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The Abominable Dr. Phibes (1971)

Creepy, Classy, Stylish and Fun

THIS REVIEW CONTAINS SPOILERS

While it may sound like just another revenge story, The Abominable Dr. Phibes is actually a beautifully well-made film that turns a well-trodden formula into a cinematic feast of style.

The film opens with Phibes (Vincent Price) at a pipe organ, rising from the floor. We see him, covered entirely in black, wind up his peculiar animatronic band, the Clockwork Wizards, and dance with a fashionable young woman named Vulnavia (Virginia North). There are no words spoken by Phibes until much later in the film, and the young woman, while always at his side, never utters a single word. This lack of dialogue sets the tone for the film, one that elevates its simple plot by setting it against an elegant backdrop of malevolent innovation and high '60s fashion.

There is a dark beauty in Phibes' murders, both in their conception and cinematic presentation. One man is exsanguinated alive by Phibes. Bottle after bottle of his blood is placed neatly in a line on the mantle over the fireplace. Another man is killed during a masquerade ball, after he puts on Phibes' ornate but lethal frog mask. As the mask tightens around his neck, the camera's point-of-view shot is bathed in red before he falls down the stairs. Murder is seldom so beautifully performed.

Vincent Price, in his 100th film performance, plays Phibes with just the right combination of remorse and determination. Price doesn't emphasize the eccentric nature of the character - his actions do well enough on their own.

It's a delicious role for Price, performed partially behind masks or makeup, and without ever opening his mouth. Virginia North, as the beautiful screen nymph Vulnavia, may have no dialogue, but still manages to convey a screen presence. There are moments in the film where we'd really like to know more about her. In one scene without Phibes, she sits listening to the Clockwork Wizards while smoking a cigarette. The scene doesn't move the plot forward, but does make us wonder what on earth she's thinking, and how she came to be involved with Phibes. Her affiliation and loyalty to the mad doctor are never explained.

Director Robert Fuest, a veteran of the long-running British TV series The Avengers, demonstrates a keen eye for exquisite composition and cinematic staging with The Abominable Dr. Phibes. Fuest's scenes often convey great depth of action, sometimes plot-driven, sometimes not. In one scene, two doctors are talking in an elevator, concerned that Phibes has infiltrated the hospital. As they leave, we see Vincent Price in the background. Other shots of multi-layered action are more aesthetically driven. When Price is at the masquerade ball watching the doctor in the frog mask, his close-up reaction contains a chandelier in the extreme foreground. And when Vulnavia stands in a field watching a plane crash, there are flowers in the extreme foreground. This is just one way Fuest brings elegance to the macabre subject matter. Another is in his use of clean, symmetrical compositions. Generally rare in film, symmetrical framing usually infers a psychological interpretation, here reflecting Phibes' neatness, order, and precision.

The soundtrack is another powerful element at play in the film. Basil Kirchin's original score stems organically from the Phibes character. Since Phibes was a concert organist before his untimely demise, an organ features prominently in the film. The Clockwork Wizards play an eclectic array of tunes, from moody blues to soaring romantic band music, but always with an otherworldly twist. Kirchin also uses electronic sounds, music boxes, and operatic vocals. The cumulative effect of this potpourri approach is a musical representation of Phibes himself - classically trained, passionate, and dangerous.

The film concludes by suggesting Phibes may strike again (as indeed he does in an inferior sequel). The film cuts to black, indicating that perhaps the audience is Dr. Phibes' final victim, put to rest by a Clockwork Wizards' rendition of "Over the Rainbow" that accompanies the closing credits.

Well, if we have to go, at least we go in style. - Scott Schirmer

Disturbing Behavior (1998)

Easy to Dismiss, but Worth a Look

Disturbing Behavior is a difficult film for a serious movie critic to defend, primarily because of a long-standing prejudice to both the teen and horror genres. Granted, few teen movies are designed to treat their subjects with any degree of seriousness. And of all the film genres, horror is kept alive with only the slightest bit of effort, accompanied by even slighter expectations. But director David Nutter tackles both these obstacles in a rare attempt to sophisticate Hollywood's offerings to teen audiences and bring dignity to the maligned horror genre. Despite a screenplay written contrary to his vision, Nutter succeeds in creating a dramatic, moody, and entertaining sci-fi/horror yarn far more difficult to dismiss than its contemporary equivalents. That is, until MGM destroyed it.

It's important to note that the version of Disturbing Behavior being analyzed here is the director's cut, which is not the version released in theaters. Nutter's cut isn't available commercially, but if you watch the DVD's considerable amount of deleted footage and the original ending, you can see just how devastating the studio's changes were.

After suffering the loss of his older brother, Steve and his family relocate to Cradle Bay, where some of the kids at school aren't quite themselves these days. With the help of friends Rachel (Katie Holmes) and Gavin (Nick Stahl), Steve discovers that a local doctor, Caldicott (Bruce Greenwood), is conspiring with parents to lobotomize their teens in order to create "good boys and girls", all of whom become members of the school's Blue Ribbon elitist clique. Caldicott's experiments prevent the Blue Ribbons from sexual impulses and mold them into academic achievers that spend a great deal of their time trying to recruit others to "the program". Unfortunately, the experiments don't always work and trouble is at hand, especially when Steve's parents sign him up.

Scott Rosenberg, the screenwriter of the film, later expressed great disappointment with Nutter's handling of the material. Rosenberg, the screenwriter of Con-Air and Beautiful Girls, never intended his script to be treated as dramatically or realistically as Nutter executed it. Instead, it was supposed to be more "hip" and "cool", allegedly without being mired down by characterization or atmosphere. This seems to indicate that the screenwriter, like the studio executives, had low ambitions with the material, planning to do nothing more than churn out another cheap horror film that insults the intelligence of its target audience.

David Nutter, a veteran director of The X-Files, saw the potential in Rosenberg's script and acted on it. He started by casting three of the most talented young actors in Hollywood. James Marsden breaks the stereotype that models can't be good actors by delivering a subtle, restrained performance as Steve. Katie Holmes has a few opportunities to demonstrate her abilities as well. As the socially outcast Rachel, Holmes combines a defensive posture with an underlying desire to connect. Nick Stahl has the meatiest part, playing the cynical Gavin, a critic of all the other cliques at school. Gavin's quiet omnipotence is colored by a dry sense of humor much needed in the film. Other notable performances include William Sadler as Newberry, the school's janitor. Newberry is a little off kilter, squinting, grumbling, and hell-bent on ridding the world of all rats. Another interesting character who almost steals the show is U.V. (Chad E. Donella), Gavin's reticent albino friend who spends most of the film sitting at Gavin's side and uttering only a few syllables.

Nutter's style is very much the signature X-Files style, dark, steamy, creepy, and purposeful. To achieve this, Nutter enlisted an X-Files photographer (John S. Bartley), the X-Files composer (Mark Snow), several X-Files actors (including Steve Railsback, aka Duane Barry), and key production personnel. The result is a movie that feels like an X-Files spin-off, with a subdued ambiance that washes over you and gets under your skin. Nutter commissioned one of the more remarkable opening title sequences in recent film history, one that serves as a cinematic prelude to the lobotomy procedure later in the film - a rapidly-edited montage of happy images and words designed to hypnotize and brainwash Caldicott's victims.

If Disturbing Behavior should be criticized, it certainly loses points in its third act, one that falls dangerously close to cliché, with Steve becoming more the archetypal hero figure in a predictable and unimaginative showdown with Caldicott and the Blue Ribbons. Since the third act of any story is largely plot (character development is usually pretty well wrapped-up by then), I imagine Nutter had little to work with from Rosenberg's original screenplay. That the first two acts were so emotionally engaging is the result of Nutter's persistence and better judgment. It's too bad that MGM freaked out after a test screening in Texas and thought they could improve their numbers by shortening the film and forcing it into the cookie-cutter shape of the average, low-achieving horror flick.

I champion this film because of its thematic content and its ideology. Like many of my favorite films (RoboCop, Dances with Wolves, Rebel Without a Cause), it deals with characters in crises of identity, trying to become or remain whole, and connect with each other. Equally interesting to me are the notions of sexual repression as a sign of perfection, man playing God, parents' willingness to medically alter their children, and human unwillingness to face loss. Nutter's bold vision for this material, his ability to cull it from a screenplay where it was not just dormant, but banished, makes his director's cut a remarkable achievement. Add in the exemplary performances of Marsden, Stahl, and Holmes, and that special X-Files flare, and I've got something I can really sink my teeth into. - Scott Schirmer

Heat (1995)

Breathtaking - where are this film's Oscars?

Al Pacino is Vincent Hanna of the LAPD robbery/homicide division. Now in a third failing marriage, Hanna is a man consumed by his occupation, which exposes him to all the sordid crime and violence for which LA is famous. Robert DeNiro is Neil McCauley, the leader of a successful bank robbing team that includes his protégé Chris Shiherlis, played by Val Kilmer. After a fouled-up heist puts Hanna on McCauley's trail, Heat becomes an elaborate cat and mouse chase between a driven police lieutenant and a seasoned criminal. Writer and director Michael Mann (Manhunter, Miami Vice, Last of the Mohicans), uses the chase as an opportunity to examine two interesting personalities who turn out to be more alike than different.

As if Hanna and McCauley didn't already give enough material for three movies, Heat one-ups itself by leaving no supporting characters behind. Chris and his wife, Charlene (Ashley Judd), are given some of the movie's most intense drama, when after the climactic shootout, police use Charlene to lure Chris into captivity. Ashley Judd is given an emotionally restrained moment to reconcile her love for Chris with her desire for a more stable life. From her apartment balcony, she makes a simple hand gesture that signals Chris to turn around and never come back. Chris is forced to accept her decision for fear of being caught. Diane Venora, as Vincent's wife, serves up one of the movie's finest supporting performances. As Justine, she is a woman in an impossible love relationship. Venora balances the anguish with compassion and understanding, making her relationship with Hanna the movie's most engaging.

In Heat, even characters with only ten minutes of screen time (or less) are given full character arcs. Dennis Haysbert plays Donald Breedan, whom we first meet outside the context of the major storyline. He applies for a job at a burger joint, where's the manager knows he's a released convict and treats him with great contempt. He takes all of Breedan's tips and pays him less than minimum wage. Haysbert, portraying Breedan as a character who has made a sincere effort to change his life, has very powerful, though brief, scenes with Kim Staunton, who plays his girlfriend, Lillian. When Breedan, disappointed with his job prospects, asks, "Why are you with me?", she responds, "because I'm proud of you". Haysbert almost cries. With only two short scenes, these characters have already inhabited Heat's world and drawn us into it that much more. When Breedan is propositioned by McCauley to join the big bank heist, we understand why Breedan makes the wrong decision.

And when Lillian learns of Breedan's death on the evening news, it's a genuine emotional moment. In mere minutes, we knew these characters - because Heat takes the precious time to introduce them and let them exist as something other than plot points.

And there are so many more to know, with well-established actors in all variety of supporting roles: Jon Voight, Tom Sizemore, Mykelti Williamson, Wes Studi, Ted Levine, William Fichter, Hank Azaria, Henry Rollins, Tone Loc, and Xander Berkeley. No one is a throw-away. All of them are real in the moments the camera turns to them, giving spice to what is already a remarkable achievement worthy of its tagline - "a Los Angeles crime saga".

Michael Mann gives Heat his signature visual flare. LA has never looked this good, nor have many films. Dante Spinotti's photography and Mann's framings are nothing short of mesmerizing, aided by a hypnotic soundtrack by Elliot Goldenthal, Moby, and other artists. This powerful synthesis hits viewers broadside from the very first shot, one of a railway station at night. Through smoke and fields of blinking city lights, washes of blue and the occasional piercing red, we are drawn into this world in a powerful visual and aural way - matching, if not surpassing, the narrative efforts. Mann, famous for the iconic look of Miami Vice, goes the extra measure in Heat, as evident in scenes at McCauley's home on the ocean, in balcony scenes overlooking the vast city of lights, and in a great number of scenes shot at "magic hour", that ten minutes at dawn or dusk when the skies are at their most beautiful. One lush frame blends into another, and the parade never ends until the movie is over. Heat is, quite simply, one of the most beautiful films I've ever seen. - Scott Schirmer

Adam's Rib (1949)

The Best of Hepburn and Tracy

Of the nine films which paired Spencer Tracy and Katherine Hepburn, Adam's Rib is often considered the best. Writers Ruth Gordon and Garson Kanin were friends of the famous couple and wrote the film specifically for them. Kate insisted the film be directed by her favorite screen director, George Cukor, who services the brilliant writing and on-screen chemistry with his trademark elegant staging and unobtrusive style. The result is a comedy that remains the best "battle of the sexes" films ever made.

When Doris Attinger (Judy Holliday) discovers her husband in the arms of another woman, she opens fire and is charged with attempted murder. Enter Adam and Amanda Bonner (Tracy and Hepburn), married lawyers whose lives are turned upside down when Adam is assigned to the prosecution. An ardent proponent of women's rights, Amanda decides to represent Doris, claiming that if the sex of the parties on trial were switched, the jury would feel differently. This conflict of interests creates friction in the courtroom as well as the Bonners' home.

Spencer Tracy, with his confident and relaxed screen presence, paints Adam as a man quite comfortable with his wife's force and ambition. But Adam grows upset with Amanda as the media spotlight finds the case and magnifies it into a cause for women's rights. He accuses Amanda with disregard for the law, reminding her that no one, man or woman, has the right to take the law into their own hands, and that Amanda is using the case for her own selfish purposes. The script is careful not to polarize Adam's interests. He reveres the law and has no special affection for Doris' husband. In opposing him, Katherine Hepburn manages to retain her signature strength while also portraying Amanda as a loving wife who fears the damage her marriage may sustain because of the case and its publicity. Amanda alleges that Doris is doomed to an unfair trial because the general public irrationally feels male infidelity is much more permissible than female infidelity.

The courtroom becomes a spectacle when Amanda puts a circus strong-woman on the stand and asks her to lift Adam. Tracy rises to the occasion, with an angry outburst that is empowered by his otherwise calm and restrained performance. Despite their marital bliss before the case, Adam admits that he likes "two sexes" and doesn't care for having a wife who is a "new woman" and a "competitor". This rare outpouring causes Amanda to realize just how personally Adam is taking the trial, and that it could result in their divorce.

Ruth Gordon and Garson Kanin deserve special recognition for creating a balanced on-screen battle in what has always been a controversial debate - gender equality. Amanda's plight is shaded by her experiences as a woman, and Adam is presented as a man who admits to always trying to hear her side of the story. That their marriage was a happy one before the trial is an indication of the equality they had achieved together. Amanda is, in fact, equal to Adam in both the career and financial worlds. To create a sparring partner for Amanda, Gordon and Kanin could easily have presented a misogynist, or even a lovable but cantankerous traditionalist. They were wiser to portray Adam as a man who simply refused to see the case as one for gender equality, but for vigilantism.

As directed by George Cukor, Adam's Rib features a great many long takes that play uninterrupted. Even during moments of action, like the scene in which both Bonners are getting dressed for dinner, Cukor utilizes minimal staging and camera movement. The camera points directly across the Bonners' bedroom, with her dressing room off frame left and his off frame right. They shout at each other, poking their heads into the frame, occasionally walking through the frame and back again. And later, when Adam discovers Kip and Amanda together, the ensuing fight is framed similarly, with the camera looking down the apartment hallway, characters popping into frame from the left or right and back again. This isn't to say Cukor doesn't move his camera much. There are several decisive camera movements, but Cukor's sparing use of them, and his tendency to rely more on well-composed master angles gives the film an elegant, traditional Hollywood style. The film also benefits from a lively score by Mikos Rozsa and a catchy Cole Porter tune, "Farewell Amanda". Jean Hagen, unforgettable for her comic turn in Singin' in the Rain, again demonstrates her talent for comedy as the "other woman".

Cukor must have realized that with Tracy and Hepburn on screen, all the camera really had to do was follow them, frame them, and let the sparks fly.

The screenplay and the actors' off-screen romance are gifts to the film. We feel for both of them, and believe in what both are trying to achieve. It is rare that a film about difference and equality plays so fairly to all parties involved, and also rare that such a sensitive subject can retain its comic appeal. But for all the film says about equality, Adam's Rib ultimately serves to remind us that when it comes to Hepburn and Tracy, there is no equal. - Scott Schirmer

All That Money Can Buy (1941)

A Marvelous Film that Stands the Test of Time

William Dieterle's adaptation of Stephen Vincent Benet's The Devil and Daniel Webster is the product of a great, albeit brief, era of quality Hollywood film-making that has never been repeated. Released within a three-year period that yielded such classics as The Wizard of Oz, Gone With the Wind, Gunga Din, The Maltese Falcon, and Citizen Kane (just to name a few), The Devil and Daniel Webster is only now earning the accolades it deserves. The film is late to join the aforementioned classics because a definitive version of it has been elusive for nearly sixty years. For their 2003 DVD release of the title, The Criterion Collection finally discovered a complete print that had been in the director's possession. Now restored to its full length, and painstakingly restored, The Devil and Daniel Webster has never looked and sounded better.

A cautionary tale of greed and power, the narrative centers around the character of Jabez Stone (played by James Craig), a down-on-his-luck farmer who is barely able to support his family in 1840s New Hampshire. When the nefarious Mr. Scratch (Walter Houston) appears during a moment of weakness, Jabez agrees to sell his soul in exchange for seven years of good luck. Much to the dismay of his wife (Ann Shirley), mother (Jane Darwell), and beloved politician Daniel Webster (Edward Arnold), Jabez slips into a downward spiral as a result of his newfound wealth and power. When his seven years are up, Jabez learns the error of his ways and wants to make amends. To escape his contract with the devil, Jabez puts his fate in the hands of the almost mythic Daniel Webster, who represents him in a climactic barn room trial against Mr. Scratch and a jury of the damned.

The execution of this story is remarkable, from the elegant direction and incredible performances to the innovative camera work and stylish mise-en-scene. Dieterle infuses the film with stark contrast lighting and masterful compositions rich in detail and multiple layers of action. When Mr. Scratch appears in Jabez's barn, he is heavily backlit and accompanied by ethereal sounds. His accomplice, the creepy Belle, is similarly introduced beside a fireplace. To portray the film's more ghostly effects, including Belle's dance to the death with Miser Stevens and the barn room trial, Dieterle relies on multiple exposure and diffused lighting. These visual effects and others, such as items bursting into flame, were ahead of their time - as were the lighting schemes. Influenced as Citizen Kane was by German expressionist films, The Devil and Daniel Webster features bold, suggestive lighting where shadows alone often represent a character. Dieterle succeeds in creating a visual distinction between the real world and the netherworld by frequently bathing Scratch and Belle in soft light or diffusion and removing all natural sounds from the soundtrack when they appear. Belle's dance of death and Scratch's fiddle playing at Jabez's party are accompanied by severe under lighting, insinuating the hellish forces at work in both scenes. Every shot in the film, even in the mundane world, seems painstakingly planned and executed, with decisive lighting and many intricate camera movements, rare for this era of film-making.

The most remarkable performance in the film is Walter Houston's Mr. Scratch.

Houston, an Oscar-winner for his role in Treasure of the Sierra Madre, exudes unbridled glee with every devilish grin. His devil is a gentleman-like puppet master, a smooth talker, and very persuasive. He never flaunts his evil powers. He doesn't have to. His appeal is understandable because he can offer what everyone in the movie wants - wealth and power. It's easy for the Devil to sell his wares to struggling farmers, so he's confident and playful in his duties. Houston throws away one-liner after one-liner, owning the screen and stealing the show. At one point, he offers to help Daniel Webster win the presidential election. Webster replies, "I'd rather see you on the side of the opposition." As Webster walks away, Houston replies, "Oh, I'll be there, too," and sticks a cigar in his mouth.

To combat the devil, Dieterle cast Edward Arnold (who was actually recast when the original actor was injured during filming). Arnold had a tough job in the film, making believable not only Daniel Webster's mythic stature, but also his flowery rhetoric about patriotism and the goodness in all men. He admirably succeeds in not only persuading the jury of the damned, but in holding his own against Walter Houston in their many scenes together.

Everyone else in the cast is also excellent. James Craig pulls off Jabez Stone's fall from grace, and Ann Shirley is a believable virtuous wife. Jane Darwell, fresh off her Oscar-winning stint as Ma Joad in The Grapes of Wrath, seems to be playing the same character in The Devil and Daniel Webster, but it serves the movie well. The most notable supporting player is Simone Simon, whose mesmerizing Belle haunts every frame in which she appears. It's easy to see why Jabez would fall under her spell, because we, as an audience, do as well.

The icing on the Devil's cake is Bernard Herrmann's Oscar-winning score, a dynamic one that works on many levels. Herrmann incorporates several traditional folk songs into his original music, including "Devil's Dream", "Springfield Mountain", and "Miss McLeod's Reel". For Mr. Scratch and Belle, Herrmann manipulated the sound of telephone wires "singing" in the wind to create an eerie, atonal sound for the netherworld. The film also provided Herrmann a wealth of other opportunities, including a square dance and two lullabies.

A good story makes a movie worth watching once. Exquisite aesthetics makes it worth watching many times. The Devil and Daniel Webster stands the test of time as an endearing narrative with lessons we have still to learn. It's masterful direction and style, fluid editing, and charming performances make it an accessible and entertaining film for any audience. Now restored and widely available, it is sure to join the ranks of those other great classics from the late '30s and early '40s - a scintillating example of good storytelling and fine craftsmanship.

• Scott Schirmer