Brian Hannan

Quadruple Bill: Ferrari (2023) ** / Anyone But You (2023) * / One Life (2024) * / Next Goal Wins (2023)

The stars aligned and with only a couple of minutes between features I was able to squeeze in a record-equalling four movies in a single day (excepting all-nighters of course) at the cinema and with one exception they were all well worth the ticket price.

Ferrari

Not really a motor racing picture in the mold of Ford v Ferrari / Le Mans ’66 (2019) or Rush (2013) but more of a domestic drama centering around a dramatic race. The acting is plum, Penelope Cruz (The 355, 2022) taking the honors ahead of Adam Driver (House of Gucci, 2021) though Shailene Woodley (The Last Letter from Your Lover, 2021) seems miscast. The climactic race doesn’t carry the punch of Le Mans, however, the focus more on the backseat players than the drivers. And it’s not quite prime Michael Mann (Heat, 1995)

Set about decade before Ford v Ferrari, it finds Enzo Ferrari (Adam Driver) coping with the death the year before of his only son, the potential collapse of his business, and trying to conceal long-standing mistress Lina Lardi (Shailene Woodley) from long-suffering wife Laura (Penelope Cruz).

The depth of the couple’s despair at the loss of their son can be measured in the fact that every morning they take flowers, separately, to his graveside. He has at hand an immediate substitute, having fathered a boy, now approaching ten years old, with his mistress, but rejects the chance to officially gave the boy his name.

The manufacturing side of the business was always viewed as merely a way of financing the racing, Ferrari having been a driver earlier in his life. But overspending or lack of income, such details are not specified, has pushed the business towards bankruptcy and he toys with inviting a merger with a bigger company such as Fiat or Henry Ford (which formed a central plank of Ford v Ferrari). But the easiest way out is to win Italy’s most prestigious race, the Mille Miglia, a four-day 992-mile event that ran clockwise across public roads from Brescia to Rome and back.

But I had to look that up. Unlike Le Mans, unless you are a racing aficionado, this doesn’t immediately click in the public consciousness. And there were a host of other details that seemed to skimp on information. Unlike Ford v Ferrari where you learned exactly how fast cars got faster and what it took to drive them or be driven in one (witness Henry Ford’s terrifying hurl), here you are only given some vague technical data which makes little sense. There is little background fill, Maserati pops up as Ferrari’s chief rival but its inclusion is almost incidental. In fairness, you do get more about the jiggery-pokery of running a business.

Running parallel to the racing venture is the family soap opera, will Laura find out about the mistress and child, will she jeopardize the business out of spite. Once the race starts, it’s hard to keep up. Here the distinct lack of detail hurts the most, although there is one shocking scene.

Engrossing enough but it’ll struggle to fill cinemas.

Anyone But You

A contemporary take on the rom-com with the disgruntled participants of a one-night stand forced to pair up at a wedding where they encounter an abundance of exes and various interfering family members. Glen Powell, star in the making in Top Gun: Maverick (2022), comes good as does Sydney Sweeney (The Voyeurs, 2021). Skipping the raw rudeness of its immediate predecessors, this pivots on charm, but with a few helpings of humiliation (he strips naked to avoid a predatory spider) and slapstick thrown in, plus some old-style determinedly un-woke action from one parent in particular. He is the more vulnerable, a poor swimmer, requiring a soothing song to fly. The plot is over-plotted and occasionally it seems some incidents have come straight from Room 101, but generally it works. Probably it helps, if I’m permitted of offer such a comment, that they are A-grade beefcake and cheesecake, respectively. Setting that aside, they appear to have mastered the lost art of the rom-com and certain drew appreciative laughter from the audience I was part of. the kind of film that in the olden days would have picked up a sizeable audience on DVD and turned into the kind of cult that guaranteed a return joust.

One Life

A film of two halves when it should have been divided into three-quarters and one-quarter or an even stiffer division. Concerning the efforts of the “British Schindler” Nicholas Winton (Johnny Flynn playing the younger version, Anthony Hopkins the older) to smuggle out of Prague over 600 Jewish children at the outbreak of World War Two. The earlier section is far more gripping and the later section that revolves apparently around an attempt to publicize the previous rescue in order to highlight the plight of later refugees falls mostly flat on its face as it seems more intent on glamorizing the actions of a man who wanted anything but public recognition. Too much time is spent pillorying a society that sanctified such inanities as the long-running That’s Life television program when I felt it would have been more sensible, and fair, to devote more attention to the work of Winton’s collaborators. While the climactic scene where Winton meets, as grown-ups, the children he saved is moving, it feels redundant compared to the actual children-saving.

Next Goal Wins

Eventually, it turns into a feel-good picture but for most of the time seems intent on making fun of Samoans carrying the tag of the world’s worst team. Nobody seems to ask why FIFA is so determined to bring football to countries where there is no interest in the game. Oddly, Michael Fassbender turns in his most accessible performance as the coach drafted in to improve the team, a big ask since he has clearly been a flop at his chosen profession. You could have pinned the movie more easily on the transgender player more accepted in Samoa than virtually any other country in the world who, by default, becomes the first transgender to play in the World Cup.

Behind the Scenes: “The Swiss Conspiracy” (1976)

Not an obvious candidate for a Behind the Scenes feature, but important for four reasons. It ushered in the sub-genre of financial thriller, raised issues about tax-shelter funding, brought Hollywood back into European financing and was another example of how desperate the industry was for product that it would fund new entries from untried producers.

Banks were rarely a subject matter for movies except as the object of a heist or if they were foreclosing on a poor farmer or business, but former banker Paul Erdman, who had written his thesis on Swiss banks and the Nazis, single-handedly created substantial interest with a series of thrillers exposing the business. The Billion Dollar Sure Thing was a 1973 bestseller, as was the following year’s The Silver Bears. The latter, filmed in 1977 with Michael Caine, was beaten to the punch by The Swiss Conspiracy, an original screenplay.

Making acerbic comment about money has become critically-applauded big business ever since. Think Alan J. Pakula’s Rollover (1981) with Jane Fonda and Kris Kristofferson, Michael Douglas’s Oscar-winning role in Wall Street (1987), Oscar-nominated The Wolf of Wall St (2013) and The Big Short (2015) and more recently Dumb Money (2023). Hardly so successful or lauded, The Swiss Conspiracy nonetheless started a trend.

In the mid-1970s, cinemas were clamoring for product. Despite gigantic hits like The Godfather (1971), The Sting (1973) and The Towering Inferno (1974) – and with Jaws (1975) on the horizon – studios had not returned to the production levels of the 1960s never mind the golden days of the previous decades. Cinemas had made do with cheap fillers, blaxploitation, sexploitation, four-walled nature documentaries, and kung fu. But with such an obvious gap to be filled, it was relatively easy for new producers to seduce banks and other investors into backing new pictures.

Raymond Homer had come from film processing. He had been a laboratory chief before moving into production. He set up his Durham Productions with the aim of exploiting opportunities for cheap moviemaking in South Africa. For The Swiss Conspiracy He partnered with former distributor Maurice “Red” Silverstein and the German producer Lutz Hengst (King, Queen, Knave, 1972) and Warner Brothers.

This proved part of a major development for the Hollywood studio which, like most of its breed, had either pulled out of funding European movies entirely or continued on nothing like the scale of the previous decade. The cutbacks were as much to do with ongoing financial fears as the losses engendered in European investment during the roadshow splurges of the 1960s.

WB now pursued an “aggressive” European funding policy, setting aside $12 million for investment in 13 pictures. These included the thriller Inside Out (1975) with Telly Savalas and James Mason, Permission to Kill / The Executioner (1975) starring Dirk Bogarde and Ava Gardner, Peter Collinson’s The Sellout (1976) with Oliver Reed and Richard Widmark, Trial by Combat / A Dirty Knight’s Work (1976) toplining John Mills and Barbara Hershey and The Swiss Conspiracy. United Artists and Columbia had also triggered substantial European funding.

Shooting on The Swiss Conspiracy began in May 1975 on location in Switzerland and in the Bavaria Studios in West Germany. The cast was decidedly dicey. David Janssen (The Warning Shot, 1967) had only made one movie in five years. Senta Berger, though still in demand in Europe, had not starred in an American production since The Ambushers (1967). She may even have been cast out of convenience as she lived round the corner from the Munich studio. The other cast members – John Ireland and John Saxon – were either supporting players or like Ray Milland long past their peak.

Co-producer Maurice Silverstein was every bit ambitious as Homer. The next movie on his dance card was intended to be an adaptation of the John Le Carre bestseller A Small Town in Germany. But he was also lining up The Left Hand of the Law with James Mason and Stephen Boyd, Blood Money and The Jumbo Murders.

The Swiss Conspiracy was first released in Britain. In May 1976 it opened in first run at the Warner multiplex in London’s West End, doing so well at the 132-seat Warner 1 it was shifted for the rest of its four-week run to the larger 434-seat Warner 4, for reasonable returns but not enough to win a circuit release in either of the two major chains.

Despite its funding, however, Warner Brothers’ rights did not include the US/Canada. So while the movie went out in Europe in 1976, it took another year to reach America, via distributor S.J. International which released the movie first (minus any kind of premiere or particular fanfare) in Denver in August 1977 across five screens. There was no national saturation release but eventually 400 prints found their way across America between August and December.

The best results in first run were a “tasty” (in Variety parlance) $3,000 from two cinemas in Portland and a “neat” $7,000 in Boston. Otherwise results registered as “dismal,” “dull,” “slow,” “soft” and similar.

Despite the movie’s less-than-stellar U.S. box office Homer, now considered a fully-fledged producer, announced a slate of eight pictures. Sharpies was set to star Stella Stevens (The Poseidon Adventure, 1972) and Camilla Sparv (Downhill Racer, 1969). The Inheritance was headlined by Anthony Quinn (Guns for San Sebastian, 1968), Shadow Killer by Yul Brynner (Westworld, 1973), For the Love of Anna by British actress Lynne Frederick (Phase IV, 1974), The Naked Sun by Roger Moore (Live and Let Die, 1973), Queen of Diamonds by French star Olga-Georges Picot (Day of the Jackal, 1973) and The Great Day by Sophia Loren (Man of La Mancha, 1972). Compared to The Swiss Conspiracy, these movies had stars with considerable marquee value.

But the wheels came off the nascent production efforts of Homer and Silverstein when they were sued by investors for $45 million. Turned out their productions were in large part funded by a group of mid-West tax shelter investors who had not quite grasped, it would appear, how risky motion picture investment could be.

By and large, the biggest recipients of investor largesse are the cast and crew, followed by the producers, with actual investors last in line to receive any monies. Even if a movie wasn’t a hit, and there were no profits to re-distribute, a producer would still, at the very least, receive a production fee and most likely cream other monies off the top, accommodation, entertainment, transport and the like.

While tax shelter investors were looking to minimize taxes or avoid paying them altogether, they did not expect to see their cash just disappear. One of the big problems for a movie producer was that it was virtually impossible to bury results in the accounts. Box office was too transparent for that. Simply by following the weekly box office reports in Variety or Screen International in Britain you could determine a picture’s performance.

What was soon obvious to the investors was not just that the likes of The Swiss Conspiracy had done poorly, but that some of the other pictures appeared not to have been even released – or made (The Naked Sun, The Great Day, Sharpies). And that attempts to secure releases were limited by the lack of trade showings (only one in New York, for example), those being the most direct way, screening the picture to potential buyers, to secure bookings. The result of that being that none of the slate received any New York bookings.

Variety commented: “Such U.S. funded films seem to disappear almost completely here after appearing initially in the production charts.”

And eventually the sad tale that did emerge was how easily investors were duped by the thought of instant riches and just how tricky it was, even in a product-starved business, for movies produced by unknowns to gain any traction, and that names (emblazoned across full-page advertisements in Variety’s bumper Cannes editions, for example) that seemed to scream box office potential would struggle to deliver without distribution.

Turned out Raymond Homer did have a strategy, or he evolved one, though not one that would have enticed initial investors. Homer stated that he expected his main source of revenue to come from outright European sales and television and cable in the U.S. In theory, this was a sensible approach. Sell a picture outright country-by-country and you avoided the further expense of advertising and distribution. You could reap a reward without further risk and even if those returns were relatively small the cumulative effect might be profit. Joseph E. Levine would become the poster boy for such an approach – his A Bridge Too Far (1977) was in profit before filming began but then he had a top-line all-star-cast and, critically, received the cash in advance.

Theoretically, you could make money if you sold your picture outright country-by-country but only if you had box office figures somewhere to justify the amount you were asking. Homer estimated that his movies had to gross $3 million in the U.S. just to break even and that seemed unlikely so he planned to sell them off to television and cable. But again, sums handed over by small-screen buyers depended also on box office.

The producers encountered myriad problems. Sharpies was not completed due to lack of funds. The Inheritance, for which Dominique Sanda had been named Best Actress at Cannes, found an Italian distributor. After losing 18 minutes for U.S. release and with the addition of a new prolog, it was handled in the U.S. by S.J. International and of all the films seems to have achieved the widest release.

Queen of Diamonds, also directed by Homer, was acquired for U.S. release by Peppercorn-Wormser Inc and while receiving some European exposure was actually made with television in mind as a six-part series. Shadow Killer, renamed Blood Rage, received a very limited released – just 200 prints – in the U.S. in 1978. For the Love of Anna was reshot and released in the U.S. as Until Tomorrow in 1977 and acquired for Japanese release.

None of Silverstein’s planned productions saw the light of day. Homer produced one more picture, Mister Deathman (1983) starring David Broadnax and Stella Stevens, which may have been a re-edited and re-shot version of Sharpies.

On the other hand, the financial thriller became a sub-genre and tax shelters became a major source of funding for movies.

SOURCES: “Silverstein Bows As Conspiracy Producer,” Variety, April 30, 1975, p27; “Swiss Conspiracy Begins Shooting,” Variety, May 28, 1975, p33; “Maurice Silverstein To Produce 2nd film,” Variety, June 25, 1975, p37; “Warner Bros,” Box Office, October 6, 1975, pMC2; “Leider’s O’Seas Dozen for Warners,” Variety, October 10, 1975, p3; “Swiss Conspiracy Rights Acquired,” Box Office, February 7, 1977, p9; “Doctoring For Pics for U.S. Public,” Variety, May 17, 1978, p9; “Raymond Homer Durham Co. Schedules 8 Features,” Box Office, May 30, 1977, p5; “Swiss Conspiracy Bows in Denver,” Box Office, July 4, 1978, p8; “9 Tax Shelter Pix Face Legal Autopsy,” Variety, September 17, 1080, p5; Box office figures for The Swiss Conspiracy drawn from Screen International May 29, 1976-June 26, 1976 and from Variety in various issues August-December 1978.

The Swiss Conspiracy (1976) ***

One of those thrillers that only makes sense at the end. Lazy critics, too annoyed to wait or not able to work it out themselves, take out their bafflement on the picture. Or they carp at what they see as overmuch tourist influence instead of admiring the clever use made of Switzerland’s scenic attractions, the twisty cobbled streets, corkscrew highways teetering over ravines, and the apparatus of skiing – the chug-chug trains and lifts.

Attractive too for the cast. You might put me down as overly fond of leading lady Senta Berger (Bang! Bang! You’re Dead! / Our Man in Marrakesh, 1966) but I’m equally appreciative of the casual charm and realistic qualities brought to the screen by the underrated David Janssen (The Warning Shot, 1967). And that’s before we come to Elke Sommer (The Prize, 1963) and veteran Hollywood star Ray Milland (Hostile Witness, 1969), not to mention character actors John Saxon (The Appaloosa / Southwest to Sonora, 1966) and John Ireland (Faces in the Dark, 1961).

*Poster designer gives himself a bit of leeway here, suggesting a lass is going to be striding around the Alps in such clingy clothing.*

Former U.S. Treasury Agent David Christopher (David Janssen) is called in by Swiss bank owner Johann Hurtil (Ray Milland) to investigate a threat to expose the clients hiding behind the country’s infamous secret numbered accounts. Five clients, in particular, have been targeted including the glamorous Denise Abbott (Senta Berger), whom David first encounters in what would in other circumstances be deemed a clever meet-cute with the woman getting the upper hand.

One client is already dead, murdered in the opening sequence, as a warning. Of the others, Robert Hayes (John Saxon) is a mobster depositing illicit gains for money-laundering purposes, Dwight McGowan (John Ireland) a shady businessman on his last legs, while Kosta (Curt Lowans) equally operates in the shadows. And all is not well with the bank deputy Franz Benninger (Anton Diffring), involved in an affair with another client, Rita Jensen (Elke Sommer). On top of that, Swiss cops are on the trail of Hayes and hit men are tailing Christopher.

Christopher quickly surmises that the victims have been targeted for their undercover dealings, even the uber-glam Denise is blackmailing a former lover. But Hurtil, fearing a public and media scandal, and for whom the gangster’s demands are a mere drop in the ocean compared to the bank’s overall wealth, decides to meet their terms, which is payment of 15 million Swiss francs (equating to several million U.S. dollars, I guess) in uncut diamonds.

But before that we have a punch-up and shoot-out in a parking garage, a chase on foot on those famous narrow cobbled twisty streets with a speeding car giving the thugs unfair advantage, a race of seduction a la On Her Majesty’s Secret Service (1970) along those aforementioned treacherous mountainous roads, a literal cliffhanger in the vein of The Italian Job (1969), and one of those luscious romances beloved of the upmarket thriller (think The Thomas Crown Affair, 1968).

While Christopher is painstakingly putting together the clues and keeping the suspicious Swiss police off his back and avoiding being killed, there’s a deadline to meet, the usual race against time, while the audience is having to fend off a surprising number of red herrings.

It’s not only glamorous, it’s short, and there’s more than enough going on, characters played by interesting actors, to keep the viewer involved. And I defy you to guess the ending. So, enough thrills, sufficient mystery, great scenery, and a female contingent (even Christopher’s secretary fits that category) with brains to match their sexiness who appear to have the upper hand in relationships with the opposite sex.

This is David Janssen at his best, that outward diffidence concealing a harder inner core, exuding a guy-next-door appeal that was never properly utilised by Hollywood, who preferred him just to reveal character by squinting. The scene where he takes in the extent of the luxury of Denise’s hotel penthouse is one of those that, while not knocking on Oscar’s door, demands true acting skills. He’s never in your face, and the camera loves him for it.

Of course, Senta Berger, what can you say, another under-rated actress never given her due in Hollywood, here finds a plum role that allows her to switch from confidence to vulnerability at the drop of a hat. John Saxon and John Ireland, as ever, are value for money. And Ray Milland keeps the show on the road.

A modern audience would be more at home with the multiplicity of plot angles and probably worked out in their own heads all that couldn’t find a place on screen, ensuring that what seemed like plot holes were anything but.

Jack Arnold (The Creature from the Black Lagoon, 1953) handles the scheming and dealing with ease. Norman Klenman (Ivy League Killers, 1959), and two television writers in their movie debuts, Michael Stanley and Philip Saltzman, wove the intricate screenplay.

The Mark (1961) ****

Despite an exceptional and Oscar-nominated performance by Stuart Whitman (Rio Conchos, 1964) , I suspect modern audiences will take less kindly to this tale of convicted child molester trying to come to terms with his feelings. At least it’s considerably more honest than the creepier May December (2023) where the criminal steadfastly contended her innocence.

And I suspect, too, that Whitman’s square jaw and muscular physique got in the way of his attracting the parts for which the depths of vulnerability he was able to exhibit were most suited. He came to this straight after an action role, as the charming bad-good-guy of The Commancheros (1961) where, as far as audiences were concerned, what he did with his fists was more important that what he expressed through his eyes.

There’s a bit of a grey area that lends the convicted Jim Fuller (Stuart Whitman) the benefit of the doubt. He was found guilty of intent not of actual molestation and a goodly part of the picture is spend on examining why he went down that route, either in a group exercise in prison or one-on-one with a psychiatrist, chain-smoking Irishman Dr McNally (Rod Steiger) in both instances.

I’m not sure how the psychiatric evidence adds up, but basically, with a dominant mother who bullied his father, he grew up frightened of women, despite being attracted and attractive to them, and sought out someone with whom he felt more comfortable, less challenging, leading him to spend too much time watching children at play and eventually buying a young girl an ice cream and going out on walks with her.

It would have been too much for audiences of the time – as it even was with May December – to go into the technicalities of what he intended to do so we are left to trust his own word that he never intended to instigate anything sexual, though why kidnap a child in the first place. The second element that would fill modern audiences with alarm is that though he manages to begin a sexual relationship with a woman of his own age, secretary Ruth Leighton (Maria Schell), she is a widow with a young daughter. Most people would instantly come to the conclusion he was using mother to groom daughter.

However, the film takes the tack that he’s using the daughter to explore a normal relationship with a child, the joy of having a daughter, and the delight and happiness that a young person can bring into a dour repressed life. Dr McNally keeps on banging on that Fuller is “cured” but it’s a very uneasy watch trying to work out if he is or not.

In the event, the first time he’s alone with the girl he is photographed by a local journalist who sticks the photo on the front page, destroying the life Fuller has carefully rebuilt. He has found employment as an accountant with a sympathetic business owner Andrew Clive (Donald Wolfit), fitting in so well he is promoted, though at odds with another senior employee Roy Milne (Paul Rogers). He is chucked out of his accommodation, loses his job and although Ruth initially stands by him the minute she sees Fuller with her daughter her instincts are hostile.

There would be no point in an actor trying to gain sympathy for such an unsympathetic character by playing to the gallery with bouts of temper or floods of self-pitying tears, but even so, the vulnerable husk Whitman presents, his struggles with his self-contempt, his understanding of the feelings he must invoke, his determination to live as quietly as possible, almost in that determined English manner of never being heard nor seen, is what makes this film. Interestingly, he replaced Richard Burton, who pulled out at the last minute (as did Jean Simmons) and you could easily imagine with those trademark quick intakes of breath and deep growls how that actor would have played the part.

Whitman doesn’t go near any grandstanding. It’s just a heartfelt performance of a man who’s lost his way and knows he might never find his way back, haunted by his past, unable to trust himself, unable to believe that he is, in fact, cured. Probably, the biggest issue is that the movie comes down on his side, especially when he becomes one of the usual suspects in another crime involving children, though he did not commit that, and tries to suggest that a child molester will find salvation through living with a mother and child in the normal fashion. As I said, this is not my subject of expertise, thankfully, and that may be well what’s advocated rather than staying away from children altogether.

While the approach might be considered a shade naïve at the same time it does examine issues surrounding reintegration and avoids the obvious trap of attempting some kind of character redemption.

Apart from Whitman, there are good performances all round. Maria Schell, whose career within a decade would go from roadshow blockbuster Cimarron (1960) to WIP epic 99 Women (1969), subsumes her normal more glamorous persona to play a believable working mother. With his chain-smoking, Rod Steiger (The Pawnbroker, 1964) is allowed to fidget to his heart’s content but even such obvious scene-stealing only places more emphasis on the quieter Whitman. Donald Wolfit (Life at the Top, 1965), too, reins in his usual bluster.

Guy Green (The Magus, 1968) directed from a screenplay by Sidney Buchman (The Group, 1966) and Stanley Mann (The Collector, 1965) from the bestseller by Charles E. Israel.

In this instance, given the Oscar nom, Stuart Whitman could hardly be considered under-rated but over the years seems to have disappeared from sight.

Worth a look to see what he could do with the right material.

Marco the Magnificent (1965) **

Small wonder this flopped even with the requisite all-star cast of Omar Sharif (Doctor Zhivago, 1965), Anthony Quinn (Zorba the Greek, 1964), Orson Welles (Austerlitz, 1960), Horst Buchholz (Nine Hours to Rama, 1963) and Elsa Martinelli (Hatari! 1962). Oddly enough, Quinn comes close to saving it. Although initially laughable, presented as a cross between Yul Brynner’s long-lost brother and Ming the Merciless, he tones down the trademark rasp and growl to deliver a powerful performance.

Of course, we also have to take the word of Marco Polos (Horst Buchholz) that he had all these adventures and that he did encounter The Old Man of the Mountains (Akim Tamiroff) and The Lady with the Whip (Elsa Martinelli). The former wore a mask of gold and if you ever saw his face that meant you were in for the chop. And he had a nice line in sonic torture. The latter chooses love above betrayal.

*The name of Marco Polo either meant so little to German audiences or the title change was due to the producers hoping to capitalize on the success of “Genghis Khan.”*

Love – or sex I guess – is a consistent theme. Marco is chosen for this adventure – whose main aim is to get a message to Mongol overlord Kublai Khan, now the ruler of China, that Italy, the dominant western power at the time, wants peace – in part because he is so handsome. He has no other pedigree that I can see. At the age of 20, he’s best described as an idler. But his father Nicolo (Massimo Girotto) is a renowned trader and has ventured along the Silk road to Samarkand.

But, would you believe it, following that old western genre trope where there’s always someone wanting to sabotage relations between Native Americans and soldiers, the idea of peace doesn’t sit well with everyone. Spies report on Marco’s every move and attempt to stop him completing his mission and when he reaches China discovers that another Mongol warlord Prince Nayam (Robert Hossein) prefers the traditional method of conquest, with the raping and pillaging that goes with it, rather than growing the economy through peaceful means.

Just as well Marco is so good-looking because whenever he is in a tight spot he is rescued by a beautiful woman, including the aforementioned Lady with the Whip, and, would you believe it, Princess Gogatine (Lynne Sue Moon), who has been chosen as a potential wife for Kublai Khan (Anthony Quinn). Multiple romance is the name of the game here – Arab chieftain Emir Alaou (Omar Sharif) has twenty-six wives, one of whom has the temerity to complain at his expanding harem.

Mostly, it’s a travelog – with a bucket of travel cliches thrown in such as Russian dancing – punctuated by occasional peril. But beyond looking handsome and putting his seductive powers to the test, there’s not much else for Marco to do.

The screenplay is so limited and haphazard you get the impression it must have been heavily truncated, that there was a three-hour roadshow covering the ground in a more sensible manner, but that appears not to have been the case. Producer Raoul Levy (who wrote and produced And God Created Woman, 1956, and wrote, produced and directed The Defector, 1966) ) spent so much assembling the cast he scrimped on a workable screenplay and was so intent on ramming it with oddly-named characters (Old Man of the Mountains and Lady with the Whip) that he took his eye off the narrative ball.

The final section with Kublai Khan trying to integrate through his own marriage the conquering Mongols and the conquered Chinese and dispensing with war in favor of peace makes more sense but by then you are so exhausted by the multiplicity of star names contributing nothing and the meandering plot that you have just about given up.

And it wasn’t as if Levy didn’t have time to get a screenplay in place. He’d been working on this since 1962 when an earlier version starring Alain Delon (Once a Thief, 1965) was abandoned when finance ran out. One of the most expensive French movies ever made, and extensively funded by Levy, it proved such a flop, it wiped him out financially and contributed to his suicide.

The inconsistency may have been caused by having three directors – Levy, Denys de la Patellier (Caroline Cherie, 1968) and Noel Howard (D’Ou Viens-Tu, Johnny, 1963).

All-star cast wasted, promise unfulfilled.

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Behind the Scenes: Ingmar Bergman

My first cinema all-nighter, back in the early1970s, comprised five Ingmar Bergman films. You try watching back-to-back The Seventh Seal (1957), Wild Strawberries (1958), The Virgin Spring (1960), Through a Glass Darkly (1961) and Winter Light (1963) and stumble out into a cold Edinburgh morning without your brain ringing from exposure to one of the greatest filmmakers of all time.

I’m not sure how Bergman would pass muster these days, if he would verge on cancellation, given his predilection, in his private life, for infidelity, often seducing younger actresses – Bibi Andersson, Liv Ullman, Harriet Andersson et al – working on his films for the first time. He had five wives, nine children (not necessarily in wedlock) and countless lovers. He was very much an absentee father, devoting his time to theater and cinema.

*The Knight plays chess with Death – iconic image from “The Seventh Seal.”*

Nor was I aware that cinema accounted for barely one-quarter of his creative output. For most of his productive career he spent three-quarters of the year working in the theater, on a huge variety of plays, none of which, that being the essence of that genre, are available to posterity. And he was the first – and possibly the only – famous director to develop television as a serious medium – Scenes from a Marriage (1974) and the Oscar-winning Fanny and Alexander (1982) were truncated versions of much longer mini-series first shown on television. The former was a spectacular success, watched by half of Sweden’s population.

He was also a best-selling author. His autobiography The Magic Lantern attracted an advance of $700,000 (equivalent to $1.8 million now) and sold over 100,000 copies in hardback in Scandinavia alone. His screenplays sold in vast quantities at a time when that area of publishing attracted only minority interest.

With a director as prominent as Bergman there were many interesting what-ifs. Barbra Streisand was slated to star in The Merry Widow, but that came apart after a first meeting, when the director recoiled at her personality. Movies were mooted with Fellini and Kurosawa. Richard Harris was to have starred in The Serpent’s Egg (1977) rather than David Carradine.

At one time he fielded offers from major studios like Paramount and Warner Bros and some of his later movies were funded by mini-majors – The Touch starring Elliott Gould (1971) by ABC and From the Life of the Marionettes (1980) by Sir Lew Grade’s ITC shingle. He was on the shortlist to direct Jesus of Nazareth, eventually made by Franco Zeffirelli.

The Seventh Seal, considered his greatest film, despite critical raves, was a flop, The Silence (1963) a whopping success, the biggest box office hit in West Germany for example since the war.

Peter Cowie’s biography, a Xmas gift which I’ve just devoured, has an apt title God and the Devil, for these were the underlying (not to say often obvious) themes of his movies, man giving in to temptation, deity not there to come to the rescue. His films showed the coruscating reality of relationships gone sour, imitating his own experience, even without his constant infidelity (or perhaps because of it) he had a fraught time of it with wives and lovers.

With so many projects – and so many lovers – on the go, his life lurched from professional triumph to personal disaster. Luckily, he could meet child support payments because he was by far the biggest earner in cinema in Sweden, and when wooed by Hollywood, even more able.

Peter Cowie, who founded and edited The International Film Guide for 40 years and ran The Tantivy Press for a quarter of a century, is to film criticism what Bergman is to the movies, someone who moves in the upper pantheon. It was he who interviewed Bergman on stage at the NFT. He claims to come from a generation whose life was changed after seeing The Seventh Seal.

Without being a no-holds-barred work, he does hold Bergman up to scrutiny, the personal life covered in as much depth as the professional. “Bergman’s childhood was clouded by a terrible fear of punishment and humiliation,” writes Cowie, which in essence could have been the template for his movies. He was beaten by his father, a pastor, and bullied by his elder brother. One time, locked in a cupboard, he feared someone was gnawing at is feet.

A cinema buff from an early age, the stage was his first calling and by 1938 had directed his first play. His first movie was Crisis (1946). By Hollywood standards all his movies until quite late in the day would be considered low-budget numbers and it was only when Swedish studios managed to attract international distribution for their films – mostly because of their perceived sexual content – that budgets increased.

While initially The Seventh Seal was considered his greatest cinematic achievement, Wild Strawberries and Persona (1966) have overtaken it in terms of critical approval. In the Sight and Sound Critics Poll of 1972 Persona was fifth and Wild Strawberries tenth. But neither film ever did so well again from the critical perspective though in the Directors Poll of 2022, Persona placed tenth.

A fascinated read and reminder of a director who dominated the cinematic landscape for over two decades.

Top 30 Films for 2023

Ann-Margret is pipped to the post by…Ann-Margret. The Swinger and Stagecoach duked it out at the top of the All-Time Top 40 with the former taking it by a good margin. But it was the reversal in the annual stakes, with the western ahead just by a nose. The films viewed most this year. As ever some surprise picks.

Stagecoach (1966). Ann-Margret and Alex Cord in decent remake of John Ford classic western.
The Swinger (1966). Ann-Margret as novelist who tries to live up to the sexy persona she has invented.
The Sins of Rachel Cade (1961). Angie Dickinson as African missionary with Peter Finch and Roger Moore in thrall.
Fireball XL5. The famous British television series from Gerry and Sylvia Anderson, now colorized. “My heart will be a fireball…”
Fraulein Doktor (1969). German spy Suzy Kendall out-foxes Kenneth More. Grisly realistic WWI battle scenes and a superb score from Ennio Morricone.
Vendetta for the Saint (1968) Roger Moore vs the Mafia.
Plane (2023). Gerard Butler channels his inner Bruce Willis in Die-Hard-on-a-desert-island adventure.
Baby Love (1969). Orphan Linda Hayden proves too much of a temptation for upper-middle-class London family.
The Best House in London (1969). David Hemmings goes into battle for sex workers.
The Sisters (1969). Nathalie Delon and Susan Strasberg in complicated love triangle of love and betrayal.
Pendulum (1968). Taut thriller with cop George Peppard accused of murdering unfaithful wife Jean Seberg.
Moment to Moment (1966). Jean Seberg investigated for murder in Hitchcockian thriller set in the South of France.
Rage (1966). Glenn Ford and Stella Stevens combat pandemic in Mexican town.
The First Deadly Sin (1980). Frank Sinatra’s cop chases down a serial killer.
Go Naked in the World (1961). Gina Lollobrigida finds that her profession (the oldest) and true love (with rich Anthony Franciosa) don’t mix. Great turn from Ernest Borgnine as a doting father.
Lady in Cement (1969). Sinatra as private eye Tony Rome who takes on gangster’s moll Raquel Welch as a client.
Champions (2023). Woody Harrelson as the basketball coach saddled with a bunch of misfits.
A Dandy in Aspic (1968). Cold War thriller with Laurence Harvey as a double agent who wants out. Mia Farrow co-stars.
She Died with Her Boots On / Whirlpool (1969). Sleazy British film from cult Spanish director Jose Ramon Larraz sees kinky photographer Karl Lanchbury seduce real-life MTA Vivien Neves.
Once a Thief (1965). Less glamorous role for Ann-Margret as wife of ex-jailbird thief Alain Delon who is forced into another job.
Diamond Head (1962). Charlton Heston chews the scenery in Hawaiian epic.
Titanic (1997). Reissue in 3D of the James Cameron box office smash.
Can Heironymus Merkin Ever Forget Mercy Humpe and Find True Happiness? (1969) Self-indulgence reaches new heights with writer-director-producer Anthony Newley’s autobiographical tale about stardom. Then-wife Joan Collins co-stars.
Sergeant Ryker (1968). Lee Marvin in Korean War courtroom drama.
The Misfits (1960). Clark Gable goes out on a high, ably supported by Montgomery Clift and Marilyn Monroe in John Huston tale of losers.
Once Upon a Time in the West (1969). Sergio Leone masterpiece featuring the stunning cast of Claudia Cardinale, Henry Fonda and Charles Bronson and that fabulous Morricone score.
In Harm’s Way (1965). John Wayne and Kirk Douglas in Otto Preminger WW2 epic set in Pearl Harbor and after.
The Invitation (2022). Gothic thriller starring Nathalie Emmanuel.
Beat Girl / Wild for Kicks (1960). Gillian Hills is tempted into joining the striptease game. Christopher Lee puts in an appearance.
100 Rifles (1969). Raquel Welch, Jim Brown and Burt Reynolds heat up the screen in Tom Gries western set in Mexico.

Dear Brigitte (1965) ***

In the same year as his momentous turn in Shenandoah, James Stewart at his exasperating best has the time of his life in this throwback comedy that takes its time getting all its ducks in a row while taking a tilt at nuclear energy, computers and the eternal battle between the arts and science with a fair chunk of whimsy thrown in.

Surprisingly contemporary nod to this whole business of actors speaking directly to the camera, with the ramblings by the Captain (Ed Wynn) in this capacity constantly being interrupted by passersby in the vein of “you talking to me?” or “stop talking to yourself.” Professor Leaf (James Stewart), a distinguished poet constantly at odds with Dean Sawyer (Howard Freeman) at the local college where he teaches – on the few times when he’s not handing in his resignation – and which has a nuclear power station next door, tries to espouse the arts at every opportunity, including a family four-piece outfit playing classical music, only to discover son Erasmus (Bill Mummy) doesn’t have an artistic bone in his body.

Surprisingy, in the UK down-graded to supporting feature in this kid-centric double bill. The marketing men pulled another fast one in the poster, leading audiences to believe that was BB in the bikini when it was only the usually-nude model of an artist neighbour attempting to be decent.

What Erasmus has, for some reason only now coming to the fore although he must be about ten or so, is that he’s a mathematical prodigy, able to work out complicated sums faster than a computer and pointing out errors in the calculations of the local bank. Leaf’s wife Vina (Glynis johns) doesn’t have a great deal to do except rein in the professor but she has a wonderful scene where she brings the local bank manager to book.

Anyway, eventually, Erasmus gets hooked into helping the boyfriend Kenneth (pop singer Fabian) of Leaf’s daughter Pandora (Cindy Carol) guess the winners of horse races as a way of assisting the couple in raising enough money to get married. By this time, Leaf has finally resigned and worked out he won’t pick up easy cash from the Government – another terrific scene – and is hoodwinked by con artist Peregrine Upjohn (John Williams) into setting up a charity to help disadvantaged students by employing his son’s skills.

Anyone familiar with horse racing will be aware how preposterous the conceit that anyone, no matter how scientifically skilled at working out the odds, can consistently pick winners. But this all flies by since it’s that kind of movie, one that not only defies belief, but basically sucks you into believing the whole thing, the way the untalented youngsters always managed in Hollywood times gone by to muster a great stage show or turned any kind of loser into a winner.

Still, all this goes on before we get close to the nub of the title. Erasmus has fallen in love with Brigitte Bardot and because he’s basically the family’s sole breadwinner eventually dad takes son to France to meet the real-life superstar who is far more charming than you would expect, the sexpot on hold for the occasion.

So, mostly, as I said, it’s an old-fashioned confection, the kind you could still get away with in the mid-1960s before the changing times demanded that comedies take on a harder edge. And with James Stewart in top form and husky-voiced English star Glynis Johns (who had her own television series in the U.S.) jumping in now and then to prevent him from making things worse it works a treat. Stewart exaggerates all those mannerism you might have thought mildly irritating before – he’s all limbs and sentences cut off in their prime and telling people to leave their own houses. But if he had toned any of that down, the air would have quickly escaped the balloon, for really he’s the only thing keeping it afloat.

But that’s stardom for you. A vehicle comes along that in total isn’t really worthy of the involvement of a marquee attraction like Stewart, who could be lending his talents to more solid fare like Shenandoah and The Flight of the Phoenix (also released the same year). While he’s crucial to both those other pictures, giving one of his best performances in the former, perhaps surprisingly, U.S. audiences, voting with their dollars, felt his performance here trumped that of the Aldrich picture.

Ir’s usually believable roles that attract the greatest critical plaudits for stars, but actually their most notable contribution is in making fly movies that should never work on paper but somehow with their magical injection not necessarily makes the screen sizzle but turns doughy material into something lighter and more easily digestible.

Henry Koster (Mr Hobbs Takes a Vacation, 1962) directs with occasional flair from a screenplay by Hal Kanter (Move Over, Darling , 1963) and Nunnally Johnson (The Dirty Dozen, 1967) based on the bestseller by John Haase.

As under-rated as The Trouble with Angels (1966) as lightweight comedies of the decade generally were, this is worth a look for Stewart alone.

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Behind the Scenes: All-Time Top 20

The “Behind the Scenes” articles have become increasingly popular in the Blog. As regular readers will know I am fascinated about the problems incurred in making certain movies. Perhaps one of the more interesting aspects of this category is that every now and there is out of nowhere massive interest in the making of a particular movie and it shoots up the all-time tree. Most of the material has come from my own digging, and sources are always quoted at the end of each article, but occasionally I have turned to books written on the subject of the making of a specific film.

(4) Waterloo (1970). No doubting the effect of Ridley Scott’s Napoleon in racketing up interest in this famous flop.
(5) Ice Station Zebra (1968). A complete cast overhaul and ground-breaking special effects are at the core of this filming of an Alistair MacLean tale.
(2) The Satan Bug (1965). The problems facing director John Sturges in adapting the Alistair MacLean pandemic classic for the big screen. One of three Alistair MacLean titles in the top 20.
(11) In Harm’s Way (1965). Otto Preminger black-and-white epic about Pearl Harbor and after.
(1) The Girl on a Motorcycle (1968). Cult classic starring Marianne Faithful and Alain Delon had a rocky road to release, especially in the U.S. where the censor was not happy.
(3) The Guns of Navarone (1961). The ultimate template for the men-on-a-mission war picture with an all-star cast and enough jeopardy to qualify for a movie of its own.
(14) Battle of the Bulge (1965). There were going to be two versions, so the race was on to get this one to the public first.
(6) Cast a Giant Shadow (1965). Producer Melville Shavelson wrote a book about his experiences and this and other material relating the arduous task of bringing the Kirk Douglas-starrer to the screen are described here.
(7) Spartacus (1961). How Kirk Douglas sank a proposed Yul Brynner version.
(New Entry) Sink the Bismarck! (1962). Documentary-style WW2 classic with Kenneth Mills with the stiffest of stiff-upper-lips.
(New Entry) Man’s Favorite Sport (1964). Howard Hawks back in the gender wars with Rock Hudson and Paul Prentiss squaring off.
(New Entry). The Bridge at Remagen (1969). John Guillerman WW2 classic with George Segal and Robert Vaughn.
(New Entry). Tora! Tora! Tora! (1970). Richard Fleischer dispenses with the all-star cast in favor of even-handed verisimilitude.
(12) Genghis Khan (1965). A venture into epic European filmmaking with an all-star cast led by Omar Sharif.
(8) Secret Ceremony (1969). How director Joseph Losey persuaded uber glam-queen Elizabeth Taylor to go dowdy in this creepy drama.
(10) The Ipcress File (1965). The other iconic 1960s spy picture that brought Michael Caine fame.
(13) The Biggest Bundle of Them All (1968). Raquel Welch, and release delay controversy.
(New Entry). The Collector (1963). William Wyler’s creepy adaptation of John Fowles’ creepy bestseller with Terence Stamp and Samatha Eggar.
(New Entry) They Shoot Horses, Don’t They (1969) Desperate Depression set drama with Jane Fonda and Michael Sarrazin.
(New Entry) Night of the Living Dead (1968). Zombies rule in George A. Romero horror classic.

Villain (1971) *****

Get Carter, out the same year, tends to get the critical nod over Villain, but I beg to differ. Not only do we have the most realistic robbery yet depicted on screen, but Richard Burton (Becket, 1964), delivering one of his greatest performances, is nearly matched by Ian McShane, flexing acting muscles that would come to fruition in Deadwood (2004-2006) and John Wick: Chapter 4 (2023), and Nigel Davenport’s cop, as cool under pressure as Frank Bullitt.

Where Michael Caine in Get Carter is primarily the avenging angel, Burton’s Vic Dakin is every bit as complex as Michael Corleone. Way ahead of its time in portraying Dakin as a gay gangster in sympathetic fashion, he also has a moral code akin to that of Don Corleone. While the Mafia chieftain drew the line at selling drugs, Dakin despises MP Draycott (Donald Sinden) for his corruption and views with contempt sometime boyfriend Wolfe (Ian McShane) for small-time drugs and girl peddling.

He reveres (as did Don Corleone) family values, bringing his aging mother tea in bed, kissing her affectionately on the forehead, treating her to a day out at the Brighton. But he also rejoices in violence as much as any of Scorsese’s gallery of thugs.

Complexity is the order of the day. Every dominant character, whether operating on the legal or illegal side of the street, receives a come-uppance verging on humiliation. Dakin himself is arrested in full view of his mother. The bisexual Wolfe, who otherwise dances unscathed through the mire, is beaten up by Dakin and humiliated when his male lover shows his female lover, the upmarket Venetia (Fiona Lewis), the door. Top gangster Frank (T.P. McKenna), who attempts to lord it over Dakin, ends up whimpering in agony in the back seat of a car.

Maverick cop Mathews (Nigel Davenport) is brought to heel by internal politics and frustrated at home when his wife is indifferent to the late night shenanigans of his son. Even cocky thug Duncan (Tony Selby), with a quip to terrify victims, is reduced to a quivering wreck under the relentless stare of Dakin.

Unlike The Godfather, mothers excepted, wives and girlfriends are complicit. Little chance of a shred of feminism here. Women are chattels, Venetia is traded out as a “favor” to Draycott, terrified gangster’s moll Patti (Elizabeth Knight) also used in that capacity by Wolfe. Draycott professes little interest in whether the women, procured in this fashion, enjoy sex with him.

So, to the story. Tempted by a tasty payroll robbery, Dakin steps out of his usual line of work, a protection racket, and joins up with two other leading hoods, Frank (T.P. McKenna) and his brother-in-law, the belching Edgar (Joss Ackland). But the robbery goes wrong. The tail is spotted by the payroll car and the victims almost evade capture. But stopping the payroll car renders the getaway vehicle virtually useless, a flat tyre soon flies off and they drive for miles on a wheel rim.

The payroll is well-guarded and several of the villains emerge badly scathed. Worse, the cases containing the cash have anti-theft devices, equipped with legs that spring out and red clouds of smoke. And there are ample witnesses. Edgar is quickly apprehended, and the movie enters a vicious endgame.

Contemporary audiences were put off by the obvious references to the Kray Twins and the Profumo Affair and American audiences had long shown an aversion to Cockneys (though that is not so apparent here) and critics gave it a mauling, the general feeling being that after Performance (1970) and Get Carter, the British public was entitled to the more genial criminal as exemplified by The Italian Job (1969), incidentally another U.S. flop.

There are many superb moments: Dakin’s affectionate stroke of Wolfe’s shoulder, Dakin and his sidekick’s nonchalant stroll over a footbridge as they make their escape, Dakin pushing Draycott into a urinal, Wolfe abandoning Venetia at a country house party so that Draycott can avail himself of the “favor,” Dakin’s love for his mother. Throwaways point to deeper issues, a country stricken by strikes and political corruption.

Dakin, unaware he has made a target for his own back by the unnecessary brutal treatment of an associate, comes up against a cool implacable cop, as confident as Dakin without the arrogance or recourse to brutality, easy with the quip.

A modern audience might appreciate the violence more than the acting, given that a la Scorsese we are supposed to revel in criminal behavior, but it’s the performances that lift the film. Burton had entered a career trough, sacked from Laughter in the Dark (1969), involved in a quartet of financial and critical turkeys – Boom! (1968), Candy (1968), Staircase (1969) and Raid on Rommel (1971) – with only another Oscar nomination for Anne of the Thousand Days (1970) to alleviate the gathering gloom that would see him strike out in his next nine pictures before another nomination for Equus (1977) restored some stability.

So this is a superb character, suited and booted he might be, doting on his mother, but underneath stung by insecurity and unable to rein in his sadistic streak. A marvellous addition to the canon of great gangster portrayals.

Ian McShane, too, provides a performance of great depth, in his element when skirting around the small-time world, out of his depth with the big time, the charm that can hook a vulnerable upper-class lass like Venetia as likely to attract a malevolent mobster, the former under his thumb, the latter controlling. To see him go from cheeky chappie with a winning grin to penitent lover forced to dismiss Venetia is quite an achievement.

Nigel Davenport (Sands of the Kalahari, 1965) is on top form and the supporting cast could hardly have been better – T.P. McKenna (Young Cassidy, 1965), plummy-voiced Donald Sinden (Father, Dear Father TV series, 1969-1972) playing against type, Joss Ackland (Rasputin: The Mad Monk, 1966). Throw in a bit of over-acting from Colin Welland (Kes, 1969) plus Fiona Lewis (Where’s Jack?, 1969) at her most accomplished.

Michael Tuchner (Fear Is the Key, 1972) directs with some style from a screenplay by Dick Clement and Ian La Fresnais (Hannibal Brooks, 1969) working from the novel by al Lettieri.

Ripe for reassessment.

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