Maggie Smith took home the Best Actress Oscar for her portrayal of Jean Brodie, a charismatic school teacher who dedicates herself to a class of impressionable young women. The film may sound like an all-girl precursor to Dead Poets Society, but it’s a far more nuanced and provocative take on the ‘inspirational teacher’ story. Brodie may begin as the hero of the story, but her tenacious influence and overly-romanticized world view end up having a devastating effect on some of her students. In her (subconscious?) attempt to live vicariously through her “girls,” she ends up creating a monster in her own image.
Director John Huston unites Marlon Brando and Elizabeth Taylor for their only screen pairing in this adaptation of the perverse Carson McCullers novel. Brando plays a sexually repressed Army major who turns a blind eye to his wife’s (Taylor) extramarital affair while simultaneously finding himself drawn to a mysterious young cadet who spends his days running naked through the woods and his nights as a peeping tom. The provocative subject matter is well handled by Huston, whose only missteps are bathing the entire film in a piss-yellow hue and whiplash-inducing camera movement in the film’s final, climactic shot. Good performances from Brando, Taylor, and supporting stars Julie Harris and Robert Forster.
Errol Flynn plays a banker who takes up boxing and makes it all the way to a climactic match against the heavyweight champion of the world. Gentleman Jim is more entertaining than I imagined, thanks to Flynn’s persistent charm and healthy doses of wit and humor. Alan Hale returns to Flynn’s side, this time playing his proud papa, while Alexis Smith takes over the leading lady duties. She’s no De Havilland, but she holds her own in a romantic subplot that is unusually tolerable for the time.
Cary Grant already has three children and little time alone with his wife (Betsy Drake), but that doesn’t stop her from bringing home a few troubled foster children. Room for One More is a sweet comedy with just enough dramatic heft. Grant (at his droll, beleaguered best) and Drake have some great exchanges, especially after one of their boys inquires where babies come from. Grant draws the figure of a woman in the sand and explains. Drake then comes along and asks what the drawing is.
SPOILER REVIEW
I really liked American Beauty when it was first released. Maybe I was wooed by its quirky introspection and aesthetic achievments. Or maybe it was screenwriter Alan Ball’s fresh new way of blending the real with the surreal. Or even the meditative lilt of Thomas Newman’s trend-setting score. But whatever the reason(s), watching the film ten years later, I realize — American Beauty ain’t all that. It’s kinda whack.
Oliver Stone’s epic bio of the Macedonian military legend, like so many pet projects, is a glorious mess of a movie. The screenplay goes back and forth in time, mixing scenes of Alexander’s youth with scenes of his conquests. The result is jarring, never allowing you to get to know the character in any time. The narrative also relies far too much on Anthony Hopkins’ narration to explain what is going on. Stone has an Academy Award for writing Midnight Express, but his writing on Alexander seems like the clunky work of an amateur.
