The Man With the Golden Arm

Otto Preminger's become unfairly maligned. Well-known as a tyrannical director, his obnoxious later flicks like In Harm's Way, Hurry Sundown and Skidoo also ran his critical reputation to ground. Yet Preminger did more to push the Production Code envelope than anyone prior to Arthur Penn. With Exodus (1960), he helped break the blacklist by hiring Dalton Trumbo. The Moon (1953), Anatomy of a Murder (1959) and Advise and Consent (1962) evince franker sexual content than most films of their era. Perhaps not a brilliant auteur, Preminger nonetheless deserves a fair shake as a Hollywood innovator.

Most impressive of all is The Man With the Golden Arm (1955). Unable to gain studio approval for this searing look at drug addiction, Preminger produced it independently, landing Frank Sinatra as leading man. True, it waters down Nelson Algren's grim source novel into a redemptive melodrama. But it's still a superb character study, featuring Sinatra's best performance.

Frankie Machine (Frank Sinatra) returns after a six-moth stint in jail. Frankie's a recovered heroin addict, and hopes to work as a drummer to support his crippled wife Zosch (Eleanor Parker). But Frankie soon falls under the sway of crooks Louie (Darren McGavin) and Schweifka (Robert Strauss), who alternately seduce and entrap Frankie into his old lifestyle. Soon Frankie's back on drugs and running a crooked card game, jeopardizing everything he's worked for. Only Molly (Kim Novak), Frankie's sometime flame, seems able to help.

If not the '50s answer to Requiem for a Dream, Golden Arm nonetheless proves extremely harrowing. Frankie's addiction isn't something that simple willpower can shake. After six months in rehab, pressure of job hunting drives him back to the needle. His relationship with Louie has a disturbing, almost sexual connotation, as the latter seductively invites Frankie back to his place. Schweifka meanwhile entraps Frankie on a bogus shoplifting charge, dragooning him into a high-stakes card game. The local cops have no sympathy for a junkie. Everything feels stacked against him.

Frankie finds little solace in his home life. He retains massive guilt over Zosch's condition, though that turns out to be a put-on. His ambivalent relationship with Molly goes nowhere: Molly's disgusted by his drug use and dating a pathetic loser (John Conte). But she ultimately wises up to Frankie's problem and helps achieve a breakthrough. Some story elements are inflected with melodrama (especially Zosch's subplot), and the late introduction of a murder seems unnecessary. But the last 30 minutes are incredibly powerful, as Frankie confronts his addiction head-on.

Preminger scores with deft direction, making fine use of Sam Leavitt's deep focus photography. In particular, Preminger handles Frankie's breakdowns and fixes with still-disarming frankness. Like Anatomy of a Murder, he achieves a heightened sense of seediness with Elmer Bernstein's jazzy score and nifty Saul Bass animation. Unlike other Preminger films, Golden never feels too long: Walter Newman and Lewis Meltzer's script is tightly constructed, even the weaker elements fitting snugly into the narrative.

Frank Sinatra gets his finest cinematic hour. Sinatra sublimates his hipster persona almost completely: he's a quivering, desperate Everyman struggling to make ends meat. Sinatra shows perfect conviction with arguing with Zosch, fighting Louie for a needle, or especially in the grim final reels. You can tell when Old Blue Eyes really cared about his work: From Here to Eternity, Suddenly and A Manchurian Candidate are a world apart from his lazy star vehicles. But his turn in Golden Arm eclipses them all.

Kim Novak (Vertigo) does fine work, mixing sex appeal with an earnest desire to help Frankie. Eleanor Parker though seems overwrought; her scenes are generally the film's weakest. Darren McGavin (A Christmas Story) gives a strong villainous turn with Robert Strauss playing to comic effect. Arnold Stang, the proto-Eddie Deezen, proves surprisingly affecting as Frankie's crack-brained friend.

The Man With the Golden Arm remains a powerful experience. Buoyed by excellent acting, its deft handling of difficult subject matter still resonates today.

Anatomy of a Murder

Arguably Otto Preminger's greatest film, Anatomy of a Murder (1959) is also one of the best trial movies ever. Avoiding grandstanding and most cliches, Anatomy is both more realistic and dramatically satisfying than your average courtroom drama.

Former Michigan D.A. Paul Biegler (James Stewart) is enjoying his semi-retirement when he gets an explosive phone call from Laura Manion (Lee Remick). Manion's husband, an Army lieutenant (Ben Gazzara), murdered a man he says tried to rape Laura - though the evidence doesn't entirely bear that out. Unable to argue his client's innocence, Biegler instead decides on an insanity plea. He has his work cut for him, however, when the local prosecutor (Brooks West) brings in Assistant Attorney General Dancer (George C. Scott) to assist. Biegler must rely on not only his own wits, but the efforts of his boozy partner (Arthur O'Connell) and devoted secretary (Eve Arden) to dig up some exculpatory evidence.

Anatomy of a Murder certainly stands out from its peers. Wendell Mayes's screenplay frames a unique scenario: Manion's guilt is never in doubt, only the circumstances. Things remain ambiguous enough that it comes down to legal skills, with Biegler and Dancer perfectly matched in rhetoric and lack of scruples. We admire Biegler's professionalism but his clinical detachment is almost unnerving. The film gained much attention its time for its sexual frankness, though these elements seem tame today. Only towards the end does Anatomy fall back on Perry Mason tricks, with a surprise witness treatening to derail the whole case.

Otto Preminger often gave way to excess and preachiness (Exodus, In Harm's Way) but he's pitch-perfect here. For all of its 162 minutes, the film is constantly engaging, its lack of sociological baggage giving it an edge over tosh like Judgment at Nuremberg. The langorous pacing, perfect cast and Sam Leavitt's brooding photography make for an engrossing experience. Duke Ellington's marvelous jazz score adds another layer of enjoyment.

James Stewart gives one of his best performances, using his cornpone persona to mask a shrewd legal mind. Lee Remick is the right mixture of kittenish sensuality and bewildered innocence, while Ben Gazzara scores points for being roundly unsympathetic. George C. Scott received his big break as the snide prosecutor. Preminger fills key supporting roles with marvelous character talent: Arthur O'Connell, Eve Arden, Murray Hamilton, Kathryn Grant and John Qualen. Joseph N. Welch, Joe McCarthy's famous nemesis, plays the Judge and Duke Ellington has a cameo.

Perhaps Anatomy of a Murder's greatest achievement is versimilitude. I deal with obnoxious lawyers on a daily basis and found the film didn't put a foot wrong in its depiction. When a movie feels like a day at the office, it deserves some praise.

Exodus

The same year he broke the blacklist with Stanley Kubrick's Spartacus, writer Dalton Trumbo teamed with Otto Preminger for another outsized tale of national liberation. Exodus (1960) is one of Hollywood's more challenging epics: very long, very talky and with precious little action, it should be a thudding bore. But this adaptation of Leon Uris's novel is a powerful experience.

Recently widowed nurse Kitty Fremont (Eva Marie Sant) arrives on Cyprus, where the British military governor (Ralph Richardson) is detaining hundreds of Jewish refugees. Ari Ben Canaan (Paul Newman), a member of the Zionist Haganah, arrives in Cyprus with a cargo ship and a plan to smuggle the refugees into Palestine. A hunger strike leads to their success, but in Palestine Ari gets caught in a struggle between his moderate father (Lee J. Cobb) and revolutionary uncle (David Opatoshu). Refugee Dov (Sal Mineo), a bitter Holocaust survivor, joins the terrorist Irgun and is arrested by the British until rescued by the Haganah. Eventually Israel achieves independence, but Arab resentment gives rise to a new conflict.

Despite its near-four-hour length, Exodus is never boring. Preminger's film is wonderfully huge in scope, mixing authentic location shooting, a perfect cast and Trumbo's literate script. The movie will frustrate those looking for action and spectacle. Like Spartacus, it sets up battles and confrontations but only shows the bloody aftermath. The second half has its share of exciting setpieces, however, especially an elaborate jailbreak of terrorist leaders and a subsequent chase scene. Ernest Gold's evocative score is another highlight.

Preminger and Trumbo endorse Zionism as a great liberal cause. Discovery of Hitler's Final Solution let to an outpouring of horror and guilt in the West. The true story of the SS Exodus isn't half so bad as similar incidents (see: MS St. Louis) which occurred before and during World War II: restrictive immigration laws and Western indifference doomed untold European Jews. The war left millions of Jewish refugees with nowhere to go; the British Mandate of Palestine, with its sizeable Jewish population, became a pragmatic solution. Championing Israel was a liberal imperative, ignoring what the Arabs might think about a Jewish nation in their midst.

Exodus has no doubts about the righteousness of Israeli statehood. Jews languish in poorly-run camps on Cyprus, overseen by British troops either anti-Semitic or indifferent. Barak's Jewish settlement is a perfectly run communal society where even Arabs are welcome. The Arabs who oppose Israeli statehood are crudely represented by an odious ex-Nazi (Marius Goring). While characters debate the righteousness of the Irgun's terror campaign, the movie never seriously questions their motives.

Given the modern left's ambivalence towards Israel, Exodus's pro-Zionist attitudes might surprise viewers. In 1960, barely a decade removed from WWII, surrounded by Arab nations and viewed warily by the West, Israel was a clear underdog. In the aftermath of the Six Day War and four decades of heavy US support and Palestinian occupation, its position is more ambiguous.



Trumbo loved utopian excess and Exodus is no different. Ben and his father indulge in purple prose oratory about the coming paradise, while Arab sheik Taha (John Ireland) pleges his undying friendship. The scenes with Karen (Jill Hayworth), an improbably-innocent teenager, register more strongly: her monologue about Denmark's reaction to Nazi occupation is enough to melt the stoniest heart. But this aspect is contrasted with reminders of real-world nastiness. Dov's anguished reminiscence of his time in Auschwitz is skin-crawlingly effective. Exodus reserves the nastiest fates for its nicest characters, showing that the promised land is a long way off.

Paul Newman is in top form. Ben Canaan is more conventionally heroic than his usual troubled protagonists, but Newman's rugged charisma and gritty determination suit him perfectly. Eva Marie Saint (North By Northwest) has a difficult character arc - grieving widow, aloof humanist, passionate patriot - that she pulls off beautifully.

The supporting cast is a pleasant surprise. Of course Ralph Richardson and Lee J. Cobb provide their usual gravitas, and old pros Hugh Griffith (How to Steal a Million), Felix Aylmer (Becket), Gregory Ratoff (All About Eve) and Marius Goring (The Red Shoes) are always good. But outside of Rebel Without a Cause, when has Sal Mineo done anything worthwhile? When have John Ireland and Peter Lawford ever been anything but embarassing hams?

They're all in unusually fine form here. Mineo is superb as a traumatized punk turned revolutionary, nourishing a budding romance and finding a cause to believe in. Ireland plays his role with unusual sensitivity, and Lawford's caricature Englishman is amusing. Best of all is Jill Hayworth, whose Karen serves as the film's emotional rock.

Exodus is a fine film. It's a shame that some viewers will be put off by its politics, because it remains one of Hollywood's most thoughtful epics.