Classic Films in Focus: IVANHOE (1952)

Adapted from the novel by Sir Walter Scott, Ivanhoe (1952) makes a perfect companion to The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938). Both are rousing Technicolor adventures set during the days of King Richard the Lionheart, and Robin even plays a critical part in the later story. Robert Taylor might lack the insouciance of Errol Flynn's roguish Robin, but his Saxon knight is a bold hero, nonetheless, and Joan Fontaine matches her sister, Olivia de Havilland, as an alluring lady love. Director Richard Thorpe oversees the lavish production, which earned three Oscar nominations, and the film benefits from memorable performances by Elizabeth Taylor, George Sanders, and Finlay Currie.

Robert Taylor leads the cast as the heroic knight, who returns from the Crusades determined to free King Richard from imprisonment and restore him to his throne. Rejected by his Saxon father, Cedric (Finlay Currie), for his loyalty to the Norman king, Ivanhoe must contend with the treachery of Prince John and his supporters, especially the knights Sir Hugh De Bracy (Robert Douglas) and De Bois-Guilbert (George Sanders). Ivanhoe's adventures introduce him to the beautiful young Jewess, Rebecca (Elizabeth Taylor), who falls in love with him in spite of his long-standing romance with Rowena (Joan Fontaine). All of Ivanhoe's friends, however, are threatened by the schemes of Prince John's allies, who hope to ensure that King Richard never returns to England alive.

Location shooting heightens the atmosphere and appeal of the picture, especially in the climactic sequence at Torquilstone Castle, where Ivanhoe and his companions are held prisoner by the Norman knights. Luckily for Ivanhoe, Robin Hood leads an army of Saxon men to lay siege to the castle, although in this film Robin is called only by the less familiar name of Locksley (played by Harold Warrender). The tournament scenes are also highlights; they exude pomp and excitement but also provide opportunities for each of the key characters to reveal themselves. Ivanhoe's first tournament, where he fights in disguise as the black knight, sets the stage for later conflicts between the Saxon hero and his Norman nemesis, De Bois-Guilbert, while their final battle brings their long rivalry to its destined end. The pageantry, shot in gorgeous Technicolor, rivals that of The Adventures of Robin Hood, although the mood of the later picture is more somber.

Taylor makes for a serious and mature Ivanhoe, but his performance sells the hero's commitment to his cause. The movie downplays the love triangle between him and the two women; Taylor and Fontaine are too well matched for any real doubt that Ivanhoe will stay with Rowena, but Elizabeth Taylor is so compelling as Rebecca that she makes us wish the story could end differently. She handles her scenes with emotion and skill, especially those that address the plight of Jews in Medieval England, and Felix Aylmer is also very good as her father, Isaac. Finlay Currie provides a different model of paternity as the stubborn Cedric, and he threatens to steal his scenes with his blustering resentment and underlying affection. George Sanders, an adept at playing the heavy, adds humanity to De Bois-Guilbert with the sincerity of his passion for Rebecca, but he's most in his element as the haughty foe. The rest of the Norman knights run together, particularly when they're dressed for battle, although Guy Rolfe makes the best of his few scenes as the despicable Prince John. Be sure to appreciate Welsh actor Emlyn Williams as Womba, the lowly serf whom Ivanhoe promotes as his squire; it's a shame that he disappears without much fanfare before the picture ends.

Ivanhoe picked up Oscar nominations for Best Picture as well as cinematography and score, but it had to compete with the likes of High Noon (1952), The Quiet Man (1952), and The Greatest Show on Earth (1952). Director Richard Thorpe returned to the same territory the following year with Knights of the Round Table (1953), in which Robert Taylor plays Lancelot and Felix Aylmer turns up again as Merlin. For more from Thorpe and Taylor, try All the Brothers Were Valiant (1953) and The House of the Seven Hawks (1959). See Joan Fontaine and George Sanders in Rebecca (1940), and don't miss Finlay Currie in Great Expectations (1946) and People Will Talk (1951). If you want to catch Fontaine and Elizabeth Taylor in different roles, see them both in Jane Eyre (1943), in which Fontaine plays the lead and Taylor appears in an important but uncredited role as Jane's friend, Helen Burns.

Classic Films in Focus: BEYOND A REASONABLE DOUBT (1956)

Fritz Lang directed Beyond a Reasonable Doubt (1956) quite late in his career, almost forty years after he got his start making silent films in Germany, but this courtroom noir has a lot in common with the director’s earlier pictures, especially in terms of suspense. Like M (1931), Fury (1936), and The Woman in the Window (1944), Beyond a Reasonable Doubt plays with our expectations about criminals and crime, making the assurance of its title a striking counterpoint to our own evolving uncertainty as the narrative unfolds. Legal experts might find numerous bones to pick with its representation of the judicial process, but film noir fans who like their thrillers pitch black will enjoy this twisted thrill ride through the dark, which also offers a particularly effective performance from Dana Andrews as its leading man.

Andrews plays up-and-coming novelist Tom Garrett, who wants to postpone his wedding to the stylish Susan (Joan Fontaine) so that he can prove his talent by finishing his second book. Susan’s father, Austin Spencer (Sidney Blackmer), happens to be Tom’s former boss in the newspaper business, and he intrigues Tom with a scheme to protest the death penalty by framing an innocent man for murder. Assured by Austin that he will be exonerated before an execution can take place, Tom agrees to be the guinea pig and incriminate himself in the murder of a burlesque dancer, but he eventually comes much closer to the electric chair than he expected.

The story might or might not work as a commentary on the death penalty, given how things turn out, but it certainly succeeds at casting doubt on the whole process by which criminal cases are tried. The district attorney, Roy Thompson (Philip Bourneuf), takes a hard line on crime mainly because he aspires to become governor, not because he has any particular devotion to justice. Tom is indicted, then tried and found guilty solely on the basis of circumstantial evidence; the idea that a jury might be persuaded to execute a man on such flimsy evidence proves their susceptibility to the ambitious attorney’s slick courtroom tactics. Our own doubts increase as we see Austin and Tom planting and documenting their clues; might Austin have an ulterior motive in playing this dangerous game? Might Tom?

If the men come off as untrustworthy, the women at least can be relied on for their honesty, even when they themselves are being deceived. Joan Fontaine plays Susan as a smart, sensible woman accustomed to being treated as an equal, so we know that no good can come of Austin and Tom’s decision to keep their whole plan a secret from her. With her elegant carriage and carefully selected clothes, Susan is the opposite of the brassy, low-brow Dolly Moore (Barbara Nichols), a stripper who becomes the key witness in Tom’s trial, but Susan is also a foil to the unseen Patty Gray, the murdered girl whom Tom is accused of strangling. Patty might be the closest this movie comes to a femme fatale, but because she is already dead her influence on the other characters and the plot remains ghostly, uncertain, a matter of secondhand gossip and half-remembered history. She’s a blue-collar Rebecca, haunting the narrative until the truth comes out in the shocking final scene.

Beyond a Reasonable Doubt was Fritz Lang’s last American picture; for more of his Hollywood films, try Scarlet Street (1945), House by the River (1950), and The Big Heat (1953). Look for Dana Andrews in The Ox-Bow Incident (1943), Laura (1944), and The Best Years of Our Lives (1946). Joan Fontaine won an Oscar for Best Actress for her performance in Alfred Hitchcock’s Suspicion (1941), but she is also remembered today as the star of Rebecca (1940), The Constant Nymph (1943), and Jane Eyre (1943). Horror fans will recognize Sidney Blackmer from Rosemary’s Baby (1968); his earlier work includes Little Caesar (1931), Heidi (1937), and a number of appearances as President Theodore Roosevelt in films like In Old Oklahoma (1943).

Beyond a Reasonable Doubt is currently available for streaming on Warner Archive Instant.

Classic Films in Focus: REBECCA (1940)

Rebecca (1940), adapted from Daphne du Maurier's hugely successful novel, looks like it ought to be a winner, given that it was directed by Alfred Hitchcock, produced by David O. Selznick, and performed by Laurence Olivier and Joan Fontaine. Indeed, it was a winner at the 1941 Academy Awards, where it snagged the Best Picture prize from contenders as worthy as The Philadelphia Story, The Grapes of Wrath, and Kitty Foyle. It boasted a total of eleven nominations, including a second win for Best Cinematography in a black-and-white picture. Still, there's something missing from Rebecca, something essential that would have made it truly a great film and not merely a great success. Despite its excellent pedigree and shower of nominations, it disappoints; one wants to like it, and there are clearly some fine things in it, but as a whole it lags, drags on, and shuffles its feet until the delirious Gothic tension of the original novel is all but lost.

The screenplay sticks remarkably close to the original material. A nameless young woman (Joan Fontaine), the paid companion of a disagreeable old busybody (Florence Bates), falls in love with Maxim de Winter (Laurence Olivier), a wealthy but emotionally withdrawn widower. Maxim marries the girl and carries her away to his fabulous estate, Manderley, where she encounters the lingering presence of the previous Mrs. de Winter, Rebecca, throughout the house, particularly because Rebecca's insanely devoted servant, Mrs. Danvers (Judith Anderson), runs the place as if Rebecca were still there. Little by little, the new Mrs. de Winter uncovers bits and pieces of the first Mrs. de Winter's story, leading to a dramatic revelation from Maxim about Rebecca's true nature and the circumstances of her mysterious death.

The film's fidelity to the novel was something that Selznick insisted upon; the opening credits even identify Rebecca as a "picturization" of the novel. It was a source of conflict between the producer and his director, and it affects the whole film. Hitch wanted to capture the mood of the literature without slavishly recreating it, but Selznick pretty much got his own way, and Rebecca suffers because of that. It is much too long, with too many shots of Joan Fontaine crying and wringing her hands helplessly, and not nearly enough of Mrs. Danvers, who is absolutely the best thing going on in the whole picture. The novel's tension and insidious power stemmed from its deeply subjective, interior perspective of the heroine's thoughts, something that could not be translated onto film. In the novel, the spectral Rebecca exists solely within her replacement's imagination, but there she takes insidious shape, almost possessing the heroine at times. In the adaptation, Rebecca lacks this power; we see her initials and her things, but we don't feel her the way that we do in du Maurier's text. If Selznick had allowed Hitchcock to recreate that delightful paranoid sensibility by changing the screenplay more, it would have made a better movie. As it is, watching Rebecca is a lot like viewing a series of illustrations for the novel; you see the scene but miss what's going on behind it.

None of this is really the fault of the performers, but it limits what they can do. Olivier is too distant and cold by half; he had reportedly wanted Vivien Leigh for the heroine's part, and perhaps his coldness is as much toward Joan Fontaine as it is toward her character. Fontaine's heroine spends most of the movie in tears, cringing awkwardly at every social encounter and adoring Maxim with the irritating enthusiasm of a puppy. It's never clear why we are supposed to believe that Maxim loves her, except perhaps in that she is the opposite of Rebecca. I much prefer Fontaine as the tougher title character in Jane Eyre (1944), an interesting casting choice since the novel Rebecca was itself a revision of Charlotte Bronte's Gothic masterpiece.

In the supporting cast, George Sanders gives a good show as Rebecca's too-intimate friend, Jack Favell, and Florence Bates is perfectly horrid as the heroine's awful employer. The most stirring performance of the whole movie is given by Judith Anderson as the villainous Mrs. Danvers; the terrible light that comes into her eyes when she speaks of the dead Rebecca is truly chilling, and the final scene of Mrs. Danvers in the burning Manderley is terrific, even if it doesn't appear in du Maurier's novel. Anderson's performance helps to set the tone for many Gothic housekeepers to come, and you can definitely see her influence in Rosalie Crutchley's turn as Mrs. Dudley in The Haunting (1963).

Many classic movie fans adore Rebecca, and I'll admit that my familiarity with the novel might be a major factor in my own less enthusiastic response to the film. If you're looking for more Gothic romance, try Dragonwyck (1946) with Gene Tierney and Vincent Price. See more of Joan Fontaine in The Women (1939), Suspicion (1941), and Ivanhoe (1952). Olivier is best remembered today for literary films like Wuthering Heights (1939), Pride and Prejudice (1940), and Hamlet (1948). For more of the great Judith Anderson, try Laura (1944) and The Strange Love of Martha Ivers (1946).

An earlier version of this review originally appeared on Examiner.com. The author retains all rights to this content.

Classic Films in Focus: SUSPICION (1941)

Alfred Hitchcock had broken into the American movie-making scene with Rebecca in 1940 and then quickly turned out a number of additional films, including the 1941 romantic thriller, Suspicion, which reunited the director with Rebecca star Joan Fontaine. This second outing with Hitchcock would win Fontaine an Oscar for Best Actress, and she certainly does have an intriguing role to play as a heroine who is simultaneously consumed by both passion and paranoia. With Cary Grant making his first of four career appearances in Hitchcock films, Suspicion offers plenty of classic Hollywood appeal, although its premise may tug at the conscience of the astute modern viewer.

Fontaine stars as Lina McLaidlaw, a "carefully brought up" English girl who falls for rakish Johnnie Aysgarth (Cary Grant) and elopes with him after a whirlwind romance. As it turns out, she knows very little about him, and his inability to manage or earn money begins to cast a shadow over their marriage, especially because he habitually lies to his wife about their finances. Johnnie then cooks up a real estate scheme with one of his pals (Nigel Bruce), but it begins to look like murder might have been Johnnie's ultimate plan, and Lina suspects that she herself will be his next victim.

Hitchcock has a great talent for bringing out the darkness in the usually genial Grant, and Suspicion uses that side of his persona to great effect. As Lina grows increasingly uneasy about her husband's true nature, we see the camera focus more and more on Johnnie's tightly controlled expressions whenever he stands behind her. What is he thinking? We are kept on edge about his intentions, and the suspense winds the audience just as carefully as it winds the anxious heroine. The ambiguity in Grant's character allowed the director to make changes to the plot of the film as it went through production, and it really is impossible to predict the ending from the earlier scenes. One of the best and most famous moments is the shot of Johnnie carrying a luminous glass of milk up a flight of dark stairs. The lit glass glows eerily in the frame, suggesting a hidden, sinister nature. Is it poisoned? Will Lina drink it, anyway?

That question brings up the biggest problem with the film. Murderer or not, Johnnie is a rotten husband, a liar and a swindler from the start, yet Lina loves him so helplessly that she melts every time she gets the slightest sign that he might really care for her. Watching Fontaine's heroine is almost painful at times because she not only tolerates but even seems to take pride in suffering Johnnie's lies and temper. There's a classic "Dear Abby" letter hidden somewhere in the subtext of the film, and it seems doubtful that marital counseling could solve the issue at hand, although a good divorce lawyer and a restraining order might be about right. Perhaps it's one of the ways in which the film shows its age, but the sexual politics that underlie the story might be the most horrific part of the whole picture.

Suspicion earned three Oscar nominations in all, including a nod for Best Picture, but Fontaine scored its only win. Look for English character players like Cedric Hardwicke, Heather Angel, and Dame May Whitty in the supporting roles along with Nigel Bruce, who is best remembered today as Basil Rathbone's bumbling Watson in a series of Sherlock Holmes films. If you like Hitchcock's early Hollywood work, be sure to see Shadow of a Doubt (1943), Lifeboat (1944), and Notorious (1946). For more of Joan Fontaine, try Jane Eyre (1943). You'll find Grant teaming up with Hitchcock again in Notorious as well as To Catch a Thief (1955) and North by Northwest (1959).

An earlier version of this review originally appeared on Examiner.com. The author retains all rights to this content.

Classic Films in Focus: CASANOVA'S BIG NIGHT (1954)

You'd think a star-studded costume comedy like Casanova's Big Night (1954) would have everything it needed to be a huge success, but it never quite comes together. Perhaps it's Bob Hope's awkward brand of humor that doesn't quite suit the material, or the embarrassment of seeing heavyweight character players like Basil Rathbone, Joan Fontaine, John Carradine, Lon Chaney, Jr., and even Vincent Price being largely thrown away on half-hearted gags. The real shame is that a cast like that ought to be enough to make any picture work, and there really are a couple of interesting moments scattered throughout the film, but overall it fails to live up to its evocation of the legendary lover and his romantic adventures.

Bob Hope plays Pippo, a nervous tailor who impersonates the real Casanova (Vincent Price) in order to woo an attractive widow (Joan Fontaine). When Casanova himself skips town to avoid his creditors, Pippo is coerced into playing his part in a complicated scheme involving a lovely young bride (Audrey Dalton) and the embroidered petticoat on which her family's honor depends. Casanova's valet (Basil Rathbone) joins the widow to help Pippo carry out the deception and obtain the petticoat, but Pippo begins to have second thoughts about his part in the plan when he gets to know the innocent young woman whose marriage will be ruined should he succeed.

Hope can be very funny, but his scenes in Casanova's Big Night mostly fall flat. His best moment might be his drag impersonation of a foreign dignitary, although he never really seems to have much enthusiasm for his role. Vincent Price disappears completely after the first few minutes, which is too bad because a comedy about Price's misadventures as the scoundrel Casanova might have been a lot more interesting. Basil Rathbone seems almost ashamed of himself for being in the picture, and his fencing talents are underutilized in a film that would have been perfectly suited to swashbuckling action. Of the lot, Joan Fontaine probably gets the best opportunity to work her material, and we see her dueling with swords, rowing gondolas, brandishing skillets, and disguising herself as a man in various entertaining scenes. Other notable stars, like John Carradine, Lon Chaney, Jr., and Raymond Burr turn up in small parts that don't particularly do them justice.

The breaking of the fourth wall at the end of the picture strikes me as contrived and overly cute, perhaps because Hope is so smarmy. Normally a little meta-humor is a welcome addition, but here it just feels like the movie painted itself into a corner and couldn't come up with a better way to end. Paramount rolled out the bells and whistles for this production, with splendid Technicolor costumes by Edith Head and plenty of showy set pieces, but these embellishments can't make up for the basic lethargy of the story and its protagonist.

If you like swashbuckling comedies, try The Court Jester (1955) instead. A comparison of the two pictures reveals everything that Casanova's Big Night could have done better but didn't. For a better Bob Hope comedy, see The Ghost Breakers (1940). Look for the other stars of this forgettable picture in many of Hollywood's most memorable movies, including The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938), Rebecca (1940), The Wolf Man (1941), and Laura (1944).