Our Man in Marrakesh (1966)

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Aka Bang! Bang! You’re Dead!  I just came here to build a hotel.  One of six travellers who catch the bus from Casablanca airport to Marrakesh is carrying $2 million to pay a powerful local man Mr Casimir (Herbert Lom) to fix a vote at the United Nations on behalf of an unnamed nation. But not even the powerful man knows which of them it is – and his background checks reveal that at least three of them aren’t who they claim to be. As agents from other nations may be among them, he and his henchmen have to be very careful until the courier chooses to reveal himself – or herself. One of them is Andrew Jessel (Tony Randall) who is in Morocco to finance a hotel but he seems the most likely prospect. On the bus, he encounters the lovely Kyra Stanovy (Senta Berger) who soon appears to be another dubious individual. When Jessel’s briefcase gets mixed up with Casimir’s the chase is on across rooftops and through bazaars and Jessel and Kyra are thrown together when a corpse materialises in his wardrobe – but what is she really up to aside from being a rather too lovable mod femme fatale? … The mid-Sixties spy spoof sub-genre or Eurospy movie continues apace with this picturesque travelogue, boasting some of my fave film faces including Klaus Kinski as the white-suited Jonquil, Casimir’s creepy little henchman, who gets a great entrance in the titles sequence, Grégoire Aslan as Achmed, a Moroccan trucker, Wilfred Hyde-White as Arthur Fairbrother, a likely courier for Red China and of course the indubitable Terry-Thomas as the Oxbridge educated El Caid, a very useful intermediary. There’s even John Le Mesurier as another would-be go-between for the Communists and Burt Kwouk, who has the tiny role of hotel clerk. Margaret Lee appears as the goofy lover of Casimir. Randall is an unlikely love interest and a hapless hero – don’t let the poster fool you – there’s no attempt to portray him as James Bond, he’s much more James Stewart in The Man Who Knew Too Much, but this is a lot of fun with a corpse repeatedly turning up at the most inopportune moments. Berger is adorable as the compulsive liar. There’s a colourful score by Malcolm Lockyer. From producer Harry Alan Towers, this was co-written by him with Peter (The Liquidator) Yeldham and directed by Don Sharp.

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How Do You Know (2010)

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Don’t ever listen to me when I drink Guinness. Lisa Jorgenson’s (Reese Witherspoon) entire life has been defined by softball, but at 31, she is deemed too old to play and cut from the team. After being cast adrift, she begins a fling with Matty (Owen Wilson), a charming womanizer who plays professional baseball. About the same time, she goes on a blind date with George (Paul Rudd), a businessman on the hook for stock fraud. Caught in a romantic triangle with the two men, Lisa ponders the meaning of love as she moves in with Matty, has dinner with George and George himself is speechlessthroughout because he has learned that his father wants him to go to prison for a securities fraud that he himself has carried out.  Then when Lisa realises who she’s shacked up with, she moves out – twice … There are a lot of bright moments in this relationship dramedy or romcom with a starry cast getting some fun lines but it’s really Witherspoon’s chance to shine. However auteur James L. Brooks’ storyline comes unstuck – which is a pity because even if it’s about people whose lives are variously derailed, and the most convincing scene in the whole thing is in a birthing ward where George’s secretary (Kathryn Hahn) has just had a son out of wedlock, the narrative has nowhere for any of them to go:  it even concludes at a bus stop, for crying out loud! Nobody here is a completely dim bulb but they’re not gifted with the smarts required for this soft-centred delight to really take off and even the Machiavellian Nicholson’s puppet master fails at the end. Strange – but not an entirely unenjoyable meeting of talents despite Brooks not really caring enough about what makes anyone tick to pull it together. Maybe that’s what gives it the ring of truth.

Hanover Street (1979)

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Nothing makes sense and then I’m with you and everything makes sense. Flight Lieutenant David Halloran (Harrison Ford) is standing in line for a London bus during the Blitz and plays leapfrog with a nurse (Lesley-Anne Down) and their antics mean they both miss the bus but fall in love over a cup of tea and then the street is bombed by the Germans. He wants to meet her on Thursday week – he has many bombing missions in between times – and she arrives, many hours late. They travel to the country and after several sexual assignations she finally tells him her name is Margaret. His squadron has another mission to fly but he notices an engine problem at takeoff and his colleague takes off in his place and is shot down. He is wracked with guilt. Meanwhile, it transpires that Margaret is married and her husband Paul Sellinger (Christopher Plummer) is a mild-mannered teacher training officers in intelligence and two have been captured and killed within two weeks of landing in Lyons:  there’s a double agent in the ranks. He volunteers to be dropped in France to photograph Nazi files to root out the culprit – and when he is allocated a pilot it’s Halloran and they’re the sole survivors of a firestorm. They have to don disguise to survive detection and find a hiding place on a farm. When Sellinger starts to describe his wife Halloran realises they’re in love with the same woman and she is giving them both reason to live … This has one of the great meet-cutes and it is overwhelming because it comes in the first ten minutes. Down and Ford are a fabulous looking pair and the (somewhat thin) story reminds you of the great WW2 romances, on which it was clearly modelled. The Sellingers’ home life is wonderfully exposed by their relationship with their young daughter Sarah played by cool girl Patsy Kensit and there’s some convincingly irritating banter between the bomb squad. We can see several Indiana Jones scenes in advance, played out here on German occupied territory albeit with a tad less humour. This doesn’t reach the heights it aims for but it’s beautifully made and the score by John Barry is simply epic. It makes you wonder why on earth the glorious Down hasn’t been cast more over the years. Sigh. There is however a rare appearance by the legendary comedian Max Wall as a locksmith. Written and directed by Peter Hyams.

Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956)

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Even these days it isn’t as easy to go crazy as you might think. Divorced Dr Miles Bennell (Kevin McCarthy) returns to his smalltown practice in California after being away for a couple of weeks at a medical conference. Seems like half the population has been complaining of a mysterious feeling and then not returning, claiming to be better. And the other half says family members aren’t themselves – they’re impostors, lacking nothing except emotion. When his ex Becky Driscoll (Dana Wynter) returns from England after her own failed marriage they visit mystery writer Jack Bellicec (King Donovan) and his wife Teddy (Carolyn Jones) because his double is lying on the billiards table and frankly it freaks them out. Becky’s father is a little strange too and as for the local psychiatrist…. Soon it appears the whole town is being taken over by alien seed pods now being actively cultivated to make everyone the same. Whether you take this as ‘straight’ sci fi or horror (as if that were ever a thing), a political allegory (it works for  communism or fascism) or a warning about the homogeneity and groupthink of Fifties culture or even a comment on the brainwashing techniques used during the Korean War, this is brilliant cinema. From the sly innuendo of McCarthy getting back together with his ex, to the satirical thrusts at a humdrum life, this hasn’t aged a day. The scene when Teddy sees Jack’s double open his eyes while Jack is asleep is really thrilling. And as for the pods throbbing in the greenhouse! Adapted by Daniel Mainwaring from sci fi legend Jack Finney’s Colliers serial (later a novel) it was directed by Don Siegel. Whit Bisssell is the Dr in the concluding scenes and Sam Peckinpah plays Charlie the meter reader – he was director Siegel’s dialogue coach on this and four other of his Fifties films. The prologue and epilogue were added because the studio got cold feet over the pessimistic content –  but you will never forget the sight of McCarthy shouting at the trucks on the highway, and this was its original ending. Nevertheless, this is extraordinary, urgent and fiercely exciting, simply one of the best films ever made.

The Object of My Affection (1998)

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This adaptation of Stephen McCauley’s novel (by playwright Wendy Wasserstein) has impeccable theatrical credentials, as it is directed by Nicholas Hytner, but also has crossover appeal because of the crucial casting of TV star Jennifer Aniston and visiting Friends regular Paul Rudd. This romcom with a difference – because the titular object is a gay man – touches so many contemporary hot button topics:  alternative families, LGBTQ lifestyles, single motherhood, class, social status – and does so with a light-ish style, in quite a long comic/dramatic narrative that allows for decent character exposition and actual conversations. Aniston is the social worker stepsister of Allison Janney, who’s married to a hot literary agent, Alan Alda. Their daughter attends a private school where the terrific young first grade teacher Paul Rudd runs a great musical production every year. He winds up at one of their dinner parties where fellow invitee Aniston unwittingly reveals to him that his gay lover Tim Daly wants him out of their apartment. So she rents him a room at her place … and falls for him while she’s pregnant with her laywer boyfriend’s baby. She thinks she and Rudd can raise her baby together. Trouble is, his ex wants him back, then he falls for a gay mentor’s own roommate, and the baby is on the way, while the lawyer (John Pankow) himself finds love elsewhere after being shut out for so long. A lot like life, with a good feeling for how people really are and the playing is superb with Nigel Hawthorne a particular joy as a wise old queen who gently asks Aniston at Thanksgiving Dinner what will happen when all her male homosexual friends disappear. For fag hags everywhere!

Don’t Talk to Strange Men (1962)

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British cinema has thrown up some worthy B-movies and this is one of them, from the venerable Pat Jackson, who made his name in the documentary movement and whose first feature, Western Approaches, about the Battle of the Atlantic, remains his finest work. Gwen Cherrell’s screenplay tells the story of a flighty teenage girl Jean (Christina Gregg) who picks up the ringing telephone in a call box whilst waiting for the bus to her part-time job at the local pub run by her dad’s friend Ron (Conrad Phillips). She strikes up a friendship with the man on the line, adopts the moniker Samantha for their daily calls and convinced that this is Love, agrees to meet him. There’s been a spate of killings in the area and she pays no heed until Dad grounds her and her sensible younger sister Ann (Janina Faye) but they plan an outing to the cinema so that Jean  can meet this unseen beau. Bus conductress Molly (the fabulous Dandy Nichols) warns her not to go through with her airhead schemes but she pays no heed. Until she finds herself waiting for the real-life meeting and gets cold feet. But her little sister feels the fear and goes to her rescue … This is a surprisingly taut suspense thriller, much of it taking place in a telephone kiosk (remember them?!) and assisted immeasurably by good family dynamics (real-life spouses Cyril Raymond and Gillian Lind are the put-upon parents), bolshy Ann writing letters to politicians about bloodsports, the lowkey Home Counties setting (even the opening discovery of a young woman’s body in a barn), the rhythm established by the regular phonecalls, the bus journeys, the conversations, and a winning performance by Gregg, a model and actress better known for roles in TV’s Danger Man and The Saint. What’s interesting is of course how people do the utterly unexpected and act the opposite way that you’d expect – as in life, so in movies, and that’s what turns this into something unbearably tense. There are tropes here that would become a staple of slasher films in the Seventies. Faye has had a much longer career than her co-star and is probably better known for her big screen work in Dracula and The Day of the Triffids and has often appeared at Hammer conventions. She has also directed a short film called Green Fingers starring Ingrid Pitt. She previously appeared in the rather similarly-themed Never Take Sweets from a Stranger. Actress and screenwriter Cherrell would go on to write The Walking Stick (1970), Brief Encounter (1974) – the Burton/Loren version, and TV sitcom Leave it to Charlie (1978). Made at Marylebone Studios and on location in Bucks., and distributed by Bryanston.