He's Got His Boots On The Wrong Feet: The Longest Day (1962)

I am a sucker for the big budget Hollywood spectacle film, particularly when Steven Soderbergh is afforded the chance to direct some of the biggest stars in a crime heist movie on three different occasions.  It is not every day, however, that I can actually sit down and enjoy these works, particularly since many of them are rather lengthy endeavors, necessitating a fair amount of screen time for the various performers.  When I do though the rewards are rather clear, the last example being How the West Was Won, a film so absolutely engaging and expansive, both narratively and literally in its use of Cinerama a work so captivating that it catapulted directly to the top of my favorite westerns of all time in the process.  To achieve the same sort of feat with a war film would seem a bit more daunting, particularly since it is predicated on depicting rather graphic elements, particularly when said film is set in and around the storming of the beaches of Normandy.  While my theory can really never be tested, I would like to formally posit that the deciding factor in the success of such grand Hollywood narratives, rife with all-star casts might be the figure of John Wayne, present in the aforementioned How the West Was Won, he too is featured prominently in 1962's The Longest Day, a work that is also made possible by the directorial efforts.  While the film seems to sell Wayne as the major figure, it also consists of a variety of other notable Hollywood leading men, such as Robert Mitchum, Henry Fonda and even features Sean Connery, who was then just becoming a star for his role as James Bond.  These cameos were all absolutely delightful, but the absolute piéce-de-résitence comes in the form of a rather brief appearance by Rod Steiger, who is by far one of my most adored of actors, mostly for his sleezy and slimy roles, although he plays it straight here.  This is a tangent I know, but it is worth noting.  The Longest Day at a runtime of just under three hours succeeds at telling a story of the scale of the days leading up to and immediate aftermath of D-Day, looking at all person involved, both allied and enemy, never forgetting to accept that such a depiction can only succeed if it is capable of showing both the higher up strategy and the on-the-ground grit.  The Longest Day is what a war film should aim to achieve and it is all the more successful if you happen to have Mitchum and Wayne in your corner.

The Longest Day focuses on the invasion of Normandy, agreed by most historians to be the big moment of change in a lengthy and hard fought war.  As such, narrative plot would seem rather redundant as it is a well-known historical event, particularly in regards to its tragedy.  Yet, what The Longest Day does is not provide viewers with an absolutely linear narrative of the events, but three interlocking experiences of American, British and German forces during the events.  The American experiences focuses specifically on the planning of the beach storming, with figures like Lieutenant Colonel Benjamin Vandervoot (John Wayne) and Brigadier General Norman Cota (Robert Mitchum) prepping their men for what will, undoubtedly, be a very grueling and life threatening mission.  Vandervoot takes a very technological approach, whereas Cota seems quite ready to dig his feet in and push alongside his men.  Meanwhile other figures emerge from the American forces, whether it be the waxing poetics of a wary Destroyer Commander (Rod Steiger) or the adamant demands of Brigadier General Theodore Roosevelt, Jr. (Henry Fonda) that he live up to his father's reputation.  The British forces center on their own technological endeavors, particularly creating dummies to airdrop and distract German soldiers, their key figures include the somewhat existential Flying Officer David Campbell (Richard Burton) and the wise cracking Scottish soldier Private Flanagan (Sean Connery).  Indeed, this is all juxtaposed with the frantic worrying of the German soldiers whose own insistence on their superior status is put into question when they realize that they are not only incapable of verifying when the American storming might happen, but that they are equally ill-equipped to stifle the French Resistance occurring in the areas with which they have occupied.  This is not to say that they do not fight with poise, indeed, they kill many Allied troops, some before they even land on the ground, causing much frustration for Vandervoot and while it is certainly a hard-won victory, the Allied forces do secure Normandy, the closing moments depicting Cota as he drives off in a moment of celebration, the camera panning out to the various soldiers working away at rebuilding the area, however, suggests that this victory is only a minimal achievement.

War films are all about depicting the emotional toil and physical strain of the endeavor.  For some directors this means a venue to explore the futility and fragility of the human psyche in such a space, perhaps most evident in Kubrick's war films, certainly Full Metal Jacket and Paths of Glory (and to a lesser extent Fear and Desire).  Other directors see it as a moment to praise those who take their burden with great dignity and pride, most obvious in Saving Private Ryan, but it could be argued that it works this way in Oliver Stone's Platoon as well.  The Longest Day manages to traipse, ever so carefully, between both worlds, noting that it is not simply a matter of depicting valiant individuals, because during war it is a matter of destroying the enemy and many individuals on both sides of the fight are merely there out of forced necessity.  This was certainly true for Nazi inscription of soldiers, but the zeitgeist at play in World War II America caused such a fervent patriotism that to not join the war effort was tantamount to treason.  As such, The Longest Day captures the humanity of war for all those involved, save for a few sly and ill-willed Nazi officers.  Accepting the death that is necessary in such a narrative, The Longest Day manages to both deal with images of the dead in a very stoic and dignified manner while also not overselling the image in any degree of exploitative nature.  It is a careful navigating between both worlds, but one that pays off successfully when it is later referenced if only in very indirect terms in the closing moments of the film as the soldiers, fresh off of their storming of the beach, drag themselves up the hills working in a near zombie-like fashion never allowed a moments rest.  Furthermore, while the film does situate the narrative around central figures like Wayne's Vandervoot and Mitchum's Cota, it does not glorify their presence as anything more or less important than the lowly ranking cooks and infantrymen.  Indeed, this film paints the picture of the barracks with such a loving stroke as to capture both the glee in the homosocial bond and the constant threat of death that leads to an anxious dialogue and bonding between each member of the crew.  Despite its decidedly masculine orientation, this film depicts World War II with poise and dignity in a way only twenty years detachment from its occurrence could ever hope to achieve.

Key Scene:  The soldiers hanging from power lines is about as stark a war image as you can get without actually encountering actual footage.  What makes the scene work, however, is Wayne's reaction, one that is so sincere as to suggest he is looking at the real thing.

I snagged this bluray up as a result of the downfall of Blockbuster.  Considering that others, undoubtedly, invaded the store and did the same it should show up on Amazon in the coming days.  I suggest you grab a copy immediately!

It's A Hard World For Little Things: The Night Of The Hunter (1955)

Every time I hear Robert Mitchum move into the swelling and baritone singing of "Lean on Jesus" I literally get goosebumps.  I watched this film early in the morning, perhaps the exact opposite of the ideal time to view this film and found myself still feeling the anxiety, dread and frankly adoration I initially felt upon discovering this film years ago.  What do I have to thank for this revisiting of a fear-inducing classic, none other than the brilliant Movies, Silently and her recent Gish Sisters Blogathon.  Admittedly, I jumped on the chance to revisit this film, because it is, undoubtedly, one of my favorite films of all-time, if only for it being the rare example of a perfect piece of cinema, one that was the single directorial work of Charles Laughton no less.  Furthermore, by choosing to specifically focus on this film, I was able to truly look at the role Gish offers, which shines both narratively and emotionally compared to the seething corrupt figure made a cult icon by Mitchum.  I went into this viewing anxiously awaiting all my favorite scenes, between the Love/Hate hand story and the image of Shelley Winters body at the bottom of the lake, I had my notion of what this recent viewing of the experience might prove to become, what I did not expect was to be rewarded with a far more clever film than I had recalled previously, both in terms of some devilishly subversive writing, as well as in the many cinematic choices inside and outside the diagetic space of the film that allow for it to seem like something that exists entirely in a world all its own, one where crane shots can sweep into sequences, maniacal preachers can instantaneously transport themselves from town to town and where small girls can begin singing with the voice of a grown woman.  In a lesser film all of this would seem like poor editing choice or over-the-top elements intended to draw in mild interest in the viewers, however, in the eyes of Laughton and through the very nature of the narrative, these seemingly arbitrary acting choices are evocative, engaging and, at times, cinematically engaging, much in the same vein as a work by Stanley Kubrick.  The Night of the Hunter is many things, a noir, a crime thriller, a family drama, a kids film and a work of melodrama, however, it is certainly and undeniably a masterpiece that should be viewed by all many a time.

The Night of the Hunter, begins, after an eerie floating head narration involving a then unidentified woman talking within children, with a murder.  This murder, is suggested to be exacted at the hands of one Harry Powell (Robert Mitchum) a preacher whose communique with God leads him to confess to having a unhealthy attachment to women, wherein he constantly asks forgiveness and provides thanks to the religious figure for providing him with a constant flow of money, of which he draws from recently widowed women.  Meanwhile, two children John Harper (Billy Chapin) and his sister Pearl (Sally Jane Bruce) witness their father Ben Harper (Peter Graves) return from a recent robbery, only to quickly stuff his money in Pearl's doll, before being hauled off to jail, where he is found guilty of murder and sentenced to execution.  It is in jail that he meets Harry Powell, who becomes curious when Ben begins vaguely quoting scripture and mentioning the whereabouts of his money.  After Harper's execution, Powell feigns being a dear friend to Harper returning to his hometown and tracking down his widowed wife Willa (Shelley Winters) who is hesitant to welcome the slick-talking preacher, particularly when she suspects that he is only after the money which her late husband had hid.  John is even more suspicious leaning on the promise he made to his father not to betray the location of the money, constantly assuring that the less intelligent Pearl does the same.  Harry uses a variety of forms of trickery and smooth words to try and attain the whereabouts of the money, even resorting to murdering Willa when she comes to suspect that her new husband really only cares to find the money, made all the more a betrayal after she has given herself up to his religious ways, blindly spouting scripture.  The murder of their mother leads the children on an exodus down river in a rowboat, where they eventually land in the backyard of self-run foster mom and general good samaritan Rachel Cooper (Lillian Gish).  Realizing that John and Pearl are clearly running from a dire situation, when Harry comes knocking at her door she quickly banishes him with the threat of a shotgun, an action she goes through with when the slimy Harry returns later that night.  After a successful arrest of Harry, John frustratingly tosses the money at the handcuffed preacher explaining that he can no longer stand the burden of carrying such a secret.  AFter doing so the two join their fellow orphans and Rachel for Christmas celebration, one that affords John the very watch he has had his eye on since the films opening moments.

It might seem like the best move for analyzing a film such as The Night of the Hunter would be to go at it from the "what is the nature of religion" route and while this is certainly a theme that emerges specifically in the contrasting characters of Harry and Rachel, one could extend this argument on to consider the larger idea of authority and whose given the power to say what is right or wrong in the face of figures who are culturally afforded an unquestioned amount of respect.  The Night of the Hunter appears to suggest that only two things stand to be undeniably authoritative, the rule of law and time.  Yet even law within the narrative becomes rather murky when a man is stealing money to make living in a moment of depression a bit easier, or when the same law enforcement spends its time hunting psychotic serial killing preachers while completely brushing by lines of starving children.  Justice, in the context of The Night of the Hunter then becomes tied almost solely to the notion that if one is able to understand time, not control it, but merely work in its favor they can assure that justice will work in their favor, particularly if they are working in a fair and reasonable way.  Indeed, the reason that Harry is eventually is not because he gave himself up or was actively pursued by the police, but because he attempted to cheat time and kill children to attain money from them, his similar actions in previous situations are also his own act to avoid the effort and patience of attaining money, something he thinks he can merely get by working within his bizarre relationship with God.  The other notion of authority comes then in signifiers of power, for Harry it is always tied to his phallic knife something that takes on blatant sexual allusions throughout the film and remains his point of privilege until challenged by Rachel's much larger and more powerful shotgun, the subversive gender politics even more interesting. Indeed, this leaves John as a figure to be swayed by the time and signifiers of authority in the films closing, as Rachel accepts that her stories from The Bible only serve a cursory function to instill authority.  It is indeed not until she hands John the watch that he becomes an arbitrator of authority because he can now tell the time, that thing that rules over all within the film, as well as those outside of the diagetic space, verified when Lilian Gish breaks the fourth wall in the closing moments of the film.

Key Scene: The scene involving the joint singing of Lean on Jesus by Gish and Mitchum is absolutely one of the premier moments in all of cinema.  Furthermore, one could also make the case that the images of Willa's body laying at the bottom of the lake are also some of the most haunting ever committed to film.

It Depends On Whose Ox Gets Gored: River Of No Return (1954)

I knew at the inception of this month of women in film, I would have to include Otto Preminger's River of No Return, not entirely because it possesses a heavy female narrative, but because it is ostensibly point zero for feminist theory, as some readers may know, this is the film Laura Mulvey used when initially arguing for the existence of "the male gaze" in cinema, wherein the viewers, assumed to be males are privileged with physically gratifying images of women being objectified on screen, in the case of this film, Mulvey believed that Marilyn Monroe, particularly in her parlor scenes, served as a point of objectification not only for men in the cinema, but for the males in the film as well, a sort of reaffirmation of misogyny and patriarchal power.  As a self-proclaimed feminist film theorist I am all on board with Mulvey reading this possibility in a lot of film, yet it is a theory based almost entirely on the visual elements of cinema, which while important do not reflect the entirety of any piece of film, which also considers narrative and performance.  River of No Return, in itself contests the possibility of Monroe being objectified by her performance alone and while I am not attempting to discredit Mulvey's interpretation I think that River of No Return is more empowering than once assumed and certainly stands as its own bit of cinematic brilliance.  One would be hard-pressed to sit down and watch this film without becoming completely infatuated with all its magic and excitement.  Robert Mitchum and Marilyn Monroe play off of one another beautifully, not to mention both lend some incredible musical performances to a film that is considerably defiant of genre.  I am constantly finding myself deeply challenged by claiming with any certainty a best bluray film, yet the Marilyn Monroe box set I obtained awhile back might well be the best decision, the raging river and spectacular sets, shot in Technicolor are beautiful to look at, only made all the more spectacular by costuming and Robert Mitchum's booming authoritativeness.  River of No Return is a spectacular piece of cinema, which has a problematic place in the feminist film theory canon, but still manages to hold sway over viewers nearly sixty years later.

River of No Return focuses primarily on the experiences of Matt Calder (Robert Mitchum) who is attempting to set up a farm in the middle of a gold rush, an effort made worse by his doing so after recently being released from prison.  He has made it to a particular encampment with the hopes of finding his son Mark (Tommy Rettig) whose survival seems to have been assured only due to serving as a beer runner.  Once the two are reunited, Matt and his son run into Kay (Marilyn Monroe) who Mark has already met, but makes an instant impression on Matt, with her level-headedness and sense of good ethics.  Yet, Kay is hopelessly infatuated with Harry Weston (Rory Calhoun) a big time gambler whose hopes of landing a huge gold claim result in his convincing Kay to join him on a raft trip to beat out everyone else to the gold.  It is during this trip that they meet heavy waters, fortunately, their crash happens right next to Matt's farm, where he rescues them without even thinking twice.  Kay is grateful, whereas Harry uses a moment of advantage to steal Matt's horses and continue in pursuit of his gold.  Kay realizing the terrible act Harry has committed, decides to stay with Matt and Mark and await Harry's return.  Staying at Matt's farm becomes impossible when Native American's attack the house, leading to Matt, Mark and Kay taking their own trip down the river on the raft, one filled with peril, more encounters with hostile natives and bounty hunters, not to mention the clear burgeoning affections between Matt and Kay, as well as Mark who deems them paternal figures.  Eventually they make it to where Harry is staying and after a failed attempt to get Harry to make amends with Matt, he is shot in the street by Mark, who does so to protect his after.  While the romance between Matt and Kay seems hopeless, a final moment of Matt returning to literally sweep Kay off her feet closes out the film.

So is the film problematic in its portrayal of gender, sure, but it is important to consider that the film was released in 1954 and exists, rather tenuously, within the Western genre, which rarely favors women.  I would also dismiss this being a film entirely predicated upon the visual objectification of Marilyn Monroe's body.  While this occurs, it is followed by verbal and performative rejections of such occurrences on the part of Monroe, who in recent years has become a surprising figure of empowerment in feminist and, more recently, queer theory.  They suggest that, as a performer, Monroe actively sought to do more with the roles than she was given, either over performing them, as is the case with The Seven Year Itch as a sort of ironic dissonance, or navigating the space to assure her empowerment of the scene, as occurs within Gentlemen Prefer Blondes.  I would argue that this absolutely occurs within River of No Return, viewers are shown a Monroe who can stand her own against the towering Mitchum, as well as a woman capable of guiding with authority a very large raft, while simultaneously executing maternal roles without question.  Even her desires to do right and detach herself from an exploitative relationship with Harry seem to suggest a direct contradiction to the objectification that Mulvey seems so intent on attaching to this film specifically.  In a close reading of the bar scenes Monroe is a victim, yet in the context of a larger narrative she becomes empowered, especially once she rejects her own very real narrative exploitation.  All this considered, I will say that the closing scenes between her an Mitchum certainly threaten to undermine this entire argument, but her  blatant request that she obtain a loving relationship with Matt, seem to demand him picking her up and taking her to another place, as opposed to denying it outright.

Key Scene:  The gaze portion is discussed for a reason, it is an absolutely powerful moment in cinema, even with the theory detached, one will get caught up in how mesmerizing it proves to be from beginning to end.

I know I demand a lot of films be purchased, but this time I strongly urge you to pick up the Monroe bluray box set with all of her key films, it is easily one of the best bluray upgrades I have made to date, if not for this cinematically sound and theoretically controversial film, then for every other great work in the set.