Film Reviews by Steve

Astonishingly macabre Southern Gothic which abundantly ticks off all the Hollywood taboos of the studio era. So there's incest, paedophilia, homosexuality... And cannibalism! Were the censors asleep? It even dares to criticise capitalism! Plus there are Tennesse Williams' recurring esoteric themes, like the purity of the artist struggling to survive in an age of corruption...

Katharine Hepburn plays a wealthy southern matriarch; the sort of establishment figure who would sooner change the whole world than her mind. She was unconventionally close to her son, a beautiful/narcissistic poet who died mysteriously in Spain. And plans to silence the screwy testimony of her niece (Elizabeth Taylor)... by having her lobotomised. 

Naturally she'll pay, offering the surgeon (Montgomery Clift) a hospital wing in her son's name. And that's a crazy story, extended from Williams' one act play (by Gore Vidal). So there's some padding, and it's not very cinematic. Tolerance relies on a willingness to submit to some extraordinarily long speeches. And the thrillingly exaggerated performances. And the expressionism.

What did audiences make of it who only bought a ticket to see Liz in an insubstantial swimsuit? This is like a fever dream. Especially Taylor's final unhinged soliloquy. Which is also spellbinding. Plus there's the usual lyrical symbolism we expect from Williams; you won't get dialogue like this anywhere else. Or such exotic human monsters. Extraordinary final twist too!

This wacky WWII comedy was a massive success in 1959, but has lost its shine. When a US submarine in the Philippines is decommissioned, the skipper is given an opportunity to rebuild and re-enter the war. Which includes pilfering the red and white paint that turns the vessel pink. Apparently the situations were based on real life snafus.

The comical conflict between the levelheaded establishment figure and a younger finagler is usually viable. But Cary Grant as the submarine Commander and Tony Curtis as the flash maverick don't share much chemistry, mainly because Grant is too much of a charismatic star to play the standard stuffy reactionary. 

And the exploitation of the five female army nurses as babelicious kooks now feels misguided. The stalwart support cast tries its best but the familiar gags are erratic and there's only so much they can do with such threadbare stereotypes. Joan O'Brien comes off best as an accident prone blueprint for Inspector Clouseau!

There's an ultrabrite colour palette and a decent production But the comedy of propriety between the demure nurses and wolfish crew is dated; the humour is broad and unsubtle. Sure, it's a Blake Edwards picture and that can sometimes be fun. But stretched over an astonishing two hour running time, there is far too much drag.

Amazing that a film critiquing the racism in 1950s London should hit so relatively few bum notes when viewed from today. Basil Dearden and scriptwriter Janet Green examine prejudice and social injustice from multiple perspectives, only a year after after the Notting Hill riots.  And also tell a compelling detective story.

Sapphire is a young woman of mixed race who has been 'passing for white' in a society where being black imposes so many impediments. When she is found dead on Hampstead Heath, a conventional police procedural is set in motion, with racial hatred the likely motive.

The cast is uniformly superb, with Nigel Patrick as the (comparatively) liberal police inspector. Earl Cameron is a GP and the victim's more obviously Caribbean brother, and Yvonne Mitchell a lonely mother consumed by anger and resentment. Daniel Craig, normally a B picture romantic lead, plays the racist cop.

The cinematography is dynamic and John Dankworth contributes an exciting jazz score. And the suspense really pays off. Anyone determined to seek out dated attitudes to race will inevitably find them. But at the heart of this film, is huge compassion for the bigotry and poverty suffered by so many of the Windrush generation on arriving in the UK. 

First- and best- film version of JB Priestley's classic socialist play about the cruel exploitation and degradation of a working class girl (Jane Wenham). Admittedly the writer is better at the dramatic design than the dialogue, which is merely functional. But the structure of the plot is phenomenal.

In his signature performance, Alastair Sim plays a police inspector who visits the home of a factory owner, not so much to investigate, but to identify the guilt and hypocrisy of each member of this wealthy, entitled family in the suicide of the vulnerable young woman who crossed all their lives.

The newly scripted flashbacks work very well, but otherwise the film takes place in a single room, dealing mostly in speech, like the play. There's a well chosen cast with Wenham the clear standout. The only weakness is the screenplay blunts the political bite of the stage version.

Instead, it develops the supernatural theme, which is very spooky indeed. The climactic twist is a heartstopper. The play was prescient in the new Britain of 1945 and regained cachet in the 1980s as a riposte to the concept that there is no such thing as society. But it is a timeless- and spellbinding- moral tale.

The special operations picture, with the design, organisation and execution of a dangerous, covert enterprise in a foreign country under occupation- in this case France- is one of the most robust and rewarding sub-genres of the British WWII cycle of the 1950s.

There is usually a great deal of conformity, from the rigorous training, the suppressed emotions of the final briefing and the anxious anticipation of the parachute drop... This isn't much different from Odette (1950). Though it is more polished. There's an interesting support cast of French actors- including Maurice Ronet!

Virginia McKenna stars as the Paris born Violette Szabo, who won the George Cross and Croix de Guerre for her undercover liaison with the French resistance. And was killed at Ravensbrück concentration camp in 1945. Apparently Szabo grew up a working class Cockney, and brunette. So maybe McKenna wasn't obvious casting.

Still, she gives a dignified and charismatic portrayal. The execution alongside her colleagues (played by Anne Leon and Nicole Stéphane) is incredible moving. It's a worthy and inspiring tribute to an unorthodox hero who ultimately- aged only 23- gave her life in the war against fascism.

This is second of the Hammer series starring Peter Cushing as the hubristic Baron von Frankenstein. It's the usual slight variation on Mary Shelley's classic story, but there are interesting new subplots, and an effective, transgressive final twist. 

This is all about the mad scientist, and Cushing is ideal casting and in fine form. Christopher Lee does not return as the monster from the previous year's The Curse of Frankenstein, whose huge success triggered the whole Hammer horror cycle. But Michael Gwynn is gruesome enough.

As usual, the sets and costumes are exceptional for its insubstantial budget. Particularly the 19th century technology. There's a potent atmosphere of gothic horror in a studio's idea of feudal middle Europe. The support performances are a bonus, as they inevitable are in postwar British productions.

Though Eunice Gayson makes little of her underwritten role as what's now called the Hammer glamour. The abundance of comic relief is surprisingly quite funny... There's glorious Technicolor, and impressive sound. It's not as epochal as the 1930s Universal series, though critics mostly say this is the best of the Hammer Frankensteins.

The concept for this 1950s alien invasion picture is so gimmicky, it might indicate this is the moment the postwar sci-fi boom ran out of inspiration. But that isn't so. This is actually an unexpected treat. The camera effects and models are decent for the time. It is competently shot in CinemaScope with sincere dialogue and performances.

Most genre archetypes are intact. A small desert town with orthodox values has to survive contact with a meteor which expands into giant monoliths when it gets wet. And turns the locals into stone. Sort of. And there is a big storm on the way. The neighbourhood geologists must find a way of stopping the insentient threat from space before it goes nationwide.

No '50s small state conservative could take offence. There is absolutely no infrastructure to deal with emergencies. There's no army, public health or government boffins. The rocky invasion is confronted by the desert ranger (Grant Williams). His girlfriend (Lola Albright) looks after the kids. He pulls in a few favours from various academic pals.

No doubt those local geologists have been laid off by now.... Still, the unconventional premise really works. This is an exciting- if quirky- genre picture which squeezes decent production values out of its minimal budget. It's hokum, but not shoddy poverty row trash. There is plenty of fun to be had by anyone who loves studio era sci-fi.

Superior revenge western, which is mainly of interest for the magnificent photography of New Mexico in Technicolor, and especially in the emerging CinemaScope process. Anthony Mann explores these new dimensions with expertise. The muddled narrative prevents this from being a genre classic, but it is visually impressive.

James Stewart stars as the obsessive stranger in town determined to get under the skin of the dominant but fading landowner (Donald Crisp) who makes the law in the region. Plus his sociopathic son (Alex Nichol) and loyal foreman (Arthur Kennedy). Is one of them selling rifles to the Apaches warriors?

And that's an impressive western cast. Maybe Nichol overdoes his performance as a deranged, entitled narcissist, but he lifts the action in his brief screen time. Cathy O'Donnell gets stuck with an underwritten role, the eternal fortune of women in westerns... Still, the laconic, pugnacious dialogue is a strength.

However, the many plot glitches suggest a problem with the screenplay, or in the editing room. The story feels like a loose composite of standard genre scenarios, but of course that's part of the appeal for fans. Stewart and Mann were masters of the '50s western and this looks as spectacular as any.

Hollywood social realism which was nominated for 12 Academy Awards; and won eight, including best picture and director. But this landmark polemic on the corruption of New Jersey dockworker unions by criminal gangs no longer works. Bud Schulberg's celebrated script now feels sanctimonious, naive and verbose. In particular, Karl Malden's crusading priest dates it badly.

His long sermon at a murder scene is insufferable. The uninspired uplift of the ending may have been enforced by the Production Code, nevertheless, there it is. This isn't neorealism because of the big studio stars, admittedly deglamorised. Marlon Brando is the ex-boxer whose crisis of conscience brings the crooked system down.

The legendary performances are uneven, though Brando's Oscar is well deserved. His talent survives the period defining effect of the Method. But Malden is stiffed with his dud role and Eva Marie Saint is melodramatic as the suffering love interest. It is skilfully directed by Elia Kazan in well chosen locations with realistic costumes and set design. Leonard Bernstein's jazz score feels just right.

And maybe it's reasonable to indulge aspects of a film released in the middle of the last century. But this is difficult because the whole bundle was made to justify Kazan and Schulberg, who sold out their colleagues to HUAC. Which is hard to endure. They are the victims and the heroes of this story. The hubris is off the scale. This title is weighted by a huge asterisk.

Culty big screen version of a long running radio and tv police procedural, set on the streets of San Francisco. There are some changes in the cast and a quality action director in Don Siegel, who apparently also shot the pilot episode. The approach is obviously modelled on the Dragnet franchise.

This was too violent for the '50s American home and Eli Wallach and Robert Keith as the psychopathic killers are excessively brutal. Which must have been the attraction of adapting the formula for the cinema. There are moments which anticipate Siegel's more visually complex crime pictures of the 60s-70s, particularly the exciting climactic car chase.

Marshall Reed and Emile Meyer as the buddy cops don't have much charisma. The main problem is in extending the usual 30m episode to feature length, the narrative feels repetitive and overextended. The jargon is dated and the dialogue laden with exposition and editorialising about the foulness of crime. Which is part of the fun!

Today, all the social realism about the war on drugs is a cliché. There are no surprises. It's not really film noir. There isn't any expressionism though Siegel brings a little visual style. The extensive 'Frisco location shoot adds interest. It's a period piece which employs all the motifs of a '50s tv cop series, but with far better production values.

What happens when a US warship in combat is skippered by a dangerous psychotic, if the crew has no practical means of challenging his authority? It's a fascinating premise, at least until the Production Code intervenes in the final scene. Ironically, it also proves awkward for Hollywood to challenge the sanctity of military hierarchy. 

This adaptation of Herman Wouk's bestseller doesn't broaden its scope to take on social hierarchies generally; this was the era of the blacklist and director Edward Dmytryk had already been to jail once! It is an analysis of the improvised, unchecked power of command under the impact of war. 

The seagoing psychodrama is lifted by Humphrey Bogart's landmark portrayal as the erratic Captain Queeg. His performance is hugely overstated, but the final courtroom scene wouldn't work otherwise. Van Johnson, Fred MacMurray and Robert Francis are the officers who mutiny and are put on trial.

We get Technicolor and a rousing score from Max Steiner. The action at sea is exciting and realistic and builds to a powerhouse climax during the court-martial. The social dynamics are scrutinised in some depth. This is more about the interpersonal warfare than WWII; like an update of Mutiny on the Bounty (1935).

After she won her Oscar for Born Yesterday in 1951, Columbia pictures was stuck with the headache of what to do with Judy Holliday. The response was to insert her strident Brooklyn schtick into a series of lacklustre comedies of diminishing quality. This was again written by Garson Kanin and directed by George Cukor, but it's a misfire.

Yet the themes are extraordinarily prophetic... Holliday plays a working girl who wants to be famous for being famous. Jack Lemmon is an ordinary guy who walks around New York with a portable camera filming everything he sees. What could be more internet? Though at the time it was Judy's dumb-kook persona which resonated.

It's a very slight lifestyle picture; an overextended daydream. There's some extraordinary b&w footage of Manhattan, particularly around Central Park. The theme of the banality of celebrity still registers. And it's interesting to see Lemmon's debut in the sensitive, nerdy loser role, which typecast his early career. 

But the premise isn't explored with any intelligence, and Kanin's dialogue delivers zero laughs. His scripts are comedies of propriety. They assert 1950s expectations of social conformity. So Judy is always guarding her reputation. And those conservative values have not only vanished, but now feel tiresome.

Landmark allegorical western which was a response from its writer Carl Foreman to the McCarthy political witch-hunt, which meant he had to leave for the UK to find work. This in turn powered a negative reaction from the Hollywood Right, though it now seems to be highly regarded across the political spectrum; it was the favourite film of Ronald Reagan. And Bill Clinton.

What they saw is a story about individualism. Gary Cooper plays a small town marshal- on his wedding day- who is threatened by a crazy killer who will arrive by train at noon. But he must stand alone, as all the citizens who benefit from law and order, or resent it, refuse to back him, even though his gun has brought peace to their frontier community.

So he is isolated against a ruthless threat, like the liberals on the Hollywood blacklist. And maybe this is director Fred Zinnemann's reflection on US isolationism in the early years of WWII. So it can feel quite schematic, especially as it unfolds in real time, as evidenced by the abundance of clocks... Cooper won his second Academy Award and though he's too old, he is utterly convincing. 

Grace Kelly is insubstantial as his pacifist bride. But there's a relishable support cast. The theme of law and order is scrutinised from many perspectives, like an editorial. The b&w photography is persuasively ominous, though you may tire of the hokey theme song. It's an interesting moral tale yet maybe its exalted status is more apparent to western fans. And US presidents.

Sumptuous medieval romp loosely tied into the legend of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. Anyone who assumes basing your Hollywood blockbuster on a cartoon is a new thing will be surprised that this got there first. And it is given a huge production with major stars. It's in luscious Technicolor and one of the first releases in CinemaScope.

There are outdoor locations in magnificent British castles with decent interiors and costumes. The stunts still look fine. Some might wonder at all those American accents, but... this is fantasy... Robert Wagner makes a handsome action hero and James Mason a relishable villain. Janet Leigh is the radiant love interest, who arguably is eclipsed by the exquisite Debra Paget.

Which may explain why the latter disappears from the second half. Of course, this is a ludicrous pantomime with zero authenticity. The historical context is bunk. Everyone delivers the exaggerated performances demanded by the dubious script. This is a place where the Black Knight is a scurvy knave. It's an old fashioned family film that is no longer fit for that purpose...

Well, because there isn't CGI and the women have no agency. But it's also a ridiculously entertaining swashbuckler, with sword-fights, jousts, romance and fun comic relief. Plus a massive climactic battle scene. And Sterling Hayden as Sir Gawain! It evokes the 1950s more than the middle ages, but who cares! This is one of the jauntiest screen adventures of the decade.

Critics have not been kind to this interesting and realistic WWII picture. But it's worth seeing for the deep cast of British stalwarts, and for the exposure of a sector of the armed forces not often acknowledged: the Air-Sea Rescue Service. There was an ultra-low budget version made in the war years, For Those in Peril (1944).

This can hardly have cost much more, but is an entertainment rather than mostly a tribute. There's a rudimentary plot with a bomber crew drifting in a dinghy in the freezing cold of the North Sea, desperate for the rescue team to locate them in the heavy fog. While the wives and girlfriends wait anxiously on shore...

Only this has a MacGuffin... One of the stricken men (Michael Redgrave) is handcuffed to a briefcase which will change the course of the war! And that hints at the quality of the cast, with Dirk Bogarde also in the dinghy. Anthony Steel is the captain of the rescue team. Nigel Patrick is the standout as the usual tough Sergeant with a heart.

And there's a Who's Who of British support actors. We get shoddy back projection, but the suspense works, and director Lewis Gilbert creates a plausible impression of the hazardous rescue, even if everything goes wrong, like it's a staff induction video! A must-see for fans of British war films.