The front door to an apartment swings open... an unseen figure walks through the living area and approaches a beautiful blonde woman wearing a robe as she walks around the bathroom... he then deliberately empties the barrel of his revolver into her – this is the jarring cold opening to the film noir Illegal (1955), and one thing is for sure, it knows how to grab your attention. Funnily enough, this was the third adaptation of the 1929 play “The Mouthpiece” by Frank J. Collins, following Mouthpiece (1932) and The Man Who Talked Too Much (1940) – and they say movies are remade too much today. Flash to Victor Scott (Edward G. Robinson), a district attorney who is wise to all the angles and is graced with a silver tongue. With an unyielding desire to win (he got it from growing up and fighting his way out of the slums), he argues every case like it is his last.
Taking the world by storm, 1955's Marty, a simple, heartfelt, honest, and poignant story of one man’s Saturday night (and the following Sunday), won both the Palme D’Or at the Cannes Film Festival (the first year the award was named thusly) and Best Picture at the Academy Awards – the first, and to date, only motion picture to win both coveted prizes (though Billy Wilder’s 1946 film noir The Lost Weekend also won the two top prizes, though at that time, the Cannes Award was known as the Grand Prix du Festival International du Film). It was also a major box office sensation. Following thirty-four year old butcher Marty Piletti (Ernest Borgnine – acting since 1951, he had his first big break in 1953's From Here to Eternity), he is an everyman – a warm, caring, short man who is a little heavy round the middle. . . in his mid thirties, he is the last in his large Italian-American family to remain unmarried.
Arguably one of the greatest adaptations of all-time, 1962's To Kill a Mockingbird is a masterclass in writing (Horton Foote won the Oscar for Best Adapted Screenplay), direction (Robert Mulligan), cinematography (Russell Harlan), and, something not always talked about, casting. You would think that one of the most iconic films to have ever come out of Hollywood would have had an easy time being made. . . yet, Universal really had no interest in making the movie (lacking action, a love story and a typical Hollywood ending, they felt it may feel bland on the screen) – that is, until Gregory Peck fell in love with the piece and signed on to do it (oh, how star power changes a studio’s perspective on things).
A ‘B’ movie with loftier aspirations, 2018's Overlord, written by Billy Ray, directed by Julius Avery, and produced by J.J. Abrams’ Bad Robot Productions, is one of those rare movies that flips the script halfway through. . . but more on that later. On the eve of the D-Day invasion (during World War 2), a paratrooper squad has been given the gargantuan task of parachuting into a small town in France. . . their mission: to destroy a radio tower attached to an historic church – thus allowing the Allies to gain an upper hand during the paramount, multi-country attack the next day.
What do boxing promoters have to do in the Middle East? Other than throwing a he-jab or two (I know, I know, a touch lame), absolutely nothing, unless you are caught up in another one of Bud and Lou’s zany misadventures. . . namely, Abbott and Costello in the Foreign Legion (1950). Directed by Charles Lamont (his first of eight features with the comedy team –the efficient filmmaker was not overly excited to head these simple projects) and written by frequent A&C screenwriters’ John Grant (every one except Lost in Alaska and Dance With Me, Henry), Martin Ragaway and Leonard Stern (both wrote three), the story finds two boxing promoters, Bud Jones (Bud Abbott) and Lou Hotchkiss (Lou Costello) – a rare time the pair used their first names, losing control of one of their star wrestlers, Prince Abdullah (William ‘Wee Willie’ Davis) – who is infuriated that he is slated to lose his next match, returning home to Algiers instead of taking the loss (but not before roughing up poor Lou – who did all of his own wresting stunts in the film – leading to a wrenched arm socket and a stretched tendon).
I am not quite sure if I even need to write a review about this one. . . I’ll just tell you the title: The Forbidden Photos of a Lady Above Suspicion. One of those vividly descriptive yet cryptic giallo titles, Luciano Ercoli (Death Walks on High Heels) took his first stab at directing (pardon the pun) with this 1970 Spanish/Italian co-production written by Ernesto Gastaldi (The Case of the Scorpion’s Tail). The lady in mention is Minou (Dagmar Lassander), a bored housewife living a blasé life with her staid husband, Peter (Pier Paolo Capponi) – a man with a new invention that will hopefully save his struggling business (meaning that he is at work an awful lot). Getting no attention from Peter, she gets more than she bargained for when an unknown assailant (Simón Andreu) attacks her (with purpose) late one night while she is strolling near the ocean.
What is there to say about a legend like Guy Lafleur? One of the greatest National Hockey League players ever to feature in the game, he is synonymous with being one of the Montreal Canadiens’ holy triumvirate – along with Jean Béliveau and Maurice Richard. Transcendent of culture and language, in English he is known as “The Flower”, in French, “Le Démon Blond”, in either tongue, people would simply chant Guy!!! Immediately recognizable with his flowing blond locks, it always seemed like no one could touch the man as he flew down the ice (in a time when many players were still not wearing helmets – himself included).