Underrated Gem: Freud (The Secret Passion)

In 1962, director John Huston's Freud (a.k.a, The Secret Passion) was released by Universal Pictures to near universal disdain. Starring Montgomery Clift in one of his last movie roles, Freud began life as a screenplay by French writer, Jean-Paul Sartre. However, Sartre left the project after failing to please Huston with his script revisions. (At one point Huston requested that Sartre pare down his script, which would run over five hours; Sartre delivered a revision that would require eight hours of screen time). Final writing credit went to Charles Kaufman for the story and Wolfgang Reinhardt--also the film's producer--for the screenplay. Huston himself put in time on the rewrites though he took no credit.

Filmed on location in Germany, Freud, which unfolds much like a mystery, deals with the psychoanalyst in an early point in his career, from 1885 to 1890. Along with his mentor, Josef Breuer (Larry Parks), Freud uses hypnosis to peel away the layer that lies beneath his patients' psychosis and begins to develop the ideas that would contribute to his best-known theory, the Oedipus complex. After establishing Freud as a pioneer who is nevertheless perceived as a quack by his colleagues, the film establishes his hypnotherapy technique. One of his patients is Carl Von Schlossen (David McCallum), a young man who has tried to kill his father. When Freud puts the young man into a hypnotic trance, he discovers that Carl's father raped his mother, and that Carl is sexually attracted to her (so much so that Carl kisses a mannequin that he imagines is his mother). Freud, who nurses something of a mother fixation himself, is frightened enough by this revelation that he locks young Carl in his room and abstains for a time the practice of psychoanalysis. Eventually, Breuer visits Freud and persuades him to help with a particularly difficult case. His patient's name is Cecily Koertner (played by Susannah York), a young woman whose initial problems include a refusal to drink water and horrible nightmares. Freud quickly discovers, however, that these symptoms are the tip of the iceberg. Cecily is also sexually repressed, and she has fixated on her father.

Freud, in a dream sequence, confronts his fears

Freud is not an easily accessible film. There is no Region 1 DVD or Blu-Ray, and the movie never shows up on the schedules of cable movie channels. Even Turner Classic Movies (TCM) hasn't shown it. Way back in the early 1990s, AMC--when it was still American Movie Classics--broadcast it, and I recorded it onto videotape. Since then I have transferred it to disc, and even though the picture quality is poor, I am glad to have a copy--any copy--to view. 

A nice collage from the film

Beyond its script issue, Freud had a troubled production. Huston--who'd worked with Montgomery Clift the year before on The Misfits--had nothing but trouble with his his star--and vice versa. In addition to his increasing drug and alcohol intake, Clift was suffering from cataracts, which obviously impaired his vision. At this point in his career, Clift was also experiencing difficulty with memorizing his lines. Unfortunately, Huston, who was never one to coddle, went after Clift, trying to bully a performance out of the increasingly insecure actor. Consequently, the film production became divided into two camps--one pro-Clift and one pro-Huston. Susannah York was especially vocal about Huston's nasty treatment of his troubled lead actor. Huston, carrying more power as director, had more allies, though the actors generally sided with Clift. Upon release, Huston's film wasn't popular and didn't play in the theaters for long, though it did appear on some ten best lists. Today, the movie has a 7.3 rating on IMDB and a 71% on Rotten Tomatoes (though that's based on only six reviews). 

Freud (Montgomery Clift) and Breuer (Larry Parks) working side by side.

Montgomery Clift gives, in my opinion, a stellar performance as Freud. The film benefits from Clift's tortured, alienated persona, which helps convey Freud's anxiety and lack of confidence. In Clift's deft hands, the uncertain quality he brings to the role makes him relatable and sympathetic. Larry Parks, a gifted actor who was not seen on screen for nearly ten years due to the Hollywood blacklist of the 1940s and 1950s, is equally effective as Joseph Breuer. And the demanding role of Cecily is skillfully played by Susannah York in what was only her fourth film. Her effort was rewarded with a Golden Globe nomination as Best Actress in a Drama. The film similarly garnered nominations for Best Picture-Drama, Best Director, and Best Supporting Actress for Susan Kohner's performance as Freud's wife, Martha.  Freud also received Oscar nominations for Best Original Screenplay and Best Original Score but lost both to Divorce, Italian Style and Lawrence of  Arabia, respectively. 

The beautiful Susannah York as Cecily Koertner, 

Dr. Freud's most demanding patient.

John Huston is one of cinema's most celebrated figures with films like The Maltese Falcon, The Treasure of the Sierra Madre, The Asphalt Jungle, The African Queen, Moby Dick, The Misfits, The Man Who Would Be King, and Prizzi's Honor to his credit. However Huston, whose directing career lasted nearly fifty years and almost forty films, has many "failures" whose reputation could stand re-evaluation. Freud would definitely benefit from such a re-evaluation and might even stand at the top of such a list. I, personally, am proud to have discovered it way back in the 1970s when, remarkably, it was more accessible than it is today. Freud isn't perfect--at nearly two hours and twenty minutes, it could be labeled a trifle long; and its black and white photography may be off-putting to a younger audience raised on color--but its virtues, including good writing, sensitive performances, and an excellent score by Jerry Goldsmith are well worth its length. If you ever get a chance to view this forgotten film, I'd definitely recommend you do. I wish Universal Pictures would issue this movie on disc--even a bare bones on-demand one--as it is a worthy title, lost in a sea of underrated gems. 

Freud's mother (Rosalie Crutchley) as she appears to him
in one of film's several dream sequences.

Sources: 

IMDB

Wikipedia

Rotten Tomatoes

Blake Edwards' S.O.B. and the Year 1981

Sometimes there's a year in your life that is a "game changer" - a year when so much happens so quickly that you can't begin to take it all in. When it's happening, it often feels like just another year, and it isn't until much later that you can appreciate its significance. 1981 was that kind of year for me. It was the year I (sort of) met Jessica Lange, who was in town to film the remake of The Postman Always Rings Twice with Jack Nicholson (I was working at Radio Shack in downtown Santa Barbara, and she came in one afternoon, looking shorter than I would have expected, with her hair bobbed for that period film. I think I sold her a hand-held tape recorder [to help memorize lines?]).

That year I made a decision or two that would affect my life forever after. And, as always, there were movies. Lots of movies. By my calculation I saw 30 movies in the theater in 1981 - and that doesn't count the films I saw more than once. During this time, before the home video revolution that changed movie-going forever, I was going to the movies several times a month in addition to all the classic cinema I was watching on television thanks to KNXT-CBS's The Late Show; Movies Til' Dawn on KTLA Channel 5; and movies shown on channels 9, 11, and 13 from one to six in the morning. I don't think I need to say it, but movies were my life! And there were so many good movies to see! Like always, I seemed to have an aversion to the most audience-friendly movies. I didn't see Stripes or On Golden Pond or Halloween II in theaters (though I did catch them later on cable). I did see two of the year's biggest hits, Raiders of the Lost Ark and Superman II, at Santa Barbara's historic Granada Theatre on State Street (following a tragic remodeling which converted the best balcony in town into two additional screens) but I took my time getting around to them.

L'chaim! Cully (William Holden), Dr. Irv (Robert Preston), and Ben (Robert Webber)
commiserate on the fate of their friend, movie producer Felix Farmer,
and clarify the meaning of S.O.B. (it's not what you think it is).

One film I was looking forward to was Blake Edwards' S.O.B., the director's stinging satire on New Hollywood. The basic plot concerns Felix Farmer (Richard Mulligan), a film producer with a track record of financial success of Spielbergian proportions until his latest opus, Night Wind, lays a huge box office egg (the film opens with him reading an issue of Variety with the headline "N.Y. Critics Break 'Wind'"). Sally (Julie Andrews), Felix's actress wife and the star of Night Wind, has taken their kids, leaving Felix on a suicidal jag. After some very funny attempts at ending it all, Felix is rejuvenated by the idea of turning the fairy tale plot of Night Wind into a $20 million porn movie. Felix accomplishes this by convincing Sally and the studio that it's a valid idea and, more importantly, one that will make them all rich([er] than they already are). Farmer's film director/buddy, Cully (William Holden), helms the retakes, and Dr. Irving Feingarten (Robert Preston) and his "magic" needle help steer Sally through the nude scenes. (S.O.B.'s claim to everlasting fame is Julie Andrews' topless scene, and it's an actual plot point of the film.) Viewing the finished product in a studio screening room, Felix is interrupted by studio boss David Blackman (Robert Vaughn) who tells Felix the film doesn't belong to him anymore due to legal backstabbing. Taking one of his kids squirt guns, a crazed Felix speeds off to the lab where the film's negative is, and, while holding a lab employee at squirt gunpoint, he attempts to confiscate his film. But the police have followed him and, not realizing Felix's gun is a fake, open fire. His dying words are, "This will mean another $10 million at the box office." Cully, Dr. Irv, and agent Ben Coogan, Felix's closest comrades, decide not only to boycott the funeral but also - in an effort to overcome feelings that they did not do enough for their friend - kidnap Felix's corpse from the funeral home, take him out on his yacht, and give him a good ol' Viking funeral (in a take on the classic Hollywood tale in which director Raoul Walsh and associates took John Barrymore's body from the funeral home and deposited him at Errol Flynn's house). The end credit roll states that Night Wind became the biggest grosser in the history of Capitol Pictures, and everyone lived happily ever after (until the next movie!).

With Cully at the helm, Ben and Dr. Irv accompany their late host on board the Tinkerbelle.

Blake Edwards based S.O.B. on the challenges he faced in Hollywood after he finished 1970's Darling Lili, the epic musical starring his wife, Julie Andrews. Lili was a colossal flop and made Edwards - the director of hits Breakfast at Tiffany's, Days of Wine and Roses, and The Pink Panther - a near pariah in the film capital. After a few more failures, Edwards went back to the Pink Panther series and, with star Peter Sellers, launched three huge Panther films back-to-back-to-back. By 1979, Edwards was feeling confident enough to try a non-Panther film, resulting in the critical and financial hit, 10, which made Dudley Moore an overnight sensation (in spite of his two decades in show business) and Bo Derek the most sought after pin-up since Farrah Fawcett three years before. With financial clout restored, Edwards embarked on S.O.B., his revenge on Hollywood.    

Unfortunately for S.O.B., it came smack in the middle of Edwards' late, great creative run, which began with 10 and was followed by Victor/Victoria. Like a middle child, S.O.B. is too often caught in the shadow of its siblings' achievements. Undoubtedly, however, S.O.B is an incisive, clever insider's view of Hollywood at the beginning of an extremely indulgent decade. Made during the time of the great financial fiasco Heaven's Gate (budget $44 million, box office $3.4 million), S.O.B. seemed a prophetic tale indeed.

The outstanding cast

With its all-star cast and Edwards recent track record, S.O.B. seemed about as sure a thing as you could get. Instead, it was either loved (nominated for a Writers Guild Award for Best Screenplay) or hated (nominated for a Razzie Award for Worst Screenplay). As for me, I loved S.O.B. from the first time I saw it on opening day, July 1, 1981. I went to see it two more times that summer. The performances are uniformly stellar, though I believe a few rise above the rest. Richard Mulligan is over the top, yet precise, as desperate producer, Felix Farmer. Though there must have been concern that he was going way too big with the very physical performance he was giving, it sets the right tone for a man poised on the edge of a cliff, ready to jump. "The Three Muscatels," William Holden's seen-it-all Cully; Robert Webber's high-strung press agent, Ben Coogan (at one point in the film, Cully tells the hyper-nervous Ben to "go have a scotch and Maalox"); and Robert Preston's Dr. Irving Feingarten, who practically walks off with the picture, lend terrific support as Felix's closest friends. In his last movie role, Holden, in particular, brings quiet dignity and sanity to Cully and grounds a film that is otherwise totally off-the-wall. Watching S.O.B. over the years, I can never get enough of how deftly they play off each other. The Blake Edwards' signature touches are here as well: a fabulous party scene (a staple of nearly every film Edwards ever made, he made an entire film with Peter Sellers called The Party in 1968); the unfortunate ethnic stereotype (Benson Fong as the Farmer's personal chef); the ensemble cast; and the subtle - and occasionally disconcerting - shifts of mood from broad comedy to affecting drama. If you're familiar with the films of Blake Edwards and haven't given this film a peek, you definitely should. I don't think you'll be disappointed.

The scene-stealing Robert Preston as Dr. Irving Feingarten (who possesses a "magic" needle)

I mentioned earlier that 1981 was a pivotal year for me. Three things stand out: I quit my salesman's job at Radio Shack and began working as a night supervisor at Taco Bell where I eventually met the woman who became my first wife and the mother of my three sons; I decided to work full time and drop out of the local community college I had been attending; and lastly, I declined an offer to perform in a production of Neil Simon's Come Blow Your Horn at the local dinner theater. With that decision went the last vestiges of a career in the theater, and I haven't stepped on a stage since. When I watch S.O.B. today, I return to that time when I was so young - barely 22 years old - and I had my life ahead of me. Sometimes you make decisions without knowing that those choices will permanently affect your life. In 1981, I made those kinds of choices. In some ways, I grew up and became the man I was meant to be. But in some ways, I forever lost the person I had been.

Sources

IMDB
Wikipedia
Rotten Tomatoes

Short Takes: Trumbo and The Danish Girl

I saw Trumbo, the new film about blacklisted screenwriter, Communist, and well-known Hollywood liberal, Dalton Trumbo, at the old Magic Lantern Theater in Isla Vista, California, this past Friday. As film biopics go, it was pretty standard fare, recounting the struggles faced by Trumbo and other Hollywood progressives during in the late 1940s and 1950s during the House Un-American Activities Committee's (HUAC) infamous witch hunt. The film takes the screenwriter's POV with an earnest lead performance by Bryan Cranston as Dalton Trumbo. Like other films about this period, including 1976's The Front and 1991's Guilty By Suspicion, Trumbo presents conscientious folks who were ultimately on the right side of history. But these righteously indignant films, as compelling as they are, hardly show the real victims, with the ideals of the protagonist always upheld against great resistance and those who name names presented as wrong, guilty, practically unforgivable.

This portrait of a blacklisted screenwriter seems to have more complex characterizations on its mind, yet the plot takes a well-traveled road. What Trumbo doesn't convey is the terror that existed in Hollywood during those years. At no point in the film is there a strong enough sense of the paranoid fear that undoubtedly permeated the interactions of the Hollywood community in which the story takes place. Bryan Cranston is good as the screenwriter, and his make-up is outstanding, though whether he deserved an Oscar nomination is for you to decide. The film starts without opening credits, and I had forgotten who else was in the film besides Cranston. What I discovered was an exceptional array of talented actors, from the always welcome, still vivacious Diane Lane as Cleo, Trumbo's silently suffering wife; to John Goodman as schlock movie producer, Frank King; Louis CK as Arlen Hird (a composite character); Elle Fanning as Trumbo's daughter, Nikola; Helen Mirren, truly despicable as gossip columnist, Hedda Hopper; and Michael Stuhlbarg as Edward G. Robinson.

Gossip queen Hedda Hopper (Helen Mirren) and screenwriter
Dalton Trumbo (Bryan Cranston) have a chat in Trumbo.

Interestingly, (a fault or virtue of the film, depending on your perspective) I felt more sympathy for Edward G. Robinson in a scene where Trumbo visits him (spoiler alert) after serving prison time for contempt of court. Robinson, who had been a somewhat sympathetic HUAC witness, states that he didn't have the luxury of other writers fronting for him; he only has his face. He goes on to talk about how he can't change how his career has dictated his actions, and how he has a family to feed and a lifestyle he has acclimated to and doesn't want to lose. All of this is what Robinson understands about himself after being unemployed for more than a year due to initial refusal to cooperate with HUAC. I, for one, would like to see that movie - one about a man would knows he has to sell out his beliefs, doesn't want to, but does in order to survive. It wouldn't necessarily be as noble, but it would be a compelling depiction of complex characters in a complicated time.

Rating **1/2 of ****

Another film with a not-so-different story to tell is Tom Hooper's The Danish Girl, an adaptation of David Ebershoff's novel about real-life Danish artist, Einar Wegener, who became one of the first people known to undergo sex reassignment surgery in the 1930. The story focuses on the relationship between Einar and his wife, Gerda, and the challenges they face when Einar expresses his discomfort with his gender identity.

Einar Wegener (Eddie Redmayne) sits for his artist wife, Gerda
(Alicia Vikander), in an early scene in The Danish Girl

What begins as an apparent game between the two in which Einar begins to secretly wear Gerda's clothes beneath his own escalates as Einar more fully acknowledges his identity as a woman (which Einar and Gerda call Lili). Though well acted by all, for me the film's stand-out performance is Alicia Vikander as Gerda. Vikander paints a masterful portrait of a woman who loves her husband so much she is able to let him embrace his (her) true identity, even while she knows that it will end her marriage. Vikander's performance is so effective I was more wrapped up in her struggle to embrace her husband's identity than in Einar's struggle to accept his identity as a woman (indeed, I have read several reviews that have stated similar perspectives).

Eddie Redmayne is effective as Einar/Lili, subtly conveying the struggle of a person whose male body does not match her female gender. Unfortunately, I really didn't get a sense of this conflict from Redmayne's performance except for one scene in which Einar is alone and breaks down in tears. The film's conflict rests more with Gerda's acceptance of Einar's transition. I'm not certain of The Danish Girl's intent, but without question, it succeeds as a story of how the emotional aspect of the marriage bond is just as profound as the physical one. 

Rating *** of ****

Having now seen two of the five Best Actor Oscar nominees, I would have to say I wouldn't vote for either if I had a say in the Oscar race. Though both are good, I don't consider either to be outstanding enough to win the gold man. In the coming weeks I hope to see The Revenant with Leonardo DiCaprio, Joy with Jennifer Lawrence, and Carol with Cate Blanchett and Rooney Mara. I will comment on these as I see them.