A Law Unto Themselves

A striking picture from a unique moment in Hollywood history, Pál Fejös’ 1928 romantic drama Lonesome found itself one of the first transitional films between the silent and sound/talkie era. Originally developed as a Universal silent feature by the Hungarian filmmaker (Fejös, a Renaissance man, was also a doctor, World War 1 medic, anthropologist and explorer), in post-production it was decided that three dialogue scenes would be added – to appease audiences who desired the new effect following The Jazz Singer craze. A short transitional period of about two years followed, as filmmakers and studios began to adapt to the changing world of sound, adding touches of dialogue into their silent pictures.

One of those films that was not treated overly well by critics but is beloved by fans the world over, Ace Ventura: Pet Detective, shot lead Jim Carrey, then known to people mostly for being on In Living Color, into another stratosphere. The year 1994 was a good one for the comic and actor, as this film was followed soon after by The Mask and Dumb & Dumber, further adding to his meteoric rise. The next three years would further cement him as a true comic talent, as roles in Batman Forever, Ace Ventura: When Nature Calls, The Cable Guy and Liar Liar continuously hit viewers’ funny bones. Though, it was the character of Ace Ventura, which was co-written by Carrey, along with Jack Bernstein and Tom Shadyac (who also directed, and would work again with the actor in Liar Liar and Bruce Almighty), that first demonstrated his skills at physical comedy, mimicry, comedic timing and coining memorable catch phrases to be enjoyed by silver screen audiences.

Arriving at theatres a few months before the iconic 1960 Lewis Milestone film Ocean’s Eleven, Henry Hathaway’s Seven Thieves is its lesser known forerunner, yet despite being in its long casting shadow, it is a whole lot of fun. Set in Monte Carlo, disgraced professor and scientist Theo Wilkins (Edward G. Robinson) is the mastermind of a daring plot to rob a posh, extravagant casino in the picturesque Principality of Monaco. Uniting a talented group of shady individuals, the aging ringleader has called on longtime American acquaintance Paul Mason (Rod Steiger), a smart man who has worked with Wilkins before, hoping that he will be his right-hand man as well as the iron fist that will keep everyone in line.

Uttered in the opening narration, the oft quoted line “the rules are simple: once you go in, you don’t come out” is in many ways symbolic of how John Carpenter’s 1981 motion picture Escape From New York has ensnared a passionate cult following. Set in a dystopic America in 1997, the crime rate has risen by four hundred percent, and the island of Manhattan has become an Alcatraz of sorts, only infinitely more secure and bizarrely intense. Surrounded by a behemoth of a wall and patrolled by the United States Police Force, all bridges leading out of the city are mined, making for a doom laden locale that has a semblance of inescapability. Carpenter carefully transports us into this eerie world at the movie’s opening, providing us with an eagle-eyed perspective of Manhattan and its near impenetrable defences.

One of my favourite films as a young boy – wholly capturing my imagination, was the 1960 George Pal directed sci-fi adventure The Time Machine, based on the 1895 novel of the same name by iconic author H.G. Wells. It is this movie that has possibly fuelled my intrigue with clocks, pocket watches and other time oriented things (motion pictures definitely fit within this grouping). Set at the turn of the twentieth century, specifically on two days, December 31st, 1899/ January 5th, 1900, H. George Wells (Rod Taylor) is an inventor and time enthusiast, a peculiar fellow who has changed quite a bit in a short amount of time – at least according to his friends. Disenchanted by the warmongering of the British government (the Boer War) and the ways in which technology has been used to improve the efficiency of killing, the inventor looks to the future for hope in humanity.