FOREIGN INTRIGUE

Robert Mitchum and Genevieve Page

FOREIGN INTRIGUE (1956). Produced, written and directed by Sheldon Reynolds.  

"Did he say anything before he died?" -- numerous characters

Dave Bishop (Robert Mitchum) works for a millionaire philanthropist named Danemore (Jean Galland). When Danemore dies of a sudden heart attack, Bishop realizes that he knows very little of the past of his employer. A mysterious letter and a sealed package to be opened only if Danemore's death was suspicious ignites Bishop's interest. His curiosity brings him into contact with a bald little man named Spring (Frederic O'Brady), who may be much more sinister than he seems. Bishop is involved with two women: Danemore's widow (Genevieve Page), who discovers that her marriage of convenience may not have as big a pay-off as she'd hoped for; and Brita (Ingrid Thulin) -- the daughter of another widow, Mrs. Lindquist (Inga Tidblad) -- who quickly falls in love with Dave. Bishop is then contacted by various government agents who convince him to pretend to be a blackmailer so he can get the goods on several men who each betrayed their country. 

Ingrid Thulin with Mitchum

Foreign Intrigue is greatly bolstered by a solid and engaging performance by Robert Mitchum, who always seems interested in what's happening even when at least half the audience has stopped giving a damn. The movie has a fairly decent premise but few outstanding incidents nor indeed any sequences that stand out in the mind (except perhaps when a little boy gives Mitchum a playful kick in the leg); there is no style, suspense or tension and after while you just want it to be over. Both Genevieve Page and Ingrid Thulin (billed as Ingrid Tulean) were "introduced" in this film, and they are both attractive and more than competent, although neither -- in this film, at least -- is especially distinctive. Thulin [Return from the Ashes] had appeared in several Swedish films previously, and of course worked with Ingmar Bergman a few years later. Genevieve Page [Youngblood Hawke] had also appeared in numerous films previously and had a lengthy international career. Paul Durand's score is interesting if not always appropriate. In Eastmancolor.

Verdict: You can miss Mitchum speaking French! **.

THE SILENCE

THE SILENCE (aka Tystnaden/1963). Director: Ingmar Bergman.

Two women who appear to be sisters are traveling in Europe with the ten-year-old son of one of them when they stop in a rather dismal little town, Timoka, where one, Ester (Ingrid Thulin), becomes ill. As Ester becomes increasingly overwrought and fears dying alone, Anna (Gunnel Lindblom) goes out of the hotel and finds a man to have sex with, and little Johan (Jorgen Lindstrom) makes his own merriment with a friendly old man and some dwarfs. This is probably fraught with symbolism and deep meaning -- maybe -- but it comes off more as an almost comically underwritten mood piece and little else. Ester has been described as a "repressed lesbian" in several reviews, probably because of the scene where she seems to come on to her sister (similar to scenes in the later Cries and Whispers) but it comes off less as lesbianism or incest than just a kind of mock eroticism-without-a-point, thrown in because it turns Bergman on. Thanks to Sven Nykvist's photography, the film is full of a grim atmosphere, as well as arresting images and faces, as well as the usual fine acting -- if only Bergman had given the players a screenplay that was worthy of their mettle.

Verdict: Half-baked in Timoka. **.

SHORT NIGHT OF GLASS DOLLS

Barbara Bach and Jean Sorel

SHORT NIGHT OF GLASS DOLLS (aka La corta notte delle bambole di vetro/1971). Director: Aldo Lado.

In Prague  journalist Gregory Moore (Jean Sorel) discovers that his fiancee, Mira (Barbara Bach of The Spy Who Loved Me), has gone missing. He enlists the aid of his boss, Jessica (Ingrid Thulin), who also has a yen for the handsome reporter. The police seem to think Mira has simply gone off on her own despite the fact that her clothing and possessions are still in her apartment. Most of the story is told in flashback from the bizarre pov of Moore, who is supposedly found dead and put in a morgue, where we can hear his thoughts but he is unable to communicate that he is still alive. (This is reminiscent of a famous Alfred Hitchcock Presents episode with Joseph Cotten.) That is really the only interesting element of this dull and confusing movie that features an inexplicable scene when Moore's friends come to witness his ... well, that would be telling. Sorel [Sandra] and Thulin [Cries and Whispers] both deserved much better assignments than crap like this. Ennio Morricone's eerie musical score is much better than the picture deserves. You have to see the orgy of elderly nudists to believe it! This could have used some gruesome murder scenes. An Italian-West German-Yugoslavian co-production, which tells you something.

Verdict: A real stink bomb. *1/2.

RETURN FROM THE ASHES

Ingrid Thulin and Maximilian Schell

RETURN FROM THE ASHES (1965). Director: J. Lee Thompson.

"I was revolted, curious, shocked -- even thrilled."

"A man should always marry a woman with beautiful eyes. That way there's always something to love, no matter what happens."

"I came to you for advice, not the truth."

Michelle (Ingrid Thulin), a wealthy widow who also happens to be a doctor, falls in love with a poor chess player named Stanislaus Pilgrin (Maximilian Schell) in pre-WW 2 Paris. After the Nazis occupy the city, Stan marries the Jewish Michelle more as an act of defiance than anything else, but immediately after the wedding she's taken off to a concentration camp. After four years of Hell and a fifth in a sanitarium, Michelle makes her way back to Paris. At first Stan not only doesn't recognize his own wife, but thinks she must be dead and this woman her mere lookalike. He asks her to "pretend" to be Michelle -- herself -- so that he and her step-daughter, Fabienne (Samantha Eggar), can claim her 30 million franc fortune. And things get more twisted after that ... In a pre-credit sequence set on a train taking Michelle to Paris, a mischievous little boy falls through the door, and an old man remarks to his wife that Michelle, who has absolutely no reaction to the child's death, must have an "incredible lack of feeling." Then he sees the numbers tattooed on her arm and realizes why she is emotionally dead inside ... The trouble with Return from the Ashes is that nothing else as powerful as this opening sequence ever occurs in the movie, which turns more or less into a comparatively ordinary suspense film. On the other hand, Return sets up some intriguing situations, isn't entirely predictable, and boasts excellent performances from the entire cast, including Herbert Lom as a doctor friend of Michelle's. Attractive Thulin [The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse] gives an assured and authoritative lead performance; Schell [Judgment at Nuremberg] makes a charismatic "bad boy;" and Eggar expertly limns the petulant, sexual woman-child. The film also has interesting characters and some excellent dialogue. Still one might have hoped that such a momentous occurrence as the Holocaust might have developed into something a little more explosive than a fairly standard murder mystery. Attempts to equate atheism with "evil" are a little tiresome. J. Lee Thompson also directed Happy Birthday to Me.

Verdict: Despite disappointing aspects, this is an absorbing suspense film with some fascinating elements and several fine performances. ***.

THE FOUR HORSEMEN OF THE APOCALYPSE (1962)

Glenn Ford and Ingrid Thulin with backdrop of Notre Dame

THE FOUR HORSEMEN OF THE APOCALYPSE (1962). Director: Vincente Minelli.

This remake of the silent film of the same title has been updated to WW Two. Argentinian Madriaga (Lee J. Cobb) is dispatched with rather quickly, and most of the story takes place in Paris, where an initially superficial Julio Desnoyers (Glenn Ford) has an affair with the married Marguerite Laurier (Ingrid Thulin of The Silence). Julio's father Marcelo (Charles Boyer) had deserted Army service years before and begs his son to fight the Nazis, unaware that Julio has already joined the resistance. This leads to the movie turning into a ersatz spy picture that has Julio going off on a suicide mission and a final confrontation with his cousin Heinrich (Karl Boehm of Sissi). Other characters include Julio's sister Chi Chi (Yvette Mimieux of Light in the Piazza) who joins the resistance much sooner; Marguerite's husband, Etinne (Paul Henreid); and Heinrich's father, Karl (Paul Lukas). It's amazing that adding all the excitement and peril of WW Two, plus technicolor and CinemaScope, has not resulted in a better movie than the original, but a far worse one. A middle-aged Glenn Ford is horribly miscast -- Minelli wanted a more appropriate Alain Delon but MGM nixed it -- and his love affair with Marguerite never for a minute seems passionate or believable. Scenes that should crackle with tension and drama are frittered away by Minelli's lacklustre direction. Not a single actor ever gets a close up, further distancing us from the characters, and Andre Previn's musical score can best be described as insipid. Milton R. Krasner's cinematography is a plus, but the sweeping vistas do little to pull us into the story. Other changes from the silent version include more wartime interaction between the two families -- one French, the other German -- and Etienne is not blinded. A bizarre sequence has Marguerite telling her husband she's leaving him for Julio the exact instant after he shows up, shattered by being tortured, after months away -- what perfect timing! Badly written and poorly made despite all the technological advances, this is a colossal bore. Of the cast, only Charles Boyer makes much of an impression. Like the silent version, this also has shots of phantom horsemen floating through the skies, and this time it seems even hokier.

Verdict: Stick with the original. ** out of 4.

CRIES AND WHISPERS

CRIES AND WHISPERS (Viskningar och rop/1972). Director Ingmar Bergman.

Two sisters and a personal maid attend their sister's agonizing death at their family estate, ruminate about the tribulations of the past, and give vent to repressed passions and resentments. Dying Agnes (Harriet Andersson), who has apparently had a loving physical relationship with her maid Anna (Kari Sylwan), stayed on the childhood estate while her sisters Karin (Ingrid Thulin) and Maria (Liv Ullmann) married -- unhappily it seems -- and went off. It would be easy to dismiss Cries and Whispers as a weird movie about screwed-up sisters were it not for its powerful moments, acting, and images. Bergman's screenplay seems at times more like a collection of unformed ideas -- often with childish shock value -- than a fully realized work of art; there are stupid sequences that border on black comedy. The movie is famous for such scenes as when Karin mutilates herself sexually with a piece of glass (that's one way to get out of having sex with your wizened husband) and the pieta-like display with Anna holding Agnes in her arms (pictured). There has been much debate about the relationship between Agnes and Anna, but when the latter kisses and gets in bed with the former earlier in the film, it is clear that this is something she is used to; the two are definitely lovers. Karin and Maria's feelings for each other are a bit more ambiguous (at one point Maria seems to come on to her sister. One suspects Bergman was more intrigued/turned on by the idea or sensuality of lesbianism than with seriously exploring the subject.) The acting is so raw that at times the film is difficult to watch. Harriet Andersson has such an expressive face that she seems to sum up the character's whole life in one awakening close-up. While Bergman eschews the Hollywood-style sentimental, underscored treatment, it might have made this film more moving and meaningful, especially as it concerns Anna, the one who loved Agnes the best, being summarily dismissed by the family at the end with barely a keepsake. Very well-photographed by Sven Nykvist.

Verdict: Slow-moving and not for everyone but not without its rewards. ***.