Googie Withers, “The Lady Vanishes,” “Night and the City”

Googie Withers, 94, a British actress best known for her appearance in Alfred Hitchcock’s 1938 film “The Lady Vanishes,” died July 15 at her home in Sydney. The cause of death was not disclosed.
Georgette Lizette Withers was born March 12, 1917, in Karachi, then part of British India. She was given her lifetime nickname by her Indian nanny.
Her family moved back to Britain where Ms. Withers began acting at age 12. She was a dancer in a West End production in London when she was offered work in 1935 as a film extra in “The Girl in the Crowd.”
Soon after starting work, director Michael Powell fired one of the female leads and she stepped into the role.
Ms. Withers appeared in dozens of films in the 1930s and ’40s, but was probably best known for her role as Blanche in “The Lady Vanishes” playing opposite Margaret Lockwood and Michael Redgrave. She was dubbed by the English press as “the best bad girl in British films.”
She appeared in many other films, including “It Always Rains On Sunday” (1947), in which she sheltered a killer on the run, played by John McCallum, an Australian actor she married in 1948.
Ms. Withers also appeared in several British wartime dramas in the 1940s and played the memorable role of Helen Nosseross in the 1950 film noir classic “Night and the City,” directed by Jules Dassin and starring Richard Widmark and Gene Tierney.
In the 1950s, she acted on the British stage before moving to Australia with her husband in 1958. The couple co-starred in 10 popular films together, and Ms. Withers had occasional theatrical roles on Broadway and in England through the 1980s.
Ms. Withers won an acting award for her part as a prison governor in the 1970s British television series “Within These Walls.” She starred in the 1986 BBC adaptation of Anita Brookner’s novel “Hotel du Lac” and in a 1987 BBC production of Jane Austen’s “Northanger Abbey.”
Ms. Withers appeared in the well-received 1994 film “Country Life,” directed by Michael Blakemore, an adaptation of Anton Chekhov’s “Uncle Vanya” set in Australia in 1919.
In 1996, she portrayed a writer who furthers the career of pianist David Helfgott, played by Geoffrey Rush, in the popular film “Shine.”
When she was 85 in 2002, Ms. Withers shared the stage in London’s West End with her husband and Vanessa Redgrave in Oscar Wilde’s “Lady Windermere’s Fan.”
McCallum died last year at 91. Survivors include three children.

Touring The Scene of the Crime (Film) III

Left, detective Philip Marlowe (Robert Mitchum) chats with ex-con Moose Malloy (Jack O'Halloran) in a scene from 1975's "Farewell, My Lovely." Note the vintage Skee-Ball tables in the background. The same ones, below, are still there, in the Playland Arcade on the Santa Monica Pier, where the scene was filmed. The pier is featured prominently in the Raymond Chandler novel on which the movie is based, although Chandler thinly veiled the location, Santa Monica, as "Bay City." The pier was the place you'd catch a speedboat out to the gambling ships anchored off the coast up until the late 1930s.

'Switch' Gets Some Things Right, Some Not So Much

Written by its director Frederic Schoendoerffer and crime novelist Jean-Christophe Grange, the French thriller Switch is part "Strangers on a Train," part "The Fugitive."

PARIS — A tightly wound French thriller that avoids some, but not all, of the genre’s pitfalls, Switch reps a solid fourth feature from writer-director Frederic Schoendoerffer (Secret Agents), making him one of France’s more worthy purveyors of kinetic, Hollywood-style fare. Although local box office won’t be spectacular, the Franco-Canadian co-production should find takers throughout Europe, while a Stateside studio might consider switching this into an English-language remake.

Doing a decent job in justifying some of its more dubious plot points (most of which are held back till the last reel), and keeping the pace turned up throughout, Switch is the kind of barebones, wrong man (or, in this case, woman) thriller that serves its purpose without trying to win awards or change the world.

Co-written by Schoendoerffer and crime novelist Jean-Christophe Grange (The Crimson Rivers), the script’s pitch is part Strangers on a Train, part The Fugitive: When Quebecoise fashion designer Sophie (Karine Vanasse) swaps her humble Montreal ranch house for a hôtel particulierin Paris, she’s hoping the change of scenery will boost her spirits. But after a day visiting various City of Lights landmarks, she wakes up the next morning with the police breaking down her door, behind which they find the decapitated corpse of an unknown male.

Clearly innocent of all charges, Sophie realizes she’s been set up by her psychotic home-swapping partner, Benedicte Serteaux (Karina Testa), who assumes her identity, traveling to Montreal to clean up any remaining traces. Meanwhile, a barrel-chested but otherwise soft detective, Forgeat (Eric Cantona), attempts to deconstruct Sophie’s various alibis. That is until she gives him the slip, taking along his gun and street cred as she sets out to nab the real killer.

That turnaround scene, where Sophie displays uncanny combat capabilities for someone we previously saw lugging around her design portfolio or, at best, jogging in the park, may not convince viewers looking for explanations behind Switch’s many action sequences, the highlight of which is an extended foot chase throughout a serene French suburb. But Schoendoerffer never takes things too far either, giving his film a gritty and realistic texture, while making fine use of Paris’ narrow streets and apartment hallways to show how the world is closing in around Sophie.

Canadian actress Vanasse (Polytechnique) definitely holds her own, especially when she’s on the run, and her performance is persuasive even when the screenplay itself is not. (Thankfully, the filmmakers do take the time to explain why Sophie doesn’t speak with a Quebecois accent, which likely would have incurred the wrath of French audiences.)

As the sympathetic yet rather incompetent Forgeat, former Manchester United footballer Cantona (Looking for Eric) proves that he can do steady low-key work, although given the cackles heard during a recent public screening, he’s yet to convince local viewers. (Picture, say, Barry Bonds playing a schlubby cop, and you’ll have an idea of what they’re contending with.)

Tech contributions are fine, with cool widescreen cinematography by Vincent Gallot (shooting his first feature), and a score by Bruno Coulais (Coraline) that never overreaches.

Opens: In France July 6
Production companies: Carcharodon, L&G, Pathe, France 2 Cinema, Jouror Productions, Tercera Prod.
Cast: Karine Vanasse, Eric Cantona, Mehdi Nebbou, Aurelien Recoing, Karina Testa, Bruno Todeschini, Maxim Roy, Niseema
Director: Frederic Schoendoerffer
Screenwriters: Frederic Schoendoerffer, Jean-Christophe Grange
Producer: Eric Neve
Executive producer: Adrien Maigne
Director of photography: Vincent Gallot
Production designer: Jean-Marc Kerdhelue
Music: Bruno Coulais
Costume designer: Marie-Laure Lasson, Claire Lacaze
Editor: Dominique Mazzoleni
Sales Agent: Pathe International
No rating, 101 minutes


Ripped from the pages of the Hollywood Reporter.

Son of a Satire: 'Chain Gang' Rattles On

I n 1932's "I Am a Fugitive From a Chain Gang," Paul Muni stars in the real-life story of a poor schlump who gets roped into years of hard prison labor for no reason at all.

"Chain Gang" is one of the "socially conscious" movies of that time. It was meant to publicize the brutal slave-labor incarceration system in the South.

In 1941, director Preston Sturges did "Sullivan's Travels," which was, in part, a satire of "Chain Gang." In "Sullivan's Travels," Joel McCrea plays a Hollywood movie director who wants to make a socially conscious film, titled "O Brother, Where Art Thou?"

He goes on the road to get in touch with "real" people, and gets dragged onto a Southern chain gang. Sturges seems to ask, why make movies that just tell people how bad life is? We all need a laugh instead.

And then in 2000 Joel and Ethan Coen directed a little film called, "O Brother, Where Art Thou?"

"O Brother" was sort of a satire of "Sullivan's Travels," sort of a witty take on Homer's "The Odyssey."

The Coens' film ended up saying ... hmmmm, still not quite sure what it was saying. But it has a great musical soundtrack of early country, gospel and blues.

So, in essence, we have a parody of a satire of a socially responsible film. Quite an achievement.

Times Mag: New Mexico Meth Yarn a Heartland Hit

The New York Times Magazine did an excellent article on "Breaking Bad" executive producer Vince Gilligan, and the twisted logic that makes the show's characters so enjoyable to watch. It's called "The Dark Art of 'Breaking Bad.'"
If the Times' online subscription technology prevents you from reading it, you can download this PDF file, which has the text but not the photos that went with the article.
The article points out that B.B. is a hit in the heartland of America, namely the Mid-West, but not so much on the two coasts. It's a "Red State" hit, you could say. Besides breaking standard TV taboos -- the heroes are meth dealers -- the writers have canned the heretofore iron-clad rule of series writing: The protagonist's character can never change. He's got to be the same person from beginning to end, or else the show's premise goes out the window. In B.B., our hero, Walt White, is the king of personality and morality disintegration. Yet we can't stop watching him.

'The Mechanic' Is Bronson At His Peak

They don’t make actors like Charles Bronson anymore. No one except Bronson, who shows his grizzled, hard-earned authority in every line in his face, could have played the role of Arthur Bishop in 1972’s “The Mechanic.” For those who haven’t seen it – or have only seen the remake starring Jason Stratham – you owe it to yourself to check out the original. It’s by far the better version.
Bishop is a hitman who pulls off highly planned assassinations, often designed to make the victim’s death seem to be an accident. Bishop is hoping to retire, but in his business that’s not such an easy thing to accomplish. He takes young sociopath Steve McKenna (Jan Michael Vincent) under his wing, and proceeds to teach him the killing business.
For an action movie – and that’s essentially what “The Mechanic” is – the film presents a hefty amount of character development, which is rare in this genre. In the early 1970s, studios had not yet given up on the idea of making good quality, character-driven films, even if they were crime movies. There’s also lots of explosions, gunfights, motorcycle jumping and car chases to offset the more cerebral junk. And check out the opening sequence – there’s no dialogue until 15 minutes and 10 seconds into the movie – for some great visual storytelling.
Bishop is an isolated figure who had a difficult childhood. Now, he seems to shun relationships by choice, and perhaps for professional reasons. His real-life wife, Jill Ireland, known here simply as “The Girl,” makes an appearance in a scene with an unexpected twist. We see that Bishop focuses all of his energy on his work. And he shows remarkable talent and creativity when it comes to wasting people.
It’s hard to talk about the movie without giving too much away, and the surprises in store for first-time viewers are good ones. One of the most exciting aspects of “The Mechanic,” to paraphrase crime novelist Jim Thompson, is that, “nothing is what it appears to be.”
While Bronson the actor did not have a wide range, the roles he played – often the enforcer or the vigilante – were perfect for him. He gives the impression of extreme mental focus on his target, and he maintains a strict code of behavior, usually outside the law. But the world he lives in suffers from moral decay, and we always sense that he’s going to do the right thing, even if he has to break a few rules, and maybe a few limbs and skulls, in the process.
This was the second movie of six that Bronson made with director Michael Winner. Prior to this film they made "Chato's Land" (1972), and after "The Mechanic" they collaborated on "The Stone Killer" (1973), "Death Wish" (1974), "Death Wish II" (1982) and "Death Wish 3" (1985).
“The Mechanic” was retitled “The Killer of Killers” at some point of its theatrical release, but thankfully has been returned to its original title. I suspect the title switch was supposed to show that Bronson only kills guys who need killing. No need to point that out. We already knew it.

Scorsese's Favorite Gangster Movies

James Cagney, “White Heat” (1949).

Director Martin Scorsese revisits 

crime pictures that most influenced him

Here are 15 gangster pictures that had a profound effect on me and the way I thought about crime and how to portray it on film. They excited me, provoked me, and in one way or another, they had the ring of truth.

I stopped before the ‘70s because we’re talking about influence here, and I was looking at movies in a different way after I started making my own pictures. There are many gangster films I’ve admired in the last 40 years — Performance, the Godfather saga, Leone’s Once Upon a Time in America, The Long Good Friday, Sexy Beast, John Woo’s Hong Kong films.

The films below I saw when I was young, open, impressionable.

The Public Enemy (1931)

The shocking, blunt brutality; the energy of Cagney in his first starring role; the striking use of popular music (the song “I’m Forever Blowing Bubbles”)—this picture led the way for all of us.

Scarface (1932)

[Howard] Hawks’ film is so fast, so fluid, so funny, and so excitingly expressionistic. The audacity of it is amazing. It was finished by 1930, but it was so violent that it was held up by the censors.

Blood Money (1933)

Rowland Brown, a largely forgotten figure, made three tough, sardonic movies in the early ‘30s, each one very knowledgeable about city politics, corruption, the coziness between cops and criminals. This is my favorite. The ending is unforgettable.

The Roaring Twenties (1939)

In 1939, Raoul Walsh and Mark Hellinger’s classic was seen as a sendoff to the gangster genre, which seemed to have run its course. But it’s more than that. Much more. It plays like a journal of the life of a typical gangster of the period, and it covers so much ground, from the battlefields of France to the beer halls to the nightclubs, the boats that brought in the liquor, the aftermath of Prohibition, the whole rise and fall of ‘20s gangsterdom, that it achieves a very special epic scale—really, it was the template for GoodFellas and Casino. It also has one of the great movie endings.

Force of Evil (1948)

John Garfield is the mob lawyer, Thomas Gomez is his brother, a numbers runner who’s loyal to his customers and his employees. The conflict is elemental—money vs. family—and the interactions between the brothers are shattering. The only gangster picture ever done in blank verse, by Abraham Polonsky. Truthfully, it had as great an impact on me as Citizen Kane or On the Waterfront.

White Heat (1949)

Cagney and Walsh bit into this movie about a psychopathic gangster with a mother fixation as if they’d just abandoned a hunger strike. They intentionally pursued the madness of Cagney’s Cody Jarrett, a psychopathic gang leader with a mother complex. The level of ferocity and sustained energy is breathtaking, and it all comes to a head in the scene where Cagney goes berserk in the dining hall… which never fails to surprise me.

Night and the City (1950)

Desperation, no holds barred. We all loved and admired Richard Widmark from his first appearance in Kiss of Death, but his performance as Harry Fabian marked us forever. As did the rest of this hair-raising picture set in post-war London, the first made by Jules Dassin after he escaped the blacklist.

Touchez pas au Grisbi (1954)

Jacques Becker, who had worked as Jean Renoir’s assistant, made this picture with Jean Gabin, about an aging mobster who is forced out of retirement to save his old partner. The style is elegant and understated, the aura of weariness and mortality extremely powerful.

The Phenix City Story (1955)

A completely unsentimental picture by Phil Karlson that closely follows the true story of wholesale corruption, intimidation, racism, and terrifying brutality in the once-notorious town of Phenix City, Alabama—where it was shot on location… in 10 days! Fast, furious, and unflinching.

Pete Kelly’s Blues (1955)

A beautifully made picture, in glorious color and Scope, directed by and starring Jack Webb as a cornet player in the ‘20s whose professional life is infiltrated and turned inside out by a Kansas City gangster (Edmund O’Brien). This kind of situation happened over and over again in the big-band years and later during the doo-wop era. It’s also at the center of Love Me or Leave Me, another tough Scope musical made around the same time.

Murder by Contract (1958)

A highly unusual, spare, elemental picture made on a low budget by Irving Lerner—a lesson in moviemaking. It’s about a hired gunman (Vince Edwards), and it’s from his point of view. The scenes where he’s alone in his apartment preparing for a hit were very much on my mind when we made Taxi Driver, and we studied the haunting guitar score and its role in the action when we were working on the music for The Departed with Howard Shore. For me, an inspiration.

Al Capone (1959)

This sharp, spare low-budget film by Richard Wilson, one of Orson Welles’ closest collaborators, deserves to be better known. Rod Steiger is brilliant as Capone—charming, boorish, brutal, ambitious. There’s not a trace of sentimentality. Wilson also made another striking crime film, Pay or Die, about the Black Hand in Little Italy right after the turn of the century.

Le Doulos (1962)

The French master Jean-Pierre Melville, a close student of American moviemaking, made a series of genuinely great, extremely elegant, intricate, and lovingly crafted gangster pictures, in which criminals and cops stick to a code of honor like knights in the age of chivalry. This is one of the best, and it might be my personal favorite.

Mafioso (1962)

A transplanted northerner living up north with his wife and family (the great Alberto Sordi) goes home to Sicily, and little by little, gets sucked back into the old loyalties, blood ties, and obligations. It starts as a broad comedy. It gradually becomes darker and darker… and darker, and by the end you’ll find the laughs catching in your throat. One of the best films ever made about Sicily.

Point Blank (1967)

This was one of the first movies that really took the storytelling innovations of the French New Wave—the shock cuts, the flash-forwards, the abstraction—and applied them to the crime genre. Lee Marvin is Walker, the man who may or may not be dreaming, but who is looking for vengeance on his old partner and his former wife. Like Burt Lancaster in the 1948 I Walk Alone, another favorite, he can’t get his money when he comes out of jail and enters a brave new corporate world. John Boorman’s picture re-set the gangster picture on a then-modern wavelength. It gave us a sense of how the genre could pulse with the energy of a new era.