Category Archives: 1960 Films

1960 Films, Adventure, Charles Laughton, Drama, Epic, Herbert Lom, Jean Simmons, John Gavin, John Ireland, Kirk Douglas, Laurence Olivier, Nina Foch, Peter Ustinov, Stanley Kubrick, Tony Curtis

Spartacus-1960

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Spartacus-1960

Director Stanley Kubrick

Starring Kirk Douglas, Laurence Olivier, Jean Simmons

Scott’s Review #1,250

Reviewed April 30, 2022

Grade: A

Typically, when influential director Stanley Kubrick’s name is uttered, films such as The Shining (1980), 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968), and Barry Lyndon (1975) are immediately thought of, and for obvious reasons.

The haunting, moody musical score, the long camera shots, the dark humor, and the clever camera tricks are easy to pinpoint.

1960, the director was hired to direct the gorgeous epic Spartacus after Hollywood star Kirk Russell unceremoniously fired the first director.

None of the previously mentioned elements are easy for me to notice and are more or less absent, but a grand battle scene in a luscious green field is very reminiscent of Barry Lyndon. This is likely because Spartacus was not Kubrick’s film entirely; instead, it belonged to others with more clout.

Spartacus is a brilliant film for many reasons. Some epics suffer from a hokey, cliched feel and can be overwrought, predictable, and tired.

The rebellious Thracian Spartacus (Russell), born and raised a slave, is sold to Gladiator trainer Batiatus (Ustinov). After training to kill for the arena, Spartacus turns on his owners and leads the other slaves in rebellion.

As the rebels move from town to town, their numbers increase as escaped slaves join their ranks. Under the leadership of Spartacus, they make their way to southern Italy, where they intend to cross the sea and return to their homes.

Spartacus is grand, sweeping, cinematically significant, and everything else you’d expect from a 1960s Hollywood epic with enormous stars of its day. Looking beneath the surface, the film is riddled with interesting tidbits like bisexuality, homoeroticism, and violence, more in tune with an art film or modern war film than the safety of a movie made during this time.

Particularly noteworthy is that Dalton Trumbo wrote the screenplay. One of the Hollywood Ten, he refused to testify before the House Un-American Activities Committee in 1947 during the committee’s investigation of alleged Communist influences in the motion picture industry.

After the release of Spartacus, it marked the beginning of the end of the Hollywood Blacklist for Trumbo and other affected screenwriters.

Thank goodness.

In a famous scene, recaptured slaves are asked to identify Spartacus in exchange for leniency; instead, each slave proclaims himself to be Spartacus, thus sharing his fate.

The suggestion is that this scene was meant to dramatize the solidarity of those accused of being Communist sympathizers during the McCarthy era.

Besides the political importance, Spartacus showcases a beautiful romance between Spartacus (Russell) and Varinia (Jean Simmons), a gorgeous slave girl. The tenderness and authenticity are palpable as many of their early scenes involve no dialogue but only longing and expression through both actors’ eyes.

I celebrated the connection between the actors at the forefront of much romance. Russell carries the film with calm masculinity, quickly making him heroic and likable.

He is the charismatic, good guy who has been wronged and ill-fated.

A sequence oozing with machismo and homoeroticism occurs when evil Crassus (Olivier) is bathed by his slave boy Antoninus (Tony Curtis). He seductively explains that while sometimes he prefers snails, he also likes oysters. The implication is that he is bisexual, brazenly so, and expects the youngster to become his sex slave.

The warmth of the bathtub and the luxurious atmosphere contrast with the proximity and touch of both male characters.

In 1960, this scene was way ahead of its time.

The conclusion of Spartacus is melancholy and surprising. Having bested Rome’s cruelty, one might have expected to see Spartacus and Varinia happily ride off into the sunset.

This doesn’t happen, and the film is more affluent in it. There is pain and despair as there were in real life. Wisely sparing complete doom and gloom, the ending is satisfying as one central character escapes a deadly demise and conjures ahead.

Spartacus (1960) is one of the greats. It has muscle and texture, and many below-the-surface nuances are ripe for discussion. For these reasons, it’s a must-see.

Oscar Nominations: 4 wins-Best Supporting Actor-Peter Ustinov (won), Best Art Direction-Color (won), Best Cinematography-Color (won), Best Costume Design-Color (won), Best Film Editing, Best Music Score of a Dramatic or Comedy Picture

1960 Films, British, British Horror, Hammer Horror, Horror, Peter Cushing, Terence Fisher, Yvonne Monlaur

The Brides of Dracula-1960

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The Brides of Dracula-1960

Director Terence Fisher

Starring Peter Cushing, Yvonne Monlaur

Scott’s Review #1,218

Reviewed January 9, 2022

Grade: B+

It’s always impressive to me what Hammer Film Productions do with such a limited budget, mainly from a set and art direction perspective. With small funds, they can create gloomy yet beautiful set structures that are highly creative and appear lavish.

To the savvy viewer, this tidbit can make each film a treasure trove of enjoyment if only to look beyond the central activity and notice the style.

The Brides of Dracula (1960) is no exception.

The film is a sequel to the 1958 film Dracula (also known as Horror of Dracula), though the character of Count Dracula does not appear and is instead mentioned only twice. Fans of these films know that Christopher Lee portrays Dracula. Instead, the vicious vampire at the film’s center is Baron Meinster, a disciple of Dracula, played by David Peel.

The villain even bites his mother, played by Martita Hunt, making her undead and terrifying to the residents of a Spanish village.

Van Helsing (Peter Cushing) is the hero and must drive a stake through the heart of the vampire baron before he deviously makes innocent Marianne (Yvonne Monlaur) his bride.

Cushing is a familiar figure in Hammer horror film lore. He leads the charge as the film’s hero. I love the character because he is heroic and unflinching, always calm, cool, and collected in the face of sheer horror.

The sets are gothic and brilliant, especially the gloomy castle owned by the Baroness and her son. When she invites Marianne to spend the night, a threatening servant named Greta treats her to a stylish room and a ravishing dinner.

The exteriors are as good as the interiors and portray the village within Transylvania as cozy and homespun. Outside, the prominent inn run by the locals is inviting as much as it feels forbidden and haunted.

When Marianne is abandoned in the village by her terrified coach driver, we know that secrets or living creatures are waiting to be unearthed.

These atmospheric additions will compel audiences to tune in and enjoy the horrific moments.

Speaking of horror, The Brides of Dracula feels enough like camp and not scary, and comic elements exist throughout. No better example of this is the bumbling and boozy Doctor Tobler, played by character actor Miles Malleson.

While many moments are over the top, especially when a vampire character bares their fangs in the best hammy way, the film never feels foolish or amateurish.

A considerable misstep is naming the film The Brides of Dracula when no Dracula is ever found. I incorrectly assumed the Baron was Dracula until after the final credits rolled. This is a sneaky way to capitalize on the name recognition of Dracula.

There are too many fun moments in the film to harbor much resentment. Of the brides, my favorite is Gina, played by Andree Melly, who looks the most frightening.

The Brides of Dracula (1960) is an entertaining and pleasing chapter in the Hammer horror catalog. The expected elements include a crucifix and a healthy dose of holy water.

1960 Films, Art, Drama, Gabriele Ferzetti, International, International Drama, Italian, Lea Massari, Michelangelo Antonioni, Monica Vitti

L’Avventura-1960

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L’Avventura-1960

Director Michelangelo Antonioni

Starring Gabriele Ferzetti, Monica Vitti

Scott’s Review #1,167

Reviewed July 30, 2021

Grade: A

L’Avventura (1960) is similar to the horror masterpiece Psycho (1960), released the same year. However, they are not exactly opposite on the surface.

One is an American horror film directed by an esteemed British director, and the other is an Italian art film. What do they have in common?

Forgetting that the former is not a horror film, L’Avventura first introduces a character that the audience is particular to be the main character, only to pull a switcheroo midstream and make other characters the central protagonists.

What Janet Leigh’s Marion Crane was to John Garvin, Vera Miles, Sam Loomis, and Lila Crane in Psycho.

Be that as it may, as an interesting if not wholly odd comparison, L’Avventura is a brilliant film and not just for the story alone. Black and white cinematography of the grandest kind transplants the film viewer to a fabulous yet haunting island where the events occur.

Frequent shots of the gorgeous Mediterranean Sea and its roaring waves pepper the action.

In Michelangelo Antonioni’s classic of Italian cinema, two beautiful young women, Claudia (Monica Vitti) and Anna (Léa Massari), join Anna’s lover, Sandro (Gabriele Ferzetti), on a boat trip to a remote volcanic island.

They plan to spend their time cruising, resting, and relaxing on the Mediterranean. The trio is all good-looking and resides on the outskirts of Rome. They join two wealthy couples and depart on their excursion,

A search is launched when Anna suddenly disappears on an island stop. Meanwhile, Sandro and Claudia become involved in a romance despite Anna’s disappearance, though the relationship suffers from the guilt and tension brought about by the looming mystery.

Their relationship is intriguing, given their roller-coaster emotions. Their burgeoning romance and Anna’s disappearance overlap.

Assumed to be the film’s focal point, Anna eventually serves as more of a ghost character and quickly disappears from the screen.

This threw me for a loop.

Events do not remain on the island but return to the Italian mainland, where Sandro and Claudia continue with their guilt, finally becoming convinced Anna might have returned!

The brilliant and ambitious thing about L’Avventura is that the film changes course many times.

On the surface, it appears to be a film about a missing girl and a friend’s attempts to locate her. But Antonioni delves into a film about emotions and the meaning of life, making the audience go deeper along with the characters.

Eventually, Sandro and Claudia chase a ghost of their design and plod along unhappy and unfulfilled, suffering paranoia.

L’Avventura is all about the characters and the cinematography, and each immerses well with the other.

Many characters exchange glances with each other that the audience can read into. What was the relationship between Sandro and Claudia before the cruise? What is Anna and Sandro’s backstory? And what’s become of Anna? Did she run off and drown, or was she murdered?

The camerawork is stunning; each shot is a lovely escapade into another world. The yacht cruise and island sequences are awe-inspiring. I love how the characters explore different sections of the island instead of dully standing on the shore or in similar shots.

As the title says, the point is both physical and cerebral adventure.

L’Avventura (1960) is a film that will make you think, ponder, escape, and discuss the true meaning. Isn’t that what great art cinema does?

Antonioni also made me consider comparisons to another great art film creator- the Swedish director Ingmar Bergman.

1960 Films, Drama, Epic, Eva Marie Saint, Hugh Griffith, John Van Eyssen, Lee J. Cobb, Otto Preminger, Paul L. Smith, Paul Newman, Peter Lawford, Sal Mineo, War

Exodus-1960

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Exodus-1960

Director Otto Preminger

Starring Paul Newman, Eva Marie Saint

Scott’s Review #1,005

Reviewed March 30, 2020

Grade: A-

Creating a monumental epic about the modern state of Israel, director Otto Preminger’s vast project Exodus (1960) is a bold adaptation of the Leon Uris novel from 1958.

Starring stars of the day for added Hollywood spice and a romantic element, the result is a sprawling war drama with robust proportions and a hefty running time.

The film sometimes lags or even drags, but the message’s enormous importance and influence on stimulating Zionism should never be forgotten.

With the treacherous World War II barely in the rear-view mirror, Israeli resistance fighter, Ari Ben Canaan (Paul Newman), attempts to bring six hundred European Jewish Holocaust survivors from British-blockaded Cyprus into newly developed Palestine.

At the camp, he meets Kitty Fremont (Eva Marie Saint), an American volunteer nurse. The pair teams up with others to attempt to liberate the survivors.

The action eventually switches to Palestine, where other characters and motives come into play in a complex story. During this time, opposition to the partition of Palestine into Arab and Jewish states was heating up, leading to tension, bombs, and death among similar types of people.

Central to the main plot is a young love story involving spirited Dov Landau (Sal Mineo), a radical Zionist resistance group member, and Karen Hansen Clement (Jill Haworth), a young Danish-Jewish girl searching for the father from whom she was separated during the war.

Exodus has so much story going on and multiple plots to follow.

Besides the tense story, the main draw is the two love stories told amid the political turmoil.

Newman and Saint have marginal chemistry; he is an eye candy who electrifies the screen, and she seems too old for him and does not photograph well. Kitty, a widow, hedges on her romantic feelings for Ari, but they ultimately unite.

A gorgeous sequence occurs when the two share a delicious meal of fish and martinis amid a rooftop restaurant overlooking the dazzling landscape. She later dines with his parents and his mother, a classic Jewish mother who, in stereotypical fashion, cooks and fusses.

The fresh-faced pairing of Dov and Karen is reminiscent of Tony and Maria from West Side Story. Doomed from the start, the youngsters are opposites in many ways: hot-headed, sensible, and resilient. He is bronze and swarthy; she is blonde and blue-eyed.

I fell in love with the couple more than Ari and Kitty and rooted for their happily-ever-after moment, which sadly never occurred.

At nearly four hours, the film is best watched in segments, perhaps even four, to let the action marinate overnight. The sweeping cinematic photography and the lush exterior sequences aid the complex drama.

A drawback was not seeing the film on the big screen, which was almost a must in hindsight and limited by the DVD quality over Blu-Ray.

Nonetheless, the film is delicious in nearly every way. When tedium is about to occur, an event snaps the viewer back to immediate attention.

A notable fun fact is that Preminger boldly hired blacklisted screenwriter Dalton Trumbo, on the dreaded Hollywood blacklist for over a decade for communist leanings, to write the script.

Together with Spartacus (1960), made the same year, Exodus is credited with ending the practice of Blacklisting in the motion picture industry. The importance of what is written on the blank page is arguably surpassed by the man who wrote those pages.

Exodus (1960) nearly rivals the epic of all epics, Lawrence of Arabia (1962), in its cinematography of exotic and sacred landscapes in daring and forbidding lands.

Perhaps twenty minutes could be carved out when the action loses momentum. Still, with great direction, a top-tier cast, and a history lesson in the harshness of war and generations of conflict, the film resonates with the realism of the subject matter.

Oscar Nominations: 1 win-Best Supporting Actor-Sal Mineo, Best Music Score of a Dramatic or Comedy Picture (won), Best Cinematography, Color

1960 Films, Charles Bronson, Eli Wallach, Horst Buchholz, James Coburn, John Sturges, Robert Vaughn, Steve McQueen, Western, Yul Brynner

The Magnificent Seven-1960

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The Magnificent Seven-1960

Director John Sturges

Starring Yul Brynner, Steve McQueen

Scott’s Review #961

Reviewed November 22, 2019

Grade: B-

The Magnificent Seven (1960) is a Western in the classic sense that will satisfy fans of the genre. It features Hollywood stars of the day in heroic roles that give an aura of nationalism and conservative Americana.

Other than an outstanding musical score, a pleasant romance, and some male bonding, the film feels quite dated, with racial overtones that probably were not as irritating in the 1960s as they are now.

The film is a remake of the 1954 Japanese film Seven Samurai.

The bullied residents of a small Mexican village decide to hire seven American gunslingers to defeat a gang of bandits led by Calvera (Eli Wallach), who terrorizes the villagers regularly.

The Gunslingers are led by Chris Adams (Yul Brynner) and feature Vin (Steve McQueen), Bernardo (Charles Bronson), Lee (Robert Vaughn), Harry (Brad Dexter), Britt (James Coburn), and Chico (Horst Buchholz). Each is distinctive in some way- Lee is a veteran while Vin is a drifter, and so on.

The musical score is to be praised for its high energy and adventurous timing, especially during key scenes.

The introduction of the seven gunslingers is fun and popular for the Western genre, especially in television series of the time. This was a treat for audiences because most cast members were handsome, leading men.

The music also infuses the film with charisma and is perfect for the genre.

A romance between the hot-blooded Chico and the gorgeous Mexican girl Petra also works. An unlikely pairing, the couple has resounding chemistry and a West Side Story-style connection. Not supposed to be attracted to one another or hardly soul mates, the two blessedly share a happily-ever-after roll-up as the entire film does.

Westerns in the 1960s were meant to be crowd-pleasing and not especially daring. Chico and Petra are a nice addition and provide a bit of diversity.

Brynner and McQueen’s swagger is filled with machismo that might be annoying in a different film, but it works in The Magnificent Seven. They both look great, are clearly in their prime, and are well suited for a feature meant to satisfy the tastes of men and make the women swoon.

They prance around on their horses, looking serious, calm, and confident. However, the film’s target demographic is men and not teenage girls.

The over-arching story is irritating. The viewer is supposed to believe that the Mexican men are so incompetent that they do not even know how to shoot a gun or how to defend themselves.

This seems to be a gimmick and a pro-American stance more than a reality. The gunslingers swoop in and take complete control, showing the Mexicans how real men fight. It’s silly and trite and a prominent plot device.

It isn’t very kind, but standard for the genre.

The film meanders, and the viewer becomes restless in the middle because of the thirst for the inevitable climactic finale. Finally, we are treated to the battle between good and evil, where much blood is spilled, and even a few gunslingers are slain.

Laughable is how the characters die on cue but still look great while dying. The finale is marginally satisfying but predictable in its outcome.

Made when the Western was a popular genre and a box office success, decades later, the film feels dated and unnecessary.

Featuring big stars of the day, this is not surprising, and better genre films with more grit were soon to be on the way, think The Wild Bunch (1967), and are superior to The Magnificent Seven (1960).

Oscar Nominations: Best Music Score of a Dramatic or Comedy Picture

1960 Films, Alida Valli, Art, Georges Franju, Horror, International, International Horror, Italian, Italian Horror, Juliette Mayniel, Pierre Brasseur

Eyes Without a Face-1960

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Eyes Without a Face-1960

Director Georges Franju

Starring Pierre Brasseur, Alida Valli

Scott’s Review #922

Reviewed July 23, 2019

Grade: A

Eyes Without a Face (1960) is a macabre and twisted French-Italian horror film co-written and directed by Georges Franju. It is based on Jean Redon’s novel, which is the same name.

The film cover art (see above) is flawless and terrifying. It induces the creeps by only giving a glimpse, causing the recipient to be curious and attempt to analyze the meaning.

The film is nestled into a short one-hour and thirty-minute package that is time to scare the audience to death with many fantastic and gruesome elements, severely limiting the gore, which only adds to the horrific nature.

Because of its subject matter, the film was highly controversial in 1960 and was subsequently either loved or reviled by its audiences.

Eyes Without a Face is riveting because the audience empathizes with the characters and takes action to correct their wrongs despite the main character’s undeniable crazyness.

The complex emotions of guilt and obsession are commonalities, making it a layered and complex horror film that appears on many Top Ten genre lists.

The film is not for the faint of heart.

Doctor Genessier (Pierre Brassier) is a brilliant and successful physician who specializes in plastic surgery. After a vicious car accident that he is to blame for, he attempts to repair the ruined face of his daughter, Christiane (Edith Scob), a victim of the wreck.

But his plan to give his daughter her looks back involves kidnapping young girls and removing their faces. He is aided in his machinations by his assistant, Louise (Alida Valli), who kidnaps the young woman and helps him in the laboratory, acting as a surrogate mother to Christiane.

Louise aids Génessier partly because he helps restore her damaged face in events before the film begins.

Scob is the stand-out character, containing an innocent and quietly melancholy existence as she is the apparent victim of the story. Her defeated posture, while resiliently hopeful and demure, is complex for an actress to carry, and she defines grace and poise.

Brasseur and Valli each deliver the goods in different ways. Valli, haunting in her best horror effort Suspiria (1977), is mesmerized by her doctor and savior so that the relationship is almost cult-like.

Brasseur is strangely heroic, as he steals lives to save lives, so his character is extraordinarily complex.

The surgery scenes are chilling, featuring white, starchy uniforms worn by a doctor, assistant, and victim. The scenes could almost be mechanical tutorials offered to first-rate medical students with scholarly intentions. If this were not a horror film, the look would be documentary-style.

Genessier calmly cuts an entire circular length of his victim as a hint of blood slowly oozes down the sides of her face in an almost tender fashion.

The film, made in 1960, is not the 1980s slasher film image that encompasses non-horror film-goers’ preconceptions. It has a gorgeous texture.

The best scene occurs when one of Genessier’s victims, lying on a gurney, comes to and gazes at a figure leaning close to her. The camera turns to the figure, revealing a blurry but recognizable image of Christiane sans the face-like mask she usually wears throughout the film.

As the victim shrieks in horror, Christiane slowly backs away from her amid a feeling of pain and heartbreak, remembering how much of a freak she must appear to others. The scene is sad and grotesque at the same time.

Horror films often get bad raps, but poetic and stylized horror films are a diamond in the rough.

Eyes Without a Face (1960) achieves its place in the cinematic archives with brilliant black and white cinematography entrenched in a Gothic, chilling story with characters whose motivations can be dissected and studied long after the film ends.

This keeps the viewer thinking and deserves repeated viewings to capture all the gems it offers.

1960 Films, Anthony Dawson, David Miller, Doris Day, Hermione Baddeley, John Gavin, John Williams, Myrna Loy, Rex Harrison, Roddy McDowall, Thriller

Midnight Lace-1960

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Midnight Lace-1960

Director David Miller

Starring Doris Day, Rex Harrison

Scott’s Review #909

Reviewed June 13, 2019

Grade: B+

Midnight Lace (1960) is a straightforward psychological thriller made in cinematic history when the genre increased in popularity.

The film was influenced by the Alfred Hitchcock craze, which was front and center at this time, and a robust departure for its lead, Doris Day, who until this time mainly was nestled securely in the romantic comedy domain.

The film is a good watch and a challenging role for Day, who proves she has the acting chops to carry the movie.

Day portrays Kit, an American heiress, newly married to British financier Tony (Rex Harrison), residing together in London. When she is terrorized by an odd voice in a London park one misty night, her panic is dismissed as rubbish, and pranksters have their way with her.

When the threats return and escalate with telephone calls, Tony alerts the authorities, who question whether Kit may be imagining things or creating a panic to gain attention from her husband.

Tony, in turn, begins to ask the same questions.

Day, an American sweetheart and forever good girl was brave enough to tackle a role that was left of center for her. Despite her acceptable acting and impressive range during scenes of peril, Doris Day is still Doris Day, and it is tough to shake the image of her playing herself.

Attractive, Day is not the sexpot type, so a few scenes of her being flirty by attempting to seduce Tony with sexy nighties do not work so well. Day has never looked lovelier than she does in this picture.

The plot rolls along with fantastic glossy production values, and I never found myself tuning out or wondering when the film would end.

The drama heightens minute by minute, turning into a whodunit, while the film wisely never disqualifies whether Kit could be staging the shenanigans herself.

Did she fall into a bus, or was she pushed? Why did she hire someone to call her? Is the menacing voice disguised? The questions become more frequent as the film progresses, which is what good thrillers should do.

I figured out only half of the big reveal, but the other half caught me off guard, and the finale was climactic and satisfying.

The film belongs to Day, but the additions of Harrison and the legendary Myrna Loy add class and flavor to a movie that could have been dismissed as only cliched in lesser hands.

Harrison is effective as the concerned but stoic husband, and the audience wonders if Tony is involved in Kit’s stalking or if he is a caring man.

Does the subplot of a discovered embezzler in Tony’s company have anything to do with it? If so, how are the stories connected?

Handsome John Gavin, a Rock Hudson type who became famous for Psycho (1960), is a welcome addition as contractor Brian. He shows up at the right time to save Kit, making him a prime suspect.

Loy plays Kit’s Aunt Bea, who comes to town for a visit; the part is nothing special, but seeing the actress in whatever role she tackles is lovely.

Finally, Malcolm Stanley (Roddy McDowell) adds drama as a money-hungry man and son of Kit’s maid.

Characters are added to the story as potential suspects.

The viewer is treated to their share of exterior shots of London, which provides the film with enough British flavor, almost to forget that Day is American. With the additions of Scotland Yard and an Inspector, the British culture is firmly placed, adding a wonderful British element.

Tony and Kit are rich, so their lavish home and exclusive neighborhood are finely placed on display.

The film’s title is represented in a cute scene when Kit seductively holds up a sexy outfit she purchased for Tony. The scene seems straight out of the 1980s slick television movie thriller genre and is primed for the Lifetime television network.

This is not a criticism because the title works well and holds tantalizing darkness.

Midnight Lace (1960) is a nearly forgotten film that is a fine watch and a lovely tribute to Doris Day’s talents. She makes the film her own and is the main reason to watch it.

Though she does not sing or play the girl next door, she does turn in an above-average performance, showing her range as an actress. The rest of the film’s trimmings, especially the locale and the supporting actors, benefit the viewing pleasure the film possesses.

Oscar Nominations: Best Costume Design, Color

1960 Films, British, British Horror, Cyril Frankel, Gwen Watford, Hammer Horror, Horror, Patrick Allen

Never Take Sweets from a Stranger-1960

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Never Take Sweets from a Stranger-1960

Director Cyril Frankel

Starring Patrick Allen, Gwen Watford

Scott’s Review #900

Reviewed May 17, 2019

Grade: A

Never Take Sweets from a Stranger (modified to Never Take Candy from a Stranger in the US for marketing purposes) is a 1960 British film directed by Cyril Frankel and released by Hammer Film Productions.

The film contains brilliant cinematography and cerebral quality, and it is pretty daring for the time it was made. It combines a story of pedophilia with manipulations of the legal system, allowing those to get away with this most heinous crime because of their status.

Despite the production company name being marketed as a horror film, the film is more left-of-center than a traditional horror film.

The locale is a small, sleepy lakefront Canadian town that seems like an everyday US town. The Carter family (Peter, Sally, and their 9-year-old daughter Jean) has just moved there to give Peter a fantastic job opportunity as the school principal.

Jean confides to her parents that while playing in the woods, she and her friend Lucille went into the house of an elderly man. The man asked them to remove their clothes and dance naked for him in return for some candy, which they did.

Peter and Sally are appalled and decide to file a complaint. The elderly man is one of the wealthiest and most influential in the town, the respected Clarence Olderberry, Sr.

Jean’s experience is downplayed, and the town largely shuns the Carter family. As a trial against Olderberry commences, Jean is ridiculed on the stand and her story ripped to shreds by attorneys.

After Olderberry is acquitted, he pursues Jean and Lucille in the woods, eventually catching the girls during a harrowing lakefront chase and murdering Lucille. Jean escapes, and the truth is revealed to the shocked and devastated town.

Although the cast of Never Take Sweets from a Stranger is not a household name, each performs well.

As the parents, Patrick Allen and Gwen Watford are well-cast and believable. They are upstanding strangers in the town, wanting to protect their daughter without smothering.

As old man Olderberry, Felix Aylmer plays the role not as menacing but by providing glimpses of pain and sympathy. The audience is unclear whether the man has dementia or Alzheimer’s disease, perhaps not even knowing what he has done.

The black-and-white cinematography is gorgeous, surreal, and tremendously effective.

With ghostly tones, the film gets off to a mysterious and prominent start as we see Jean and Lucille casually playing in the woods, startled to glance up at a menacing mansion (perfect for a Hammer production) to see elderly Olderberry leering at them with binoculars.

The lakefront sequences and the chase through the woods are among the best at providing superior camera angles.

As Lucille talks Jean into entering Oldberry’s house, we presume she has done this before. She knows Oldberry will provide the girls with candy, but does she understand this comes at a price?

Immediately, there is a shred of doubt about the children’s innocence—ever so quickly. The film’s decision and Oldberry’s representation are pivotal in casting even the slightest doubt on the motivations or decisions of the main characters.

Comparisons to the brilliant The Night of the Hunter (1955) are rapid. Themes of child abuse, young children in front and center roles, a creepy lake with a prominent boat, and macabre adults are prevalent, at least to some degree, in both films.

Additionally, both films were shunned at the time of release, misunderstood, and later rediscovered, subsequently seen as treasures of brilliant filmmaking.  Measuring both films as tragedies is also apparent; each results in pain and sadness for the children involved.

Never Take Sweets from a Stranger (1960) was released decades ago. It took years for its brilliance to be recognized and appreciated, as it added admirable and thought-provoking nuances to the viewer.

The subtle qualities make this film a world of its own. Sadly, the best movies are often overlooked, marinating the flavorful juices rather than a sudden bombastic reaction.

1960, the world was not ready for this film, but it is remembered as a brave, disturbing, and relevant film offering.

1960 Films, Barbara Shelley, British, British Horror, George Sanders, Horror, Peter Vaughan, Science Fiction, Wolf Rilla

Village of the Damned-1960

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Village of the Damned-1960

Director Wolf Rilla

Starring George Sanders, Barbara Shelley

Scott’s Review #701

Reviewed November 30, 2017

Grade: B

Village of the Damned is a 1960 black and white horror film released during a spectacular year for the film genre- and specifically for the horror genre.

With legendary films such as Hitchcock’s Psycho and Michael Powell’s British Peeping Tom making their debuts at the same time, what a coincidence that Village of the Damned (also British) shares the same year.

The film is a satisfying treat- certainly not on par with the aforementioned duo of masterpieces, but on its terms, it is a fine film with just enough suspense and intrigue to make it a memorable affair.

Anything in movie horror involving children is downright creepy, so German director Wolf Rilla is wise to adopt a film based on a 1957 novel entitled The Midwich Cuckoos by John Wyndham.

I adore the title and wish Rilla had kept it for the film. Alas, he did not, but the story is well-written and almost like an extended episode of The Twilight Zone or a similar television chapter from the 1960s—it just seems like more of an episodic experience.

No disrespect, of course, but the film does not contain the bombast expected from a feature film, but rather a compartmentalized, small tale.

In the sleepy little town of Midwich, England, a polarizing force suddenly and without warning overtakes the city, causing all the inhabitants to fall unconscious and into a state of inactivity.

Attempts by the military to enter the town fail, even as an airplane crashes to the ground after attempting to cross into Midwich.

As quickly as these events occur, the townspeople “wake up” and resume normalcy. Two months later, all women of childbearing years suddenly become pregnant, causing gossip and intrigue. As the years pass, the children look similar, with platinum-blonde hair, piercing eyes, and rapid growth spurts.

Furthermore, they all are telepathic and communicate with each other in this manner.

The central characters include a prominent professor, Gordon Zellaby (George Sanders), and his wife, Anthea (Barbara Shelley). They are the parents of one of the children, named David, who appears to be the leader of the other children.

As the children become increasingly menacing and intelligent as they grow older, sometimes hurting or killing other townspeople by somehow “possessing” their thoughts, Gordon must race to find a way to trap and stop the children from more dastardly deeds.

The use of black and white cinematography and the small-town setting successfully give Village of the Damned an eerie and mysterious vibe, is little or no bloodshed nor the traditional horror-themed elements- hence the above Twilight Zone reference.

The film does not need these to succeed, as the psychological mystique is compelling enough. We wonder, “What is wrong with these kids?” and “Why do they act so strangely?” “Are they possessed?” and  “Is this some weird experiment?”

The answers are never really explained in detail.

Slight negatives to the film are the only limited character development among any prominent characters such as Gordon or Anthea, and these roles are one-dimensional- the children are the stars.

Sanders and Shelley are adequately cast, but I can think of numerous other actors who could have played these parts well.

The conclusion to Village of the Damned is unspectacular, and I was left with an unsatisfied feeling, especially as related to other more satisfying aspects of the film as a whole.

I felt like a bit of potential was not reached.

Gordon merely orchestrates a big event, sacrificing himself to destroy the children, and the film ends.

Village of the Damned was followed by a 1963 sequel entitled, Children of the Damned, which was not deemed a critical nor a commercial success.

Years later, in 1995, the film was remade and directed by John Carpenter but also received poor reviews.

1960 Films, Art, Bernadette Lafont, Claude Chabrol, French, International, International Thriller, Lucile Saint-Simon, Stéphane Audran, Thriller

Les Bonnes Femmes-1960

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Les Bonnes Femmes-1960

Director Claude Chabrol

Starring Bernadette Lafont

Scott’s Review #303

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Reviewed December 19, 2015

Grade: A

Les Bonnes Femmes (1960) is a French film by Claude Chabrol, an excellent director whom I was shamefully unfamiliar with, save for the recently viewed Les Biches, made in 1968.

He has been labeled the French equivalent of Alfred Hitchcock, which is an accurate statement.

Les Bonnes Femmes is a brilliant film that came about during the experimental New Wave films of the 1960s and cannot be forgotten upon viewing it.

It has resonated with me, and I cannot stop thinking and analyzing it.

The film centers on four shopgirls living in Paris, all of whom happen to be young and beautiful and mysteriously look similar to one other.  Their names are Jane, Jacqueline, Ginette, and Rita.

They are rather bored with their lives and meander aimlessly through life and the doldrums of their job by looking forward to social occasions, which mainly include men.

The girls party (some more than others), date, go to the zoo, swim, and enjoy typical young lady festivities.

So far, the film might sound like a typical, lighthearted, nice story- think a French Sex and the City. It is, by and large, this way on the surface, but throughout the film, there is a calm sense of dread- like something bad might be lurking in the shadows of coming around the bend.

One day, while the girls are at the zoo, a mysterious individual begins following them, though the viewer has no idea why or who it is.

The film contains more than a sense of dread. Instead, a sense of chilling violence is in the air. A brooding, cold, ugly feeling transpires due to superior direction and overall mood.

Paris, one of the world’s most gorgeous cities, appears bleak, dark, and gloomy throughout the film. The black-and-white cinematography undoubtedly adds to this, as greyness envelopes every shot.

Throughout  Les Bonnes Femmes, there is plenty of foreshadowing as situations arise that give a sense of danger or that something terrible is imminent.

Early in the film, two girls are walking along the street when they are approached by two men in a car wanting to party with them. They accept, and the viewer wonders what a bad decision they may have made. The men wine and dine the women, who are looking for love.

One of the girls is quite a bit more reserved than the other and ends up spending the night with the men. Later, the shop owner tells a story about how she once acquired a serial killer’s bloody handkerchief after he was guillotined and has kept it for years.

Creepy? Yes.

The tigers snarling at the girls when they visit the zoo is laced with symbolism as is a, at first, fun game at the pool, as the men dunk the girl’s heads underwater until things escalate towards danger.

Jacqueline, the sweetest of the girls, meets a motorcycle man and spends time together. They are happy. The irony is that during these later scenes, in which an act of brutality occurs (one character is murdered), the tone is suddenly sunny, warm, and bright. A lovely afternoon in the woods quickly turns evil.

This was a shocking scene, as I was caught off guard. The ending of the film can be discussed in vast detail.

During the murder, it almost seems like the victim is welcoming death. Could this be? Additionally, is one of the shop girls his next intended victim, or is a new girl the killer’s next target?

In the final shot, we see him dancing with a girl, but it is unclear (at least to me) if it is one of the shopgirls.

Chabrol is not a happily-ever-after director. His films are known to be stormy, with dread looming. However,t they are also laced with style, sophistication, and a dark appeal.

I cannot wait to sink my teeth into more of his works.

1960 Films, Art, Best International Film Oscar Winners, Bibi Andersson, Birgitta Pettersson, Birgitta Valberg, Drama, Gunnel Lindblom, Ingmar Bergman, International, International Drama, Max von Sydow, Swedish

The Virgin Spring-1960

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The Virgin Spring-1960

Director Ingmar Bergman

Starring Max von Sydow, Birgitta Valberg

Scott’s Review #243

60011418

Reviewed May 15, 2015

Grade: A

The Virgin Spring is a quiet masterpiece by director Ingmar Bergman.

A Swedish film, it won the Best Foreign Language Oscar in 1960, which is surprising for such a dark film.

I have heard about this film for years, but it has eluded me until now. I am finally glad I viewed it. It is breathtaking and mesmerizing.

A unique film for many reasons, it inspired “revenge” films to follow, specifically The Last House on the Left and I Spit on Your Grave, which is a horror film, yes, while The Virgin Spring is interestingly an art film.

The film also questions morals, the main character’s religious beliefs, and reflections on guilt.

The filming is in black and white, and the first point that struck me about the film was its gorgeous cinematography and lighting. The brilliant, deep contrast of black and white with the illumination of a character’s face while the background is death black is bold and reminiscent of Citizen Kane (1941).

It gives the film warmth and glow that contrasts perfectly with the bleak subject matter.

The story of The Virgin Spring is a tragedy, yet the filming is so magnificent that it was not until the film concluded and I pondered the actual story that I realized just how horrific it truly is. And that is what Bergman was going for-provoking a thought.

This is not a film to watch while munching a tub of popcorn. It is a film meant to make one think.

An affluent Swedish couple owns a farm and lives a peaceful, quiet existence. They are stellar members of their community and church. Although they are humble, they can afford to have servants.

They have a beautiful and pampered young daughter named Karin, who is sent to deliver candles to their church one sunny day. Karin is a trusting, virginal, and proper girl. She meets a trio of males- two adults and a young boy.

At first, gleefully sharing food with them and enjoying her newfound friends, they soon turn on her, and she is viciously raped, robbed, beaten, and murdered.

The look of surprise, pain, and horror on Karin’s face is monumental. As this occurs, a pregnant and spiteful servant, Ingeri, watches in horror from a hiding place. A rival of Karin’s, Ingeri wanted misfortune thrust upon Karin, but as she sees in horror, her expressions portray regret.

As the family hopes and prays that they can find the missing Karin, the men and boy show up at the farmhouse in need of food and shelter.

Unbeknownst to the family, they are Karin’s rapists and killers, and once the truth is known, the once-sweet parents are out for brutal revenge. The young boy of the trio is guilt-ridden and physically sick from the circumstances.

Is the family’s revenge justified, or should they (as good Christians) forgive? This is the moral point of the story.

The conclusion is powerful as the father begs God for forgiveness. He questions his actions. But is he a changed man?

Bergman uniquely and intelligently shoots these scenes with only the father’s back in view as he throws his hands to leave. In these moments, we, the viewer, become one with the father, which makes for powerful storytelling.

Influential to many subsequent films, The Virgin Spring (1960) is a powerful tale reminiscent of a fairy tale that makes viewers think about the ending.

Subdued yet horrifying, it is meant to be viewed and analyzed.

Oscar Nominations: 1 win-Best Foreign Language Film (won), Best Costume Design, Black-and-White

1960 Films, Alfred Hitchcock, Anthony Perkins, Best Film of the Year, Horror, Janet Leigh, John Gavin, Martin Balsam, Pat Hitchcock, Scott's Top 100 Films, Scott's Top 20 Horror Films, Vera Miles

Psycho-1960

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Psycho-1960

Director Alfred Hitchcock

Starring Janet Leigh, Anthony Perkins

Top 100 Films #1     Top 20 Horror Films #1

Scott’s Review #165

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Reviewed September 6, 2015

Grade: A

Psycho (1960) is the film to end all films, and not just within the horror genre- at the time of release, it transcended the art of cinema to a new level and has influenced generations of films since, and still holds up incredibly well today.

It is undoubtedly one of the greatest Alfred Hitchcock films and one of the greatest films ever made.

Hitchcock took considerable risks and dove from the thriller to the horror genre with Psycho.

The story involves a young woman named Marion Crane, superbly played by Janet Leigh. Marion lives in Phoenix, Arizona, and sees her boyfriend (the dashing John Gavin) for frequent afternoon rendezvous at cheap motels when he is in town because they are both struggling financially.

She is presented with an opportunity, via her job, to steal $40,000 and flee the state to start a new life with her beau. She seizes the opportunity.

On the run, she stops at a run-down Bates motel where she meets owner Norman Bates, hauntingly played by Anthony Perkins.

Perkins and Leigh have fantastic chemistry together, and the audience picks up on it—is it romantic? Is there a mysteriousness to it? Something is odd about Norman. They bond over a quiet meal of sandwiches at the motel while discussing life and his ailing mother.

The famous shower scene and the shocking twist after the film are now almost taken for granted since most people already know about them, but I can only imagine the shock viewers felt when they first saw these two delights.

To this day, both are still suspenseful.

Fortunately, when I saw this film for the first time, I did not know the ending, and I am glad I didn’t because it took my breath away.

To kill off the leading actor at the start of the film halfway through was a novel idea and mind-blowing at the time of release (1960).

This act had the audience’s mouths open in disbelief, asking, “What now?” “How can this be followed?” This act later influenced the original Scream (1996) film and surprised audiences again.

Per Hitchcock, no one could enter the film after it had started, and viewers were persuaded not to reveal the ending- oh, how I wish that occurred these days.

An aspect of the success and longevity of Psycho is the chemistry between Perkins and Leigh, who got along famously while shooting Psycho, and more importantly, the likability of Norman Bates. There is a rooting value for him even though he is the villain.

When Marion’s car is only half-submerged in a lake containing her dead body, we root for it to sink entirely because of Norman. The concerned look on Norman’s face has a sense that affects the audio at this point in the story. Norman is troubled and wo, undead, and the audience does not have history.

Let’s not forget Janet Leigh. The audience sympathizes with her predicament. She is hopelessly in love with her man, steals money, is conflicted, and, at her core, is a friendly, decent, kind woman.

Halfway through the film, Marion’s sister Lila, played by Vera Miles, is introduced as a detective and becomes more of a suspense/mystery as they search for Marion and investigate the Bates Hotel and Norman Bates himself.

Miles then takes center stage as the lead in the film, which is intriguing.

The film then returns to horror at the terrific and terrifying conclusion, which will shock first-time viewers.

The musical score (especially the shrill strings) is incredibly effective and influenced other horror films to come (Friday the 13th immediately comes to mind).

Psycho is a film that can be enjoyed and studied over again.

Oscar Nominations: Best Director-Alfred Hitchcock, Best Supporting Actress-Janet Leigh, Best Art Direction, Black-and-White, Best Cinematography, Black-and-White

1960 Films, Anna Massey, British, British Horror, Horror, Karlheinz Böhm, Maxine Audley, Michael Powell, Moira Shearer, Scott's Top 100 Films, Scott's Top 20 Horror Films, Shirley Anne Field

Peeping Tom-1960

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Peeping Tom-1960

Director Michael Powell

Starring Nigel Davenport

Top 100 Films #60     Top 20 Horror Films #16

Scott’s Review #127

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Reviewed July 22, 2014

Grade: A

Peeping Tom is a brilliant horror film from 1960 directed by Michael Powell.

It is a British film released the same year as Psycho. The two films resemble each other in that both have more character-driven villains than many other contemporary horror films.

Both feature male killers with a sympathetic (to them) female.

Set in London, it tells the story of an assistant cameraman who kills his victims by using a camera with a spike on the end of it as he is videotaping the fear in their eyes, which he later plays back for his own psychological needs.

The killer has emotionally damaged himself, and the film explores this aspect in depth; his father tormented him as a child with weird, traumatic experiments used on the boy for research.

I love this aspect of the film compared with other films of the genre, where the killer typically has no sympathetic aspects and whose motivations are usually explored minimally.

The audience has sympathy for this killer, which, strangely, is absurd and shocking.

Ahead of its time, viewers were initially turned off by the film at the time of release. Director Michael Powell’s (ironically playing the terrible father in videotape scenes) career was ruined.

Anna Massey (later to appear in the Hitchcock masterpiece Frenzy, 1972) plays the sweet-natured girl next door who develops a crush on the killer. Her blind and boozy mother is a fascinating character as she suspects and strangely bonds with the killer.

The film has an erotic and voyeuristic quality that has been unmatched in horror.

Peeping Tom (1960) is now considered a masterpiece, and I agree with that assessment. It is one of the most interesting and unique horror films ever made.

1960 Films, Best Picture Oscar Winners, Billy Wilder, Comedy, Drama, Fred MacMurray, Jack Kruschen, Jack Lemmon, Paul Picerni, Ray Walston, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Drama, Shirley MacLaine

The Apartment-1960

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The Apartment-1960

Director Billy Wilder

Starring Jack Lemmon, Shirley MacLaine

Scott’s Review #7

60011007

Reviewed June 17, 2014

Grade: A-

The Apartment (1960) is another gem by Billy Wilder (Sunset Boulevard, The Lost Weekend). This one is set in 1959 New York City, a setting and period I adore.

The black-and-white images effectively portray the loneliness and bleakness of the characters, who are all friendless, sad, and starved for love.

It questions social morality and getting ahead in the corporate world but goes from drama to romantic comedy with no sappiness.

Quite the contrary, as the film has dark moments of despair and angst.

The film influenced the television series “Mad Men”. As with most Billy Wilder films, there is a darkness of humanity, which is fascinating to watch.

Jack Lemmon and Shirley MacLaine are terrific, but their chemistry is lacking. Despite this, the film is still excellent.

The Apartment (1960) won the Best Picture Oscar.

Oscar Nominations: 5 wins-Best Motion Picture (won), Best Director-Billy Wilder (won), Best Actor-Jack Lemmon, Best Actress-Shirley MacLaine, Best Supporting Actor-Jack Kruschen, Best Story and Screenplay Written Directly for the Screen (won), Best Sound, Best Art Direction, Black-and-White (won), Best Cinematography, Black-and-White, Best Film Editing (won)