Scan and Pan
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
Heston/Touch of Evil/Murder, My Sweet
The only Heston film that I have on DVD is Touch of Evil, which I re-watched Sunday night. Now Touch of Evil is an interesting topic on its own. It was a B-movie that in the hands of director Orson Welles became the last great film noir of the classic era, and it wasn't until Roman Polanski made his 1974 neo-noir Chinatown that another classic came along, although one could argue that Jean-Luc Godard's 1965 classic Alphaville had elements of noir in it.
And even the greatness of Touch of Evil was partly obscured after the studio (Universal) took the film away from Welles in post-production, bringing in Harry Keller to direct some new scenes and editing it without Welles' input. It was still a good film, but it wasn't until much later that one was able to fully appreciate just how good it was. Welles left a detailed 58-page memo about how the film should be edited, and in 1998 the closest thing possible to a director's cut was finally constructed according to that memo.
Walter Murch, editor of Francis Ford Coppola's masterpiece Apocalypse Now, skillfully re-cut the film to Welles' specifications and allowed film lovers to see what studio hackwork had blurred for decades. Of course, even the studio version couldn't hide Russell Metty's starkly beautiful black-and-white cinematography or Henry Mancini's score, both of which contributed to the essential tone of the film.
Touch of Evil is a wonderfully baroque film noir with a tawdry underbelly and a surprising sense of humor that keeps it from becoming too grim. On first glance, Heston would seem to be miscast as a Mexican police official, but with the exception of a non-existent accent, he's really quite good as the straight-arrow Vargas. Of course, the real star of the film is Welles, masterfully chewing the scenery as a corrupt, racist cop from the American side of the border. With much padding to add to his physical bulk, Welles literally and metaphorically throws his weight around as both actor and director.
The stellar cast also includes Janet Leigh, Joseph Calleia, Akim Tamiroff, Ray Collins, Dennis Weaver, Mort Mills, Marlene Dietrich, Zsa Zsa Gabor, Joseph Cotten and Mercedes McCambridge in a brief but memorable cameo. It's the kind of film that could only have been made by the Hollywood of the past, and Heston is an essential part of it.
I recently also re-watched one of my other favorite classic noirs, 1944's Murder, My Sweet. Based on Raymond Chandler's novel, Farewell, My Lovely, it was the first screen appearance of Chandler's private eye Philip Marlowe. Director Edward Dmytryk (who later testified against the film's producer, Adrian Scott, before the House Committee on Un-American Activities) provides one of the truest adaptations of Chandler, filled with the seamy atmosphere of Los Angeles in bygone days captured by the moody cinematography of Harry J. Wild.
Marlowe is portrayed by Dick Powell, previously known as a youthful looking star of musicals and light comedies. Certainly not an actor at the time who would be considered ideal for the role of a cynical, tough guy detective, but it's an offbeat casting choice that works very well, capturing the cynicism of Marlowe without allowing the character to become unlikable.
Marlowe has been subsequently portrayed by numerous actors over the years: Humphrey Bogart, Robert Montgomery, George Montgomery, Philip Carey, James Garner, Elliott Gould, Robert Mitchum, Powers Boothe, James Caan and even Danny Glover. I would argue very strongly in favor of Powell being the best Marlowe of them all, with Bogart coming in a close second. Of the actors that Chandler saw in the role before his death in 1959, Powell reportedly was also his favorite.
Murder, My Sweet's cast also includes Claire Trevor as the femme fatale, Anne Shirley as her step-daughter (and Marlowe's love interest), Otto Kruger as quack/criminal Jules Amthor, and former wrestler Mike Mazurki as the dim-witted Moose Malloy, whose performances collectively add to the quality of the production.
Murder, My Sweet may take a few liberties with Chandler's novel, but it's remarkably successful at transforming the rhythms of Chandler's words into a visual form. It's pretty close to being pure Chandler in moving images. The second best screen version of a Chandler novel would be Howard Hawks' The Big Sleep in 1946, sizzling with intensity and gifted by the performances of Bogart as Marlowe and a young Lauren Bacall as the story's femme fatale.
But for my money, Murder, My Sweet and Dick Powell are still the best.
Charlton Heston. Yet another link to the old days of Hollywood is gone. His list of credits is impressive, including Dark City, The Greatest Show on Earth (winner of the Best Picture Oscar in 1952), The Ten Commandments (with his iconic performance as Moses), Touch of Evil, Ben-Hur (for which he won the Best Actor Oscar in 1959), El Cid, The Agony and the Ecstasy, and Planet of the Apes, not to forget his roles in films of more dubious quality such as Soylent Green, The Omega Man, Earthquake, and Solar Crisis. And he could even make fun of himself, as he did in Tim Burton's otherwise dismal remake of Planet of the Apes.
The only Heston film that I have on DVD is Touch of Evil, which I re-watched Sunday night. Now Touch of Evil is an interesting topic on its own. It was a B-movie that in the hands of director Orson Welles became the last great film noir of the classic era, and it wasn't until Roman Polanski made his 1974 neo-noir Chinatown that another classic came along, although one could argue that Jean-Luc Godard's 1965 classic Alphaville had elements of noir in it.
And even the greatness of Touch of Evil was partly obscured after the studio (Universal) took the film away from Welles in post-production, bringing in Harry Keller to direct some new scenes and editing it without Welles' input. It was still a good film, but it wasn't until much later that one was able to fully appreciate just how good it was. Welles left a detailed 58-page memo about how the film should be edited, and in 1998 the closest thing possible to a director's cut was finally constructed according to that memo.
Walter Murch, editor of Francis Ford Coppola's masterpiece Apocalypse Now, skillfully re-cut the film to Welles' specifications and allowed film lovers to see what studio hackwork had blurred for decades. Of course, even the studio version couldn't hide Russell Metty's starkly beautiful black-and-white cinematography or Henry Mancini's score, both of which contributed to the essential tone of the film.
Touch of Evil is a wonderfully baroque film noir with a tawdry underbelly and a surprising sense of humor that keeps it from becoming too grim. On first glance, Heston would seem to be miscast as a Mexican police official, but with the exception of a non-existent accent, he's really quite good as the straight-arrow Vargas. Of course, the real star of the film is Welles, masterfully chewing the scenery as a corrupt, racist cop from the American side of the border. With much padding to add to his physical bulk, Welles literally and metaphorically throws his weight around as both actor and director.
The stellar cast also includes Janet Leigh, Joseph Calleia, Akim Tamiroff, Ray Collins, Dennis Weaver, Mort Mills, Marlene Dietrich, Zsa Zsa Gabor, Joseph Cotten and Mercedes McCambridge in a brief but memorable cameo. It's the kind of film that could only have been made by the Hollywood of the past, and Heston is an essential part of it.
I recently also re-watched one of my other favorite classic noirs, 1944's Murder, My Sweet. Based on Raymond Chandler's novel, Farewell, My Lovely, it was the first screen appearance of Chandler's private eye Philip Marlowe. Director Edward Dmytryk (who later testified against the film's producer, Adrian Scott, before the House Committee on Un-American Activities) provides one of the truest adaptations of Chandler, filled with the seamy atmosphere of Los Angeles in bygone days captured by the moody cinematography of Harry J. Wild.
Marlowe is portrayed by Dick Powell, previously known as a youthful looking star of musicals and light comedies. Certainly not an actor at the time who would be considered ideal for the role of a cynical, tough guy detective, but it's an offbeat casting choice that works very well, capturing the cynicism of Marlowe without allowing the character to become unlikable.
Marlowe has been subsequently portrayed by numerous actors over the years: Humphrey Bogart, Robert Montgomery, George Montgomery, Philip Carey, James Garner, Elliott Gould, Robert Mitchum, Powers Boothe, James Caan and even Danny Glover. I would argue very strongly in favor of Powell being the best Marlowe of them all, with Bogart coming in a close second. Of the actors that Chandler saw in the role before his death in 1959, Powell reportedly was also his favorite.
Murder, My Sweet's cast also includes Claire Trevor as the femme fatale, Anne Shirley as her step-daughter (and Marlowe's love interest), Otto Kruger as quack/criminal Jules Amthor, and former wrestler Mike Mazurki as the dim-witted Moose Malloy, whose performances collectively add to the quality of the production.
Murder, My Sweet may take a few liberties with Chandler's novel, but it's remarkably successful at transforming the rhythms of Chandler's words into a visual form. It's pretty close to being pure Chandler in moving images. The second best screen version of a Chandler novel would be Howard Hawks' The Big Sleep in 1946, sizzling with intensity and gifted by the performances of Bogart as Marlowe and a young Lauren Bacall as the story's femme fatale.
But for my money, Murder, My Sweet and Dick Powell are still the best.
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