You should know that in the Army it’s not the individual who counts. 1941. Private Robert E. Lee Prewitt (Montgomery Clift) is transferred to Schofield Barracks on Hawaii where his commanding officer Captain Dana Holmes (Philip Ober) promotes boxers but Prewitt blinded a man in a fight and won’t co-operate. He is bullied until Sergeant Warden (Burt Lancaster) suggests he is given extra duties but gets hazed by non-comm officers. Supported by friend Angelo Maggio (Frank Sinatra), the men go carousing to a private club where Prew falls for Lorene (Donna Reed), a ‘hostess’. Maggio gets into a row with stockade Sergeant ‘Fatso’ Judson (Ernest Borgnine) but Warden intervenes. Warden begins an affair with the neglected wife Karen (Deborah Kerr) of Captain Holmes whose promiscuous reputation hides a tragedy. Maggio leaves guard duty and gets atrociously drunk, ultimately leading to a sadistic beating from Fatso which kills him. Prew decides upon revenge on the eve of Pearl Harbour … A man don’t go his own way he’s nothing. Despite some decidedly uninspired directing from Fred Zinnemann, this tightly scripted adaptation of James Jones’ classic novel by Daniel Taradash skirts a fine line between outright travesty and censor-baiting in a bid to stay more or less faithful to the themes and the melodramatic aspects are saved before the concluding scenes when the Japanese bombers arrive. Clift gets the best of the pithy truisms, which fits the story’s construction, given that he and Sinatra are the doomed pair who have to make the tragic sacrifices and both give stunning performances. The entire cast shines and there are many great scenes, with the usual one on the beach with the crashing surf between Kerr and Lancaster excerpted as an instance of classic Hollywood romance but it’s one with an undertow of sadness, The first-rate expressive acting is what makes this special. A man should be what he can do
One of the most rousingly romantic scores by Franz Waxman introduces this superb exercise in melodrama directed by George Stevens. Mike Nichols said he learned everything he needed to know about directing by watching this over and over again. Mandy Merck wrote a brilliant book about its origins, including the anti-capitalist source novel An American Tragedy by Theodore Dreiser; a failed attempt by Sergei Eisenstein to film it; an adaptation by Josef von Sternberg; and the eventual acclaimed production written by Michael Wilson and Harry Brown, starring a sixteen-year old Elizabeth Taylor whose stunning beauty is matched by the legendary Montgomery Clift in scenes that literally take the breath away. If you want to remember what true star power is, watch this film. My review of the Merck book can be found here: https://offscreen.com/view/hollywoods_american_tragedies
Aka Terminal Station/Stazione Termini. I’m starting to hate you. Married American Mary Forbes (Jennifer Jones) is on holiday in Rome visiting relatives and becomes involved in an affair with an Italian academic, Giovanni Doria (Montgomery Clift). As she prepares to leave, Giovanni confesses his love for her; he doesn’t want her to go while she is desperate to break off their relationship for good. Together they wander the railway station where Mary is to take the train to Paris, to ultimately reunite with her husband and daughter back in Philadelphia. Will she throw away her old life for this passionate new romance? … They caught them making love. Producer/director Vittorio De Sica was a tour de force of Italian cinema and when this was made Rome was becoming known as Hollywood on the Tiber – all those frozen tax dollars were waiting to be spent. This over-egged pudding doesn’t reflect particularly well on the spectacular array of talent involved. Apart from the two stars – and it was Jones’s husband of two years David O. Selznick who set this in motion as a vehicle for her – just look at the names responsible for the screenplay: Cesare Zavattini wrote the story, Truman Capote was credited with the whole shebang (presumably to attract financing) but in fact only wrote two scenes, Luigi Chiarini, Ben Hecht and Giorgio Prosperi. Selznick had originally commissioned Carson McCullers, whom he replaced with Capote, then Alberto Moravia and Paul Gallico were hired and fired. What an exquisite galaxy of midcentury writing greatness! Apparently Selznick wrote De Sica some of his infamously lengthy memos filled with production ideas each day and De Sica agreed to all his suggestions – but he spoke no English and just did his own thing. Everyone involved had a different concept for the film although Clift took De Sica’s side. Jones became depressed by the death of her ex-husband Robert Walker (he was killed by his psychiatrist) and missed her children during the shoot. A very unhappy affair, then, in more ways than one. Fascinating, not least to see the very contrasting acting styles of Clift and Jones which creates a highly emotive atmosphere with tragic foreboding, intimations of Anna Karenina throughout. Richard Beymer co-stars and Patti Page sings the theme song. You didn’t look very wicked. I’m not an imaginative woman. It was you. It was Rome! And I’m a housewife from Philadelphia!
I bunked off school one day when I was eleven years old and sat down to watch a documentary called The Search and fell in love with the American soldier at its heart: and then I found out it was a regular movie and that he was an actor called Montgomery Clift. Soon afterwards I saw The Heiress and A Place in the Sun and I got the biography by Patricia Bosworth, the first one I ever read. It set a very high bar for books about actors that has rarely been bettered. I went about seeing everything else Clift ever made. He was an extraordinarily beautiful man whose vulnerability spoke to a certain kind of post-war masculinity, altogether different from the tough guys who seemed more obviously manly and on the set of Red River this was tested when Howard Hawks cast him opposite John Wayne who didn’t like his homosexual tendencies and his theatrical training. He was the star of the massive hit, From Here to Eternity as the tragic Prewitt. A terrible accident after a party at Elizabeth Taylor’s house changed his face during the making of Raintree County and the aftermath precipitated a deadly decade-long decline that culminated in his early death. He changed my whole view of men in cinema and I wasn’t the only one. Happy birthday to the late, great Montgomery Clift.
Cherry was right. You’re soft, you should have let ’em kill me, ’cause I’m gonna kill you. I’ll catch up with ya. I don’t know when, but I’ll catch up. Every time you turn around, expect to see me, ’cause one time you’ll turn around and I’ll be there. I’m gonna kill ya, Matt.Headstrong Thomas Dunson (John Wayne) starts a thriving Texas cattle ranch with the help of his faithful trail hand, Groot (Walter Brennan), and his protégé, Matt Garth (Montgomery Clift), an orphan Dunson took under his wing when Matt was a boy when he was the only survivor of an Indian attack on a wagon train. In need of money following the Civil War and 14 years after starting the ranch, Dunson and Matt lead a cattle drive to Missouri, where they will get a better price for his 10,000 head than locally, but the crotchety older man and his willful young partner begin to butt heads on the exhausting journey… Famous as a collision of egos and acting styles (Wayne vs. Clift, who was making his first pilgrimage from the New York stage), Paul Fix (who plays Teeler Yacey), Borden Chase and Charles Schnee adapted the screenplay from Chase’s Saturday Evening Post story Blazing Guns on the Chisholm Trail, a fictional account of the first cattle drive west. It was shot in 1946 but director Howard Hawks was unhappy with the edit and handed it to Christian Nyby who spent a year on it. He declared of Wayne, I didn’t know the son of a bitch could act! And it is an extraordinary Freudian story in its contrasting portraits of masculinity, a brilliant exposition of father-son conflict and of the kind of family romance most people don’t understand in the mythical context of the conquest of the land of the Americas. Quite profound and a great action movie too. Co-directed by Arthur Rosson.
Judge not, that ye be not judged. Spencer Tracy arrives in the rubble of the great city of Nuremberg after the bombs have fallen: this is what remains of a once-proud metropolis in the wake of Hitlerism. He’s the chief military judge in one of the trials taking place there in Abby Mann’s adaptation of his TV play and Maximillian Schell replays his role as the German defence counsel. The case involves four judges in the Nazi courts who had people executed and sterilised and otherwise punished for not being Party members: it’s a representative slice of what actually occurred aided in no small part by what we might call stunt casting. Burt Lancaster is the one judge who acknowledges what he’s done is wrong. Marlene Dietrich is the widow of the man already executed whose home Tracy occupies and after whom he hankers a little. Judy Garland and the incredible Montgomery Clift testify in court. Clift is a former Communist whom one of the judges had sterilised. His scene in the stand is unforgettable. Schell does a great job as the frustrated counsel, eager to prove the overwhelming logic of the judges’ work; Richard Widmark has his day in court showing the films shot by Allied troops liberating the camps. Naturally the Germans think this is a cheap shot. This film shocked me as a child and it shocks me no less today, particularly when Tracy, having sentenced the men, is asked to visit Lancaster and has to explain to him why he came to his decision. He is our conscience, arguing for the value of a single human life in the face of ruthless German logic. The end credits include the reminder that by the time this film was made not a single Nazi convicted at Nuremberg remained in prison despite life sentences handed down. That’s right, they’re all running the Fourth Reich in a Germany that’s been on the rise ever since. Be afraid. Directed by Stanley Kramer.