Richard Brooks' Something of Value (1957) makes odd viewing. Outwardly a racially-tinged melodrama, this adaptation of Robert Ruark's novel is full of unique artistic inflection. The off-kilter style proves more interesting than its hokey message.
Post-WWII Kenya. Peter McKenzie (Rock Hudson) and Kimani (Sidney Poitier) are childhood friends rent apart by racial tension. The arrest and death of Kimani's father (Ken Renard) drives Kimani into the arms of Mau Mau, a secret society agitating for independence. Kimani grows torn between his "civilized" teachings and Mau Mau's indiscriminate violence. Peter struggles with his fiance (Dana Wynter), joins a militia unit and restrains racists like Matson (Michael Pate), who hopes to spark an all-out race war.
Something of Value displays curious artistry. There's lots of African scenery but by shooting in black-and-white, Brooks and photographer Russell Harlan eschew the travelogue feel of The African Queen and Mogambo. Indeed, Value has an experimental feel, from the ragged editing to the expressionistic photography and eerie score of African songs and chants. Scenes dissolve into the next before they get going, creating a jarringly stilted effect. Brooks employs odd symbolism, from a Kikuyu prayer rock used to extract Mau Mau confessions to recurring use of pregnancy and children, juxtaposed with brutal violence.
If Something of Value retains the trappings of a message movie, it's a fairly good one. Unlike the British Simba, which preaches racial tolerance while demonizing Mau Mau, Brooks at least humanizes the Kenyan rebels. Matson's striking Kimani makes a simple but stark reminder of ingrained racism that no amount of good will can erase. Yet neither does the movie idealize Mau Mau's brutal terror campaign, which kick-starts a brutal wave of settler reprisals. The movie scores here, in Peter and Kimani's tragic friendship and the striking violence.
All the same, Value falls back on the anodyne message that extremists on both sides cause misunderstanding. This hand-wringing seems especially dubious couched in a colonial setting; imperial racism is more pernicious and far-reaching than Jim Crow segregation. More facile still is Brooks' unusually tin-eared dialogue, with Peter musing "we're not so far from savages ourselves" watching an "enhanced" interrogation. Characters like Matson and the demagogic Mau Mau leader (William Marshall) make too easy of villains. Brooks conveyed liberal messages more effectively in Elmer Gantry and In Cold Blood.
Rock Hudson, as usual, proves as emotive as his namesake. The guy's likeable enough but I've yet to find evidence he can act. Dana Wynter makes a one-note love interest, limited to cuddling Rock and photogenically cradling a Sten gun. Sidney Poitier compensates with a passionate performance. There are effective supporting roles by Juano Hernandez (Sergeant Rutledge) and William Marshall (The Boston Strangler) as Mau Mau leaders, Michael Pate (Major Dundee) as a murderous racist and the incomparable Wendy Hiller as Peter's haughty sister.
Something of Value is enjoyable provided you don't mind the lectures and artistic ostentation. If you ever wanted to see Sidney Poitier fighting with a machine gun in one hand and a baby in the other, this is the film for you.
Showing posts with label Richard Brooks. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Richard Brooks. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
Friday, December 17, 2010
Elmer Gantry

Richard Brooks (In Cold Blood) hits another home run with this fabulous examination of Evangelism and religious hypocrisy. At the center is Burt Lancaster, giving unquestionably the performance of his life.
It's 1928 in the Midwest, and glad-handing, hard-drinking and womanizing salesman Elmer Gantry (Burt Lancaster) drifts around aimlessly looking for something to do. He falls for Sister Sharon Falconer (Jean Simmons), a traveling evangelist preaching a Revivalist gospel, and passes himself off as a clergyman. Gantry is a natural showman and his hellfire preachings win him thousands of converts - and also the affection of Sharon. A feud with hard-boiled reporter Jim Lefferts (Arthur Kennedy) wins him more notoriety, but the scheming of Lulu (Shirley Jones), a jilted lover, threatens to sink his lucrative business.
Elmer Gantry remains topical in the age of Pat Robertson and Jimmy Swaggart, where Christianity has indeed become a business - and a lucrative one at that. The movie lacks the stilted, obnoxious "Christianity = bad" message of Inherit the Wind, but manages to be far more angry and affecting. The best scene has a group of religious and business leaders debating whether or not to endorse Gantry: "Christianity is not a business!" Reverend Garrison (Hugh Marlowe) thunders, while another priest (John McIntire) levels a more measured objection. But most are happy to go along with Gantry and slimy businessman Babbit (Edward Andrews), realizing that honest Christianity has little appeal to the masses. Are people really being saved when they're attracted to the most superficial elements (a charismatic preacher, musical performances and spectacle)?
Elmer Gantry was highly controversial in 1960, and even today seems designed to offend conservative, middle-class sensibilities. Besides the religious content, there is a shocking amount of unalloyed sex talk, with Lulu using undisguised innuendos and Gantry's musings on sex. The most crude scene is Gantry's seduction of Sharon, a bald display of base hypocrisy. The overall portrait of '20s America, with glad-handing greedheads, lascivious hypocrites and cynical flakes shouting down the genuinely good people, isn't especially pleasing. The film cops out with something like a happy ending, but the overall tawdriness still seeps through.
Dramatically the film is solid. Brooks's script, as usual, sparkles with muscular dialogue and well-drawn characters, and his outsized direction is perfect for the subject matter. Gantry's enemies are largely won over his to his side through sheer force of personality, with even the most cynical characters gaining some amount of respect for him. This unlevens some of the suspense of the second half, and the climax proves more pathetic than tragic, but even in its weaker moments the film remains compelling. A nice score by Andre Pevin, mixing original music with traditional hymns and spirituals, contributes a lot too.
Burt Lancaster gives the performance of a life-time, putting his natural showsmanship and masculinity to wonderful use. Gantry remains a wonderful enigma, a skilled showman with a complete lack of scruples, a charlatan who believes at least some of what he preaches, a womanizer hounded by conscience pangs. The film's Gantry lacks the pure black-heartedness of Sinclair Lewis's original creation, but Brooks and Lancaster make him into something arguably more compelling: a genuinely complex protagonist.
Jean Simmons (Spartacus) is equally impressive, making Sharon's faith a mixture of genuine belief and pathetic self-delusion. Arthur Kennedy rehearses his cynical journalist bit for Lawrence of Arabia, a tired archetype that he makes compelling. Shirley Jones's (Two Rode Together) bad girl is believably twisted and pathetic until her improbable change of heart. Dean Jagger (The Nun's Story), Edward Andrews (Summertime), Hugh Marlowe (All About Eve), John McIntire (Psycho) and singer Patti Page fill in key supporting roles.
Elmer Gantry remains one of Hollywood's best takes on religion, and one that remains well-taken. Religious revivalism comes and goes but the cheapening of religion through showmanship and commercialism remains a constant.
Friday, November 12, 2010
In Cold Blood

Richard Brooks's striking adaptation of Truman Capote's "non-fiction novel" is one of the best true crime films ever made. Aside from a few awkwardly-inserted sermons, it's a gripping, no-nonsense account of a horrifying, useless crime: the quadruple-murder of Holcomb, Kansas's Clutter family by two pathetic misfits.
Two-bit crooks Perry Smith (Robert Blake) and Dick Hickock (Scott Wilson) can't seem to get anything right in life. Perry hears from a friend that Kansas farmer Herbert Clutter (John McLiam) has a huge horde of money on his ranch, and hatch a scheme to rob him. The two show up at Clutter's place, but find only $43 in the house: angry and frustrated, they slaughter Clutter and his whole family. Hard-nosed Kansas Bureau of Investigation Agent Alvin Dewey (John Forsythe) takes off in pursuit, but the trail goes cold until Smith and Hickock wind up back in Kansas.
In Cold Blood pulls a neat trick in humanizing the killers without making them particularly sympathetic. Our protagonists are the anti-Leopold and Loeb: too stupid to know what they're doing, their "perfect crime" goes horribly wrong from the word go, degenerating into senseless killing and immediate regret. These losers don't even have the wit to escape, fleeing to Mexico then drifting back to the scene of the crime. The moments of humanity they get - Perry's warped fantasies and flashbacks, Dewey's interviews with their parents, the amusing scene where Hickock and Smith help a vagrant kid collect soda bottles - only accentuate their crime's nastiness. Individually they'd be cagey but harmless hoods, but together they're the perfect storm of neurotic destruction.
On the other side of the law, we have very believable cops who get their man through hard work, determination and a bit of good luck. KBI Agent Dewey is a model investigator who rivals Michael Lonsdale's Lebel from The Day of the Jackal as one of the all-time great movie cops. Dewey and Co. aren't Sherlock Holmes or the CSI crew, with their intuitive logical leaps and gee-whiz technology, but smart, seasoned professionals doing a job well. Fantasy cops are fun, but these guys are the real deal.
The film's inevitable highlight is the murder sequence. It's a genuinely horrifying scene, shown in excrutiating length and detail, a reckless act that spirals completely out of control as the promised loot proves illusory. Really, this is the quintessential American nightmare: a home invasion by armed killers who can't be reasoned with, sneaking in through the unlocked (!) front door. Wisely, Brooks keeps the gory details offscreen: future takes on the story (especially Capote) were lesser for showing slashed throats and splattered heads. The creepy photography and lighting, and the palpable terror of shotgun-toting thugs menacing a bound-and-gagged family, is horrendous enough on its own.
Keeping the film from perfection are a few none-too-subtle messages. Dewey gives a speech criticizing press coverage of the investigation, a more nuanced version of Dirty Harry's "Let cops do their jobs" argument. Fair enough: it's simply stated, sounds reasonable and is well-integrated into the action. More egregious is the anti-capital punishment pleading in the last fifteen minutes, which really seems out of place. Few viewers will have much sympathy for Smith and Hickock, whose gruesome, pointless crime is beyond the pale. Sorry, Messers Brooks and Capote, but there's no moral equivalence between shotgunning a 16 year old girl in the head and hanging two murderers.
Brooks handles a flawless production, mixing gritty docudrama with Hollywood style. The movie is just on the edge of the Hollywood revolution: there's some nudity and a surprising amount of cussing, but the violence remains mostly off-screen. In Cold Blood gives Citizen Kane and Brief Encounter a run for their money as the most vividly photographed black-and-white film. Conrad Hall's cinematography is beyond brilliant, utilizing striking lighting and camera tricks - notably the iconic shot of a rainy window, reflected on Smith's face - and Peter Zinner's striking hard cuts. Quincy Jones's jazzy score adds a jarring, nervous atmosphere to the film.
Scott Wilson's (Geronimo: An American Legend) Dick Hickock is a cagey piece of work, a superficially-charming psycho who turns out to be all talk. Robert Blake really owns the film: Smith is a pathetic loser with a hard life, shattered dreams and a hair-trigger temper. These two are among the most believably pathetic and hopeless criminals in Hollywood history, a perfect mixture of neuroses, desperation and violence.
The supporting cast is equally solid. John Forsythe (Topaz) is a revelation: often stiff and one-note, he's perfect for the no-nonsense Dewey. Charles McGraw (Spartacus) and Jeff Corey (True Grit) get juicy parts as the killers' hard-luck dads. Will Geer (Winchester '73) gets a showy bit as a prosecutor who effectively demolishes the film's own pleadings re: the death penalty. Paul Stewart (Citizen Kane) handles the thankless task of being Truman Capote's mouthpiece.
In Cold Blood is an "author's message" away from perfection. As it is, it's one of the most disturbing, gripping and powerful crime films ever made, and remains a masterpiece in spite of its minor faults.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
The Professionals

Richard Brooks' The Professionals (1966) is a fun, rip-roaring action Western. Its nihilistic violence and cynical worldview mark it as an immediate predecessor to The Wild Bunch. Crammed with explosive action, cynical humor and machismo, it succeeds as pure entertainment. Only towards the end does it fall short of a genuinely great film.
Mexico, 1920. Oil magnate J.W. Grant (Ralph Bellamy) sees his wife Maria (Claudia Cardinale) kidnapped by Jesus Raza (Jack Palance), a Villista-turned-bandit. Grant hires a crack team of mercenaries to rescue his wife: veteran soldier-of-fortune Rico Fardan (Lee Marvin), amoral explosives expert Bill Dolworth (Burt Lancaster), sharpshooting scout Jake Sharp (Woody Strode) and packmaster Hans Ehrengard (Robert Ryan). The quartet ride into Mexico and rescue Maria, only to find that they've been set-up by Grant.
Journeyman writer-director Richard Brooks did his best work in straight dramas: Elmer Gantry and In Cold Blood are two of the '60s's best films, measured, intelligent and modestly-staged films that (mostly) avoided the preachiness of similar social dramas. Just before The Professionals, Brooks helmed an epic adaptation of Joseph Conrad's Lord Jim, falling flat on his face in the process. Brooks bounces back with a perfectly constructed men-on-a-mission film, eschewing his usual drama for crowd-pleasing entertainment. And what entertainment!
The Professionals works on most every level. The film is briskly-paced, throwing thrillingly-staged action scenes at the audience, with concise exposition. Brooks' screenplay is word-perfect, delivering an endless stream of quotable, hard-boiled dialogue ("Do I gotta kill you to prove I like you?"), and the plot is ingeniously constructed - something far more apparent on a rewatch. Conrad Hall's beautiful cinematography captures foreboding salt flats, vast canyons and alkalai deserts, some of the most forbidding landscapes in a Western. Maurice Jarre contributes a lively, Mexican-infused score.
The film perfectly reflects the cynicism of the mid-'60s. The Magnificent Seven (1960), which depicts American hired guns as noble warriors defending the downtrodden. Here, our four heroes are mercenaries out only for money, shooting their way through dozens of Mexicans without batting an eye. Even when they discover their employer's deceit, they continue on with their mission: whether they're heroes or villain doesn't matter, so long as $10,000 is theirs. These guys have seen their share of fighting and revolution (Fardan and Dolworth are former allies of Raza), and have no use for idealism or principles.
The movie sags in its later sections. The twist is well-staged, and the falling action initially affirms the bleak outlook. But Brooks lets sentimentality creep into the final passages, much to the film's detriment. The climactic running gun battle is dampened by a series of pedantic debates on revolutionary politics. Even worse is the finale, where Brooks strains for a contrived, unsatisfying happy ending - though a brilliant closing line redeems much. Sentimentality is all well and good, when it seems organic to the material. Here, it seems a crowd-pleasing cheat.
The cast plays to their strengths. Lee Marvin is the tough, cool-headed team leader of The Dirty Dozen and The Big Red One; Burt Lancaster is the athletic, grinning rogue of Vera Cruz and The Crimson Pirate. Woody Strode (Spartacus) shines: usually relegated to bit parts, he holds his own against more established co-stars. Robert Ryan (The Wild Bunch) gets the weakest part, playing a whining malingerer. There's a reason for typecasting, and Brooks has no problem letting the actors speak for themselves.
Our leads are backed by an interesting supporting cast. Claudia Cardinale (Once Upon a Time in the West) and Marie Gomez are tough and sexy senoritas. Jack Palance (A Professional Gun) is oddly cast as a Mexican. Classic Hollywood star Ralph Bellamy (His Girl Friday) gets an excellent cameo.
The Professionals is a mostly-good adventure film that falls just short of being great. Still, its entertainment value is excellent, and for a film like this, I don't ask for much else.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Lord Jim

Today we take a look at Richard L. Brooks’ 1965 adaptation of Joseph Conrad’s Lord Jim. Brooks was a very talented journeyman director, whose diverse resume includes social problem films (The Blackboard Jungle), crime movies (In Cold Blood) and Westerns (The Professionals). As good as Brooks is with the above material, he doesn’t quite score with this large-scale adaptation of Conrad’s novel. Despite a fabulous all-star cast, gorgeous cinematography and some excellent sequences, Lord Jim never really gels, and Brooks doesn’t seem entirely in his element as the director of this 154-minute road-show extravaganza.
Jim (Peter O’Toole) is an English merchant sailor in Victorian East Asia who dreams of excitement and adventure. He signs aboard the crew of the Patna, which is transporting a group of Muslim pilgrims to the Middle East – only to join his crewmates in abandoning the passengers during a typhoon. When the passengers survive, Jim alone is brought to trial, and though acquitted, his reputation is tarnished. Desperate to redeem himself, Jim leaps at the offer of Dutch trader Stein (Paul Luckas) to help overthrow a sadistic warlord, the General (Eli Wallach), who has taken over the small kingdom of Patusan, terrorizing the local tribes and blocking off outside trade. With a shipment of rifles, Jim and the local villagers overthrow the General, establishing “Lord Jim” as their ruler – only to have the General’s treacherous subordinate Cornelius (Curt Jurgens) return with a gang of crooks, led by cut-throat Gentleman Brown (James Mason), to reclaim the General’s considerable treasure.
Lord Jim aspires to be an epic, grand-scale adventure film like Lawrence of Arabia and The Guns of Navarone, but never quite achieves take-off velocity. The film certainly has the look of the above films, with rousing battle scenes, exotic locales (filmed on location in Cambodia), and gorgeous 70mm cinematography (by Lawrence’s Freddie Young), but it lacks the sure and steady hand that a David Lean or Stanley Kubrick would have brought to it. As much talent as he lends to his smaller films, Brooks seems out of his depth directing such a large-scale film.
The early scenes of the movie unfold at a snail’s pace. With all of the early sequences narrated by Jim’s Captain, Heart of Darkness protagonist Captain Marlowe (Jack Hawkins), the film doesn’t exactly inspire excitement out of the gate. It seems an overly literal adaptation of the novel, which begins establishing Jim in depth as a romantic, ambitious dreamer; but surely in a film, establishing characters through dialogue and actions is preferable to lengthy, overly-explicit voice over? A movie should grab its audience’s attention right off the bat, but all Jim does early on is make the audience weary and perhaps a bit drowsy.
Fortunately, the movie picks up around the time of the Patina incident, and the first half is rousing, engrossing Boys’ Own adventure stuff, filled with dangerous journeys, exotic locations and large-scale battle scenes. But around the half-way point, the movie slowly reverts back to the beginning, dragging in endless scenes of talk and overly literal character development – stuff that may have worked on the printed page, but is tedious on film. It takes the film’s vicious villains to keep the movie afloat, with Jim becoming an inexplicably passive character who proves increasingly hard to root for. Again, this may be in keeping with the source novel, but it doesn’t inherently excuse it. The scene with Jim and Gentleman Brown negotiating on a raft provides plenty of dramatic fireworks, but Jim’s endless equivocation and self-immolation quickly becomes tiresome, and his passive ending is more indifferent than tragic. Quite frankly, the guilt of the Patina affair doesn’t seem an adequate explanation for his second half paralysis, and neither Brooks nor Peter O’Toole sells us on this point. The movie plods along towards a conclusion which finally seems empty and unconvincing, yet perversely appropriate for such a schizophrenic film.
Certainly, on a technical level the film has a lot going for it. Whatever problems he may have with pacing and character development, Brooks handles the action scenes and his distinguished cast with aplomb (he also penned the verbose and highly quotable script, which excels in dialogue if not in storytelling), and the beautiful Cambodian locations are wonderfully captured by Young. There aren’t any complaints on this score, and the film succeeds as spectacle if nothing else.
Peter O’Toole’s performance in the title role is curiously similar to his portrayal of T.E. Lawrence: the same brooding, ambitious loner figure, the same palpitating, silent intensity, the same inner turmoil and crippling sense of guilt and self-doubt. To be sure, O’Toole certainly could have done worse than to repeat his finest performance, but Jim lacks Lawrence’s sense of humor and joyful irreverence, and proves a surprisingly dull and largely unsympathetic character. The supporting cast is generally solid: Paul Luckas gives a strong and dignified performance as Jim’s benefactor; the gorgeous Daliah Lavi does nice work with a limited role as his native love interest. However, Jack Hawkins is completely wasted as Captain Marlowe, most of his brief screen time devoted to his tedious voice-over narration.
The real meat of the cast, however, is the excellent cadre of villains, some of the best in cinema history. Eli Wallach gives a ferocious yet unusually restrained (by his standards anyway) performance as the very Kurtz-like General, alternately psychotic and philosophical, fearsome and pathetic. James Mason shows up belatedly around the 100-minute mark, then completely steals the second half as the amoral, treacherous and gleefully wicked Gentleman Brown, the self-described “Expert in human depravity, weakness and avarice”. Also playing for the Dark Side are Curt Jurgens as the cowardly traitor Cornelius and Akim Tamaroff (For Whom the Bell Tolls) as a sleazy barkeeper who throws in with Brown and Company. This fearsome foursome provides endless entertainment, and it’s a shame they don’t have a better movie to work with.
Lord Jim is a decidedly mixed bag. It’s beautifully shot and well-acted, and rarely less than interesting, but ultimately it falters due to a sluggish pace, convoluted plotting and an excess of gab. There’s the potential for a great film there that Brooks and Company, for all their efforts, don’t quite achieve – but at least the end result is worth watching.
Rating: 7/10 – Recommended
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