Classic Films in Focus: BELL, BOOK AND CANDLE (1958)

James Stewart and Kim Novak starred in Bell, Book and Candle (1958) the same year they made Vertigo (1958), and both films illustrate the hazards of becoming obsessed with someone you don't really know. Bell, Book and Candle plays this set-up as fodder for supernatural comedy rather than psychological suspense, but there's still an air of menace about the proceedings. The fun depends mostly on sly, offbeat performances from Jack Lemmon, Elsa Lanchester, Hermione Gingold, and Ernie Kovacs, with Stewart and Novak perfectly serious about their magical game of cat and mouse. The result is an odd film, engaging but troublesome, especially in its insistence on an ending that enforces conformity and outdated notions of gender-driven power.

Stewart plays middle-aged publisher Shep Henderson, who becomes entangled with his strange neighbors, the attractive Gil (Novak) and her mischievous aunt, Queenie (Elsa Lanchester). Despite their unusual habits, Shep never suspects that the women are actually witches, living in modern day New York and more or less hiding in plain sight. Shep's fiancee, Merle (Janice Rule), turns out to be Gil's old school nemesis, which inspires Gil to steal Shep for herself by using her magic, even though she insists that she doesn't really care about him. Gil also casts a spell to bring occult author Sidney Redlitch (Ernie Kovaks) to Shep's office, but his arrival complicates matters when he enlists the help of Gil's feckless brother, Nicky (Jack Lemmon), to write about the modern witches of New York.

There is plenty to like about this picture, especially the unconventional community of witches and warlocks, who even have their own night club and generally seem intent on having a good time. They're a bohemian crowd, weird but not really ambitious enough to play more than pranks. Nicky bangs the bongos and switches off street lights, while Aunt Queenie enjoys breaking into Shep's apartment and snooping around. Only Gil is serious and talented enough to do real harm; she terrifies Merle with a conjured thunderstorm and turns Shep's life upside down. Lanchester and Lemmon are delightful and perfectly cast, while Hermione Gingold revels in her matriarchal character, the powerful Bianca de Passe. She has her best scene when Shep comes to her for help in breaking Gil's love spell, in which she mixes a horrific potion and commands the poor victim to drink it. Rumpled Ernie Kovaks also fits in like a natural; the existence of witches in New York is great news for Redlitch and his next book, and his enthusiasm for the community contrasts Shep's growing horror.

The breakdown of the fun happens in the third act, when it becomes clear that Gil's power is deemed unnatural and antithetical to her femininity. Having it all is not an option; she can be a witch and never love, or she can lose her power to become the kind of girl Shep might want to marry. This is similar to the premise set forth in the earlier I Married a Witch (1942), in which Veronica Lake's supernatural heroine becomes a mortal for the love of Fredric March, but Bell, Book and Candle is much more heavy-handed about its disapproval of the powerful, unconventional woman. When we first meet Gil, she wears black, goes barefoot, and sells bizarre tribal masks in her shop, but in order to win Shep for real she has to give up all of those things and conform to his rather narrow expectations. Is Shep really worth it? Would it be so terrible to end up like Aunt Queenie and Madame de Passe? Given the glaring age difference between Stewart and Novak, many modern women might well decide that Gil would have been better off keeping her magic and her cat instead of surrendering to middle-class values for a man old enough to be her father. One suspects that Nicky and the witches will be having a good time long after Gil has gotten tired of seashells, shoes, and a kitchen full of dirty dishes.

Bell, Book and Candle earned two Oscar nominations, for art direction and costume design. Director Richard Quine also worked with Jack Lemmon in It Happened to Jane (1959) and How to Murder Your Wife (1965), and Lemmon and Novak both appear in his 1962 film, The Notorious Landlady. For more of Kim Novak, see Picnic (1955), The Man with the Golden Arm (1955), and Kiss Me, Stupid (1964). Jimmy Stewart's other pictures from the late 1950s include Night Passage (1957) and Anatomy of a Murder (1959). Don't miss Hermione Gingold in The Music Man (1962), and be sure to appreciate Elsa Lanchester's Oscar-nominated performance in Witness for the Prosecution (1957), in which she antagonizes her real-life husband, Charles Laughton.

Classic Films in Focus: THE MIRROR CRACK'D (1980)

Director Guy Hamilton's 1980 film, The Mirror Crack'd, is not the greatest screen adaptation of an Agatha Christie mystery; there are plenty of more likely contenders for that title, including Witness for the Prosecution (1957), Murder on the Orient Express (1974), and Death on the Nile (1978). That said, it is a solid enough picture, perhaps a bit slow, but worth the time for Christie fans, particularly those who favor the village investigations of Miss Marple, here played by the very capable Angela Lansbury. The best audience for The Mirror Crack'd, however, is undoubtedly the experienced classic movie fan, who will appreciate this picture's dense web of classic Hollywood references, allusions, and inside jokes.

As Miss Marple, Lansbury enjoys a ringside seat at a murder investigation that begins when a group of Hollywood players settles in the neighborhood to make a lavish costume drama. At a party hosted by the American celebrities, one of the locals, Heather Babcock (Maureen Bennett), is fatally poisoned, and the evidence suggests that the intended victim was actually troubled star, Marina Rudd (Elizabeth Taylor). Plenty of suspects surround the actress, including her husband, Jason (Rock Hudson), her assistant, Ella (Geraldine Chaplin), and her hated rival, Lola (Kim Novak). Scotland Yard sends Miss Marple's nephew, Inspector Craddock (Edward Fox), to solve the case, and he naturally relies upon his observant aunt for assistance in discovering the identity of the murderer.

As a sleuth, Lansbury is best known as Jessica Fletcher, the heroine of the television series, Murder, She Wrote, but she makes a perfectly good Miss Marple, although in 1980 she was really too young for the role at only 55. There's less than a decade between Lansbury and her costar, Elizabeth Taylor, but Taylor looks decidedly middle-aged, while Lansbury's makeup and costume are designed to pass her off as a little old lady. The two actresses had first appeared together as sisters in National Velvet back in 1944, so The Mirror Crack'd represents a kind of reunion for its two stars. They are joined by an elite ensemble of classic Hollywood A-listers, with Rock Hudson, Tony Curtis, Charlie Chaplin's daughter, Geraldine Chaplin, and Kim Novak all playing substantial parts. Of the lot, Kim Novak has the most fun; she makes off with the entire film in her role as brassy, bitchy Lola Brewster, a wicked parody of the rotten Hollywood diva.

Christie's plot derives from a well-known Hollywood tragedy involving classic star Gene Tierney, which I won't summarize here because knowing what happened makes it all too easy to see how the mystery will end. Wait until after the movie to look it up if you aren't familiar with the real-life events. Other allusions in the film include the middle initial of Tony Curtis' producer character, a reference to David O. Selznick, as well as spoken lines from the characters that pay tribute to the other films of the stars playing the roles. Elizabeth Taylor, for example, gets to mock Kim Novak for looking like Lassie, with whom Taylor had starred in Lassie Come Home (1943), while Rock Hudson's frequent costar Doris Day is mentioned in another joke.

The Mirror Crack'd takes its title from Alfred, Lord Tennyson's famous poem, The Lady of Shalott; Christie named the original novel The Mirror Crack'd from Side to Side and used the poem as a recurring motif. Most of the film's stars are easy enough to find in other pictures, especially Elizabeth Taylor. Blink and you'll miss an uncredited appearance by a very young Pierce Brosnan. For more Miss Marple, see the films starring Margaret Rutherford from the 1960s, starting with Murder She Said (1961). You can see Angela Lansbury in her most important early roles in Gaslight (1944) and The Picture of Dorian Gray (1945). Director Guy Hamilton is best known for his work with the James Bond franchise; he directed Goldfinger (1964), Diamonds Are Forever (1971), Live and Let Die (1973), and The Man with the Golden Gun (1974).

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

Classic Films in Focus: VERTIGO (1958)

Alfred Hitchcock's films have been the gateway drugs for many a classic movie addict, and of all of his best-known thrillers, Vertigo (1958) is certainly the trippiest, a mind-blowing overdose of deception, desire, and betrayal. Set against the gorgeously atmospheric background of San Francisco, the film twists and turns as much as the city's famed Lombard Street, and the real scope of its perversity may require multiple viewings to appreciate fully. As black-hearted as the grittiest film noir, Vertigo is all the more sinister for its civil, romantic disguise; it unfolds slowly at first, seducing the viewer with its promises of redemption, but the finale reveals its true nature with one vicious, shattering blow.

Jimmy Stewart stars as John "Scottie" Ferguson, a former police detective whose fear of heights has resulted in the death of a fellow officer and Scottie's own resignation from the force. An old college friend named Gavin Elster (Tom Helmore) turns up and asks Scottie to tail his wife, Madeleine (Kim Novak), who has been drifting around town like a sleepwalker and doesn't seem to know what she does or where she goes. Gavin thinks she might be possessed by the spirit of a suicidal ancestor, and Scottie soon uncovers clues that suggest that a supernatural influence might be at work. He also falls in love with Madeleine, much to the dismay of his pining sometime girlfriend, Midge (Barbara Bel Geddes). Unfortunately for Scottie, the truth about Madeleine Elster turns out to be far more complicated than a mere ghost story.

Stewart gives a great performance as the damaged protagonist, and his nice guy persona makes an excellent disguise for the twisted heart that lies within Scottie Ferguson. His own perversion is merely hinted at in the early scenes with Midge, where he lounges about her apartment utterly oblivious to her misery and love. When he eventually meets up with Madeleine's double, Judy Barton (also played by Kim Novak), the real ugliness of his nature comes out. He twists and shapes her to suit his obsessive desire, ignoring her pain and her pathetic attempts to make him love her as herself. Kim Novak is actually more interesting as the brassy Judy than as the strangely wooden Madeleine, but Scottie's inability to appreciate that is just one of his many failings. Barbara Bel Geddes is absolutely heartbreaking as Midge, the only really likable character in the whole story and of course the one woman who can't get Scottie's attention for a minute. Her disappearance from the film before the final act signals the death of any hope that this story can end well; she walks out down a darkened hallway with terrible resignation, leaving Scottie to his ghosts, his madness, and his doom.

Aside from the wild camera work that dramatizes Scottie's vertigo and his moments of guilt-induced psychosis, we get stunning images of the city of San Francisco, sunnier and seemingly warmer than it is in real life but filled with angles and dips designed to make the most of Scottie's fear of heights. In many ways the city functions as another character in the film, one with its own secrets and desires. San Francisco has always been a cinematic town, but Vertigo capitalizes on its full potential as a setting for both romance and danger. All the best landmarks get their moments onscreen, and viewers might well lose their hearts to the fabled City by the Bay before the end credits roll.

Hitchcock also made Rope (1948), Rear Window (1954), and The Man Who Knew Too Much (1956) with Stewart. In the same year that they appeared in Vertigo, Stewart and Novak made Bell, Book, and Candle, a romantic comedy in which Novak's character really does turn out to have supernatural charms. For more Stewart hysteria, you might also try The Naked Spur (1953), a very Hitchcockian Western from director Anthony Mann. Vertigo was nominated for two Oscars in 1959 but was considered a failure at the time of its release. Luckily, time has proven a better judge of the picture's merits. In 2012, voters in the Sight & Sound poll actually selected Vertigo as the greatest film of all time, dethroning the long-standing champion, Citizen Kane (1941).

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