A film noir with some eccentricities, The Big Steal (1949), directed by then third time film maker Don Siegel (who would go on to make such greats as Invasion of the Body Snatchers, Dirty Harry, and Escape from Alcatraz), plays like a long chase within a longer chase, while the meeting between gent and femme is something akin to a will they/won’t they screwball comedy. The usually laconic Lt. Duke Halliday (Robert Mitchum) is in quite the conundrum, as he has been robbed of a U.S. Army payroll totaling a whopping three hundred grand by swindler Jim Fiske (Patric Knowles). On the lam in Mexico (a rather rare noir location, also think Ride the Pink Horse and Touch of Evil), Halliday is on his trail... but the problem is, so is his superior – Captain Vincent Blake (William Bendix), who, of course, thinks it was actually the Lieutenant who ran off with the money.
There are always a few films every year that seem to tap into the present zeitgeist (a window into prevailing spirit and mood of the time). . . one of 2019's is most definitely Bombshell, written by Charles Randolph (who won an Oscar for his Adapted Screenplay of The Big Short, along with Adam McKay), and directed by Jay Roach – who continues his seamless transition from comedy filmmaker to dramatic (this following his 2015 effort in Trumbo). Centred on three women working at Fox News in 2016, our quasi-narrator is Megyn Kelly (Charlize Theron in an Oscar nominated performance), who has just asked too liberal a question to Donald Trump at the 2016 Republican Debate (leading to backlash from its conservative viewership), newscaster Gretchen Carlson (Nicole Kidman), whose more liberal leaning slant has plateaued her career, and newbie Kayla Pospisil (Margot Robbie, also nominated for an Academy Award), who is trying to find an avenue that will get her on the air in some capacity. As you will probably recognize, Kelly and Carlson are real people, while the Pospisil character is an amalgam of many women (and not based on a specific real life person).
A guy walks into a bar; the bartender immediately recognizes that the patron is pissed off. Sliding the man a beer, he asks, “What’s ailing you?”, to which he replies, with a loud, booming voice, “ALL LAWYERS ARE ASSHOLES!!!”. There is only one other person in the establishment, someone sitting at the other end of the bar. . . his ears perking up, he immediately shouts, “I take offence to that.” Taken aback, the new patron asks, “Are you a lawyer?”, to which he concludes, “No, I’m an asshole”. All joking aside, lawyers, despite not being the main players in writer/director Noah Baumbach’s 2019 Academy Award Best Picture nominee Marriage Story, play an integral part in the piece. Following Charlie (Adam Driver) and Nicole (Scarlett Johansson), their so called marriage story is quickly becoming a separation and divorce story. Living in New York, Charlie is a renowned theatre company owner and playwright (by no means rich, but respected), his wife his actress muse. . . an edgy Hollywood teen actress that has transitioned to respected stage performer. With a young son, Henry (Azhy Robertson), their marriage has run its course. . . Nicole returning home to California (with their son) to film a pilot for a new series, Charlie must balance his hectic life, attempting to run his troupe while racking up frequent flyer miles to visit his son.
The Academy Award season is creeping upon us again. . . and as I am running out of time, I’ve decided to combine and condense two reviews that feature stellar Lead Actress performances of 2019 (that also happen to be about real women), Rupert Goold’s Judy and Kasi Lemmons’ Harriet. Judy tells the tragic story of Judy Garland, flashing back and forth between the way she was mistreated during the filming of The Wizard of Oz, and how that, along with poor life choices, brings her to a point where she is forced to take an extended stay in London in 1968 (away from her children – who she dearly loves) in order to earn enough money to be able to purchase a home (so that she might win custody against her ex-husband).
It is funny what passes through your brain when something as monumental and horrible as Kobe Bryant’s unexpected death is heard (even more heartbreaking that his thirteen year old daughter Gianna, and seven others died in the helicopter crash). Logic and reason no longer control your mind, and it is as if a movie reel flashes before your eyes. For me, I immediately thought of a day almost fourteen years ago to the day when the Toronto Raptors seemed to have things in complete control (up fourteen against the Los Angeles Lakers at half). It was January 22nd, 2006, the day Kobe took over – almost forty-two minutes, twenty-eight field goals made (forty-six attempted), seven threes. . . a total of eighty-one points (that helped further his legend – the second highest total ever behind only Wilt Chamberlain’s one hundred). Then, the horrific 2011 Lokomotiv Yaroslavl plane crash flashed before me – 44 dead, including former NHL superstar Pavol Demitra (who I knew). You think of Jordan, Shaq, the championships, and the colossal loss. . . in complete pain for his wife, daughters and parents (who must now try to pick up the pieces after this tragic accident). You start to hear the reaction coming out – shock and disbelief. . . perhaps Tiger Woods’ forceful “excuse me” upon hearing the news from his caddy after finishing his round of eighteen sums that up nicely – for it seems surreal.
You just can’t beat a good idea. . . which is why most iconic stories have found their way onto the silver screen more than once – case in point, Little Women. Reuniting the director/actor dream team of Greta Gerwig and Saoirse Ronan just two short years after their success with Lady Bird, this 2019 effort follows adaptations released in 1917, 1918, 1933, 1949, 1994 and a 2018 tv movie (and no less than eight television versions) – I’ll leave it up to you as to what that proves (perhaps that classics are eternal. . . or maybe, that Hollywood can no longer muster up even one original idea). Gerwig, adapting one of her favourite novels (written by Louisa May Alcott), creates a visually striking world, from its perfectly framed opening shot to its closing scenes, the lush, New England landscape a brilliant backdrop for this nineteenth century tale. Each home, architectural flourish, costume choice, and colour selection painting a nuanced, impressionist piece of artwork.
Ranked as the 17th greatest British film of all-time by the British Film Institute (and perhaps a bit more surprisingly, finding itself on the Vatican’s top 45 “great films” – in the “art” category), 1951's The Lavender Hill Mob, written by T.E.B. Clarke (winning him the Oscar for Best Writing, Story and Screenplay) and directed by Charles Crichton (A Fish Called Wanda), is a clever send up of the crime caper. Setting out to write an authentic crime story, Clarke actually went to the Bank of England, looking for advice. The Bank formed a special committee, the screenwriter asking numerous questions as they basically laid out the only way such a heist could work (by today’s standards, this seems absolutely ludicrous), meaning that, what we see in this 1951 feature is an accurate portrayal of what it would have taken to rob this iconic institution.