Directors on their Craft

"I am a typed director. If I made Cinderella, the audience would immediately be looking for a body in the coach." - Alfred Hitchcock



"There was always part of me that wanted to be an old-time director. But I couldn't do that. I'm not a pro." - Martin Scorsese


"My tendency as an actor was to correct people, was to say, 'What if we tried it this way? What if we tried it that way?' That's a terrible habit for an actor, but that's a good habit for a director. So I became a director." - David Mamet

"You do the best job you can. You take it step by step. It's hard enough to make a movie. If it works, that's great. If it means something beyond the moment to somebody, they can take it, and if it lasts through the years, we'll see." - Oliver Stone

"I can make a better living as an actor than I can as a director. Though I certainly would prefer to be directing movies."  - Sean Penn

"You know, I became a director out of necessity. I was writing comedies and I couldn't find anybody to deliver it correctly." - Albert Brooks

"The film of tomorrow will resemble the person who made it and the number of spectators will be proportional to the number of friends the director has." - François Truffaut

"The kindest thing a director can do is to look with open eyes at everything." - Alexander Payne

"The only reason you make a movie is not to make or set out to make a good or bad movie, it's just to see what you learn for the next one." - Alfonso Cuaron

"If there's specific resistance to women making movies, I just choose to ignore that as an obstacle for two reasons: I can't change my gender and I refuse to stop making movies." - Kathryn Bigelow

"I have a feeling, a gut feeling, that I'll be making pretty good movies the rest of my life." - Paul Thomas Anderson

"For me, being a director is about watching, not about telling people what to do. Or maybe it's like being a mirror; if they didn't have me to look at, they wouldn't be able to put their makeup on." - Jane Campion

"A lot of the films I've made probably could have worked just as well 50 years ago and that's just because I have a lot of old-fashioned values." - Steven Spielberg

"The first work of the director is to set a mood so that the actor's work can take place, so that the actor can create. And in order to do that, you have to communicate, communicate with the actors. Direction is about communication on all levels." - William Friedkin

"In the future, everybody is going to be a director. Somebody's got to live a real life, so we have something to make a movie about." - Cameron Crowe

"I believe that filmmaking - as, probably is everything - is a game you should play with all your cards and all your dice and whatever else you've got. So each time I make a movie, I give it everything I have. I think everyone should and I think everyone should do everything that way." - Francis Ford Coppola

"A good director's not sure when he gets on the set what he's going to do." - Elia Kazan

"I think it would be very boring dramatically to have a film where everybody was a lawyer or doctor and had no faults. To me, the most important thing is to be truthful." - Spike Lee

"A film is never really any good unless the camera is an eye in the head of a poet." - Orson Welles

"Usually when I'm making a movie, what I have in mind first for the visuals, is how we can stage the scenes to bring them more to life in the most interesting way, and then how can we make a world for the story that the audience hasn't quite been in before." - Wes Anderson

"Visions are worth fighting for. Why spend your life making someone else's dreams?" - Tim Burton

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To close, my favorite line ever from a director about making moves...

"The directing of a picture involves coming out of your individual loneliness and taking a controlling part in putting together a small world. A picture is made. You put a frame around it. And one day you die. That is all there is to it." - John Huston

The Best American Films of 1962

We've reached the end of 2012, so it's high time for me to list my favorite American films from exactly fifty years ago. 1962 was one of the great years in American cinema, remembered by some as the finest since 1939 when works such as Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, The Wizard of Oz, Stagecoach and Gone With the Wind were Hollywood's most celebrated productions. I'll let others argue as to which year was better, but take a look at the films listed below from 1962 - and remember that this is a list of American films from the year, so I'm not including Lawrence of Arabia, the Oscar winner for Best Picture from that year.

1) The Manchurian Candidate - directed by John Frankehheimer - One of two works from Frankenheimer on this list - The Manchurian Candidate, like most great films, stands up to repeated viewings; today the film is as relevant as ever. There are several subplots, each linked to the central theme of brainwashing, as Eleanor Shaw Iselin (brilliantly portrayed by Angela Lansbury) is the American leader of a plot to have her son Raymond Shaw (Laurence Harvey), a Korean war hero, assassinate the leading candidate for President, so her husband, extremist Senator John Iselin (James Gregory) can become leader of the free world and, as one can imagine, lead America down a path of deceit and shame. The brainwashing sequence near the film's beginning where the soldiers have been told they are at a ladies' discussion of gardening, all the while being asked to kill their fellow combatants, is a masterfully directed scene, one that was undeniably chilling in 1962 and still has the power to shock today. A strong message of this film is that the main characters, especially Major Bennett Marco (Frank Sinatra, rarely better) are haunted by their past; given the way that this story plays out, it is clear that they will be haunted for the rest of their lives.

2) To Kill a Mockingbird - directed by Robert Mulligan - One of the most famous and most moving of all American films, Mockingbird is, at its heart, a film about decency, a common theme for Mulligan. The brilliant screenplay, adapted by Horton Foote from Harper Lee's marvelous and wildly successful novel, is a model of efficiency and one filled with emotionally accurate dialogue. While the courtroom sequence in which lawyer Atticus Finch (Gregory Peck in his Oscar-winning role) defends an innocent black man accused of raping a white woman in the Deep South of the 1930s is the most well-known in the film, the scene in which Atticus' children come to his rescue as he is being taunted by his fellow citizens for defending a black man, is just as memorable and as beautifully played out. Especially noteworthy in this scene is how Atticus' young daughter Scout (Mary Badham in one of the greatest child performances ever recorded on film) recognizes the father of one of her classmates and asks, "Don't you remember me?... You brought us some hickory nuts one early morning, remember?" It is this sort of emotional detail combined with Mulligan's sensitive direction and Elmer Bernstein's lyrical and heartfelt score that makes this a classic work of Americana.

3) Advise and Consent - directed by Otto Preminger - Otto Preminger's highly entertaining look at the inside workings of Washington, D.C. politics is a reminder of how little things have changed in our culture (with the exception of the politicians of fifty years ago being a little more polite!) The main story line deals with a nominee for Secretary of State named Robert Leffingwell (Henry Fonda), who is both admired and hated by members of his own party; we follow the process of a congressional hearing and ultimately a Senate vote to learn whether he will be confirmed. Along the way, we marvel at the wonderful characters that populate this story, from the morally strong Majority Leader Robert Munson (Walter Pidgeon) to the cantakerous Seib Cooley, a Southern Democrat who likes to stir the pot to the less than scrupulous Fred Van Acekerman, who is out to see that Leffingwell is confirmed, no matter at what personal harm he may inflict along the way. Following box-office and critical successes with Anatomy of a Murder (1959) and Exodus (1960), Preminger at this time was at a high point in his career; here the use of his camera, floating amidst the Senate chamber is something to marvel at, as is his direction of the final vote, both in terms of space and timing. The outstanding script is by Wendell Mayes, based on the best-selling novel from Allen Drury; Sam Leavitt's black and white photography is documentarian in nature and suits this subject beautifully. Superb ensemble acting as Preminger lets the performers have their moments; thankfully, he sees no need to super charge the film with odd or peculiar images, as the material is strong enough.

4) The Days of Wine and Roses - directed by Blake Edwards - Blake Edwards was most famous for his comedies, as with The Pink Panther films, but this drama is arguably his finest work. The story of how an agreeable businessman Joe Clay (Jack Lemmon) falls heads over heels with an attractive secretary Kirsten Arnesen (Lee Remick) and then turns her on to the lure of alcohol is a descent into hell. Both characters are devastated, but while he admits his problem, she does not. The final scene of the two of them together, as Joe tries to reason with Kirsten into returning to his life, is incredibly heartbreaking and this ending was surely one of the most downbeat in American films up to that time. Both performers are brilliant - Remick was never better - and the scene in the plant nursery where Joe frantically searches for a bottle of bourbon he placed somewhere, is unforgettable in its intensity; it's one of the finest moments for both actor and director. Charles Bickford gives a touching performance as Kirsten's father, another in a long line of great portrayals from this highly underrated performer. Some critics have complained that the troubles of the two main characters are somewhat exaggerated; their reasoning seems to be that instead of just becoming drunks, these two are world-class drunks, teetering on the edge of survival. But honestly, if these two individuals were not as affected as they are, would we really care about them? Would the film be as emotionally shattering? I think not.

5) The Miracle Worker - directed by Arthur Penn - Based on the William Gibson play about Anne Sullivan, the woman that taught Helen Keller how to speak and write, this is a highly absorbing film from Arthur Penn, who had sharpened his directorial teeth in television throughout much of the 1950s. Certainly that training explains his powerful staging of the film's most famous scene in which the two principals struggle with each other in a physical battle over table manners; this nine-minute scene is emotionally exhausting to experience. In many other scenes, simple gestures, such as forming an object with one's fingers, are powerful visuals and it's clear that Penn played up the emotional conflict of the two characters, as Keller strongly resists Sullivan's - or anyone's - search to get closer. Both Anne Bancroft as Sullivan and Patty Duke as Keller, repeating their stage performances, won Academy Awards. Penn's identity as a director who specialized in stories about the individual's inner demons was cemented with this film.

6) Birdman of Alcatraz - directed by John Frankenheimer - This story of inmate Robert Stroud and his groundbreaking work with birds during his decades in prison is a gripping and somber film from Frankenheimer, who directs with great ease and assuredness. While we watch first with great joy and then with sheer awe at how Stroud (Burt Lancaster) cares for the birds in his cel, the other storyline of his relationship with warden Harvey Shoemaker (Karl Malden) is just as absorbing, as Shoemaker hates the idea of a convicted murderer doing anything but prison time, while Stroud only wants to better his world. Everyone remembers the stunning performance of Lancaster, which is clearly among his finest, yet few recall the outstanding work of Malden, who is called upon as a strong combatant to Lancaster. While this film tends to drag a bit toward the end in the scenes of a prison riot, there are so many powerful and poignant moments - as when Stroud tells his wife that he cannot see her anymore - that carry this film to great heights. The stark black and white photography of Burnett Guffey is stunning, as we are given a bleak world of hopelessness. At its core, Birdman of Alcatraz is a tribute to the human spirit and the quality of never giving up, no matter how great the odds.

7) Freud (aka Freud: The Secret Passion) - directed by John Huston - John Huston specialized in films about characters who embarked on a far away adventure; with Freud, that journey is one that takes place within the human psyche. The film focuses on Freud's work with patients suffering from hysteria; at first he works with a colleague, Joseph Breuer, who believes in Freud's theories, while the second half of the film is about Freud's work on his own, especially his treatment of a young woman named Cecily (Susannah York). It is during conversations with her that Freud pieces together his principles of childhood sexuality and repression; this neatly culminates with him sorting out incidents from his own youth and how he reacted to his parents. This is a film that demands a great deal of attention from the audience; one doubts that today's filmgoers would sit through this sincere treatment of Freud's work. Huston's direction is intense, as he brings out the overt meanings of the various dream sequences in beautiful visuals. An excellent, brooding performance by Montgomery Clift as Freud is among the film's highlights as is the subtle, edgy score from the great Jerry Goldsmith.

8) The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance - directed by John Ford - While I don't find this film to be the classic that others do, there is much that I admire about this unusual Western, especially in the duality of its themes of law versus violence. The second half of this film, when attorney Ransom Stoddard (Jimmy Stewart) slowly introduces basic schooling and the principles of democracy to the small town of Shinbone, where guns were always the previous way of settling an argument, is especially strong. The performances throughout are excellent - I particularly love Edmond O'Brien's larger-than-life take as Dutton Peabody, the town's newspaper editor - and the scene late in the film when Tom Donovan (John Wayne) tells Stoddard, "you didn't kill Liberty Valance..." is one of Wayne's finest moments on screen. The line from the penultimate scene, "this is the West, sir. When the legend becomes fact, print the legend," is one of the most famous and devastatingly honest of any American film.

9) Lolita - directed by Stanley Kubrick - It's clear that this version of Vladimir Nabokov novel is not the film that Stanley Kubrick wanted to make - studio censors made certain of that - but this is still a notable work, one filled with great subtleties and marvelous irony. Nabokov adapted his own screenplay and contributed many moments of wonderful dialogue for the four main characters, each of whom is a fascinating, three-dimensional individual. There are some great sexual innuendos - the line about the "cherry pies" being the most famous, but my favorite quote is by Professor Humbert (James Mason) when he tells his wife Charlotte (Shelley Winters), "every game has its rules." It's wonderfully ironic at the time, but that line will carry greater weight as the story proceeds with its numerous encounters. Kubrick's direction is subdued and filled with a sharp eye for the droll humor in numerous sequences; his staging of the scene where Charlotte dances with Humbert in her home is supremely enacted and effortlessly carried out. Though a bit stretched at 152 minutes (the scene with Dr. Zemsh seems like a plot contrivance, while the final explanation of why Lolita left Humbert is rather straightforward in its exposition and not as clever as it should have been), overall, this is a fascinating film. First-rate performances by Mason, Winters (was she ever better?) and Sellers as well as exceptional dreamlike black and white photography by Oswald Morris.

10) Experiment in Terror - directed by Blake Edwards - Like John Frankenheimer, Blake Edwards also had a very successful 1962, most famously with The Days of Wine and Roses (#4, above), but also with this cleverly crafted thriller, which unfortunately is not as well known as it should be. Bank teller Kelly Sherwood (Lee Remick) is grabbed by a crazed man named Red Lynch (Ross Martin) late at night in her garage and told she must abscond with $100,000 from the bank and hand it over to him; if she refuses, he will harm her younger sister Toby (Stefanie Powers). Kelly - as well as we the viewer - cannot see this man's face, so the only thing she can tell the FBI agent John Ripley (Glenn Ford) assigned to her case is that the man has asthmatic breathing; indeed we do not see this man's entire face for the first half of the film, adding to the tension. Edwards and his cinematographer Philip Lathrop create a world of light and shadow in which characters move from the relative safety of their brightly lit surroundings into the unknown dangers of the darkness. There is a constant theme of individuals being trapped in a structure, be it a bank teller's desk, a swimming pool (Toby is being watched there, unbeknownst to her) or within one's residence. Set in San Francisco, the opening and closing sequences - a late night drive across the Bay Bridge and a shootout at Candlestick Park - are eerie and beautifully shot. Henry Mancini contributed a wonderfully creepy score; his opening theme is one of the most spine-chilling ever composed for the cinema.

Honorable mention: Cape Fear (dir. J. Lee Thompson); Lonely are the Brave (dir. David Miller)

Directors on their Craft

A collection of quotes from directors on their particular field of work:


"A film is - or should be - more like music than like fiction. It should be a progression of moods and feelings. The theme, what's behind the emotion, the meaning, all that comes later." - Stanley Kubrick


"Learning to make films is easy. Learning what to make films about is very hard." - George Lucas


"Making a film that's supposed to be fun to watch is really hard - that's the weird irony of it." - Steven Soderbergh


"We went into this with the utmost respect for the source material, but we recognized the need to change it." - Sam Wood

"A film director has to get a shot, no matter what he does. We're desperate people." - Elia Kazan


"A good movie is three good scenes and no bad scenes." - Howard Hawks


"When I grow up, I still want to be a director." - Steven Spielberg


"We tend to do period stuff because it helps make it one step removed from boring everyday reality." - Ethan Coen

"I mean, the truth of the matter is, I like the failures as much as I like the successes. It's only the world that doesn't like the failures." - Sydney Pollack


"I mean look, I love movies, not just the ones I make. In fact, I don't like the ones I make very much." - Alexander Payne


"I don't try to guess what a million people will like. It's hard enough to know what I like."  - John Huston


"I've found that the more experts you have on a movie, the less control a director has." - John Frankenheimer

"I have ten commandments. The first nine are, thou shalt not bore. The tenth is, thou shalt have right of final cut." - Billy Wilder

A Forgotten Gem from John Huston

We Were Strangers (1949) is a beautifully crafted film from John Huston that shows the director at his most passionate and urgent, as he gives us a world in which the little man, the everyday man who suffers at the hands of a corrupt leader, must fight this injustice for the good of his countrymen as well as his own soul.

The film is set in Cuba of 1933 where real-life President Machado leads a government that "made a mockery of human rights" as we are told in the opening titles. The people had suffered under this leadership for seven years and a few small cliques are starting to form on the streets; their aim to take back the rights they have been stripped of. Huston includes a quote from Thomas Jefferson; "Resistance to tyrants in obedience to God." We have no doubt where the director stands on this matter.

To combat the unrest among the people, a politician loyal to the president urges the Senate to pass a bill that will make assembly of four or more people in public an act of treason against the government. The head of the Senate asks the elected officials to vote; one by one they stand in support of this legislation. Huston gives us closeups of a few senators who clearly oppose this, but as they realize that their true feelings will lead to the ruin of their career (or worse), they too stand in support of the bill, which is passed unanimously.

We then see a car with four people maneuver through the streets of Havana; this group is distributing leaflets reading "Viva Cuba Libre." A few members of the public pick up these papers and as they read them, the police arrest them as they carry out enactment of the new law.

The police follow the car and are able to shoot the driver; he is left for dead by the others who must save their own skin. They meet with China Valdes (Jennifer Jones), a bank employee who is the brother of Manolo, one of this group. They discuss strategy and soon afterwards as they make their way through Havana, a policeman named Ariete (Pedro Armendariz) shoots and kills Manolo in clear daylight. China sees this from a short distance away; she knows that Ariete is the murderer, but he does not know that she saw him perform the killing.

The following day, China attends a pre-arranged meeting with Tony Fenner (John Garfield), an American businessman who is in Cuba ostensibly to find talent for entertainment revues, but is, in reality, there to fight for the people of Cuba. Funded by money from ex-Cubans living in the United States, Fenner has a plan to win back the freedom of the populace. He will dig a tunnel under the main cemetery and explode a bomb just underneath the crypt of the Contreras family, a member of whom is a popular politician supporting the government. Fenner's plan is to assassinate him and detonate the bomb at the funeral when the president and other heads of state are present.

Photographed in shadowy black and white by Russell Metty (a great cinematographer who would go on to film Orson Welles' Touch of Evil  in 1958 in similar starkness), the film does a nice job of portraying the dark grittiness of the everyday people as opposed to the brightly lit, well-dressed world of the government officials. It's a nice touch to have the people who have been wronged literally doing their fighting underground, while the police wander the streets above.

An intriguing theme in this film is the question of how these men must live with their decision after they are told by one of the ringleaders that innocent citizens may be killed as a result of their deeds. "Should we, who are trying to free Cuba become murderers too?" asks one of the conspirators. Each man wrestles with his conscience, ultimately convincing themselves that they are serving a greater good. It's complexities such as this that lets the viewer relate to these troubled individuals.

As with many Huston films, plans go awry, as the digging leads to a figurative dead end, through no fault of these men. They will now have to come up with another plan to take back the government, an approach that will put both Fenner and Valdes directly in harm's way.

Huston's direction is urgent, yet he does not rush things here; instead he takes his time explaining the caper. There are many closeups which are appropriate here, both in terms of physical space in the frame (digging a tunnel under the cemetery), as well as emotional satisfaction, as we see the faces of the individuals who tell their stories of how they have been wronged by the government. The closeups of Fenner are especially meaningful; we rarely see his eyes and often half of his face is covered in darkness. Given that Fenner has a vital secret to share about his role in this mission, this sense of mystery is a perfect visual metaphor.

Huston co-wrote the screenplay with Peter Viertel, who adapted the novel Rough Sketch by Robert Sylvester. The dialogue is smart and efficient as much of it is expository, as we learn of the various plans suggested by both Fenner's team as well as by Ariete. However, there are a few speeches in which the revolutionaries speak of heroism in the face of oppression that are a bit overwritten. Toward the end, one of the men who has been digging the tunnel says "It seems as we were the only six people alive," a passage that clearly draws attention to itself. Thankfully, lines such as this are kept to a minimum.

Huston delivered a heartfelt film with We Were Strangers that paralleled his world view of resisting fascism and demagoguery. Though it's easy to see why a dark, noirish-film about a fight for freedom in Cuba would not be a box-office success only a few short years after the end of the Second World War - and at the same time the HUAC hearings were beginning in Washington, D.C. - it is a shame that this film has largely been forgotten. While it may not reach quite the brilliance of his best works, such as Treasure of the Sierra Madre (1948), Fat City (1972) or Wise Blood (1979), this is an excellent work that ranks near the top of his portfolio, one that argues that all of us, no matter what side we are on, are flawed to some extent. Our hope is that we recognize those failings and can work toward a common goal for the good of our fellow man.


P.S. There are reports that Lee Harvey Oswald watched this film in the months leading up to the assassination of President John F. Kennedy in 1963. One can certainly understand why Oswald would be enamored of this project; of course, there is the plot to kill a president but there are also images of pamphlets very similar to the Fair Play for Cuba leaflets that Oswald distributed in the streets of New Orleans just a few months earlier. This certainly makes for an interesting, somewhat eerie footnote to this work.

Huston's Unique Western

You have to admire John Huston throughout his long career, not only for the obvious talent he displayed in his movies, but also for the choices he made. Best known for films such as The Maltese Falcon (1941), Treasure of the Sierra Madre (1948) and Prizzi's Honor (1985) among others, Huston generally challenged himself, working in several genres, from crime pieces (The Asphalt Jungle, 1950) to psychological dramas (Reflections in a Golden Eye, 1967) to intelligent romantic dramas (Heaven Knows, Mr. Allison, 1957 - for my money, a more subtle and rewarding film than his popular The African Queen, 1951). Not every choice Huston made was enlightened - The Kremlin Letter (1970) is a poorly constructed spy thriller, while Annie (1982) proved that musicals weren't the director's thing - but over the course of 46 years as a director, Huston made a lot of inspired films.

One of the few Westerns made by Huston was the 1972 film, The Life and Times of Judge Roy Bean. These days, it seems that this work is largely remembered for Paul Newman's robust title petformance; many don't even realize that Huston was the director. It has received its share of negative criticism, with many reviewers opining that the film lacks structure. But after watching this film for the first time the other night, I was impressed not only by Huston's direction, but also the wild ride he provides in this film, going from charming moments of humor to explosive action to achingly beautiful scenes of tenderness. It's a very underrated film.

The film opens in a small town in Texas in the 1880s - we are told that at this time, areas west of the the Pecos River were wild and lawless - where Bean is robbed of his money and then beaten near death by the town hooligans. He recovers and kills virtually all of them in a stark, violent shootout and then lets anyone who comes there know that he will be running the town, not only as sheriff, but also as judge. We all know that Roy Bean was the famous "hanging judge" and Huston and his screenwriter John Milius (who also wrote 1975's The Wind and the Lion, in which Huston acted), make sure there are several hangings in this film. Petty theft or murder - it doesn't matter to Judge Bean - he is going to hang them, and his team of deputies are all too happy to carry out the punishment.

Huston and Milius have constructed this film as though we are moving from one chapter to the next in a book; perhaps this is the reason why various critics have complained about the film's structure, but I enjoyed the various tales told in this film. One of my favorite scenes occurs shortly after the initial shootout; a Bible-quoting minister, wonderfully portrayed by Anthony Perkins, rides into town and upon viewing the carnage caused by Judge Bean, convinces him to bury the victims. It's a brief scene that tells us that there is humanity in the judge's makeup. It's also beautifully shot and written.

Then there are the wonderfully comic scenes of Bean and his young wife Maria Elena (Victoria Principal, looking as beautiful as I can ever remember) with a grizzly bear that is happy when he's with the company of humans, especially if he can down a few bottles of beer. The picnic scene where the judge and his wife and the bear eat lunch together and play on a see-saw, all the while accompanied by the wildly funny and purposely campy song, "Marmalade, Molasses and Honey" (with lyrics by Marilyn and Alan Begman, no less!) is simply hilarious.

There are two memorably moving scenes between Bean and Maria Elena; the first taking place after she believes he is attracted to another woman (this occurs before they are married). Bean walks with her to a open field with an endless horizon. Shot during the last moments of sun one afternoon, the visuals add a haunting quality, as he tells her of the beauty of this pastoral scene ("Do you smell how sweet that air is? It's almost tropical.") and the dreams he has in store for himself ("I'm going to have a courthouse four stories high,") He tells her that she can have anything she wants - her wish is simply for a music box. Hearing that, he sings "The Yellow Rose of Texas" in a raspy voice and then tells her that she should spend the night with him in the courthouse, to protect her from the elements. It's a lovely scene, classically filmed.

The other scene comes after she has given birth to a girl and has become ill. Bean returns to her side with the music box she so dearly wanted and we hear "Yellow Rose of Texas" playing as he opens the box. This is another elegantly simple scene -the two scenes together are as moving and as tender as just about any in Huston's career.

Not all of the film is as moving or as clever as these moments. Toward the film's end, there is a scene where the town is almost destroyed amidst the shooting and the resulting fires. It's clearly a conventional scene in this unconventional film, so it seems a bit out of place. In fact, the last twenty minutes of this film, shortly after Bean and Maria Elena have their final scene together, lack the originality and cleverness of the first-two thirds of this work.

Judge Roy Bean shows us a Huston who was not afraid to take chances, especially late in his career. Think of the originality, humanity and humor of his films such as Fat City (1972) or Wise Blood (1979) and you realize the story telling talents of this great director. Bean is not quite the equal of those marvelous movies, but it shares a common DNA and for that fact alone, it's well worth your time.

John Huston's "Badge" Under Fire

John Huston's version of The Red Badge of Courage (1951), based upon the famous Civil War novella of Stephen Crane, is one of the director's most visually inventive films. At times, it's also one of his most gripping. But as for being one of his finest all-around works, the jury is out, as we'll never see the director's intended opus.

In his engaging 1980 memoir, An Open Book, Huston tells the story of how this film was first turned down at MGM, then later approved and finally edited by the studio after a poor initial reaction by the public (this despite very good critical acceptance). During post-production, Huston had to begin filming The African Queen, so he was not present while the studio executives decided to add narration as well as trim the film down to a mere 70 minutes. (Huston does not mention how long his version was, but we can imagine that at least 20-30 minutes were dropped for the final cut.) Years later after a reappraisal by English critics, the studio asked Huston for his copy of the film, as they wanted to rerelease the original version as the director had intended. But as Huston points out, he didn't have a print, as it didn't exist. Because of this, Huston would stipulate in his future contracts with studios that he receive a 16-mm print of the first cut of any film he made.

Yet despite the studio interference, this is a strong film. Given that the screenplay is rather sparse and the action focuses on only a few sequences, Huston's direction is the principal reason why this work is so memorable. His visuals are quite striking, especially in several shots where he has one character in the foreground of the frame - usually at the extreme left or right - with another in the background. This shot is used more than once with the two main characters, Henry Fleming, also known as The Youth (portrayed by World War ll hero Audie Murphy) and Wilson, also known as The Loud Soldier, portrayed by war correspondent and editorial cartoonist, Bill Mauldin.

Bill Mauldin (l.) and Audie Murphy

Some of these shots are the two of them sitting and talking, as during the morning of the final battle, where each confesses to the other their fears as well as excitement over the upcoming attack. In one shot however, Huston places The Youth in the extreme right foreground and has The Loud Soldier walk from rear left to front left, stopping a few feet away from his friend, as both faces fill the screen in closeup. Huston ends the scene with Mauldin walking back to the rear left of the frame, away from the camera and from Murphy. He never moves his camera and it's all done in one continuous, economical shot.

Huston films this work primarily as a series of closeups, as we identify with the various Union soldiers who march before our eyes. He wants us to see the fear and nervousness of these individuals in circumstances none of them have ever faced; they clearly have no idea what lies ahead. For the most part, Huston does not give us wide panoramas of battles or shots with long lenses to compress the view of two opposing sides in a skirmish. We rarely see the Rebs in this film, with the one exception being a few shots of captured Confederate soldiers talking to their counterparts after the film's final battle. This is an achingly simple scene, as one soldier on each side asks the other his name and what state they are from - the soldiers fight for their cause, but they share the same emotions.

This is one of the quietest war films ever made; battles are few, while the forced marches from one location to the other are the focus - again, so we can learn of the soldier's fears and hopes. There is a beautiful overhead crane shot of the Union troops asleep at night in camp; the camera pans from one soldier to another and composer Bronislau Kaper adds a remarkable cue, at first slow and solemn and then jarring, as he writes a short outburst of brass that communicates the nightmare one commanding officer has during his sleep. This is a haunting and eleoquent scene that tells us the uneasiness of the lives of these individuals.

One can only wonder how good The Red Badge of Courage might have been, had the studio not gotten in the way. Yet Huston gave us a stirring, wonderfully humanistic look at soldiers under pressure in this film that even non-approved editing could not eliminate. This is a film that does not take sides nor does it condone or condemn war. It is simply, an important film about the quiet struggles soldiers face in war. The fact that we identify with these subjects is a sign of the clarity and beauty of John Huston's direction.

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I promised Adam Zanzie at IceBox Movies, who is hosting a John Huston blogathon, that I would share my encounter with the director, so here goes - Adam, I hope you love it!

I was flying back home from Ireland in late September 1985 and had just settled into my seat, when John Huston boarded two rows directly in front of me. I immediately recognized him, given his height and that wonderful white beard he sported for so many years. Accompanying Huston was a female assistant who took care of his needs, which included an oxygen tank that he was hooked up to - at this stage in his life, he was suffering from emphysema. But if his health was causing him any agony, he certainly didn't show it this particular day, as I soon discovered.

About 30 minutes into the flight, the lead flight attendant, standing only a few feet from Huston, announced on the intercom that the movie that day was Prizzi's Honor. I couldn't believe my ears, as here was Huston's latest film - it had been released only a few months earlier - and I was going to watch it with the director as part of the audience.

When the flight attendant finished her remarks, Huston, who was in fine voice, barked at the woman, "Stewardess! Who books the movies on these flights?" The poor woman, obviously flustered at the demands of this man whom she did not know, said sheepishly, "I'm not sure, sir. But I can find out for you."

Huston smiled and then addressed her. "Well, you tell them, this is the worst movie I've ever seen!" All she could do was try and be helpful.. "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. I'll let them know."

I was doubled over in laughter in my seat, but looking around, no one else seemed to get the joke. It didn't matter, as Huston, even in his advancing years, hadn't lost his sense of humor.

Although I didn't get the chance to speak with Huston given his condition, I'll never forget the spark he displayed that day. No wonder so many great actors wanted to work with him. How could you not love someone who enjoyed that type of mischievous fun?

John Huston's War Documentaries

Still from Let There Be Light

In early 1942, just as John Huston was wrapping up principal photography of Across the Pacific, he was given a commission as a Lieutenant in the Army Signal Corps and assigned to a meaningless job in Washington. After a short while, he managed to get himself transferred to the Aleutian Islands and once there, made the first of three documentaries for the Army. Seen together, they represent very different views of the war and the effects combat had on the soldiers. They are fascinating chapters in the director's register.


REPORT FROM THE ALEUTIANS (1942)
This 43-minute film, shot in color, was narrated from start to finish by Huston himself. The opening shot is of a map showing the viewer exactly where the Aleutian Islands were, west of Alaska, with one island, Adak, located only 250 miles from Japanese-held territory.

Huston's film details the primitive airstrips and missions taken by the young pilots, many of whom were far too inexperienced in the air. Worse yet, they had to deal with flimsy planes with no radar, often battling rain and fog. Many planes did not come back and even for the ones that did, crashes on the airstrip were a routine occurrence.

Huston shows us the faces of these young men as well as the isolation of their surroundings. The missions were the emphasis here and the director was on several of those, along with a team of five or six other cameramen, capturing some remarkable images. One of the most striking is an over-the-shoulder shot behind the pilot as their plane flies head on into a rainstorm. Other images of the bombs being dropped have a eerie beauty to them.

Huston's job was to make a propaganda film, of course, and at one point, the narration has him saying, "The Japs were dug in like so many moles." However, these emotions were kept to a minimum, the result being a well-made, if straightforward record of the bravery of these isolated men. Few recall this part of World War ll, so we have Huston to thank for these memories.




THE BATTLE OF SAN PIETRO (1945)
This 33 minute film is one of the most beautifully realized works in Huston's canon. Detailing a particularly fierce battle for a small strip of land near the town of San Pietro in southwestern Italy (population 1412, as Huston proclaims in his narration), this is a gripping, visually rewarding film that retains its power today and was no doubt, an inspiration to filmmakers who made war films in Hollywood several decades later (Steven Spielberg for Saving Private Ryan, for one).

Shot in black and white, Huston opens the film with a brief speech by a nameless commanding officer who describes the importance of the Allies gaining hold of this small territory known as the Liri Valley, some 60 miles northwest of Naples and 40 miles southeast of Rome. This is a nice touch and reinforces Huston's belief in the bravery of these men; names are not important, only deeds.

Huston goes to painstaking detail to explain the various stages of the battle with intricate maps, showing where various regiments would be stationed and what their exact orders were. Seeing these plans acted out bring special impact to the film, especially seeing soldiers advance through the terraced groves of olive trees.




The hand-held camera work, much of it done by Huston himself, is thrilling and at the same time distrurbing to watch. As we see two or three soldiers advance amidst the dirt being tossed up by nearby grenades, Huston pans to the right as we watch a soldier being felled by enemy fire; this is still a bit shocking to watch. But even more disturbing are the brief images of the faces of a few soldiers being put into body bags; Huston does not show their entire face, but only a part, which gives these images a haunting quality.

Haunting and beautiful are the shots of the townspeople emerging from their hiding places once the Allies have secured victory. There are several lovely shots of children's faces with their innocent smiles as well as visuals of women washing clothes and men digging out from under the rubble. One of the best shots is of a local woman, balancing on her head, not a basket of clothes or food, but a casket.



This is a no-nonsense film that depicted the brutality of war as well as the simple beauty of the emotions of the local residents, grateful for their final plight. Huston recalls in his wonderful autobiography, An Open Book (1980), that at a premiere of this work for Army brass in Washington, several generals walked out on the film. Later, it was explained to Huston by an Army official that the film was to be shelved as it was "anti-war." He told the Army that if he ever made a pro-war film, "someone should take me out and shoot me." Thankfully, Gen. George Marshall, aware of the film's reception, asked to see the film and declared it as worthy of the heroism of the American soldier.

This is a must see film for anyone interested in John Huston's work.



LET THERE BE LIGHT (1946)
This is clearly the most controversial of the three Huston documentaries. The subject matter - the study of what was then called psychoneuroses on soldiers returning from the battlefront - guaranteed that, but it is the intensity of Huston's direction that makes this 58-minute film so troublesome to deal with for so many people.

Huston and his cinematographer Stanley Cortez (The Magnificent Ambersons) filmed soldiers at the Mason General Army Hospital on Long Island, focusing on a few specific cases, ranging from one soldier upset at the loss of his girlfriend to another who could not walk due to neuroses. The cure is often hypnosis as well as a shot of sodium amathal; a drug that is referred to a having a "shortcut to the mind" by removing symptoms that could impede the patient's recovery.



Narrated by Huston's father Walter, the director focuses on the behavior of these troops who dream of the "torments of fear, uncertainty and loneliness." Some patients have mild problems, others are more serious cases. The most talked about scene in the film is that of a fragile soldier who can barely speak, as he can only manage to say a few words, often stuttering. We are told that the man is not a chronic stutterer, but someone who is suffering from battle fatigue. After he lays down on a cot and is given medicine, he suddenly recovers, saying in a voice that becomes louder and louder, "I can talk! I can talk! Oh god, listen I can talk!" The doctor then slowly converses with him about the specifics that caused this situation and soon the soldier is cured.

The film continues with Q and A sessions between a group of soldiers and a doctor; as a group, they are in fine shape after their treatment. We then see shots of them playing softball and enjoying life, presumably for the first time in years.

All in all, while this does have a few marvelous sequences, the film lacks the dramatic punch one would expect. It is watchable and informative, but this is not the end-all study of war illness it could have been. This makes the Army decision to ban this film puzzling, as the end result of the film is seeing the expertise of the Army doctors who have cured the patients. These soldiers walked in with frazzled nerves, but the leave as relatively normal human beings, free of neuroses (for the most part).

The film was finally given a public showing in 1981 and is available on the internet (as are the other two films mentioned above). Huston wrote in his book that he believed the decision to ban this film was the Army's way of maintaining the "warrior myth" of the American soldier. The Army has said that the filmed interviews were invasions of privacy of the specific soldiers, but Huston writes that he had each individual sign a release, allowing him to film them, so Huston's explanation that he showed the troops at less than zealous heroism, is probably as good as any.

One final note: many reviewers of this film have written that Huston staged much of the film, especially so Cortez could get the proper camera angle and lighting setup. This may have happened - who's to say for sure - but I believe Huston when he wrote that:

"the cameras ran continuously, one on the patient and one on the doctor. We shot thousands of feet of film... just to be sure of getting the extraordinary and completely unpredictable exchanges that sometimes occurred... As the men began to recover, they accepted the cameras as an integral part of their treatment."

While I wanted an even more detailed look at these soldiers, this is a fine film and recommended not only as a historical document, but also as a look at the unglamorous side of combat, a side too often forgotten by filmmakers.

Freud - The Pursuit of the Unknown

John Huston often made films that dealt with the subject of a pursuit. In Treasure of the Sierra Madre (1948) it was three men trying to find gold in the Mexican hills. In The Asphalt Jungle (1950), he detailed a group of low-life criminals determined to make one last major heist, while in Fat City (1972), two down and outs try and pursue a meager life in the world of small-time boxing. In The African Queen (1951), it's all about getting down the river to safety and in Moulin Rouge (1952), it was the obsession of Toulouse-Lautrec trying to fit into Paris society, despite his physical deformities.

Some of Huston's characters succeed in their pursuit, while many fail. But clearly the quest or chase of the principals' goals is what fascinated Huston throughout his long career. The search for the truth - or perhaps better stated, the presumed truth - is what makes Freud (1962) such a captivating film in the director's canon (The film is sometimes referred to as Freud: The Secret Passion).

This is a serious look at the beginnings of Sigmund Freud's search into the darkness of the human mind; soon after Freud (earnestly portrayed by Montgomery Clift) teams up with Joseph Breuer, who would be his partner for years, we are introduced to a young patient of Breuer named Cecily (Susannah York) who suffers from extreme neurosis. In her case, she cannot walk, as it is up to Breuer to discover why this young woman is so mentally tortured. (This character is based upon the famous real life Anna O. that Freud documented in his works.)



Breuer has been working with Cecily for a short time, but believes he must turn her care over to Freud, as it seems that she has developed a crush on Breuer. Freud takes over, first hypnotizing her and then in later sessions, he decides against this, opting merely to talk with her to discover her inner secrets.

What he discovers as he learns more of her early life is that she loved her father, who was willing to let his daughter become curious about many new things in her life. As her mother would scold her for putting on makeup (this is compared to a prostitute who paints her face), she is naturally more comfortable with her father's care than with her mother's scorn.

Freud meanwhile learns things about his chlldhood, as he had problems accepting the meek nature of his father, especially when verbally abused about being a Jew. Freud turned to his mother for comfort to make his upbringing more bearable.

Thus Freud and Cecily are linked in their passion for the parent of the opposite sex - Cecily in love with her father and Freud looking to his mother for caresses. "Truth is a mirror upside down," is Freud's explanation; for him there is sexuality in childhood.

The movie goes into great detail abut Cecily's case; it is a good 40-50% of the film and it is fascinating. Originally penned by the philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre (and then reworked by two others), the screenplay is serious and detailed. This is not the kind of movie that would play today, as the pace is too slow for modern audiences, but I was intrigued by the story and by Huston's careful and literal direction.

He does give us a few dream sequences - most notably one in which Freud is dragged - via a rope tied to his waist - into a deep cave. The symbolism here seems clear - he is going back into the womb via the umbilical cord - but this is played out with great skill and originality, especially in Douglas Slocombe's excellent black and white photography, which is quite edgy in this scene (negative images as well as out of focus shots).

In the end, Freud has created his Oedipus complex, but is shouted down by his peers during a reading of this paper. Worse yet, he is turned down by Breuer, who respects his diligence and compassion, but cannot agree on the notion of childhood sexuality. Another of Huston's characters has found his meaning in a pursuit; while others mock him, he does not fail. He knows that his work has only begun. This makes him a man who is firmly rooted in John Huston's world. He may be looking more at the end results than the means, as did the gold seekers in Sierra Madre, but the goal, the journey, the pursuit, is what defines his existence.