Movies I watched in May, Part 1

Unlike last month, where real life (and, admittedly, new TV shows) resulted in a lackluster total of movies watched, this month was packed with films. So many, in fact, that I'm splitting the May roundup into a double feature. Here's the first half...


Not the disco-themed, short-lived TV series starring David Naughton aimed at cashing in on the "Saturday Night Fever" craze. That came later. This is a mostly forgotten teen comedy from 1971, focusing on Phil Fuller, a laid-back high school student coasting through life with zen aplomb. He's played by

I love 1970s conspiracy movies, but I'd put this one a notch below "The Parallax View" and "All the President's Men," if only because I can never buy Faye Dunaway falling head over heels for Robert Redford after he abducts her and holds her hostage in her own apartment. I mean sure, he's a young Robert Redford, but c'mon. Having said that, the rest of the movie is very good, with some nicely ironic Christmas decorations and a great performance by Max Von Sydow as the most practical assassin in movie history.


Now here's a real oddity: a star-studded, consistently surreal version of "Alice in Wonderland" where most of the biggest names -- including Cary Grant, W.C. Fields and Gary Cooper -- are  virtually unrecognizable (you never even glimpse Grant's face except for his card in the opening credits). Visually, it's pretty amazing, with nightmare-inducing costumes (I mean that in the best possible way) and strangely evocative sets. Weirdest moment? The croquet game is, just like in the story, played with flamingos as mallets. Real, live flamingos. Well, at least they were live when the cameras started to roll...

Being a big Frank Tashlin fan, a huge Martin and Lewis fan, and an even bigger comic book fan, it's odd I'd never seen "Artists and Models," the 1955 live-action cartoon that combines all three elements. Things start off a little slow, with Dean a struggling artist and Jerry, well, Jerry, but once the subplot of The Bat Lady comic book gets going, it's a lot of fun, filmed in Tashlin's distinctly colorful style. And boy oh boy, is Shirley MacLaine a cutie in that Bat Lady costume. No wonder Jerry was so smitten.

Well, Allie wanted to watch it, and who was I to say no? I chose the above image because that's the poster that hung over my bed in the summer of 1977. Not exactly Carrie Fisher and Mark Hamill, but who cares? Unfortunately, the version Allie and I watched last month was not the version I saw back in '77, and I had to endure all that annoying CGI bric-a-brac that Lucas insisted on adding to make the movie "special." (If you want to see something truly awful, watch the much-hyped scene with Han and Jabba.) Still, any version of "Star Wars" has its moments, namely that first shot of the Star Destroyer flying overhead. (Sad but true fact: I divide my life between the moment before I saw that shot and after.) And the ending, with Luke making the Death Star run, as I've said before, always gets me on the edge of my seat. It's a master class in suspenseful editing, with Luke still flying toward the target after the Death Star has, technically speaking, already pulled the trigger. 

Offbeat Pre-Code drama starring two of my favorite actresses of the era, Ann Dvorak and Aline MacMahon. MacMahon owns a fur shop in Depression-era San Francisco, and she falls in love with Tim, a ne'er-do-well who claims to be a sailor (Paul Kelly). Tim's a nice enough guy, but he starts an affair with Dvorak, though he's decent enough to break it off when MacMahon becomes pregnant. There are a few big plot twists both tragic and preposterous, but what makes the movie special is the low-key portrait of a sensible businesswoman trying to earn a living in a tough world. Dvorak is great, bringing a world-weary sense to her performance, but this is MacMahon's show all the way.


I recorded this 1935 version of "Crime and Punishment" off TCM because the onscreen listing mentioned that it starred two of my favorite actors, Peter Lorre (as Raskolnikov) and Edward Arnold (as Inspector Porfiry, who pursues him). What I didn't realize until I actually sat down and watched the movie that it also stars yet another of my favorite pre-Code actresses, Marian Marsh, and was directed by none other than the great Josef Von Sternberg. Admittedly, this is post-peak Josef, after he helmed such classics as "The Blue Angel," "The Scarlett Empress" and the three movies contained on this impressive Criterion set. But even so, I thought this was a hell of a movie, compacting Dostoevsky's long novel into a compact -- but not simplistic -- 88 minutes. Lorre is perfect as the twitchy murderer, of course, but so is Arnold, bringing a sense of arrogant joie de vivre to his cop role. (Look for more Edward Arnold in part two of this recap.)


If you don't care one bit about how "Psycho" was really made and just want to see a talented cast re-enact scenes that probably never too place, have I got the movie for you. Old-time Hollywood bios and "true stories" never worried about bringing the audience historical facts, and neither does "Hitchcock." It's fun, though with Scar Jo doing a surprisingly good Janet Leigh impersonation and Helen Mirren unsurprisingly sharp as Alma Hitchcock. (Best of all, though, is James D'Arcy, channeling Anthony Perkins.) As for the title role, Anthony Hopkins isn't bad, but you never forget that you're not watching Hitch himself. Maybe it's because -- thanks to his TV show -- we've all seen so much footage of Hitchcock that the genuine article remains stuck in our mind. Or maybe it's because Hopkins -- whose hammy tendencies are perfect for this slightly silly story -- is just as familiar to us, minus the fake chin and fat suit.

Up next: More"Star Wars," a little Liberace and, believe it or not, an actual trip to a theater.