as he unites people on both sides of the border between California and Mexico with an installation that bleeds across the boundary. He embeds in a prison full of hardened criminals (including one with a swastika on his cheek) to capture their portraits and then cover the prison yard with their images. Like with the border residents, J.R. works closely with the prisoners, giving them buy-in to the artistic endeavor. The artist also delves back into his own origins, explaining how a directionless street punk's life was changed by randomly finding a camera lying around. This film shows him paying that moment of grace forward to those who usually go unseen by the rest of us.

A COP MOVIE (incomplete) - We made it through only a half hour of this enhanced (fictionalized? who knows?) documentary that follows a couple of police officers in Mexico. It starts off on the wrong foot by blaring a droning siren for about the first five minutes. That's followed by five or ten minutes of jabbering police radio jargon narrating a distress call, just letters and numbers being rattled off, in Spanish with subtitles. It all seems rather meaningless.

When we finally get to meet and follow one of the officers, her narration tends to drone on. At times that narration plays over random scenes; at other times she speaks the words to another person in the film. Eventually, at the half-hour mark, it becomes evident that this exercise seems to be nothing more than a stylized episode of "Cops," only less real and with subtitles whizzing by. Nothing suggested that this was anything more than a routine profile of police officers doing their jobs, and the world isn't clamoring for more of those.

Theater People: The Sequel

KATE PLAYS CHRISTINE (C) - Kate Lyn Sheil has had an interesting run in indie films during this decade, while finding regular TV work to pay her bills. We noticed her in Alex Ross Perry's "Listen Up Philip," "The Color Wheel" and "Queen of Earth," and in "Gabi on the Roof in July."

She has an appealing 1970s little-sister vibe, and she's a reliable supporting player. At some point, Sheil fell in with a project telling the story of Christine Chubbuck, an anchorwoman in Sarasota, Fla., who shot herself to death on live television back in 1974. This quasi documentary follows Sheil as she prepares for the part of Chubbuck in a feature film, an assignment that jangles her nerves and toys with her emotions.

Writer-director Robert Greene trod similar ground a couple of years ago in "Actress," in which he chronicled the struggles of an actress and mother trying to get back into the game at age 40. But Greene fails to find the magic a second time around.

Sheil mopes through this exercise as she researches the role, rehearses and shoots a few scenes. Some of the best parts of Greene's documentary come when he follows Sheil around to her interviews with Chubbock's family and former colleagues, 40 years after the tragedy. She's a decent reporter in that sense.

Where this all breaks down is in the attempt to ratchet up the intrigue as Sheil builds up her nerve to put on the brunette wig, sit as an anchor desk and put a pistol to her head. (She actually goes shopping for the same model of handgun that Chubbuck had used.) We are supposed to feel a building sense of dread as Sheil teeters on the brink of losing herself in the identity of the troubled anchorwoman.

But something is off. The angst just doesn't feel genuine. I don't doubt that it was a difficult role for Sheil to take on; it's just that too often her heightened anxiety and fear comes off as theatrical posturing. Oh, woe is the actress who dares tiptoe to the brink of horrors of human existence! (See Heath Ledger Syndrome.)

Part of that comes from the cheapness of the feature-film production itself. The snippets we see suggest that it was on a par with a TV weepy-of-the-week. The dialogue is pitiful. (There is no evidence that whatever they were working on will see the light of day. They were beaten to the punch by Rebecca Hall and the biopic "Christine," which last year earned a respectable 72 Metacritic score.)

Sheil throws a few fits on the set like a C-list diva in an E! reality show. By the end, you want to take her aside and tell her, "C'mon, Kate. Your devotion to the craft is admirable, and you are a very good actress. But just say the lines and get over yourself."

Theater People!

ACTRESS (B+) - In this stylized documentary, director Robert Greene ("Fake It So Real") embeds himself into the personal life of Brandy Burre as her loveless marriage falls apart and she plots a return to acting while raising two small children.

Burre's only notable entry on her resume is a regular role as a political fixer on HBO's "The Wire" about 10 years ago in seasons three and four. But it's not her IMDb profile that matters here; it's the intimate look at a woman on the brink of 40 having a career/life meltdown. Greene takes liberties with the nonfiction form, scoring his film beautifully and presenting artsy shots and languorous slow-motion takes. It's often quite lovely to look at. Some might be put off by a few obviously staged scenes, particularly the one in which Burre, dressed like Donna Reed, stands at the kitchen sink and artfully lets drop a glass, which she then kneels over as if it were a wounded bird.

But once you get past the set-up -- it takes a while to generate empathy for this woman of privilege trapped in a suburb in upstate New York -- a cadence kicks in, and the story draws you in like a good soap opera does. Her mostly mute husband, who runs a restaurant and bar, has obviously checked out of the relationship. Burre has her yoga body back and craves attention, both physical and emotional, but she gets nothing. Instead, her eye strays, as Greene casually alludes to in an early scene that is lovely and poetic.

Burre opens herself up -- to the extent that we can believe actors are capable of that while a camera is rolling. Listing her as playing "herself" is accurate; she is playing the role of Brandy Burre.

We see her struggle with the tedious tasks required of a mother of two kids under the age of seven. She complains to the camera about her general ennui and dissatisfaction. She starts to network, looking to get back in the game.

It's all visually arresting, and it's knitted together with a fascinating soundtrack, dominated by the 1990s Chicago indie band Rachel's moody strings, notably quiet songs from the sophomore effort "Music for Egon Schiele." A nugget from Harry Belafonte, "Waly Waly," drives home the theme -- love is "bright as a jewel when first new" but "fades away like morning dew."

It can be difficult to connect with a woman who seems to ache more for the stage than her little nest and who openly yearns for recognition. But despite the sheen slathered on her life, Burre still manages to come across as achingly human.

BONUS TRACK
Rachel's, "Music for Egon Schiele":

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": 

 

Reconciling History

BISBEE '17 (A-minus) - Director Robert Greene has a flair for the avant garde, but his output has been hit ("Actress") and miss ("Kate Plays Christine"). Here his quirky style of storytelling pays off as he explores Bisbee, Arizona's, centennial celebration of -- and reconciliation with -- the union-busting campaign at the local mines in 1917.

Colorful local characters populate the story as they plan for the re-enactment of the labor dispute that pitted brother against brother and resulted in the expulsion of strikers by train across the New Mexico border and into exile. Greene takes dramatic liberties with the re-enactors, creating a dream-like quality at times, particularly during a surreal trip through the mines. The filmmaker has always had an eye for compelling actors, and here he alights on Fernando Serrano, a visually arresting young man portraying one of the striking miners. One extended tracking shot of Serrano walking through the streets and into a theater while gradually transforming into his character is worth the price of admission in this captivating historical document.

THE OTHER SIDE OF EVERYTHING (A) - This mesmerizing tone poem uses one family's story since World War II to catalogue the political history of Serbia and Yugoslavia through the decades. Director Mila Turajlic profiles her mother, activist Srbijanka Turajlic, cataloging the postwar years under Tito's communist Yugoslavia and later the Serbian nationalist movement, led by Slobodan Milosevic, which led to the breakup of the nation in the early 1990s.

Srbijanka, an academic, was on the front lines during the 1990s protesting the government (before briefly joining as education minister in the early aughts). The narrative device here, though, is the house that Srbijanka grew up in and raised Mila in. It was divided up after the war, as the Communists sought to redistribute wealth and create equal housing. The family was sealed off in one half while another family moved in on the other side of that sealed door. Through gorgeous cinematography (her own), Mila Turajlic elegantly dramatizes the political, psychological and emotional effects of that deprivation. And her examination of Milosevic's nationalist movement raises undeniable parallels to that movement's global creep in the present day. Even if you did not follow the breakup of Yugoslavia in the 1990s, you should appreciate this deeply moving history lesson.

HAL (B) - Maybe this is for fans only, but this is a loving portrait of an outsider whose films were so powerful that they broke through into Hollywood honors and mainstream acceptance. One of the joys of the documentary is the methodical march through the impressive string of great films directed by Hal Ashby at the forefront of the American New Wave in the 1970s, including "Harold & Maude," "Being There," and "Shampoo."

Amy Scott, an editor making her directing debut, keeps the format simple, pacing methodically through Ashby's '70s oeuvre. She employs a deep bench of insightful talking heads, including Jeff and Beau Bridges ("The Landlord"), Jane Fonda ("Coming Home"), and Cat Stevens, whose career took off, along with Ashby's, after they teamed up on "Harold & Maude." Ashby's early days as a film editor -- in particular his collaborations with Norman Jewison ("In the Heat of the Night," 1967, e.g.) -- and as a classic stoner are passionately covered. The downfall of his career and his premature death get glanced over somewhat, but Ashby was a colorful character, and this retrospective should deepen anyone's appreciation for his amazing run as a filmmaker.
 

New to the Queue

 There has to be a finish line somewhere up ahead ...

The master Asghar Farhadi ("The Salesman," "The Past") returns with a slow-burn treatise on moral ambiguity, "A Hero."

Robert Greene ("Bisbee '17," "Kate Plays Christine") borrows a page from "TheAct of Killing" and uses film projects within this film project to foster the healing of five men abused by priests decades earlier, "Procession."

Radu Jude ("Aferim") deconstructs the propaganda of Romania's Ceausescu regime in "Uppercase Print."

A fresh release of the debut film from Mia Hansen-Love ("Bergman Island," "Eden"), about a young woman dealing with a heroin-addicted father, "All Is Forgiven."

Tessa Thompson and Ruth Negga star in Rebecca Hall's directorial debut, the period piece "Passing."

Mike Mills ("20th Century Women") returns with a brooding road movie featuring an uncle and his nephew, "C'mon C'mon."

French artist J.R., who made "Faces Places" with Agnes Varda, continues exploring the human spirit in "Paper & Glue."

A documentary about the post-war doyenne of French cooking by way of PBS, "Julia."

The Best of 2021: Any Number of Things

 

In place of an essay this year, let's crunch some numbers.

It didn't seem like a particularly good year for movies, but I've never given out so many high grades in the 9 years we've been reviewing movies here full-time. I don't know if I can explain that. Grade inflation? Laziness or resignation on my part? A soft spot for small movies that try hard? A tiny rip in the fabric of space and time?

Over the past 5 years, I have given out, on average, about 4 perfect A-grades each year (only 3 in 2020). In 2021, by contrast, I gave out 9 top grades. And in the past 5 years, I have given out, on average, about 8 A-minuses per year. This year it was 12.

In other words, I can fill out a top 20 this year without resorting to one B-plus. (Those B-plus movies will land in the honorable-mention section.) Let's just make it a Top 21 for 2021. That includes 9 documentaries, another record.

I'll skip the ranking this time, mainly because my mind changes on any given day as to which one was the best or which ones belong in, say, the top 5. The top 9 are so varied, and their releases were spread out over the year, that it doesn't feel right to impose a firm ranking system on them.

You might have a tough time finding some of these on streaming sites. I still get DVDs through Netflix and the library for that very reason. Vudu is a handy service, sort of a modern Blockbuster, where you can rent films, often for $3 or $4. Luckily, I saw one-third of the top 21 on the big screen, back where they belong.

This site has always been intended, in part, to help out all of you who feel inundated by algorithms and waves of new releases, seemingly hundreds of new ones each week. Just stop by here and cut through the clutter. Trust us, we're trained. Just this past month we reviewed 25 films, ranging from Pee-wee Herman (twinned with Wes Anderson) to Tsai Ming-Liang (paired with a debut Native-American filmmaker). There are films on Netflix ("Passing") and in theaters ("Licorice Pizza"), offerings from Romania and Argentina. Or just google any title and "streaming" to see if it's available online. We cover just about everything we need among HBO, Netflix, Vudu, Mubi and DVD. And the most reliable guide to critics' reviews is the aggregation/averaging site Metacritic.

There's no excuse not to watch exactly what you want and intend to watch, and be pleasantly rewarded for it. Just my 2 cents.

THE TOP 21 of '21

The straight A's, in alphabetical order:

• Acasa, My Home: A fascinating sociological study of a family living off the grid.
• The Macaluso Sisters: From Italy, a haunting but gorgeous elegy about sisters across the decades. 
• Monday: A roller-coaster romp of a tumultuous relationship between two ex-pats hanging out in Greece.
• Nine Days: The Best Screenplay of the year examines souls in limbo, thirsting for the human experience.
• Procession: The best experimental documentarian out there, Robert Greene, brings fresh insight to the plight of six middle-aged men coping with their abuse as boys at the hands of Catholic priests.
• Quo Vadis, Aida?: A devastating drama, told through the eyes of a tough woman, about the horrific massacre at Srebrenica in the 1990s. This one had 2021's highest aggregated critic score, 97 out of 100, at Metacritic, and it might end up being my favorite, too.
  
• Red Rocket: Sean Baker is back to claim another Best Director trophy with his latest race around town with the underclass.
• Summer of Soul: A joyous burst of life, found footage from 1969 brought back to relevance and context. A true curatorial labor of love that was so vibrant on the big screen.
• The Velvet Underground: Another music doc to be seen in a theater, Todd Haynes presents a heady, dazzling biography worthy of the niche art-rockers of the '60s era.

 

And the A-minus crowd:

• All Light, Everywhere: An intelligent, high-concept examination of human perception and how it plays out in surveillance and policing.
• Bergman Island: Another fine tale of female yearning from Mia Hansen-Love.
• Bill Traylor: Chasing Ghosts: A poignant look at an outsider folk artist from a bygone era.
• Bring Your Own Brigade: A cagey, harrowing revisiting of the California wildfires from a few years ago, and a polemic about why it's happening.
• Carmine Street Guitars: A loving tribute to those who make and play guitars.
• Gunda: A remarkably human rendering, bereft of dialogue, of a big sow and her piglets. 
• Lamb: Bizarre and captivating, the touching tale of a couple and their half-human/half-ovine bundle of joy.
• Passing: Rebecca Hall writes and directs a poetic interpretation of two women straddling opposite sides of the racial divide in the 1920s.
• El Planeta: From Spain, a quirky, touching mother-daughter story.
• Shiva Baby: A young woman riddled with anxiety. Full of tension and cutting humor. On second viewing, it probably deserved an A.
• Wojnarowicz: A daring and fascinating warts-and-all biography of a memorable artist.
• Zola: A razzle-dazzle blast of a road/buddy picture, full of exhilarating sights and sounds.

 

JUST MISSED THE LIST

• The Beatles: Get Back -- A special shout-out to Peter Jackson's meticulous curation of the "Let It Be" footage for his nearly eight-hour fly-on-the-wall celebration of a great band in the studio creating magical music.
• The uplifting and inspirational origin story of tennis' Williams sisters, King Richard.
• A romp through the infamous heyday of televangelism, The Eyes of Tammy Faye.
• The latest moral conundrum from Asghar Farhadi, "A Hero."
  
• The quietly menacing period piece Azor.
• The sweet, affecting Language Lessons.
• And a token mention for the guilty pleasure of the year, "Barb and Star Go to Vista del Mar."
  

 

MORE TOP DOCS

• PBS' North by Current
• Truth or Consequences
• Sisters on Track
  
• Woodstock '99: Peace, Love, and Rage
• Lydia Lunch: The War Is Never Over 
• David Attenborough: Life on Our Planet

TOP PERFORMANCES

• Jessica Chastain, riveting and all-in as televangelist Tammy Faye Bakker in "The Eyes of Tammy Faye" (which she also produced).
  
• Rachel Sennott, captivating in "Shiva Baby."
• Denise Gough, emotionally naked in "Monday."
• Simon Rex, racing 99 mph through "Red Rocket," along with his co-star Brittney Rodriguez.
  
• Will Smith and Aunjanue Ellis raising two tennis stars in "King Richard."
• Alana Haim, a revelation in her debut, holding the center together in "Licorice Pizza," while Bradley Cooper is simply nuts in a cameo as Barbra Streisand's gonzo boyfriend.
• Lee Kang-sheng, stone-faced and pining for a connection in "Days."
• Chaske Spencer bursting with pent-up rage in "Wild Indian."
• Stephanie Cleau, smoldering as the loyal business wife in "Azor."
• Winston Duke, poignant as the docent of yearning souls, in "Nine Days."
• Mark Duplass and Natalie Morales clicking in the two-person "Language Lessons."
• Alba Rohrwacher as the town drunk and bad mother in "Daughter of Mine."
• Noee Abita, fascinating to watch as a young athlete in peril in "Slalom."
• Jim Cummings, bat-shit crazy, as usual, in "The Beta Test."
  

 

THE LEFTOVERS

Some 2020 films we caught up with:  It's debatable whether "Nomadland" was a 2020 or 2021 release, but we'll give in to those who placed it in the earlier category. It was another beautiful, soulful story from Chloe Zhao. ... Meantime, Rashida Jones and Bill Murray were touching and quietly funny in Sofia Coppola's "On the Rocks." ... "Martin Eden" was interesting but rather flat. ... Next month we will finally get to Steve McQueen's "Small Axe" series, including "Red, White and Blue" and "Lovers Rock."

Wayback Machine:  We ventured to 1973 to luxuriate in yet another nuanced performance by Jack Lemmon, this time in "Save the Tiger." ... We finally watched "Casablanca," and it's everything everyone has always said it was. ... We filed volumes 2 through 7 of "Best of Ever," our occasional series revisiting some of the greatest films ever made, from foreign classics to the silly romps of our relative youth. ... We paid tribute to Mike Nichols. ... We revived our annual pilgrimage to the summer film noir festival at the Guild Cinema. ... And we made progress going through deep cuts that had long lingered in our Netflix DVD queue; the two best were 2009's "California Dreamin'" and 2011's "Carancho."

 

IT'S NOT YOU, IT'S ME

(Well, maybe this time it is you)

• Licorice Pizza: Paul Thomas Anderson's childhood reverie is a delight but it meanders just a little too much. It could have been great.
• The French Dispatch: We gawped and laughed a lot, but Wes Anderson forgot that he was supposed to tell a coherent story.
• Last Night in Soho: Edgar Wright careens over the edge and fails to entertain while he's assaulting our senses.
• The Many Saints of Newark: A disappointing, unnecessary prequel to "The Sopranos." 
• C'mon, C'mon: Mike Mills gets too cute, and the tedium here was maddening.
• Swimming Out Until the Sea Turns Blue: This documentary tosses around too much inside baseball from the master of Chinese cinema Jia Zhang-ke.
  

COMING ATTRACTIONS

Here are a few we wanted to see but didn't get the chance:

• Memoria
• Petite Maman
• Mark, Mary & Some Other People
• The One and Only Dick Gregory
• Julia
  
• Pig
  

Join us in 2022 as we hunt down those titles and more of the finest movies you wouldn't otherwise think of watching.

New to the Queue

Real life intervenes ...

A documentary about New York City cops fighting the injustices of the policing system, "Crime + Punishment."

Robert Greene ("Actress," "Kate Plays Christine") looks to be back on his game with the story of labor and immigration unrest during World War I, "Bisbee '17."

A documentary about one of the great filmmakers of the 1970s, Hal Ashby ("Harold and Maude," "Shampoo," "Being There"), "Hal."

Another doc, this one about the postwar New York street photographer, "Garry Winogrand: All Things Are Photographable."

And a loving look back a the sweetheart of the original "Saturday Night Live," "Love, Gilda."
 

Best of Ever, Vol. 8: Don't Ask Me About My Business

 OK. 1990's "Godfather: Part III" left such a bad taste in our mouth, that we had to have a reset. The original played on the big screen in March for its 50th anniversary, and it's been more than 20 years since we saw the 1974 sequel. As we noted before, plenty has been said about the films, so we'll be brief and just jot down a few notes about two of the greatest films of all time.

THE GODFATHER (1972) (A) - Fifty years later, and I wouldn't change a scene. Gosh, what a glorious, sprawling story of a postwar family, based on Mario Puzo's guidebook for all mob tales that would follow.

Tying in with the anniversary, we gulped down Mark Seal's recent book about the making of the movie, Leave the Gun, Take the Cannoli. Seal's tick-tock has a juicy, sweeping swagger not unlike Puzo's novel. It gives you an appreciation for Puzo, who was grinding out pulp fiction before he finished the novel that was based on years of research into mob life that involved poring over transcripts of congressional hearings with pivotal mafia figures. The book then unravels the production of the film at Paramount, from costumes to casting. It's a delightful read.

It took a lot of hard work and good luck for it to all come together. Francis Ford Coppola sweated over the script with Puzo (see the two below) and constantly pushed for top-shelf production values, assisted by producer Al Ruddy. It's easy to take for granted the cinematography by Gordon Willis (criticized at the time for his dark palette) or the music of Nino Rota, but these are legendary contributions. 

 

One of the biggest disappointments of the belated third installment in 1990 was the weak cast. The original, by contrast, has a lineup that won't quit. Marlon Brando was in a career funk before he committed to the lead role (taking more money up front instead of a piece of the immense profits, according to Seal). Young hungry actors like James Caan, Robert Duvall and Al Pacino carved their names into history with their turns here. John Cazale and Diane Keaton would play critical supporting roles, both here and in Part II. Character actors Alex Rocco ("I'm Moe Greene! I made my bones when you were going out with cheerleaders!"), Richard Castellano ("Mikey, why don't you tell that nice girl you love her?"), Abe Vigoda ("Can you get me off the hook, Tom? For old times' sake?"), Richard Conte ("After all, we are not communists") and John Marley ("And if that goombah tries any rough stuff, you tell him I ain't no bandleader") made hay with little screen time. Real-life mob-affiliated guys like Lenny Montana (as the indelible Luca Brasi) and Gianni Russo (as philandering brother-in-law Carlo) lent gravitas. Sterling Hayden reprised his noir career with the critical portrayal of the crooked cop who dared to slug a Corleone.

Coppola infused every corner of the movie with authenticity of Italian culture, especially the food spreads. It is trite to criticize the film as an affront to Italian-Americans; this is a family saga that happens to involve criminal behavior. Sure, the violence has been glorified (and imitated, ad nauseam) over the years, but there is no denying the power and the depth of the storytelling, steeped in cultural touchstones. You can't help but wince at the pain experienced by Vito Corleone when he loses a son, from the moment Tom Hagen breaks the news to him to his reaction at seeing the corpse: "Look how they massacred my boy." Others: The indebted funeral director Bonasera at the service of the don to make sure Sonny's body is presentable, carrying out the favor that had been banked in the opening scene. The doddering don succumbing to a heart attack amid his tomato plants. The twin-tower bookends of a sprawling outdoor wedding to begin the movie and a christening -- intercut with scenes of assassinations -- for the climax.

The narrative is sophisticated (even a challenge to follow at times). The transformation of Pacino's Michael, from bright-eyed college-boy war hero to somber godfather, his cheekbones sharpening, is operatic: "Today I settled all family business." His time exiled in Sicily is bright and lung-filling yet heartbreaking. James Caan, matching Pacino blow for blow, is said to have ad-libbed some of his memorable maneuvers -- tossing bills at a photographer whose camera he smashed; tossing "badda-bing" and "badda-beep badda-boop" into his banter -- and his performance still elicits a chef's kiss in response. 

And Brando did much more than wear a dental device to give him an old man's jowls. (Note the 48-year-old's transformation above.) He set the tone from the start, stroking the fur of a cat (that he had found on the set and incorporated into the scene) as he conducted the family business on the wedding day of the don's daughter. He knows how to slather on sarcasm, telling Sollozzo, after Sonny talks out of line during a meeting, "I have a sentimental weakness for my children and I spoil them, as you can see. They talk when they should listen." He tells Michael that he wanted him to go legit, to have the real power: "I refused to be a fool dancing on the strings held by all of those big shots. That's my life; I don't apologize for that. But I always thought that when it was your time, that you would be the one to hold the strings. Senator Corleone, Governor Corleone, something."

There just wasn't enough time for Vito Corleone and his sons. Michael consoles him: "We'll get there, Pop. We'll get there." Cue Part II.

THE GODFATHER: PART II (1974) (A) - I've always given the slight edge to the sequel, a rare (unmatched?) instance in which the sophomore effort improbably outshines the original. While the original is a grand sweeping saga without a misstep, the second film is more ambitious cinematically. And whereas the first movie, even with Brando at the helm, was an ensemble piece, this time Al Pacino, emerging as a star, steps forward in the sequel to carry it all on his shoulders. (Pacino was in the middle of a run bookended by "Serpico" and "Dog Day Afternoon.")

Michael, having firmly established the family in Las Vegas (with a U.S. senator in his pocket), is now merciless, fearless and peerless. He dabbles with legitimacy. He continues an uneasy alliance with Hyman Roth as a gaggle of mafiosi and businessmen finalize plans to go big into Havana (90 miles from the U.S. coast, with a government that will look the other way) -- foolishly on the eve of the Cuban revolution. Michael sees trouble coming and makes the wise business maneuver. 

It is almost hard to believe that Pacino shares half the story with Robert De Niro, who does a deep dive into the origin story of Vito Corleone, an orphan dumped at Ellis Island, who eventually makes his bones by knocking off the monolithic don over an employment slight. Coppola intercuts the scenes of the present day with the sepia-toned backstory, never fumbling an edit, dabbling in dissolves. He transforms Puzo's novel into an epic legend, extending the sprawl of the generations, deepening the motivations of Vito and Michael Corleone.

The main story takes place a mere 16 years in the past (1958 vis-a-vis 1974), and the storyline of the Senate committee's hearings was much more relatable to viewers than was the nostalgic World War II era. Michael figures out a way to elude a half dozen perjury charges by pulling a last-minute trick and convincing turncoat Frank Pentangeli to take a proverbial bullet for the team. 

We get an echo of the christening scene, as this all builds toward Michael exacting revenge on his new set of enemies. His dance with Hyman Roth (Lee Strasberg), his father's old acquaintance, is beautifully nuanced. Strasberg gives a performance for the ages as the death-defying mobster ("He's been dying of the same heart attack for 20 years"), whether it's lecturing Michael on the Havana deal, relating the story of how he looked the other way when Moe Green was knocked off, or abasing himself before the press, literally hat in hand, when he realizes he has been check-mated at the end ("I'm a retired investor living on a pension"). At least Miami brightens the movie.

Diane Keaton as Kay Corleone and John Cazale as Fredo both up their game for the sequel. Kay will seal her fate by defying Michael in the most devastating way she can think of, and Fredo will finally try to stand up for himself. When told that their father wanted Michael to take over, Fredo -- knowing that his days are numbered -- finally erupts:  "It ain't the way I wanted it! I can handle things! I'm smart! Not like everybody says ... like dumb ... I'm smart and I want respect!" Sure thing, Fredo.

Like in the original, minor supporting players make invaluable contributions. Scratchy-voiced Michael Gazzo provides the glue as Pentangeli, an old-school captain caught between Corleone and Roth. His scene with Robert Duvall's Tom Hagen toward the end is richly bittersweet. Dominic Chianese, as Roth's bagman Johnny Ola, has that same sly look he would bring to "The Sopranos" as Uncle Junior. (I think he's the only common connection between the two productions.)

Of course, in the end, this is Pacino's masterpiece; his Shakespearean summit. He commands every inch of the modern era's scenes. No one could command a chair, as if he were king of the world, like Michael Corleone. And few actors could rivet you for 200 minutes like Al Pacino in his prime.

BONUS TRACK

"That kid's name was Moe Greene ..."

The Noir Chronicles

Another summer festival at the Guild Cinema, from postwar nuggets to that '70s drift:

THE LATE SHOW (1977) (A) - Modern noir from Robert Benton ("Kramer vs. Kramer," "Nobody's Fool") has Art Carney, in the gritty L.A. footsteps of Elliott Gould in Robert Altman's '73 classic "The Long Goodbye," limping around as over-the-hill Ira Wells, who gets odd-coupled with young new agey Margo Sterling (a perfectly manic Lily Tomlin), ostensibly to help find her cat.

Character actors Bill Macy ("Maude") and Eugene Roche (you'll recognize him) help zip this along, spitting out Benton's one-liners that are by turn clever and kitschy, homage with a twist. Carney is grizzled, grumpy and living on Alka Seltzer. Tomlin meditates, designs her own clothes and trusts in the universe. When Ira's old colleague shows up on his doorstep gutshot, Ira is determined to track down his killer and unravel the mystery involving Roche's slick-talking fence, a cheating wife, and a stolen stamp collection.

The dialogue sparkles, and Carney and Tomlin have undeniable chemistry, two talented comics bringing depth and heart to their characters.

Spotted: Joanna Cassidy ("Blade Runner," TV's "Buffalo Bill") as the femme fatale with the great gams. 

D.O.A. (1949) (B) - Edmond O'Brien is solid as a poisoned man determined to solve his own murder in the hours before he succumbs. He combs the streets of San Francisco and L.A., interacting with thugs and dames, as he slowly falters from the poison coursing through his system. Femmes fatale like Lynn Baggett and Beverly Garland (later of "My Three Sons") contrast with the secretary who pines for the hero, a perky turn by Pamela Britton (later TV's Blondie). Sharp dialogue emanates from the typewriters of Russell Rouse and Clarence Greene (they also wrote "Pillow Talk") in Rudolph Mate's moody gem.

Spotted: Jerry Paris ("The Dick van Dyke Show") as a bellhop.

RED LIGHT (1949) (D+) - Absolutely ridiculous, this revenge thriller plays like a parody of classic noir tropes. The plot literally makes no sense. Raymond Burr proves that he has little range beyond criminal-defense lawyer and disabled private eye. And George Raft might have been a star in his day, but here he's an unreconcilable ham as a businessman trying to solve the mystery of his war-hero priest brother's death.

Spotted: William Frawley ("I Love Lucy"), who elicited snickers throughout the audience when he confronts someone he suspects of being a detective with the question, "Are you a dick?"
  

Krazy Kat

MURDER OF A CAT (A-minus) - This silly whodunit about a manchild investigating the suspicious death of his pet is quirky and hilarious, thanks mainly to the over-the-top performance by its star, Fran Kranz. Some will be put off by the ridiculously broad hijinks; but if you buy into it and go with the craziness, you'll be discover a hidden gem.

Kranz plays Clinton, a rude, snotty know-it-all who has no car, lives with his mom (Blythe Danner), and makes figurines that he sells from his front yard. When his cat is found in the curb with an arrow sticking out of its gut, Clinton vows to track down the killer. He teams with Sheriff Hoyle (J.K. Simmons), dressing up like a detective and going undercover at the local superstore to investigate the mysterious crossbow arrow and to sniff around the store's creepy owner, Ford (Greg Kinnear), and shady employees. (It's a tribute to first-time director Gillian Greene that she gets those three solid character actors to fully commit to this odd little project and turn in winning performances.) Clinton finds that a neighbor, Greta (Nikki Reed, "Thirteen"), also considered the cat to be hers, and so they team up for the investigation and maybe a little flirtation.

It's Kranz whom I couldn't take my eyes off of. He physically brings to mind character actor Dennis Dugan (Captain Freedom on "Hill Street Blues") but with a haircut borrowed from Christopher Guest's Nigel Tufnel in "This Is Spinal Tap." At times he channels the broad nuttiness of Jerrys Lewis and Van Dyke. He is devoted 100 percent to his character and this story, and because he never lets his guard down the film never falters.

Meantime, co-writers Robert Snow and Christian Magalhaes (from TV's "New Girl"), are firing their own crossbow willy-nilly as they spoof various detective genres with a "Get Smart" tone and jokes that repeatedly hit their target. They play it straight and deadpan the whole way. It all builds to a ridiculous, appropriate conclusion, capping off 101 minutes of giddy delight.

That's Entertainment

 

LIVE AT MISTER KELLY'S (B+) - Back to Chicago and back in time for this fond remembrance of the famed Rush Street nightclub that hosted some of the biggest singers and comedians of the postwar era. (This is also a long-overdue return to the Santa Fe Film Festival for us, the only one we caught this year; time was, we would catch 4 or 5 titles per day during the festival's heyday in the Aughts.)

Journeyman Ted Bogosian works with David Marienthal, the son of one of the brothers who ran Mister Kelly's and sister club London House, to conduct a deep dive into the archives of not just the two venues but also the history of comedy and jazz in Chicago between 1953 and 1975. Experts in music, comedy and photography (our friend Richard Cahan) add critical context to the era and convey what made the clubs special in the Second City. 

The film is packed with talking heads -- from the famous to the not-so-famous -- who look back fondly on their days performing at Mister Kelly's. Barbra Streisand (by audio only) talks about her getting her big break there in 1963. We also see Lainie Kazan (who was performing the night one of the two notorious fires broke out), Bob Newhart, Herbie Hancock, Robert Klein, Ramsey Lewis, the comedy team of Tim Reid and Tom Dreeson, Shecky Greene (still alive!), local folkster Bonnie Koloc, and interviews with a trio of entertainers no longer with us: Dick Gregory, Fred Willard and Mort Sahl. Grumpy David Mamet even shows up, for some reason.

 

Bogosian and his crew really do their homework on this one, and they pay fine tribute to Oscar and George Marienthal, who worked hard to bring top talent to the clubs, which served as the host to a good share of live albums, by the likes of Sarah Vaughan, Ella Fitzgerald, Flip Wilson, Woody Allen and Freddie Prinze. It can be a kick to watch such a parade of stars in the clips do their shtick and then reminisce about a special place. Points off, though, for hiring the ubiquitous Bill Kurtis to narrate. His over-the-top diction is a distraction, though he does disappear for a good chunk of the middle of the film. 

This gets the job done in less than an hour and a half and should lift the spirits of anyone with even a vague memory of the '60s. Note: The venue eventually would be converted to another city institution, Gibsons Bar & Steakhouse.

JUST DON'T THINK I'LL SCREAM (2019) (B) - Almost too overwhelming to truly comprehend in one sitting, this documentary is a visual diary created by French filmmaker and musician Frank Beauvais as he chronicles a challenging year in his life. Reeling from the death of his father and the terrorist attack at a Paris club in late 2015, Beauvais seeks exile in the small-town strangeness of the Alsace-Lorraine region, an apt no-man's-land on the German border, as he proudly dons the cloak of the outsider.

The filmmaker, who also just ended a relationship, is suffering from writer's block, and he engages in a sort of post-terror lockdown that presages the COVID crisis.  "My Stockholm syndrome," he calls it, "like bailing out a boat." He is also weighed down by his massive tranche of stuff -- books, CDs and DVDs -- which he liquidates via the internet. 

To further pass the time and keep from going off the deep end psychologically, he engages in a massive binge of four to five movies a day, every day. He refers to it as "film bulimia." Beauvais takes those movies -- which fall broadly across genres and eras -- and chops them up, using specific scenes to illustrate his running narration about the psychic trauma he is trying to work through.

And therein lies one of the main problems with the movie. The images change and flash every few seconds, with no let-up, as Beauvais drones on in French, requiring subtitles, which are hard to keep up with while you are racing along with the pictures. The filmmaker probably would consider this heresy, but it would have helped a lot to have had the voice-over dubbed in English, which would have saved viewers the stress of trying to keep up.

Despite this challenge, Beauvais' observations and working-man's philosophy can be fascinating to watch and experience. His use of images is clever, utilizing deep cuts from a lot of films you've likely never heard of. In some ways, this shares a kinship with John Wilson's gonzo semi-autobiographical HBO show that wanders New York City and seeks answers to some big questions about existence. It's a neat experiment, but it can be quite a stress test, too.

BONUS TRACKS

Our title track:

And from the end credits of "Just Don't Think I'll Scream," Bonnie Prince Billy with "I See a Darkness":

And Sarah Vaughan, live at Mister Kelly's in 1957 with "How High the Moon":

Noir Chronicles: The Annual Festival

 Just in time to offer relief from the 100-degree days, the dark cool Guild Cinema just completed its annual 10-day festival of film noir. Here are our samples.

SABOTEUR (1942) (B+) - Robert Cummings, better known as a TV star of the '50s, gets by with a glib and suave presence in one half of the Alfred Hitchcock double feature, as Barry Kane, an innocent man on the lam across the United States during World War II. Cummings -- tall and handsome -- exudes a variation on what we know as that clean-cut Ryan Reynolds charm.

Hitchcock has a ball with this one. A trio of writers that includes Dorothy Parker stuffs the script with juicy dialogue and quick one-liners. The dialogue is overly peppered with patriotic references -- even a group of circus performers' informal poll as to whether to help Kane turns into a civics lesson, and the climax takes place atop the Statue of Liberty -- as if the team, required by a wartime Hollywood dictum, purposely lays the patriotism on think with a wink to the camera. It's a lot of fun.

Cummings is surrounded by memorable performances: Murray Alper as a hilarious chatterbox truck driver who gives the hitchhiker a lift; Otto Kruger hamming it up as the devious head of the racket; the familiar face Ian Wolfe as a little but menacing henchman; and especially Vaughan Glaser as an intuitive blind man who takes Kane in and senses his innocence. Kane's love interest is the model Patricia Martin (Priscilla Lane from "Arsenic and Old Lace"), whose billboards send Kane eerily spot-on messages while he makes his way east.

Cummings' Bob Hope road vibe gives this an airy quality, but the tension never wanes, and Hitchcock is a cool customer as he flashes his distinct visual style of telling a story. The final shot from atop the Statue of Liberty is a master class in suspense. 

Spotted: Good ol' Norman Lloyd as the end-of-movie villain, who would memorably portray Dr. Auchslander on TV's "St. Elsewhere" in the 1980s and who lived to the ripe old age of 106 before he died a year ago.

***

I CONFESS (1953) (B) - In the other Hitchcock offering, Montgomery Clift is strong again as a priest caught in a web of love and confession when he gets accused of murdering a local lawyer. This is Hitchcock's palate-cleanser before his memorable three-movie run in the mid-'50s of "Dial M for Murder," "Rear Window" and "To Catch a Thief."

Here, Clift's Father Mike Logan is framed by the rectory's caretaker Otto Keller (O.E. Hasse), who donned a priest's cossack while killing the lawyer. Keller confesses to Logan, who feels sworn to silence. But soon Logan is suspected by Inspector Larrue (Karl Malden) after he was seen outside the crime scene with lovely Ruth Grandfort (a passionate Dorothy Malone), whom he'd a fling with before he went off to war and later became a Catholic priest.

Hitchcock ravels and then unravels this like a soap opera, with Clift stoic throughout and Malone dialing up the swooning to 11. The suspense wavers at times, but strong performances, especially Malden's hard-nosed cop, sweep this along to a dramatic climax. The camerawork is compelling but nothing special here. Because this is based on a Canadian play, it is set in Quebec, which presents some needless confusion amid a melange of accents. Hitchcock had the story rewritten to remove some dark elements and sand away the edges for Hollywood consumption.

Spotted: Hitchcock, himself, of course, walking across a bridge in the opening scene establishing Quebec City.

***

THE BIG NIGHT (B) - A screenplay by Ring Lardner Jr. follows a mouse of a 17-year-old as he sets out to avenge the beating of his bar-owner father by a powerful sports columnist. John Drew Barrymore (John's son, Drew's father) plays George, a wimpy nerd who grows up overnight by putting on his father's sport coat and tossing a gun in his pocket before heading out to hunt down man-about-town Al Judge (Howard St. John).

It'll turn out that Judge has a connection to the woman that George's father had dated for years but recently dumped. George's big night is an odyssey that includes the eccentric bon vivant Lloyd Cooper (Philip Bourneuf) and two sympathetic sisters, who try to rein things in a bit. 

Joseph Losey ("The Concrete Jungle") dials up the melodrama, as Barrymore pretty much has only one speed, which is verklempt. It gets exhausting at times as this fresh-faced kid slums in bars and at a boxing match, sometimes on the verge of tears. If not for Bourneuf's humorous, tipsy turn, this one would be a miserable race to justice. The cop-out at the end is actually refreshing. 

Spotted: No one notable, though Howard Chamberlain, who plays the father's bartender and roommate, almost triggered a Richard Edson alert, bearing a solid resemblance to the "Stranger Than Paradise" favorite.

***

GILDA (1946) (B+) - Rita Hayworth, in all her glory, gets ensnared in a love triangle in Buenos Aires. Her open sexuality had to be downright shocking in postwar America. 

Here, she is a kept woman of a sugar daddy, Ballin Mundsen (George Mcready), who owns a casino and who has hired a grifting gambler Johnny Farrell (Glenn Ford), as his house manager. Is it a coincidence that Johnny and Gilda have a past together? What could go wrong? Well, it doesn't help that Gilda -- in a win-win scheme that makes both men jealous and angry -- takes up with a different piece of arm-candy every night of the week.  

It's no surprise that Mundson is on the take (in bed with Germans!) and that his own scheme will come to a head. Meantime, Johnny and Gilda set the template for every wisecracking will-they-or-won't-they crime-fighting TV couple from the '80s and '90s. 

The dialogue has a great deal of zing, but the plot sometimes reels in circles. It takes too long to get the point, and the ending should have come about 15 minutes sooner. But just try to take your eyes off of Hayworth -- she actually fakes the start of a striptease at one point -- during the entire 110 minutes. 

Spotted: We were shut out on this one. But props to Bess Flowers, who seemed to make a career of playing a spectator or onlooker in most of her TV and movie credits (she was at the roulette table here); and the elegantly named Symona Boniface (also hanging by the roulette table), who once starred in a musical short titled "Ankles Away."

***

CRIME WAVE (1952) (B) - Sterling Hayden chomps on toothpicks and chews up page after page of script in this tale of a snarling detective trying to solve a fatal gas station robbery by putting the screws to some ex-cons who are trying to go straight but get caught up in the aftermath.

This is one of those classic verite L.A. movies that is street smart and smart-alecky. The cop talk is mostly trite, but Hayden is so committed that you can appreciate the mix of "Dragnet" and "Hill Street Blues." His Det. Sims is mainly focused on handsome Steve Lacey ("Oklahoma!"), whose devoted wife (a compelling Phyllis Kirk) has him on the straight and narrow.

But the gang that knocked off the service station and killed a cop once did time with Lacey, and they turn to him and a veterinarian, Otto Hessler (wonderful character actor Jay Novello), whose got a bottle instead of a woman to rein himself in.

Director Andre De Toth ("House of Wax") captures the grit of Los Angeles, from City Hall to the seedier parts of town. He brings a documentary feel to scenes like the police dispatch center and a getaway driver's route. He wraps this up in a tidy 73 minutes, and Nelson's steely performance of a man desperate to leave his past behind grounds the film, balancing out Hayden. And with L.A. front and center, the cheesy dialogue gets lost in the shuffle.

Spotted: A very young Charles Bronson, billed as Charles Buchinsky, as the gang's buff leather-jacket tough. He is truly menacing throughout.

***

BRIGHTON ROCK (1948) (B-minus) - Maybe American film noir just doesn't translate into proper Brit-speak. This adaptation of a Graham Greene novel has a weak lead and is unable to sustain tension throughout. So it lags during its 92 minutes.

Teenage Pinky Brown (Richard Attenborough) leads a lackadaisical gang who are not the most loyal men after Pinky knocks off a journalist and takes up with a waitress, Rose (a wonderful Carol Marsh), to help cover his tracks. It is difficult to care about what happens the rest of the way. My recollection of the details of the plot are fizzling almost as quickly as I can type. 

The side story here is Hermione Baddeley as entertainer Ida Arnold, who gets caught up in the intrigue and starts sleuthing around to try to resolve the murder mystery. Attempts at humor fall flat, and "intrigue" is a generous word here for the needlessly convoluted plot that unfolds in fits and starts. However, this movie has one of the all-time great endings, so it's worth the slog just for that.

Spotted: No luck espying a ringer in this field of Brits.  Baddeley would go on to play the replacement maid, Mrs. Naugatuck, on TV's "Maude" in the 1970s.