Showing posts with label Ernest Haller. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ernest Haller. Show all posts

Friday, March 26, 2021

DVD/150: HUMORESQUE (Jean Negulesco, 1946)

After her Oscar-winning triumph in MILDRED PEARCE, Joan Crawford then delivered another iconic performance in HUMORESQUE, easily holding her own opposite intense John Garfield.

Previously filmed by Frank Borzage in 1920, this time screenwriter Clifford Odets borrowed from the premise of his own play GOLDEN BOY.

Paul Boray, a New York grocer's son, is a talented classical violinist, although success eludes him, but he is pushed on by his devoted mother.

Paul and his pianist friend Sid attend a swanky party; he plays his violin but is antagonistic at the patronising attitude of the hostess Helen Wright, an arts patron who is bored with her retinue of adoring men and her loveless marriage.

Helen is attracted to Paul however and secures him a manager and finally, his success.  Of course they become lovers - much to his mother's displeasure.

But love doesn't bring them happiness, just a lonely Wagnerian ending...


Shelf or charity shop?  For God's sake... it's Joan in a sequinned Adrian gown getting drunk to the Liebestod!  I have always had issues with HUMORESQUE however, Jean Negulseco's direction plods along, taking it's sudsy time to bring Crawford into the film while over-indulging the boorish performance from Oscar Levant as the pianist friend. The amount of screentime afforded Ruth Nelson's sanctimonious and provincial mother is irkesome too - the idea is problematic that the hero should not stray from hearth and home, his emotionally-dead mother and dreary childhood sweetheart; the final image of Paul walking back to the family store one presumes is meant to be heartwarming but it strikes me as singularly awful.  John Garfield gives a steely performance as Paul but needless to say the film comes alive with the arrival of Joan Crawford as the glacial Helen, and she, cinematographer Ernest Haller and composer Franz Waxman deliver two glorious scenes without dialogue - Helen drifting into an ecstatic reverie in the concert hall at Paul's violin playing, totally unaware of the cold stares from his family, and the famous scene as Crawford, alone and intoxicated, becomes one with Wagner, the wind and the sea...


Tuesday, June 16, 2020

DVD/150: MILDRED PIERCE (Michael Curtiz, 1945)

Where Melodrama meets Film Noir you'll find Mildred Pierce!


Shots ring out on a rainswept night, a tuxedo'd man dies saying "Mildred".  Later Mildred, swathed in fur, considers leaping from a pier but instead lures a former business partner to the scene of the crime, putting him in the frame. 


Mildred recounts to the police the past four years that has led her from a housewife to the owner of a restaurant chain and, in flashbacks, we see how she sacrificed and bettered herself for the love of her spoilt, snobbish daughter Veda.



Michael Curtiz had not wanted Joan Crawford but she was so determined to play it that she agreed to screen-test for it, her first film under contract with Warner Brothers.


Cleverly playing on her 1930s MGM persona - the shop or factory girl who makes good - Joan is truly magnificent, rightly winning the Best Actress Academy Award.

Shelf or charity shop?  On a dark shadowy shelf as befits the Academy Award-nominated Film Noir cinematography of Ernest Haller, MILDRED PIERCE is a glorious film that delivers the hard-edged Warner Brothers style with Curtiz' firm direction, Max Steiner's over-the-top score, the marvellous supporting cast of wolfish Jack Carson, smooth Zachary Scott, nasty Ann Blyth and wise-cracking Eve Arden (the latter both earning their Academy Award nominations) and of course, Joan at her most iconic.