It’s always a kick to attend Hollywood’s Noir City festival,
hosted by Eddie Muller and Alan Rode, honchos of the Film Noir Foundation. The
venue is the historic Egyptian Theatre, which opened in 1922 with a lavish
premiere of Michael Curtiz’s Robin Hood,
starring Douglas Fairbanks. I’ve just learned that the theatre slightly pre-dates
the mania for all things Egyptian that was sparked by the excavation of King
Tut’s tomb later that same year. The Egyptian Theatre was exhibitor Sid
Grauman’s primo showplace until the opening of the even kitschier Grauman’s
Chinese, also on Hollywood Blvd., in 1927. Later the Egyptian sank into
seediness, then was purchased from the city of Los Angeles by the American Cinematheque, with a mandate to restore it to its former glory.
When attending a screening at the Egyptian,. I always feel
myself immersed in both Old Hollywood glamour and the slightly chaotic,
slightly down-at-the-heels atmosphere that is Hollywood Blvd. today. There are
fading mural of big-name celebs, and sidewalk stars dedicated to Tinseltown
types I’ve never heard of. There are
hustlers and gawkers and street people looking for a handout. There’s the
venerable Larry Edmunds Bookshop, dedicated to all things movie-related, where
I’m always sure of a warm welcome from Jeff, the long-time proprietor. And, of
course, there’s Musso & Frank Grill, as old as the Egyptian, a watering
hole where dry martinis and prime steaks have been served to everyone who was
anyone in the Golden Age of Hollywood. The menu’s still classic, the booths are
still full, and the food is great!
After being impeccably served at Musso’s (thanks for dinner,
Alan!), I crossed the boulevard to the Chinese. The evening’s presentations
included two Fifties noirs from Paramount Pictures, one of them rarely seen. I
just read that Paramount, following some big flops of late, is feeling
optimistic on the strength of its new low-budget thriller, A Quiet Place. The movies featured on this evening’s Noir City
program are low-budget too, but very different from the rural environment
captured by writer/director/star John Krasinski. Like most film noirs they are black-and-white evocations of an urban
environment, one in which crime and chicanery abound. Part of the pleasure of a
film noir is spotting L.A. landmarks
(the Angel’s Flight funincular, Hollywood Forever cemetery, the Beverly Hills
Hotel, a boxing match at the old Olympic Auditorium), even in films that theoretically
take place somewhere in the mid-west.
Paramount’s 1952 The
Turning Point is not a ballet movie (that
would have to wait until 1977), but rather a drama in which idealistic
prosecutor Edmund O’Brien is not nearly so effective as hard-boiled journalist William
Holden in ferreting out organized crime. Alexis Smith is the love interest , and the ending is appropriately
downbeat. The twisty 1956 crime thriller Scarlet
Street features several new Michael Curtiz discoveries who never made it
big (seductress Carol Ohmart among them). There’s a jewel heist, lots of
double-crossing, and a guest appearance by Nat “King” Cole singing “Never Let
Me Go.”
But the biggest pleasure of old film noirs may be the wonderful mugs they assemble among the
supporting cast. There’s craggy Ed Begley as a crime boss, Carolyn Jones in a teeny
role as a floozy on the witness stand, E.G. Marshall as a stone-faced cop, and
a whole assort of big lugs, skinny weasel-types (Danny Dayton!), and other
nogoodniks. Maybe best of all, Broadway’s raucous Elaine Stritch shows up as
the leading lady’s gal pal to provide comic relief.
Life in the noirs always seems so, well, black and white. I
can’t wait until next year.
Noir City continues
through Sunday, April 22.
No comments:
Post a Comment