THE LOST WEEKEND

Belly up to the bar, boys! Ray Milland

THE LOST WEEKEND (1945). Director: Billy Wilder.

Feeling himself a failure as a writer, and living off his brother, Wick (Phillip Terry of Hold That Kiss), Don Birnam (Ray Milland) has become, in his brother's words, a "hopeless drunk" His girlfriend of three years, Helen (Jane Wyman of Johnny Belinda), refuses to give up on Don, and does her best to help him. But even when he winds up in an alcoholic ward and later gets the DT's and has scary visions, he still won't stop drinking. Will Helen be able to get through to him, to get him to let his better self come through, or is he doomed?

The Lost Weekend is based on the autobiographical novel by Charles Jackson. Although Jackson married and had children, late in life he identified as bisexual and moved in with a male lover. This aspect of his life, and the fact that self-hatred over his homosexuality added to his distress and undoubtedly contributed to his drinking, is, of course, completely unexplored in this 1940's movie. The only thing that is mildly homoerotic in the picture is an obnoxious male nurse, Bim (well-played by Frank Faylen), in the alcoholic ward. Jackson wrote other works after Lost Weekend, but none were ever as successful as his first, and, although the movie intimates that Birnam will overcome his addictions, that was, sadly, not the case in real life. In 1968 he committed suicide.

Phillip Terry, Jane Wyman, Ray Milland

Still, The Lost Weekend is a memorable film with some first-class performances. Ray Milland, who is generally excellent, won the Best Actor Oscar. (The film also won for Best Picture, Best Director, Best Screenplay [Wilder and Charles Brackett] and Best Cinematography [John F. Seitz of the silent Four Horseman of the Apocalypse].) Phillip Terry, one of Joan Crawford's cast-off husbands, had a rare opportunity in a "A" picture and delivers a solid job in probably his most memorable role. Jane Wyman is as sympathetic and adept as ever. Howard Da Silva scores as the bartender, Nat, as do Doris Dowling as the barfly Gloria and Mary Young as Birnam's landlady, Mrs. Deveridge.

An interesting aspect of the picture is that, as played by Milland, Birnam often seems arrogant about his drinking and his life, as if the world owes him a living. In a sequence when Birnam steals a woman's purse in a restaurant, he seems to smirk as if he's gotten away with something, as opposed to his being ashamed and humiliated by his actions. This suggests that Birnam has character failings that have little to do with his drinking.

Jane Wyman

The film has some notable sequences, such as when Birnam sits at a performance of La Traviata, and the opera's famous brindisi (or drinking song) sequence only reminds him of the bottle of hootch he left in his jacket at the coat check and he has to leave to get a drink. Then there's his desperate run from pawn shop to pawn shop so he can get money for his typewriter only to learn that all the shops are closed for the Jewish holiday.

As good as the film is, it now has a kind of dated aspect to it. All you have to do is look at one of the episodes of Dr. Phil where he has desperate family members bringing an alcoholic and drug-addicted person on the show for a last chance at help, to realize that a person rarely just decides to stop drinking. The film is sanitized -- what seems horrifying about the debased, pathetic lives of drunks in this film is nothing compared to the reality. As good as Milland is, he rarely looks or acts like a really hard-core drunk despite the DT's and all the rest. As noted, the photography is first-class, as is Miklos Rosza's score, although the music the composer uses to denote, so to speak, "Demon Rum," is a little over the top and sounds like something out of a science fiction movie.

Verdict: The Lost Weekend must still be remembered as probably the first movie to depict alcoholics not as comical drunks but as tormented and addicted individuals. *** 

THE OUTRAGE

Paul Newman

THE OUTRAGE (1964). Director: Martin Ritt.

In the late 19th century in the southwest, three men take refuge from a rain storm at a train depot: A priest (William Shatner), a prospector (Howard Da Silva) and a con man (Edward G. Robinson), with the first two telling the third the conflicting stories they heard at a murder trial. The trial centers on the notorious bandit Carrasco (Paul Newman), who is accused of raping a southern woman (Claire Bloom) and murdering her wealthy husband (Laurence Harvey). The bandit, the wife, the dead man (via an Indian medium) and then the prospector all tell their stories, but trying to figure out which is the correct one will drive you crazy. The Outrage is an interesting remake of the much more famous Japanese film Rashomon, and while it's generally a good picture (it helps if you're unfamiliar with the original), it's also a mixed bag. On the plus side is a charismatic and quite adept performance from Paul Newman, who's much better in what is essentially a character part than you might expect. Newman is on top of things in every scene. The next best performance is from Edward G. Robinson, whose expert acting skills are on marvelous display in his winning performance as the not very likable con artist. Although Claire Bloom [Three Into Two Won't Go] could be accused of being a little stagy and overly theatrical at times, she's playing many different interpretations of the same person and playing them well, with near-perfect line readings. Howard Da Silva scores as the prospector, and Laurence Harvey is fine in an underwritten part in which he is tied up and gagged for most of the running time. Shatner tends to overact a bit as he did as Captain Kirk -- he always seems to think he's doing Shakespeare -- but he's effective enough in the part.  James Wong Howe's cinematography is typically outstanding. While Alex North's score has some lovely things in it, it also seems inappropriate at times given the subject matter, but then again, The Outrage has several sequences that border on black comedy (which in of itself is inappropriate). Still, whatever its flaws, The Outrage is absorbing, good to look at, and features several excellent performances. Whether it has the kind of attitude towards rape that you might find today on, say, Law and Order:Special Victims Unit, is debatable. Martin Ritt directed Paul Newman in Hud the previous year.

NOTE: Apparently I had already reviewed this film on Great Old Movies eight years ago.  I liked it a little better this time around, and think it might even have more emotional impact than the original.

Verdict: Newman gives a striking performance in an unusual role for him. ***. 

MOMMIE DEAREST

Joan and paramour: Faye Dunaway and Michael Edwards

MOMMIE DEAREST (1981). Director: Frank Perry.

"I don't want [Christina] growing up a spoiled Hollywood brat just because she's Joan Crawford's daughter."

"Bring me the ax!"

The first thing to remember about Mommie Dearest is that it is not about Joan Crawford. It is, in my opinion, about a fictional movie star whose life in some ways parallels the real Crawford. Based on her daughter Christina Crawford's venom-dipped memoir, the film can hardly be accused of objectivity. The second thing to remember about Mommie Dearest is that it might have amounted to a fairly good movie, a moving account of a troubled relationship between a mother and daughter who loved each other in spite of everything, had Frank Perry used made-up names for the characters, admitted it was mostly "fake and fictional" as two of Joan's other children charged, and reigned in the more abysmal moments of Faye Dunaway's performance.

The shame of it is that Mommie Dearest, and Dunaway herself, have their moments. Dunaway's best scenes are her quieter, more vulnerable ones, such as when L. B Mayer (Howard Da Silva) releases Joan from her contract, or when her lover Greg (Steve Forrest) walks out on her, or when she admits to her grown daughter that "I'm scared, Tina, I'm scared" after she's dropped by another studio. The trouble is that director Frank Perry either allowed Dunaway to gnash at the scenery in her worst moments, or was completely helpless to prevent her from going completely over the top. You keep expecting foam to come out of her mouth. It is these scenes that make some people feel that the movie is a camp or cult classic. The screenplay doesn't help, of course, but Dunaway should have realized that even when a person is angry and drunk they don't necessarily act utterly demented. This movie's negative portrayal of Joan does nothing to suggest whatever emotional devastation or disturbance might have caused the fictional Joan's abusive actions. This is not shameless over-acting; it's shameful over-acting. It turns the movie into a travesty.

Dunaway [Bonnie and Clyde] rarely plays a real person, but instead trades on Crawford's latter-day movie image. Hence we have her calling for Tina to bring her an ax (a la Strait-Jacket) in the garden at midnight and slapping Tina as if she were Veda in Mildred Pierce. This not only does a disservice to Crawford, it does a disservice to the movie and everyone connected to it. It dissipates the effect of genuinely well-handled and well-acted scenes, such as when Joan gives Tina a pearl necklace, the first gift that husband Alfred Steele had ever given her, after his death. And the film is illogical as well, with Crawford "acting out" not just when she's at the bottom but after she wins an Oscar! (This is not to say, however, that the film is dull; it isn't.)

The other actors fare better. Steve Forrest as Greg Savitt, a character based on lawyer Greg Bautzer, is occasionally more on target than Dunaway. Both Mara Hobel and Diana Scarwid are excellent as Christina as,a child and an adult. Howard Da Silva makes a cunning L. B. Mayer,  Rutyana Alda scores as Joan's devoted maid and companion, as does Priscilla Pointer as Mrs. Chadwick, who runs the girl's school in which Tina is enrolled. Harry Goz and Michael Edwards have smaller roles, as, respectively, Alfred Steele and Joan's gorgeous date, Ted Gelber, and are fine. Paul Lohmann's cinematography is first-rate. Joan had two other children besides Christina and Christopher (who makes sporadic appearances), but understandably they are not depicted in the film as they thought Christina's book was garbage; Crawford's three other husbands are also ignored. Mommie Dearest does make a few minor stabs at objectivity, at presenting some of Crawford's more positive qualities, but this is Christina's movie all the way -- it was even co-produced by her husband. Christina thought Dunaway's performance was "ludicrous." which is saying a lot, but what did she expect would come out of "Mommie Dearest?"Christina was also reacting to Dunaway's disinterest in talking to her and her possible disbelief in the validity of the memoir. Meanwhile, Frank Perry has directed much better movies, such as Diary of a Mad Housewife and The Swimmer.

Verdict: A textbook case in how an untrammeled star, an uneven script, and poor source material can sink what might have been a good movie. **1/2.

FOURTEEN HOURS

Richard Basehart and Robert Keith

FOURTEEN HOURS (1951). Director: Henry Hathaway.

A troubled and emotionally disturbed man, Robert Cosick (Richard Basehart), climbs out on a ledge of a New York City hotel and refuses to leave. No one -- not his ex-fiancee (Barbara Bel Geddes), mother (Agnes Moorehead), father (Robert Keith), or a traffic cop named Dunnigan (Paul Douglas) -- can coax him to come inside as others try to figure out who he is and what's upsetting him. Fourteen Hours is well-photographed and well-acted -- Douglas is especially outstanding -- but neither its characters nor psychological undertones are developed in any compelling fashion, and as a thriller it only works sporadically. The big climax is disappointing as well. Still, it holds the attention and has some exciting moments even though it fails to sustain the tension of the situation. (Part of the trouble is that you sense Cosick's problems aren't all that severe. Some feel that he is a gay man struggling with his sexuality in a less-enlightened time period, and while that might certainly fit, the film itself doesn't really explore or confirm this.) Grace Kelly plays a woman in a divorce lawyer's office in a building across the way, while Jeffrey Hunter makes time with another woman (Debra Paget?) down in the crowd -- these unnecessary side stories are not well-integrated into the plot. (The lady Hunter is interested in seems to have concern for Cosick, but why would she actually want to be there to see it if he jumped?) Howard Da Silva plays a testy police chief.

Verdict: Okay suspense film with some good performances. **1/2.