Category: George C Scott

ANATOMY OF A MURDER

By Marc S. Sanders

I’m a sucker for courtroom theatrics and Otto Preminger’s Anatomy Of A Murder is no exception.  Though it is sorely out of date when most of today’s viewing audiences have at least one Law & Order episode under their belt. Preminger’s film, adapted from the novel by Robert Traver and inspired by a real-life upstate Michigan homicide, hinged on taboo language and heinous motives enabled by revenge.  Even the father of leading man, James Stewart, found this film to be entirely offensive and campaigned for audiences to avoid seeing it.

Army Lieutenant Frederick Manion (Ben Gazarra) is on trial for the murder of an innkeeper he believed raped and abused his promiscuous wife, Laura (Lee Remick).  Good ol’ boy lawyer Paul Biegler is the former prosecuting attorney of this small Michigan town who opts to represent the defendant.  This will be Paul’s first trial on the other side of the courtroom, and he recruits his best friend and colleague to help him, a washed-up lawyer and lovable drunk named Parnell (Arthur O’Connell).  Paul’s strategy is to defend his client with a plea of not guilty by reason of insanity because Manion is adamant he has no recollection of killing the victim with five gunshot wounds. 

Anatomy Of A Murder is easy to follow because it does not have a wealth of variables to twist the narrative in different directions.  The interest works on Stewart’s Capra-influenced likability.  George Bailey becomes a lawyer. The actor is older by this point in his career, and this performance would be his last Oscar nomination.  He’s sharp in the role and quick on his feet with objections and standard trial ligations.  He’s also adorably charming as he crafts fishhooks at the table while a witness is being questioned by opposing counsel.  That was a first for me to observe.

The prosecution has its small-time attorney, Mitch Lodwick, played with mustache-adorned, nerdy conservatism by Brooks West.  However, a big metropolitan lawyer sits next to him.  George C Scott might be early in his career here, with black slicked hair and dark suits as the imminent Claude Dancer, who notoriously arrives from Lansing, Michigan. He’s reputably intimidating and altogether sly.  He hardly says a word during the first third of his performance and his silence is impossible to ignore. However, when he takes lead counsel later in the story, Scott demonstrates that he’s the standout element of the picture.

Anatomy Of A Murder relies on the taboo nature of the crime on trial.  A rape of his wife motivates a suspect to kill.  In any circumstance, that is going to necessitate a discussion on the subject of ladies’ undergarments.  With a sidebar committee consisting of Stewart, West and Scott with the sleepy, elderly Judge Weaver (Joseph N Welch, famously part of the McCarthy hearings), the script includes time to debate how best to describe Laura Manion’s panties by going so far as to ask if there’s a more suitable word for “panties.”  The men are stumped and the Judge draws a line in the sand by declaring to the courtroom that any sort of chortling will not be tolerated.

In 1959, it’s unheard of to tarnish a person’s ears with vocabulary that includes “sperm,” “intercourse,” “penetration,” “climax,” “rape,” “panties,” “girdle,” and “bitch.”  Yikes!  My friend Anthony and I watched the Criterion Blu Ray of Preminger’s film, nominated for Best Picture, Screenplay and a trio of actors (Stewart, Scott and O’Connell) and we did our best to put our perspective in the past, before our time when Father Knows Best occupied television sets.  Yes.  It was likely shocking with a lot of gall to pull away the veil of sexual deviancy.  An intoxicated Lee Remick is no Donna Reed as she struts around in tight pants and low-cut blouses with a pair of sporty sunglasses.  On the stand, she describes her panties as either being white or pink with lace down the side and ripped off during her alleged assault.  Later, Jimmy Stewart is holding the evidence in clear view.  It couldn’t be anything but shocking.  Turn on any program today, and you’re apt to find any of this conjecture within an episode of Friends or Modern Family. Still, ‘the fella who spoke to Harvey the rabbit is fondling women’s underpants in a courtroom for everyone to see? For shame.

Laura Manion is also tested on the witness stand by Mr. Dancer when she declares she swore on a set of rosary beads. The attorney questions her faith with the Catholic church and if she is worthy of identifying herself as a Catholic any longer. Another person reveals being born out of wedlock. Something that no one should ever know. Religious conservatism tests the merits of its witnesses. In 1959, to say you swore on a set of rosary beads is not taken lightly. To be known as a bastard child is a social crime. Today, it’s just a phrase as common as saying “I swear on my children…” or you are just raised in a single parent home. The servitude of Anatomy Of A Murder has changed over decades of different generations when many are not so protective their personal sensibilities. The age of internet browsing allows everyone to be much more revealing in beliefs or lack thereof, and what constitutes as sexual appeal or how you originated.

Beyond the coarse language and subject matter of Anatomy Of A Murder, there’s not much here that feels fresh or pioneering any longer.  Today’s audiences are far too sophisticated for what Preminger was brash enough to originally show on screen. Anthony and I were certain that Laura’s adorable shaggy dog and a gold cigarette lighter that resurfaces a few times would lynchpin inevitable twists in the case.  Alas, it was just a dog, and alas it was just a lighter.  Yet, the attention to these items seemed like apparent invitations to significant developments.  

Actually, the one surprise that comes from the film is regrettably revealed too soon.  A material witness is disclosed midway through the picture.  However, when George C Scott questions this individual on the stand towards the end of movie, his character is the only one in the room who doesn’t know anything about this person.  With the audience already in on it, what is left to learn except to watch Scott’s character stand apart from everyone else? Had Anatomy Of A Murder been made today, the big reveal would have occurred in the courtroom for all to be surprised and intrigued.  Sidney Lumet’s The Verdict did that. Unfortunately, this is a terribly unfortunate misstep in execution.  It even takes away from Scott’s sensationally devious performance while sucking out potential dramatic heights.

As Paul waits for the jury to return with its verdict, Parnell ponders the dynamics of twelve strangers coming together to determine the fate of an accused.  It’s as if no one ever heard of a jury before this film was released.  Surely audiences, on the cusp of Perry Mason with Agatha Christie at the local library, were somewhat familiar with juries and judicial proceedings.  Anatomy Of A Murder is so simplified that it’s hard to embrace how heinous its evidence and testimonials should be.  

However, Jimmy Stewart performs like Andy Griffith’s famous characters, from Mayberry and Matlock.  The fella loves to fish and sit with his friend Parnell as they joyously read law books well into the night.  If a trial comes along, he might take it if he’s up for it. This guy is just so relaxed with himself and his practice which amonts to hardly any business and income as his faithful secretary, Maida (Eve Arden) reminds him for the run along relatable humor of the piece. Oh Maida, there you go again. Ribbing Paul all along!

Anatomy Of A Murder serves as a lookback to when movies were shedding their innocent, whitewashed skin. It anticipates that audiences will accept heinous crime and sexual deviancy. Otto Preminger trusts America’s favorite actor, Jimmy Stewart, to deliver. Lee Remick stands as an influence for those overly sexualized roles that Sharon Stone and Demi Moore would occupy thirty years later.

Preminger’s film has a widely recognized reputation with a bestowed ten Oscar nominations (though not including Otto Preminger). AFI ranks it as one of the top ten courtroom dramas, in the company 12 Angry Men and Judgment At Nuremberg. Criterion has a print edition within its library. Yet, seventy years after its introduction the temperature of the film is lukewarm, and the subjects are not so jaw dropping. As well, at nearly three hours running time, it could stand to have edited out so much irrelevant material that slows down the story and lends nothing to its characters.

Anatomy Of A Murder is upheld by its formula which I’d argue has been significantly more enhanced and leaner in movies to come, which drew from its inspiration. This is an anatomy of a courtroom crime drama, in its most basic form, when unmentionables might have been mentioned for the first time. I’m glad I didn’t die of embarrassment in front of Anthony. I mean I’ve heard of intercourse and I’ve seen women in girdles in a Glamour magazine (like George Costanza) before, and at the very least I’ve seen women’s panties on sale at Macy’s. If you have as well, then you are likely ready for Anatomy Of A Murder.

THE HUSTLER

By Marc S. Sanders

To get inside the turmoil that Fast Eddie Felson feels requires witnessing his highs and lows, all within a forty-hour time span, which equates to about thirty minutes in movie time.  Fast Eddie is The Hustler, and he was famously portrayed by Paul Newman, arguably his breakthrough role as a top billing super star.

Felson is a cocky, hard drinking pool player.  He’s got talent, but no matter how much he wins he’s always the loser because he has no discipline.  Eddie and his partner Charlie (Myron McCormick) travel from town to town, entering pool halls and setting up a bait and catch for some quick cash.  Charlie keeps his cool and treats the act like a profession.  Eddie has no subtlety.  Because he’s so how high on his expertise and what it earns him, he now only has his eye on dethroning the best in the country.  Eddie wants to take on Minnesota Fats (Jackie Gleason, in his only Oscar nominated role).

Fats sure looks intimidating.  Gleason handled his extra weight beautifully throughout his whole career, whether it be with his outrageous Ralph Kramden comedy, or when he was just being stand up Gleason for a live audience.  As well, his large frame appears kingly when he enters the pool hall.  He’s dressed to the nines with his hat, overcoat, silk tie, cuffs and studs, a cigarette in his hand, and the red carnation confidently tucked in his lapel.  The movie is in black and white, but that little flower had to be red if adorned by Minnesota Fats.  No question about it.

Newman versus Gleason in the first section of Robert Rosen’s drama is stunning to witness.  Like the actors who portray these characters, the antagonist was already a legend, while the up and comer was on the brink of higher class.  Both are the best of the best at pool, but as this scene progresses, with the regulars at Ames Pool Hall watching with their burning cigarettes and stained whiskey glasses in hand, the competition becomes a fierce and eerily quiet test of endurance.  Fast Eddie can keep on winning and winning, round after round, hour after hour, taking thousands of dollars out of Fats’ pockets, but if the fat man doesn’t surrender, has anyone really won or lost?

The Hustler isn’t so much about pool playing as it is about being a hustler or a con man who has no way to be genuine with himself or others in his life.  After the showdown between the two has finally concluded, Eddie gets acquainted with a woman who frequents the nearby bus depot.  Her name is Sarah (Piper Laurie), another hard drinker and someone who is not looking for love or companionship but will get trapped in Eddie’s charm.  What’s at play though is if their relationship, based initially on sex and booze, has anything more substantial to uphold their quick connection.  That is about to get tested by another member of this cast.

Bert Gordon (George C Scott) is the high stakes investor ready to front Eddie with a lot of money to go on the road and clean up on other wealthy players at the table.  Bert recognized a thoroughbred when Eddie went against Fats.  Now he wants to use him, but will Sarah serve a purpose or become a distraction in Bert’s plans for himself first, and Eddie second?

There’s a lot to think about when summing up The Hustler.  It’s not a typical sports film with the standard training montages.  The protagonist doesn’t necessarily get a beat down, only to triumph by the end.  Rosen’s film goes deeper than the pool playing that rests on the felt table surfaces.  Rosen co-wrote this script based on a novel by Walter Tevis, about a man overcoming the demons pecking at his attributes and skills.  When he’s not the trickster, he must ensure that he’s not getting tricked.

I was first introduced to Fast Eddie Felson with Martin Scorsese’s follow up picture called The Color Of Money, released twenty-five years after this film.  I like the coolness and rhythm of that film, but it’s mostly an exercise in Tom Cruise machismo.  It was only later that I saw The Hustler per my dad’s advice.  I didn’t care for it the first time I saw it.  Once the first act was over between Newman and Gleason, I found the picture to be slow moving and devoid of much energy.  I could not relate to the long sequence of Eddie getting involved with Sarah.  Unlike Scorsese’s film, Rosen does not rely on much music and quick edits to keep you alert.  It felt more like a movie drowning in the characters’ own drunken stupors.

Now that I have seen the film for a second time though, many years later, I can’t help but recognize the themes that carry over to The Color Of Money.  The Hustler works better than its sequel because it functions as a character study in maturity and endurance.  The Color Of Money sets itself up that way for the Cruise character. Yet, I’m not sure it reaches a conclusion to any of the arcs or transitions for either an older Eddie Felson or for the hot shot 1980s kid, Vincent, the Tom Cruise character that Eddie mentors.

The Hustler has triumphs, but it has some shocking heartache for several characters as well.  Eddie has much to overcome internally as well as physically throughout the course of its narrative.  This fictional story had to be captured within this certain section of time (six months to a year, I think) to show how these appealing, yet cursed, individuals forever change one another.  After the film has closed, Rosen brings up the closing credits in the quiet pool hall allowing his characters to pack themselves up and walk out of frame.  There is something open ended to when the film chooses to stop. The viewer may think for a while after it’s over.  Rosen allows the viewer to take his last gulp of whiskey or bourbon and put out his cigarette and throw on his overcoat before stepping out into the cold late hours on the wet sidewalk below.

There are many impressive pool shots on display, thanks especially to the professional Willie Mosconi.  Shots are also done beautifully by Newman and Gleason.  Absolutely amazing to watch what they accomplish with a cue stick.  However, you don’t watch The Hustler for just trick billiard shots.  Rather you look at this intense drama to see a man struggling to be a winner or remain a loser.  What you realize very early on is that the outcome is never measured by how much money is wagered or what lines a man’s pockets.  Instead, The Hustler is assessed by what these people choose to do next.  Play or not play.  Bet or not bet.  Hustled or not get hustled.

A CHRISTMAS CAROL (1984)

by Miguel E. Rodriguez

A CHRISTMAS CAROL (12/17/1984)
Director: Clive Donner
Cast: George C. Scott, David Warner, Joanne Whalley, Edward Woodward, Susannah York
My Rating: 10/10

PLOT: In 19th-century London, a bitter old miser who rationalizes his uncaring nature learns real compassion when three spirits visit him on Christmas Eve.

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[SPOILER ALERTS! (For anyone whose souls are so dead they have never seen or read A Christmas Carol before…)]

The TV version of A Christmas Carol that first aired on CBS in 1984, starring the legendary George C. Scott as Ebenezer Scrooge, is the best version of Charles Dickens’ story that I’ve ever seen.

Oh, but let me tell you why.

Without exception, every other version I’ve ever seen, including live theatre versions, have made humor and lightness their prevailing mood. The musical Scrooge (1970) does have its share of dark moments towards the end, but the darkness is derailed by an unnecessary detour into cartoonish humor (while in the depths of Hell, no less). I’m not saying that making the story fun is wrong, necessarily. After all, it’s a Christmas story, with a strong message of redemption, so why shouldn’t it be a joyous experience? Right?

Ah…but this 1984 version takes a novel approach. It realizes what I’ve always known all along: that this is, above all, a ghost story with a Christmas message. And not all ghost stories are merry and bright.

Take the Ghost of Christmas Present, for example. In this version, he’s played by Edward Woodward, with a deep booming voice, an absurdly hairy chest, and hidden stilts making him upwards of 7 feet tall. His eyes twinkle, but something about his grin and hearty laughter gives you the sense of a cat toying with a mouse. There are moments when he berates poor Scrooge for his vices, and his voice becomes intense, and the smile vanishes from your face, and he tells Scrooge that his life may be worth less than MILLIONS of other souls like Tiny Tim, and…it’s quite a moment. It reminds you that this is a morality tale.

Another example, of course, would be the ever-popular Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come. In every other version I’ve seen, this specter doesn’t speak, just points, usually with some kind of musical flourish. This version is no different, except the filmmakers ingeniously use an intensely creepy sound effect whenever this Ghost points or nods. It’s like someone pulling a violin bow across a huge piece of sheet metal. The effect is not comic or melodramatic. It’s deeply unsettling.

Of course, yet another reason to love this version is the towering performance from George C. Scott as the proto-Grinch, a man for whom Christmas is just an “excuse for picking a man’s pocket every twenty-fifth of December.” He injects moments of sly humor if you watch carefully (to the mute Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come, he mutters, “You’re devilishly hard to have a conversation with”), but for the most part he plays the character completely straight with nary a grin to be seen except on the rarest occasions. This is an aspect missing from every other version. The prevailing wisdom seems to be to amplify and overdo the character of Scrooge, so he’s not as unlikable, I guess. Not this time. Scott creates a mean, heartless, ruthless businessman who would as soon bankrupt you as say two words to you. Even Albert Finney’s interpretation in Scrooge, as completely as he disappears into the role, is not as dark and merciless as George C. Scott’s version.

It’s that darkness that appeals to me here. Yes, yes, the ultimate scenes of happiness and redemption are all there – the boy on the street, Scrooge skipping around his room, “giddy as a drunken man”, the massive turkey – but I love this version because it remembers its roots. This is a gothic ghost story, and as far as I’m concerned, any version of A Christmas Carol would do well to remember that.

PATTON

By Marc S. Sanders

You may find this hard to believe but as I was watching the epic Best Picture winner of 1970, Patton, I was actually thinking of a dreadful film I had seen the day before called Under The Cherry Moon, featuring and directed by Prince.  How in the hell could that be?  Well, both films are laced with the vanity of their films’ main characters to the umpteenth degree.  However, I’ll save Prince’s piece for another column, when maybe I’m out of excuses to avoid death or a root canal.  The point is both films never tire of the close ups of its featured player to enhance the pride, ego and conceit they do not hesitate to thrive off of.  The difference is that director Franklin J Schaffner knew that to really show what motivated General George S Patton you had to drill for the American warrior’s drive, and Patton’s motivation was truly his own self-worth.  (Prince just wanted one more close up on top of one more close up as a means of self service.  Sorry but that’s not enough of a reason for a character to live.)

Patton is portrayed by George C Scott in an Academy Award winning performance.  No one else could have played this role.  No one else should ever play this role again.  Scott and Patton are symbiont in a camera’s lens.  One can not be imagined without the other.  Schaffner’s film opens in front an American flag that fills the entire screen.  Patton steps up in front.   Somehow, his figure seems like a bigger, more prominent figure than the large backdrop of the stars and stripes.  He delivers a monologue that was aimed at the troops fighting in the second World War, but this is really an introduction to the audience of what to expect for close to the next three hours.  He reminds us that the blood and guts of the Nazis will be used to grease down the tread of our tanks and he will be proud to lead his men on any battlefield that calls for the bloodshed of Hitler’s regime.  In the film’s first five minutes, you know that this biographical character will never sway from what he stands for.

The theme of the film tests the egotism of General Patton.  We see him get dressed in his military uniform before heading in to battle.  His subordinates put his military jacket on.  Another one places his helmet upon the great battalion leader’s head, but it is done with great detail.  This helmet will never fall off.  I can promise you that.  Early in the film, the two star general takes it upon himself to decorate his shirt collar with three stars.  He’s reminded that President Eisenhower has not made his promotion official yet.  Patton proudly dismisses that detail.  None of this has to do with the strategist Patton became known for on the battleground.  George C Scott demonstrates that the General knew when to bestow himself with another honor in his proud military career.  No one else, not even the Commander in Chief, would determine when the General was worthy of another star.

In the heat of battle, Patton happily volunteers historical facts about the regions he is fighting on.  He even insists that he knows for sure what happened before.  He, General George S Patton, was there.  He’s not kidding.  He truly believes that.  History did not deliver General George S Patton.  Rather, General Patton delivered history. 

All throughout the film, Patton is seen in moments of great pride.  He’ll be standing as his jeep caravans his military forces through conflicts in Tunisia and war torn Europe.  General Patton loved to lead, but his leadership was specific to sending a battalion into one conflict after another and what was most important was earning the glory for himself.  The British couldn’t have the accolades.  Certainly, his fellow generals couldn’t either.  Patton is who the Nazis feared.  Patton is the towering six foot tall man who must be seen walking off the bow of a ship into battle when the US back home gets film updates. 

Scott’s character is tested however as Ike loses confidence in the great general.  Patton’s mentality on war does not mesh well with the propaganda of the United States with the other allied countries, particularly Russia.  Patton is not interested in making friends with Russia as he is more concerned with anticipating an eventual disagreement with them and thus, we must be prepared for war.

More significantly, Patton only cared for the bravery of his men.  Early on in the film, Patton arrives at the camp site of a US battalion to take over its leadership.  George C Scott’s presence is all that needs to be said as he visits the mess hall followed by an office and then an infirmary.  Men will no longer show up late for breakfast.  If other men are going to sleep, well then that’s fine as long as it is a means to end with an advantage towards military victory.  Doctors will don their helmets even if it means drilling holes in them to continue properly using stethoscopes, and any man who is being treated for self-inflicted gun shot wounds will not be entitled to a bed for healing.  Get those cowards out immediately.  Hospitals are for those soldiers who proudly shed their blood in the name of the United States of America. 

This last detail is further echoed at a pivotal point in the film.  Patton chastises a crying soldier who is simply terrified of the shelling of war.  No man who dons a military uniform should ever be crying in fear.  Following slapping the boy around, Patton orders that the soldier be sent to the front lines.  My question is how useful is this kid going to be on the front line if he is crippled by his own fears.  Patton would have then slapped me around, most likely.  The front line will certainly wake this kid up and load his weapon to spill some enemy blood. 

The other interesting dynamic to the film falls upon the role of General Omar Bradley played with contradictory delicateness by Karl Malden.  The script by Francis Ford Coppola and Edmund H North display Bradley as a man who came up through the ranks of General Patton.  Yet, because of Patton’s controversial nature as a proud war hero and not a politician representing the ideals of Ike’s administration, Bradley is eventually put in charge of the United States’ positions in the War.  By the time this arrives, the film is only approaching the beginning of its second hour and I could only imagine how Patton is going to take this. He’s advised by his friend Bradley to calm his nature and maybe even question his motivations for battle.  Yet, Patton can only see that his apprentice has taken over and he has been grounded or meant to serve as a decoy to Hitler’s armies.  This is a complete misuse of his skills and his pride as an American symbol.  Patton is relegated to delivering speeches to gracious European women.  This is beneath him.  Adding insult to injury, the dog he proudly walks by his side is a fraidy cat when confronted with a woman’s little yappy pup.  The great general’s ego has been terribly bruised.

General Patton might have been controversial but the film serves as a means to show his imperfections ahead of his historical conquests.  When Patton is questioned as to how he can overthrow Hitler’s positions in various parts of Europe within two days of heavy snowfall, Patton is proud to say that he alone has trained his men to overcome any ordeal they are faced with.  His men are killers; killers of Nazis.  The doubt of other military leaders is proven wrong thanks to the General’s insistence.  Sure, the old general might have been a pain in the ass for the United States, but how would the war have really ended for the Nazis if they hadn’t have had to deal with the great leader?  Periodically, during the course of the film we see how the Nazis try to gage what Patton will do next.  It makes no difference how the United States are censoring their general.  The Nazis stare at a proud photograph of him, knowing he is still out there.  Where is Patton leading his forces to, and how will they ever explain it to their Fuhrer? 

George C Scott is truly a great presence here. Schaffner’s work with the camera must also be recognized.  The film is epic because of its scale.  Years before the age of CGI and a great war film like Steven Spielberg’s Saving Private Ryan, this film from 1970 showed vast settings populated with tons of extras and infinite tanks and vehicles, as well bomber planes.  It’s astounding.  How was this all accomplished?  Other films like …Ryan or The Thin Red Line would show more intimate fights among the opposing forces.  Shootouts and one on one grappling.  Patton shows the enormous battles.  Tanks are overturned, bombs are dropped right in the middle of a sea of extras.  The film was also awarded for its art direction and its hard to question why.  It’s unbelievably impressive.

As the film directly says, Patton lives for the love of war.  Therefore, the ending is a little sad.  The war ended.  The Nazis fell to the triumph of Patton, the United States and their allies.  Schaffner simply offers a wide shot of Scott walking alone into a field of no significance.  Other biographical films would resort to a death bed moment.  That’s too easy an escape sometimes.  In a way, the film could be a tear jerker.  Mind you, I didn’t cry at the end of Patton.  However, any film must have a certain sense of sorrow when a character no longer serves any meaningful purpose in life.  The heart might continue to tick, but the soul no longer has anything left to accomplish.  Coppola and North knew that, as well as Schaffner, and George C Scott knew so as well.  Once the war had ended, a proud (very, very proud) man was put out to pasture.  That has to be more meaningful than any physical passing.