Author: Joe Bendel

By Joe Bendel. Those Frenchies are always trying to corrupt their guileless provincial European neighbors. Georges Simenon certainly would have known. Technically, he was Belgian, but he was an expert on Parisian fast living. One timid Dutch clerk gets his own crash course in Harold French’s The Man Who Watched Trains Go By (a.k.a. Paris Express), which screens during the Anthology Film Archives’ Cine-Simenon retrospective.

Kees Popinga was born to be a bookkeeper. Quiet and detail-oriented, he spends his weekly night out at the chess club, where his boss, Julius de Koster, is also a member. His only eccentricity is a passion for trains, whose timetable he has memorized. One day, Inspector Lucas visits his firm from Paris as part of a mysterious investigation. It seems to involve the beautiful French woman Popinga happened to spy de Koster affectionately seeing off at the train station.

Confronting the haughty de Koster, Popinga learns he has looted the company in order to abscond with his French lover. An altercation ensues, spurring the unprepossessing Popinga to take flight. Assuming one Dutchman with a suitcase full of cash is as good as another, Popinga sets out to find the femme fatale, Michele Rozier. He is right of course, but not in a happily-ever-after kind of way. Better understanding the shady characters conspiring against him, Inspector Lucas will scramble to find the naïve Popinga before his mad interlude completely spirals out of control.

Trains might not be the absolutely best noir ever filmed, but it boasts two Phantoms of the Opera: Claude Rains (star of Universal’s 1943 color remake) as Popinga and Herbert Lom (featured in the 1962 Hammer production) as the hypocritical de Koster. Future international movie star Anouk Aimée also steals all her brief scenes as the alluring Jeanne, a “professional” colleague of Rozier’s.

There is also plenty of Simenon-ness to Trains, particularly the cat-and-mouse game played by Popinga and the Inspector. Indeed, Lucas is a good copper, balancing cunning and compassion in the Maigret tradition. The underappreciated Marius Goring is one of Train’s best assets, playing Lucas with considerable intelligence and flair.

Of course, Rains is perfectly dependable, if not career-defining, as the mild-mannered Popinga. His convincing slide from respectability to manic self-destruction recalls some of his early Universal work, like in Edwin Drood. Frankly, despite her greater screen time and stylish villainy, Märta “the next Ingrid Bergman” Torén’s Rozier is overshadowed by Anouk (as Train simply billed her).

The Man Who Watched Trains Go By is a presentable noir, distinguished by its tragic tone and the decency of its sleuth. Nicely representing the themes and motifs of Simenon’s “roman durs,” his psychologically complex, non-Maigret novels, it makes a good fit for Anthology’s Cine-Simenon series. Recommended for fans of Rains and noirs in general, it screens today (8/12) and Wednesday the 21st at Anthology Film Archives.

LFM GRADE: B-

Posted on August 12th, 2013 at 5:28pm.

By Joe Bendel. After the war, Georges Simenon whiled away some pleasant days in Nogales, Arizona. Presumably, he appreciated the charms of bordertown life. It also became the setting of a somewhat un-Simenon-like tale of fraternal dysfunction. The spirits will flow in Henry Hathaway’s adaptation of The Bottom of the Bottle, which screens during the Anthology Film Archives’ Cine-Simenon retrospective.

It rarely rains on the ranchland outside Nogales, but when it does, the Santa Cruz floods, cutting them off from the rest of the world. For Paul “P.M.” Martin and his fellow landowners, this means it is time for their traditional floating house parties. However, the sudden appearance of his brother Donald puts a damper on his mood. While they never really got along, the whole escaped convict thing particularly irks the status conscious P.M.

Of course, nobody knows about the black sheep sibling he will introduce to his wife Nora and their friends as Eric Bell. With the river running high, the Martin brothers will just have to bluff their way through until Donald can slip across to his waiting family. Unfortunately, the younger Martin brother is a recovering alcoholic, under severe stress, and about to attend his first rainy season party, which will be all about getting pie-faced hammered.

This is an odd film, but it is a big film, rather dazzlingly shot in Cinemascope by Lee Garmes. It starts out as a desert noir, segueing into Lost Weekend, then marital strife melodrama, and finally shifts into a modern day western, as the highway patrol posse saddles up, chasing the fugitive Martin into the hills.

Granted, Bottle is not a classic classic, but it is rather strange that it is not programmed more frequently. It would certainly make an interesting double bill with Touch of Evil, the classic bordertown noir directed by Joseph Cotten’s old comrade, Orson Welles. Sort of conceived as a follow-up to Hathaway’s Niagara, also starring Cotten, Bottle is nowhere near as gripping as those two films. Still, it has Dragnet’s Harry Morgan as a kindly barkeep, who plays Ellington’s “Don’t Get Around Much Anymore” during the morning hours.

There are flashes of mordant wit throughout Bottle (the doorbell that rings “How Dry I am” might have been the work of an acerbic stagehand, but it still counts) and Hathaway makes the most of his southwestern locations. He also shrewdly manages to shoehorn in one amazingly cinematic mission church as often as possible. Indeed, this is a finely crafted production, particularly the Martin’s richly appointed ranch house, which makes the Southfork look like a welfare hotel. And speaking of Dallas, Jack Davis (a.k.a. Jock Ewing) turns up in a minor role as a member of the Martin’s boozy social circle. Nonetheless, Bottle’s depiction of the local Hispanic population (probably considered broadmindedly sympathetic at the time) is pretty cringy for contemporary viewers.

Cotten has the right look and presence for P.M. Martin, even if his ascot-looking bandanas are a wardrobe mistake. Van Johnson also stretches his chops quite notably as the sad sack brother. Surprisingly though, it is Ruth Roman who really stands out as the assertive but family-oriented Nora Martin, who is rather impressive holding P.M.’s feet to the fire. It is a smarter character and performance than one expect in what is essentially a “helper” role.

So Bottle might not be a good film, per se, but it is entertaining in its way. A late product of the old school studio system, it demonstrates both the merits and drawbacks of the era, cramming enough interesting stuff into a misconceived vehicle to maintain viewers’ attention the all the way through. It is definitely the ringer of AFA’s Cine-Simenon, but it still makes sense to include it, because when else could they show it. Those intrigued should definitely check it out when it screens tomorrow (8/13), Wednesday (8/15), and Sunday (8/18) at Anthology Film Archives.

LFM GRADE: C+

Posted on August 12th, 2013 at 5:24pm.

By Joe Bendel. Georges Simenon remains one of the best known Belgian writers, but his signature detective, French Police Commissaire Jules Maigret, has been played by French, British, Dutch, Italian, Armenian, Czech, Russian, and Japanese actors. British born Hollywood legend Charles Laughton also picked up Maigret’s trademark pipe for a memorable one-off, The Man on the Eiffel Tower, directed by the Burgess Meredith, which screens as part of Anthology Film Archives new retrospective, Cine-Simenon.

It is post-war Paris, where expat Bill Kirby has a wife, a mistress, a rich but prickly old aunt, and an aversion to work. After he complains about the old dear’s longevity in a crowded café, a mystery man slips him a note. His problem can be solved for 100,000 Francs. He need only mail her key to an anonymous postal drop—and so he does.

For Maigret, the most suspicious aspect of the crime scene is how thoroughly it implicates Joseph Heurtin. The bespectacled knife-grinder simply does not strike Maigret as a killer. Playing a hunch, the Inspector allows Heurtin to escape, hoping he will lead the police to the master criminal pulling his strings. Maigret soon concludes the real murderer is the Czech Johann Radek, a dissolute former medical student. However, proving it will be a trickier matter. Thus commences a game of cat and mouse that will indeed take both men to the famous Parisian landmark.

All AFA screenings will be in 35mm, which is good to know, since there are some pretty scruffy prints of Eiffel in circulation. Evidently it was one of the few films shot on a certain brand of color stock that has not aged gracefully. Nonetheless, it is a jolly good little suspenser, as well as an evocative time-capsule of post-war Paris.

Frankly, it is a shame Charles Laughton went one-and-done as Maigret, because he fits the part like a comfortably rumpled suit. It would make a good double feature with his classic performance as the not-quite-as-crafty-as-he-thinks-he-is Sir Wilfrid in Billy Wilder’s Witness for the Prosecution. In addition to helming with economy and style (reportedly with the occasional assist from his two big name co-stars), Burgess Meredith is effectively squirrely as Heurtin, even foreshadowing hints of Henry Bemis in the classic Twilight Zone episode Time Enough at Last. Yet, perhaps the greatest revelation is Franchot Tone’s diabolically manic Radek.

Indeed, Laughton’s shrewd persona, Simenon’s clever plotting, and the still impressively dizzying climax promised by the title are a hard combination to beat. An all-around entertaining classic, Eiffel does right by the source novel, which was also the basis for an earlier French adaptation duly included in Cine-Simenon as well. Highly recommended regardless of the condition of its surviving prints, The Man on the Eiffel Tower screens this Friday (8/9) and Sunday the 18th at the Anthology Film Archives.

LFM GRADE: A-

Posted on August 8th, 2013 at 1:39pm.

By Joe Bendel. Georges Simenon led a colorful life. There might have been a few women and some fast living. After the war, he also faced allegations of collaboration, but his defenders always maintained he was too self-absorbed for such matters. Harry Baur was one of a multitude of actors to play Simenon’s signature detective, whose wartime experience is tragically above suspicion. Imprisoned and roughly interrogated after ill-advisedly appearing in an early 1940’s German film, Baur either succumbed to injuries sustained or was helped along the way shortly after his release. His biographic details add further tragic context to Julien Duvivier’s A Man’s Neck, which screens during the Anthology Film Archives’ Cine-Simenon retrospective.

Willy Ferrière has a rich aunt who refuses to die, but a mystery pen-pal offers to help the old dear along for 100,000 francs. The freelance killer also has a scapegoat lined up to take the fall: the clueless Joseph Heurtin. Yes, this is the Maigret case Burgess Meredith later adapted as The Man on the Eiffel Tower, but it is simultaneously similar and different in intriguing ways.

As it happens, both films also serve as time capsules of Paris, pre- and post-war. Not surprisingly, though, the earlier French film is darker and somewhat franker than the RKO production. The stories run along parallel lines, but diverge on key points, such as the complicity of Ferrière’s mistress in Duvivier’s film. Indeed, there is little innocence per se in this distinctly dark crime drama.

Both Baur and Laughton look like world weary civil servants, but the latter could not help playing the part with panache. He was Charles Laughton, after all. In contrast, Baur’s Maigret is a down-trodden bureaucrat often at risk of fading into the background, until roused to outrage by the psychotic Radek. It is a close call, but in a head-to-head match, Laughton probably takes it by a jowl.

Likewise, Meredith’s Heurtin is a truly unique portrait of a man made vulnerable by his acutely anti-social nature. Alexandre Rignault’s Heurtin is also quite effective, but we have seen such simple-minded hulks before and since. However, Valéry Inkijinoff’s frenzied and lusty Radek is something else entirely. Franchot Tone exceeds expectations in Eiffel Tower, but the Russian Inkijinoff is truly creepy.

In fact, both are very good films.  Duvivier shows an eye for procedural detail, giving viewers an unromanticized look inside the Paris gendarmerie. While more naturalistic and generally jaundiced in his portrayal of human nature, Duvivier also shoehorns in small, elegantly telling moments, as when Maigret and Radek take time out from their verbal sparring to listen to his Chanson-singing neighbor.

Neck is a lean, mean film noir that packs surprising punch. It depicts a deeply flawed world, but not one in which moral judgments are impossible. Recommended by itself or in conjunction with Meredith’s Eiffel Tower (showing separately), A Man’s Neck screens this Saturday (8/10) and next Wednesday (8/14) as part of Cine-Simenon, now underway at Anthology Film Archives.

LFM GRADE: A

Posted on August 8th, 2013 at 1:36pm.