ADVENTURES OF GERARD

In the much smaller back room in an undisclosed outpost far from civilization, we had the chance on an overcast blustery day to view Jerzy Skolimowski's first English language film, ADVENTURES OF GERARD (1970). With no reference besides the fact that this film stands between Skolimowski's promising start in Poland and his international career, it became obvious that there is good reason his handful of first big budget films have slipped through the cracks.

If one had not been previously informed that this was a Skolimowski film, there is little to indicate of his influence, at first glance. Taken from a series of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle stories, and produced by the British Sir Nigel Films, the subject concerns the adventure of a Colonel in Napoleon's army in Spain, a far cry from the previous Skolimowski standard subject of primarily personal stories of student life in Poland. A promising Panavision intro segues into the dreaded and unfortunate pan and scan for the duration of the film. Disappointment over the pan and scan treatment becomes laughable disappointment when the dialogue starts. Although the cast is a mix of English and Italian, even the English dialogue spoken by native speakers is not properly matched in dubbing, and even the sound effects are offset by a second or two. Undaunted, we forged ahead, hoping to discover the Skolimowski beneath.

The budget for the film apparently was sizable, with large cast of fully costumed soldiers, horses, explosions, sumptuous wardrobe for Claudia Cardinale, and was shot on location in Spain and in the studios at Cinecitta. The somewhat well known British theater actor Peter Mc Enery stars as the titular Colonel Girard, with a heavily pancaked Eli Wallach as the Emperor Napoleon and Cardinale as (what else?) the pouty female attraction (Wallach and Cardinale together again, only two years after ONCE UPON A TIME IN THE WEST, you may recall.). An amusing score flits around the film, pairing tuba and harpsichord with whistling and more standard Italian spaghetti western style voice and orchestra, but doesn't add much to highlight the scenes. The story, a typical British satire of the French, of war, of love, holds no surprises.

So, where's our man, Jerzy in all this? A few 180-degree panning shots in the beginning of the film bring to mind similar scenes in early black and white Skolimowski films, and there seems to be a touch of the Skolimowski wry humor in the timing of the close ups. DP Witold Sobocinski, who also worked with Wadja and Polanski, may have been an influence, as well. There is a lack of unease and psychological distance that is found in earlier Skolimowski films, yet the film doesn't have the look of contemporary British or Italian films and is too much of a mish-mash to make a cohesive statement with the subject matter of a traditional British novel.

ADVENTURES OF GERARD holds interest mainly in bridging the gap in Skolimowski's career. While not a great find, it provided a way to pass the time on said overcast blustery day and provided a chance to contemplate the careers of directors who have stumbling blocks in their histories in the transition between independent film making and big budget film making. A non pan and scan version would have added more appeal, as the scenery and photography is perfect for the wide screen format. Proper dubbing would also have made the film more watchable, as the actors appear to have been able to carry the dialogue well.

PATTERNS of behavior sometimes seem unfair -Devo

PATTERNS (1956, Fielder Cook) is a forgotten classic of the "big business noir" sub-genre. One could point to the lesser EXECUTIVE SUITE or the brilliant SWEET SMELL OF SUCCESS for poor comparisons, but a more apt one would be to NETWORK, which - peculiarly - also happens to co-star the amazing Beatrice Straight as a businessman's firebrand wife.

Rod Serling adapted his own teleplay, originally aired on the Kraft Television Theater, with Richard Kiley replaced in the lead by the always-reliable Van Heflin. Heflin is Fred Staples, a businessman from Ohio transplanted to New York for a plum job at a big manufacturing firm, headed by Everett Sloane (CITIZEN KANE) in an absolutely stunning performance. In the middle, though, is Ed Begley as the 40-year veteran of the company reduced to being the boss' whipping boy.

In an unbelievably harsh, nail-biting narrative, we watch as "patterns" of big business are repeated and perfected, just like the ornate tiles in the office tower's foyer (shots of which repeatedly begin key sequences) - patterns of behavior intended to do nothing but further the aims of the business at the expense of the individual. The denoument of the film is like a gut-punch - just as in NETWORK, the most extreme and tragic behavior translates into absolute normalcy.

The entire cast is on fire. Scenes which start out as slow burns suddenly explode into emotional violence with a frequency uncommon in mid-1950s drama; pain registers in silent passages, entirely unaided by a swelling musical score (the film contains not one note). Ed Begley's ongoing tragedy may be thematically predictable, but the way he plays it is not. Refusing to paint stereotypical portraits of obviously tortured characters, Serling allows him to express contradictory emotions. Every word from Everett Sloane's mouth is an outpouring of pure acid. And Heflin turns in what might be his best performance as Staples, a worker who resolutely refuses to climb over another worker as he mounts the corporate ladder, yet who, in the final analysis, never takes his eye off the ball, conscience be damned. It's an astonishing film.

Ulmer's RUTHLESS - He wasn't a man... he was a way of life

A beat-up 1949 16mm printdown of what may be Edgar G. Ulmer's masterpiece, RUTHLESS, hit our screen tonight. RUTHLESS is a terrific noir/melodrama - sharply written (by the to-be-blacklisted Alvah Bessie and Gordon Kahn), consistently beautifully photographed (by the underrated Bert Glennon), and truly adventurous in its editing and flash forward-flash backward construction. It's the tale of the rise and fall of a single-minded businessman, of two childhood friends whose relationship is marked with tragedy from the start but can't seem to let each other go, and of the women who come into their lives.

Zachary Scott is the "ruthless" title character, but the title is more a cheap shot than anything else; Scott's power and money-crazed Vendig is more an emotionally bankrupt, pathological character than a villain per se. The narrative takes pains to reveal - gradually - the series of events from childhood through adulthood which affected his perverse makeup, making for a fascinating character study. Subtle revelations and plot twists come about every fifteen minutes, but they're deliberately ambiguous when they hit the screen, forcing the viewer to pay close attention as the truth of the situation is revealed. This technique alone puts RUTHLESS way ahead of any other Poverty Row melodrama of the period and cements Ulmer's reputation as a thoughtful stylist.

Louis Hayward plays a sort of Greek chorus, an often acquiescent voice of conscience/best friend/nemesis who keeps the episodic story moving along. Diana Lynn (in two roles), Martha Vickers and Lucille Bremer
each give terrific performances as the various women who appear, disappear, and reappear in the lives of both men. All are sharply drawn, a testament to the determination of Bessie, Kahn and other blacklisted writers to put strong female characters on screen in defiance of the Production Code, obedience to which seemed to result in either submissive or predatory roles for women more than intelligent ones.

And as if all that isn't enough, Sidney Greenstreet drops in and sets the screen on fire in every sequence he appears in. A classic coiled spring, his portrayal of a similarly greedy corporate boss is perfectly slimy, and provides a genuine shock when he suddenly, uncharacteristically, grabs Lucille Bremer by the hair and jerks her backwards for a kiss. Likewise, a later sequence where Bremer drags his corpulent self in front of the mirror so she can brutally compare him to her new, younger lover is unforgettably painful.

RUTHLESS sits comfortably alongside DETOUR, THE MAN FROM PLANET X and THE STRANGE WOMAN, other Ulmer gems of note. A great movie.

Giant hand-picked batch of films for sale

The Small Back Room's sales wing is active again, and there's many great 16mm prints left to purchase. We recently took possession of a large collection from a recently-deceased film scholar, and a lot of these prints are now on offer. In order to view the bulletin board, you will need to sign up, as it's a private site with careful controls on identity and spam.

Among the very rare titles: Alexander MacKendrick's A BOY TEN FEET TALL aka SAMMY GOING SOUTH, available here in an incredibly rare IB Technicolor/'scope print (all extant 35mm prints are faded Eastman), Preminger's THE CARDINAL in an IB Tech/adapted 'scope print (and it should be noted that, incredibly, this is one of the few prints known in existence! We wouldn't sell it, but we actually have two), John Ford's brilliant DR. BULL with Will Rogers, I CAN GET IT FOR YOU WHOLESALE, the last film Abe Polonsky wrote before being blacklisted - a fabulous Susan Hayward drama, Borzage's THE MORTAL STORM in a near-mint print, the scarce John Alton-photographed noir THE PRETENDER, Leo McCarey's MAKE WAY FOR TOMORROW, Douglas Sirk's THERE'S ALWAYS TOMORROW, Samuel Fuller's THE STEEL HELMET, a killer IB Tech print of Raoul Walsh's THE WORLD IN HIS ARMS and tons more. Other sellers have posted various nifty items as well.