I_Ailurophile

The sound design is richer and more dynamic, and more effective, in this 1952 feature than some titles of all the years since can claim. As this was processed in the untarnished glory of mid-century Technicolor, much the same could be said of the fundamental appearance of the image before us. Moreover, the production benefited from fantastic filming locations and equipment, lovely sets, fetching costume design, and some particularly keen use of lighting, and while Loyal Griggs' cinematography doesn't always catch one's eye, where it does, his contribution is superb. Meanwhile, in guiding his cast and in orchestrating shots and scenes, filmmaker Mark Robson often demonstrates a wonderfully mindful if not subtle hand, to the point that viewers unfamiliar with the wider world of cinema, or with older fare, might sometimes get the mistaken impression of little going on - yet the attentive, critical viewer will find themselves completely absorbed in all the excellence to greet us, and taking in every trace. This applies to the acting, to moments of emotional weight, to sequences of tension or suspense, and even to the more action-oriented bits. Robson very capably demonstrates that with an expert, careful hand a film can be meaningful and impactful no matter the tone or subject matter. Accentuating the point and in stark contrast, consider all those flicks of the decades since which are categorized in the same genre, but which are defined by flashy bombast, frenetic action, overcharged forthrightness, and empty shells of characters. How some of those ever get recognition, big box office receipts, and award nominations, while 'The bridges at Toko-Ri' gets forgotten over time, absolutely flummoxes me.

This is to say nothing of the marvelous stunts and practical effects that define the action in the unexpectedly small portion of the runtime where it dominates. And to top it all off, I utterly adore the original music of composer Lyn Murray, a sumptuous and emotive collection of themes which serve as outstanding complement to the proceedings at any given time, and no matter the mood at hand. Just as much to the point, Murray had the sagacity to decline scoring some moments, allowing a beat to speak entirely for itself, and those instances of musical silence reverberate just as vibrantly. Just as importantly as anything else, however, if not more so, is the tenor the picture adopts, and the story it tells, and this is a supreme credit to novelist James Michener and screenwriter Valentine Davies. Frankly, as far as I'm concerned, the screenplay and its narrative are more wide-ranging, more focused, more thoughtful, AND more hard-hitting than a lot of kindred works could claim. Many are those "war movies" that capitalize on the horrors of war, or its tragedies, or conversely on its pride and glory. Many also are those war movies, or those movies otherwise centering the military, that - whether emphasizing violence and action or not - give us unlikable and unsympathetic characters, and chest-beating, mindless jingoism, racism, sexism, and homophobia, while substituting zip, zoom, and bluster for the deliberate craftsmanship that would allow their tales to truly resonate. 'The bridges at Toko-Ri' couldn't be any further from the latter group, however, and while touching upon some of the same territory as the former, I find it to be still smarter and more shrewdly considered than some brethren.

Michener and therefore Davies allow us to glimpse the important jobs that various servicemen have on aircraft carriers, and the lives of these men both on the vessel and outside of it. They ponder the nature of war (specifically the Korean War), and the sort of people who are capable of doing the extraordinary things that are asked of them, and the sort of people who do these things willingly when they have every reason not to. Michener and Davies give us earnest personal and interpersonal drama, often with a rather nuanced sensibility, then turn around and also give us tension, suspense, and action that decline the full-scale zest of many subsequent productions, but which are nevertheless (or maybe consequently) equally effective if not more so. They honor servicemen while declining to kneel deferentially (there is cruder but more accurate language that could be used here). Yes, there are also little odds and ends that I don't think are necessary, or which I think were less mindfully considered, and I don't think the writing nor the feature as a whole is perfect. In all those ways that matter most, however, it is spot-on, including not just the plot and even its characters but also the scene writing, and (most of) the dialogue. And that Robson and the cast and crew then turned around and realized that script so terrifically - well, what can one say except that the result is stupendous, and very underappreciated?

There are times when I think this comes across less as a "war movie" and more of a drama that happens to take place in and during and amidst a war. Maybe this is not something that will appeal to all comers. I'm deeply gratified by how great it is, however, far exceeding my expectations, and I can hardly recommend it any more highly. As far as I'm concerned 'The bridges at Toko-Ri' is a fabulous classic that deserves much more recognition, and this is well worth seeking out to watch.

Comedy legends that the Marx Brothers were, I don't think they were capable of making a bad movie, yet not all their works are equal. The more their films were grounded with a solid narrative, with any hijinks ably woven into the tableau, the better they were. On the other hand, the more that a film tended toward a loose variety show smorgasbord, the more it would get bogged down in its own goings-on, and the less fun it was for audiences. Thankfully, 'Go west' much more represents the former than the latter, and the result is a reliably good time through and through. It's not one of their best known pictures, but ultimately it's pretty much just as worthy.

Groucho, Chico, and Harpo are as quick-witted and dynamic in their performances as ever, ably doing whatever is necessary for a scene be it acting, singing, playing an instrument, or pulling off some stunt - and their co-stars are just as deft. Between the skills of the actors and their fellow actors, and the cleverness and intelligence of filmmaker Edward Buzzell and writers Irving Brecher and Nat Perrin, from the very start this flick is filled with delightful bits that entertain and earn laughs just as intended. Sharp dialogue and one-liners, silly gags, ridiculous characters and situational humor, and no shortage of physical comedy and stunts and effects fill these brisk eighty minutes while faithfully staying centered on a story fit for most any western. To this panoply add a few songs peppered throughout, and an obligatory sequence of Harpo performing on his namesake. There were instances in the troupe's career when an excess of or hyperfocus on the frivolities were their own undoing, but the writing (and the direction) is tight enough in this instance to keep the proceedings relatively reined in, and that makes all the difference.

It's not a laugh riot so outstanding as to be an essential classic, but it's heartily enjoyable through and through - and that's all it needs to be. Don't necessarily go out of your way for it, but 'Go west' is well worth checking out if you have the chance, and I'm glad to give it my warm recommendation.

Not every film needs to be a revelation that fully demands our attention and inspires great thought and praise. Sometimes it's enough for a title to simply be good, and suitably enjoyable and worthwhile. 'The bridge at Remagen,' I think, is one such title. Loosely based on real events of World War II, and boasting a production history that itself is rather fascinating, there is a lot to love here as it tells the story of German and American forces converging on the titular infrastructure in the waning days of the war. The immense hard work behind the scenes to secure equipment and excellent, eye-catching filming locations - let alone facilitate filming in the first place under very challenging circumstances - are to be roundly commended. The stunts and practical effects that fill the screen at select junctures are nothing less than tremendous, as fine and harrowing as one could hope of such fare, and there are definitely times when Stanley Cortez's cinematography or William Cartwright's editing are particularly sharp. This is to say nothing of superb consideration for lighting, production design, costume design, props, and all the little nuts and bolts of film-making, including not least a sober, heavily dramatic score from composer extraordinaire Elmer Bernstein. Together with some thoughtful narrative writing and some especially fantastic scene writing and direction, there are moments when this is downright brilliant, capturing the imagination in the way that only cinema can.

The trouble is that the feature does not uniformly meet this high level of quality. It's not that it's ever bad, understand, but just as there are aspects here that engross us, there are aspects that are dull, uninteresting, or less carefully considered. For whatever value we may cite in the screenplay, for example, I don't think the characters count among it; except for in select scenes, no figures are going to leap out at us beyond the division of Axis and Allied forces. The sound design is a tad uneven, meaning that sometimes actors speaking with a more or less German accent are more intelligible in their speech than the those portraying Americans. And while the plot is compelling at large, its details get muddled and essentially break down to "good guys versus bad guys" without anything richer or more nuanced to set the movie apart. In fairness to the scribes, though, this may also be an issue with the direction of filmmaker John Guillermin. At its best 'The bridge at Remagen' is truly outstanding - yet there are also times when a scene fails to land with all the effect and impact that is intended, or which is portended in the writing. Emphasizing the point, sometimes a scene as it is shot fails to live up to the chords in Bernstein's music. As many trees of the story get lost in its forest, I can't help but wonder if Guillermin is also responsible for that deficiency, and in turn, for the whole feeling longer than it is. The best way to put it, perhaps, is that I find the direction technically precise, but narratively imprecise.

Ultimately this is very good, and certainly worth checking out if one has the opportunity. I'm glad to give it my hearty recommendation, and I will recall it fondly with recognition of where it succeeds broadly, and also with flying colors. The flip side, however, is that I will probably recall it vaguely, without being able to speak to many if any specifics - the trouble with marvelously executing the orchestration of every scene but somewhat fumbling the storytelling. By all means, I'm glad for those who get even more out of this than I do, and all told it's better than I thought it would be from the outset. Maybe just keep your expectations a little in check, and save this flick for a quiet day, and maybe that's the best way to get the most out of 'The bridge at Remagen.'