fifties movies

Describing 5 movies from 1957 that are my favourites with details of cast, awards, basic plot details and a scene from each movie

A classic movie released in the year of my birth - this is my short review + 3 classic scenes On the Waterfront is a 1954 American crime drama film, directed by Elia Kazan and written by Budd Schulberg. It stars Marlon Brando, and features Karl Malden, Lee J. Cobb, Rod Steiger, Pat Henning and Eva Marie Saint in her film debut. The musical score was composed by Leonard Bernstein. The black-and-white film was inspired by "Crime on the Waterfront" by Malcolm Johnson, a series of articles published in November–December 1948 in the New York Sun which won the 1949 Pulitzer Prize for Local Reporting, but the screenplay by Budd Schulberg is directly based on his own original story.[1] The film focuses on union violence and corruption among longshoremen, while detailing widespread corruption, extortion, and racketeering on the waterfronts of Hoboken, New Jersey. On the Waterfront was a critical and commercial success and is considered one of the greatest films ever made. It received twelve Academy Award nominations and won eight, including Best Picture, Best Actor for Brando, Best Supporting Actress for Saint, and Best Director for Kazan. In 1997, it was ranked by the American Film Institute as the eighth-greatest American movie of all time; in AFI's 2007 list, it was ranked 19th. It is Bernstein's only original film score not adapted from a stage production with songs. In 1989, On the Waterfront was one of the first 25 films to be deemed "culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant" by the Library of Congress[2] and selected for preservation in the United States National Film Registry.[3][4] Plot New York prize fighter Terry Malloy's career was cut short when he purposely lost a fight at the request of mob boss Johnny Friendly. Terry now works for Friendly's labor union as a longshoreman while his older, more educated brother Charley is Friendly's right-hand man. Terry is coerced into luring fellow worker Joey Doyle onto a rooftop, where he believes Friendly's henchmen want to talk Joey out of testifying to the Waterfront Crime Commission. When they instead murder Joey by throwing him off the roof, Terry confronts Friendly, but is threatened and bribed into acquiescence. Joey's sister Edie shames priest Father Barry into calling the dockworkers to a meeting, where he tries unsuccessfully to persuade them to stand together. Terry attends as a snitch for Friendly, but when the meeting is violently broken up by Friendly's men he helps Edie escape and misses Father Barry convincing one worker to testify. Friendly and Charley are angry at Terry's involvement with Edie and for not informing them of the testimony. The worker who testified is killed in a staged workplace accident. Father Barry makes a speech comparing the murders to Christ's crucifixion. Terry's unwillingness to testify lessens with his growing feelings for Edie and her pursuit of justice. He confesses his role in Joey's death to Father Barry and later to Edie, who runs from him. Friendly sends Charley with a job offer to keep Terry quiet. Knowing Friendly will have Terry killed if he refuses, Charley tries to persuade his brother, eventually threatening him with a gun. Terry waves him away and expresses regret about throwing his best fight, blaming Charley for setting up the fix. Charley gives Terry the gun and tells him to run. Terry finds Edie and they kiss. Hearing Terry's name called, they run out and find Charley's body hung in the alley. Terry goes to a bar to shoot Friendly, but Father Barry persuades him to testify in court instead. Following Terry's damning testimony Friendly is cut off from his powerful friends and facing indictment. Friendly bars Terry from union jobs. At the dock everyone is called to work except Terry, who taunts Friendly, shouting that he is proud to have testified. Friendly goads Terry into attacking him. He calls for his thugs, who severely beat Terry. The longshoremen refuse to work unless Terry is also allowed to work. Father Barry tells Terry that he lost the battle but can win the war if he can walk into the warehouse. Terry stumbles to the warehouse, where the boss nods to Terry and tells them to get to work. The men follow Terry inside, ignoring Friendly as he berates them. The door closes, leaving Friendly outside. Cast Marlon Brando as Terry Malloy Karl Malden as Father Pete Barry Lee J. Cobb as Michael J. Skelly aka "Johnny Friendly" Rod Steiger as Charley "the Gent" Malloy Pat Henning as Timothy J. "Kayo" Dugan Leif Erickson as Lead Investigator for Crime Commission James Westerfield as Big Mac Tony Galento as Truck Tami Mauriello as Tillio John F. Hamilton as "Pop" Doyle John Heldabrand as Mott Rudy Bond as Moose Don Blackman as Luke Arthur Keegan as Jimmy Abe Simon as Barney Eva Marie Saint as Edie Doyle Fred Gwynne as Mladen "Slim" Sekulovich (uncredited) Martin Balsam as Gillette, Secondary Investigator for Crime Commission (uncredited)[5] Katherine MacGregor as a longshoreman's mother (uncredited)[6] Pat Hingle as Jocko (uncredited)[7] Nehemiah Persoff as Cab Driver (uncredited)[5] Thomas Hanley as Tommy (credited as Thomas Handley)[5] Production Marlon Brando as Terry Malloy and Eva Marie Saint as Edie Doyle in the film's trailer Eva Marie Saint as Edie Doyle and Marlon Brando as Terry Malloy Karl Malden as Father Barry, with Eva Marie Saint Screenplay and political context Further information: McCarthyism The film is widely considered to be Elia Kazan's answer to those who criticized him for identifying eight Communists in the film industry before the House Committee on Un-American Activities (HUAC) in 1952. One of Kazan's critics was his friend and collaborator, the noted playwright Arthur Miller, who had earlier written the first version of the script, originally titled The Hook. Kazan had agreed to direct it, and in 1951 they met with Harry Cohn at Columbia Pictures about making the picture. Cohn agreed in principle to make The Hook, but there were concerns about the portrayal of corrupt union officials.[8] When Cohn asked that the antagonists be changed to Communists, Miller refused. Cohn sent a letter telling Miller it was interesting he had resisted Columbia's desire to make the movie "pro-American". Kazan asked Miller to rewrite the script; Miller declined due to his disenchantment with Kazan's friendly testimony before the HUAC. Kazan then replaced Miller with Budd Schulberg.[9] Cobb's character of Johnny Friendly was partly modeled on Johnny Dio, a real-life mobster known for involvement in labor racketeering.[10] Casting According to Richard Schickel in his biography of Kazan, Marlon Brando initially declined the role of Terry Malloy, and Frank Sinatra (a native of Hoboken, where the film was being made) then had "a handshake deal" – but no formally signed contract – to play the part, even attending an initial costume fitting. But Kazan still favored Brando for the role, partly because casting Brando would assure a larger budget for the picture. While Brando's agent, Jay Kanter, attempted to persuade Brando to change his mind, Kazan enlisted actor Karl Malden, whom Kazan considered more suited to a career as a director than as an actor, to direct and film a screen test of a "more Brando-like" actor as Terry Malloy, to persuade producer Sam Spiegel that "an actor like Marlon Brando" could perform the role more forcefully than Sinatra. To that end, Malden filmed a screen test of Actors Studio members Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward performing the love scene between Terry and Edie. Persuaded by the Newman/Woodward screen test, Spiegel agreed to reconsider Brando for the role, and shortly afterward, Kanter convinced Brando to reconsider his refusal. Within a week, Brando signed a contract to perform in the film. At that point, a furious Sinatra demanded to be cast in the role of Father Barry, the waterfront priest. It was left to Spiegel to break the news to Sinatra that Malden had been signed for this role. Filming locations On the Waterfront was filmed over 36 days on location in various places in Hoboken, New Jersey, including the docks, workers' slum dwellings, bars, littered alleys, and rooftops. The church used for exterior scenes in the film was the historic Our Lady of Grace, built in 1874, while the interiors were shot at the Church of St. Peter and St. Paul at 400 Hudson Street.[11] Reception Upon its release, the film received positive reviews from critics, and was a commercial success, earning an estimated $4.2 million at the North American box office in 1954.[12] In his July 29, 1954, review, New York Times critic A. H. Weiler called the film "an uncommonly powerful, exciting, and imaginative use of the screen by gifted professionals".[13] On Rotten Tomatoes, the film holds a score of 99% from 111 reviews, with an average rating of 9.2/10. The website's critics consensus reads, "With his electrifying performance in Elia Kazan's thought-provoking, expertly constructed melodrama, Marlon Brando redefined the possibilities of acting for film and helped permanently alter the cinematic landscape".[14] On Metacritic, the film holds a weighted average score of 91 out of 100 based on 15 critics, indicating "universal acclaim".[15] Gaining the Academy Award for Best Actor and being named the greatest and second-greatest film performance of all time by Aaron West of Criterion and by Premiere respectively,[16][17][18] Brando's performance is regarded as one of the watershed moments in the history of movies.[19][20] Through his portrayal of Terry Malloy, Brando popularized method acting and conclusively exemplified the power of Stanislavski-based approach in cinema. Praising Brando in 2004, director Martin Scorsese noted: "Everything that we know about the power of great screen acting relates back to him: when you watch his work in On the Waterfront ... you're watching the purest poetry imaginable, in dynamic motion".[21] Kazan, the director of the film, would later write in his book, "If there is a better performance by a man in the history of film in America, I don't know what it is."[22] Al Pacino, recounting his own memories on first seeing On the Waterfront, told Playboy in a 1979 interview that he concentrated more on the lead actor than the film itself, "I couldn't move. I couldn't leave the theatre. I'd never seen the like of it."[23] Anthony Hopkins said, "When you see Brando in the famous cab scene in On the Waterfront, it's still breathtaking."[24] In a eulogy for Brando, Jack Nicholson described his display "probably the height of any age", and added that, "You just couldn't take your eyes off the guy. He was spellbinding."[25] Awards and nominations Award Category Nominee(s) Result Ref. Academy Awards Best Motion Picture Sam Spiegel Won [26] [27] Best Director Elia Kazan Won Best Actor Marlon Brando Won Best Supporting Actor Lee J. Cobb Nominated Karl Malden Nominated Rod Steiger Nominated Best Supporting Actress Eva Marie Saint Won Best Story and Screenplay Budd Schulberg Won Best Art Direction – Black-and-White Richard Day Won Best Cinematography – Black-and-White Boris Kaufman Won Best Film Editing Gene Milford Won Best Music Score of a Dramatic or Comedy Picture Leonard Bernstein Nominated Bambi Awards Best Film – International Won Best Actor – International Marlon Brando Nominated Bodil Awards Best American Film Won [28] British Academy Film Awards Best Film from any Source Nominated [29] Best Foreign Actor Marlon Brando Won Most Promising Newcomer to Film Eva Marie Saint Nominated Directors Guild of America Awards Outstanding Directorial Achievement in Motion Pictures Elia Kazan Won [30] Golden Globe Awards Best Motion Picture – Drama Won [31] Best Actor in a Motion Picture – Drama Marlon Brando Won Best Director – Motion Picture Elia Kazan Won Best Cinematography – Black and White Boris Kaufman Won International Film Music Critics Association Awards Best Archival Release of an Existing Score – Re-Release or Re-Recording Leonard Bernstein, Douglass Fake, Frank K. DeWald, and Joe Sikoryak Won [32] Nastro d'Argento Best Foreign Film Elia Kazan Won National Board of Review Awards Top Ten Films Won [33] Best Film Won National Film Preservation Board National Film Registry Inducted [34] New York Film Critics Circle Awards Best Film Won [35] Best Director Elia Kazan Won Best Actor Marlon Brando Won Best Actress Eva Marie Saint Nominated Online Film & Television Association Awards Hall of Fame – Motion Picture Inducted [36] Venice International Film Festival Golden Lion Elia Kazan Nominated Silver Lion Won OCIC Award Won Pasinetti Award Won Writers Guild of America Awards Best Written American Drama Budd Schulberg Won [37] In 1989, the film was deemed "culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant" by the Library of Congress, and selected for preservation in the United States National Film Registry. In 1995, it made it on the Vatican's list of 45 important films.[38] American Film Institute recognition AFI's 100 Years... 100 Movies – #8 AFI's 100 Years... 100 Heroes and Villains: Terry Malloy – #23 Hero AFI's 100 Years... 100 Movie Quotes: "You don't understand! I coulda had class. I coulda been a contender. I coulda been somebody instead of a bum, which is what I am." – #3 AFI's 100 Years of Film Scores – #22 AFI's 100 Years... 100 Cheers – #36 AFI's 100 Years... 100 Movies (10th Anniversary Edition) – #19 Home media The first home video release of the film was by Columbia Pictures Home Entertainment in 1982, on VHS and Beta. RCA/Columbia Pictures Home Video later re-released it in 1984, 1986, and 1990, respectively, the latter being a part of the Columbia Classics line-up. Columbia TriStar later reissued the film on VHS in 1995 as part of the line-up's "Studio Heritage Collection", and the first DVD version was released in 2001. Among the special features is the featurette "Contender: Mastering the Method", a video photo gallery, an interview with Elia Kazan, an audio commentary, filmographies, production notes, and theatrical trailers. The film has been added to the Criterion Collection. The 2013 Criterion Collection release presents the film in three aspect ratios: 1.66:1, 1.85:1, and 1.33:1. The accompanying booklet explains the reasoning behind this choice: "In 1953, Columbia Pictures was transitioning to the new widescreen format and declared that all its upcoming films, including On The Waterfront, would be suitable for projection in any aspect ratio from the full frame of 1.33:1 to the then widest standard of 1.85:1. The customary frame of European cinematographer Boris Kaufman (Twelve Angry Men, Baby Doll) split the difference at 1.66:1, so that all that was required was for him to leave extra room at the top and bottom of the frame and make sure that nothing essential would be lost in the widescreen presentation. At its premiere in 1954, On The Waterfront was projected at 1.85:1. Over subsequent decades, millions of television viewers became accustomed to seeing the film with the open-matte 1.33:1 framing, a presentation that has carried over into the home video era. Here, for the first time, Criterion is presenting the film in all three aspect ratios so that viewers can compare and choose the version they prefer." Adaptations In the same year that the film was released, Budd Schulberg published a novel simply entitled Waterfront based on his script. In the novel Terry Malloy dies. It is more heavily focused on the priest who stands up to the mob, and narrated in first person by him. In 1984, the film script was adapted to stage by Schulberg, opening on Broadway in November. It had several technical innovations for the time, including lasers, filmlike scenic dissolves and sounds that enveloped the audience. As with Schulberg's earlier novel, the motivations of Father Barry are made more explicit, and the ending is less happy.[39] It was revised in 1995 and lasted for only 8 performances, losing $2.6 million, a record on Broadway for a non-musical at the time.[40] The Indian films Kabzaa (1988), Ghulam (1998) and Sudhandhiram (2000) are inspired by On the Waterfront.[41] A 2009 British stage production was directed by Steven Berkoff, who also played Johnny Friendly, with Simon Merrells as Terry. It played at the Theatre Royal, Haymarket in London, after the Nottingham Playhouse and the Edinburgh Festival Fringe.

12 Angry Men (1957) A review by Damian Cannon. The still brilliant examination of one man's life in the balance, 12 Angry Men irrevocably alters one's perceptions of the trial by jury process. With a worried gaze, the defendant (John Savoca) pensively stares at the retreating backs of his jury. On trial for pre-meditated murder, he will be sent to the chair if a unanimous verdict of guilty is returned. Inside the jury room, Juror No. 1 (Martin Balsam) tries to impose order in his capacity as Foreman. He doesn't particularly wish to shoulder this burden but, if he must, he'll try to discharge his duties responsibly. With all assembled the mood suggests that an immediate vote should be held; hands rise, some hesitantly and some vigorously, all for guilty. The Foreman slowly counts round the table and reaches eleven - someone has bucked the trend and plumped for not guilty. As twenty-two eyes sweep along the table, Juror No.8 (Henry Fonda) manages to look both confident and nervous. Under intense and frankly hostile scrutiny, No. 8 states that he couldn't vote in that way for one simple reason; there is reasonable doubt in his mind. Juror's No. 3 (Lee J. Cobb) and No. 10 (Ed Begley) explode in disbelieving anger, amazed that any reasonable man could harbour the slightest uncertainty. Fortunately, before they can really get offensive, the decision is made that all should explain their choice in a bid to convince their recalcitrant buddy. As expected their feelings range from the subdued, Juror No. 2 (John Fiedler), to the coldly analytical, Juror No. 4 (E.G. Marshall), to the stupid, Juror No. 7 (Jack Warden). None of this sways No. 8 though for he has a trump card; a switchblade just like the supposedly unique knife used in the killing. Stunned, and somewhat insulted, by his forethought the jurors erupt in a babble of repudiation. The wind is taken from their sails by his calm rebuff though; he knows that his find proves nothing, yet it strikes a note of caution. Still, people like Juror No. 5 (Jack Klugman), himself a survivor of the slums, and Juror No. 6 (Edward Binns) remain sure of the boy's guilt. Sensing that he can go no further without an all-or-nothing gesture, No. 8 concedes that he'll change his mind if all eleven remain resolute. A secret ballot occurs and the Foreman reads out the results; amazingly another has risen to stand by No. 8, giving support in a time of need. Could it be Juror No. 9 (Joseph Sweeney), a wizened old man? Perhaps the change was made by Juror No. 11 (George Voskovec), a recent immigrant? Could it be that Juror No. 12 (Robert Webber), a young ad-man, has bounced into the opposite court? Only discussion can reveal this, which is exactly what No. 8 banks on. A critically important film in a world swayed by emotion, 12 Angry Men makes its point that only reason and fact have a place in the courtroom blindingly clear. With a room full of fallible, prejudiced and ultimately unsure men, the term reasonable doubt becomes crystal clear. The whole spectrum of humanity (at least, the white male side of it) is represented, from the foul and poisonous bigotry of No. 10 to the equally unpleasant chilling logic of No.4. While this set-up is somewhat convenient, director Sidney Lumet doesn't make the mistake of portraying a clear battle between intelligence and ignorance. He doesn't even provide the juror's names, hampering any gratification through identification. Instead anyone can be wrong; the only requirement to be right is that you should be flexible enough to acknowledge this possibility. Supported by a sterling cast, it's no great surprise that 12 Angry Men features some great performances. What's less expected is that every cast member shines at both the individual and ensemble level; this is a master-class in projecting the subtle details of character. At the head stands Fonda, a voice of reason even as he realises that this may free a murderer; his strength lies in finding the weak spots in arguments. Cobb is almost as terrific with his overbearing, angry, sadistic and contradictory playing of a man who finally deserves our sorrow. Equally unsympathetic and obnoxious, Begley perhaps pushes the envelope the furthest, becoming isolated in his hatred. Others like Sweeney give similarly gripping performances, in his case with a frail sharpness and eye for detail, though with less venom. The key ingredient is that everyone in 12 Angry Men gives their all; obviously the intensive rehearsal ordered by Lumet garnered an admirable cohesion. Adapted directly from the play, 12 Angry Men retains the skeleton of its origin; a single pressure-cooker room, twelve divisive individuals and a life or death choice. What's added is the influential and wonderful cinematography of Boris Kaufman, amongst other things. At pivotal moments the camera closes in on what's important, picking out individual beads of sweat. It's beautiful to experience, especially on the big screen. Allied with economical and piercing dialogue, the outcome is frequently explosive; you cannot fail to be moved by 12 Angry Men. It's true, however, that the film has some faults, beyond the composition of the jury. For example, the facts conveniently allow themselves to be demolished with all of the evidence being found to contain flaws. It doesn't matter though because 12 Angry Men does the one thing that is beyond reproach; it never states the guilt or innocence of the defendant. This doesn't matter and by ignoring this point, the movie gives pause for consideration and thought. This film was nominated for review by Terry Arnold.

PATHS OF GLORY (director/writer: Stanley Kubrick; screenwriters: Jim Thompson/Calder Willingham/from a Humphrey Cobb novel; cinematographer: Georg Krause; editor: Eva Kroll; cast: Kirk Douglas (Colonel Dax), Ralph Meeker (Corporal Paris), Adolphe Menjou (General George Broulard), George Macready (General Paul Mireau), Wayne Morris (Lieutenant Roget), Ralph Meeker (Corp. Paris), Richard Anderson (Major Saint-Auban), Joe Turkel (Private Arnaud), Christiane Kubrick (German Singer), Jeffrey Hausner (Proprietor), Peter Capell (Colonel Judge), Emile Meyer (Priest), Bert Freed (Sergeant Boulanger), Kem Dibbs (Private Lejeune), Timothy Carey (Private Ferol), Fred Bell (Shell Shock Victim), Harold Benedict (Capt. Nichols), John Stein (Capt. Rousseau); Runtime: 86; Bryna/Harris-Kubrick/United Artists; 1957) "... as in most Kubrick films it is not dated, in fact, it seems to get better with age." Reviewed by Dennis Schwartz Stanley Kubrick's first big financed 'A' film and first film with a major Hollywood star. Kirk Douglas liked the script thinking it would give him a chance to work on a quality film with a strong social message, and thereby he got his production company to back it. Kubrick prior to this film was a photographer for Look magazine and directed the low-budget noir films "The Killers" (46) and "Killer's Kiss" (55). This film is based on a true event and was filmed in Germany, with the German extras playing the French soldiers in the trenches. The film must have ruffled many feathers, because it was banned in France for about 20 years. The U.S. Army refused to show it on its theater release date. It was also banned for a time in Austria, Switzerland, Belgium, and Germany. This antiwar film, one of the best ever made, much like Renoir's masterpiece "The Grand Illusion," does a great job of criticizing the role of the French military higher-ups in WW1. The movie turns most of its attention to the action taking place in a military courtroom court-martial and the interplay between the officer's political maneuvering for power. It culminates in the unjustified court-martial for cowardice of three randomly picked soldiers, showing how callow the military is for taking these soldier's lives in so arbitrary a fashion. Its battle scenes played like a documentary, with striking attention turning to details of life in the trenches and how the men were confined to such dark and squalid circumstances, which is contrasted with how the staff officers live in the luxury of chateaus. Kubrick's masterpiece was more cynical and gritty than Renoir's very poetic and humane indictment of war. Kubrick hit harder at his insanity of war theme. It should also be pointed out that the ambitious Kubrick rewrote the original script to give the film a more traditional Hollywood upbeat ending, much to Kirk Douglas's surprise and disapproval. Kubrick, reportedly, wanted the film to be a box office success and was willing to forgo some artistic integrity. The controversial ending might be termed a cop-out by many, while others found its sentimentality quite appropriate and cynical enough. The two did not get along well on the set, but that did not stop Douglas from years later requesting the very talented Kubrick to direct "Spartacus (60)," the last Hollywood film Kubrick ever directed. Incidentally, in my opinion, the major flaw in Paths of Glory wasn't the taut script, which was lucid and hard-hitting, but it was in Kirk Douglas's far-reaching performance (though a strong performance and possibly the best one in Kirk's career). But, as forceful and necessary as Kirk's performance was, it still allowed the film to become centered around him rather than on the universality of the story unfolding in its very natural and engrossing way about the horrors, evils, and insanity of war. Kubrick aimed for a critique both of war and of class systems. He accomplished this by pessimistically and cynically showing how the privilege class cares only about themselves and how its power is corrupting. The action picks up in France in 1916. We are told that World War I has dragged on for two years and that it became a stalemate of fortified trenches and heavy casualties. War began between Germany and France on August 3, 1914. Five weeks later, the German Army had come within 18 miles of Paris. There the battered French miraculously rallied their forces at the Marne River and in a series of unexpected counterattacks, drove the Germans back. The Front was stabilized and shortly afterward developed into a continuous line of heavily fortified trenches zigzagging their way five hundred miles from the English Channel to the Swiss frontier. By 1916, after two grisly years of trench warfare, the battle lines had changed very little. Successful attacks were measured in hundreds of yards - and paid for in the lives taken of hundreds of thousands of soldiers. The film opens with the French General Staff deciding from the safety of their luxurious chateau, far off enemy lines, that it is time to attack the “Ant Hill” tomorrow. The object of the attack is of no strategic value, an impregnable fortified hilltop held by the Germans. The two cunning and detestable generals--the commanding staff general, General George Broulard (Adolphe Menjou), who asks the field general, Paul Mireau (George Macready), to take this impossible suicide mission, despite knowing it will kill most of the men. At first Mireau says he can't do it, he will lose too many men. But then Broulard says that a promotion awaits, there will be consideration for another star. Mireau then consents and arrogantly visits the troops in the trenches, accompanied by his ass-kissing aide, Major Saint-Auban (Anderson). The general manages to slap a shell-shocked soldier (Bell) while rallying the troops, saying there is no such a thing as shell-shock. The general transfers him out of his outfit, not wanting cowards in his company. The general confers with the company commander of the 701st, Colonel Dax (Kirk Douglas), a criminal trial lawyer in civilian life, and appeals to Dax's patriotism to go through with the attack. After Dax says it is not possible to do, Mireau says "Show me a patriot and I'll show you an honest man." Dax replies, quoting from Samuel Johnson, "Patriotism... is the last refuge of the scoundrel." Finally, Dax is convinced to lead the attack when he is threatened with loss of command. He then becomes subservient to the general and says he doesn't want to desert his men. The attack the next morning is a colossal failure, as the men who do attack suffer heavy losses. It is made worst by a commanding officer’s cowardice, Lieutenant Roget (Wayne Morris), who never orders his men to leave the trenches, leaving the first line of soldiers without backup. Mireau watches the battle begin from the safety of his chateau, drinking a toast to France as the battle begins. Mireau soon becomes upset at the men for not taking the Ant Hill and for stopping their attack and orders the artillery commanders to fire on his own troops, which they refuse to do even when threatened with court-martial. They ask for that command to be a written one. The next day Mireau meets with Broulard and requests that a 100 men be randomly chosen as scapegoats and executed as a lesson for cowardice in battle. He warns, this is to serve as a lesson for the rest of the troops. Broulard suggests that they make it 12 men. But Mireau, not to be undone in the generosity of the moment, says let's make it 3 and have the 701st's three commanding officers choose one from each outfit. Broulard says we better get a court-martial for them and make it legal. Dax when he hears of this insanity, asks to be the defense counsel for the accused and is granted that right. Dax will meet the men chosen to die in their cell. They are Corporal Paris (Meeker), Private Arnaud (Turkel), and Private Ferol (Carey). All of them express shock at what has happened to them and how they were chosen. Corporal Paris was chosen by Lieutenant Roget because the officer murdered Lejeune (Dibbs) on patrol and Paris knew that. Arnaud, a former medal-awarded hero, was chosen by a random drawing of lots. The weepy Ferol was selected because his captain believed he was a "social undesirable." Since the trial is fixed, the men are found guilty and are given a last meal in their cells, which they refuse to eat because they think it is drugged. They are also visited by the priest (Meyer), who hears their confessions and offers what Arnaud calls sanctimonious pat answers for what has happened to them. Being drunk from the meal's wine, he attacks the priest but is knocked down by Paris causing him to be placed on a stretcher when the men are executed in the morning. Dax had told General Broulard about the artillery commanders who were charging General Mireau with ordering his own men fired upon the night before the execution, giving him the written statements of all the witnesses who confirmed that this happened. But the general refused to stop the execution, instead he waited for after the execution to tell Mireau that there will be an investigation about that matter so the military name is not stained. Later, he calls Dax in and informs him that he can have Mireau's position. Angrily Dax turns him down as Broulard looks at him incredulously, as if he were a fool, saying you really cared about saving those three men: "You are an idealist." Dax reproves the generals on their despicable and inhumane actions, and is forever shut out of the privileged military club. As Dax leaves the general, he comes across the men in a tavern where a young German woman (Kubrick's wife Christiane) is forced to sing as the men act like brutes. When she starts to sing and tears roll down her face, they eventually become quiet and are moved to softly sing along with her. Dax is told by his sergeant (Freed) that orders have come and that it is time for the men to return to the front. Dax tells him to give the men a few minutes. The film is direct and powerful. It wouldn't have been banned for so long if it didn't hit home with its hard message. There is no doubt about its message being man's inhumanity to man, that war is insane, of military incompetence, of class differences resulting in special privileges for some, of hypocrisy, and most of all, that power is corrupting. It is magnificently shot, as the trenches are frighteningly real and incomprehensible to understand until seen. Kirk Douglas is overwhelming in his stabilizing role, but in my opinion too much so. But, nevertheless, his anger is warranted, as he is the emotional glue that holds the film together and gives humanity some measure for hope. Though I came away from the film feeling no hope. I was cynical of everyone's motives, including Dax's. After all he still led the men to their slaughter, even when knowing this would be so. To call him a hero, as the ending of the film implies by its crass sentimentality, just left me with a cold feeling. A real hero is someone who is brave and beyond reproach, someone who would have become a pacifist after that incredulous suicide battle plan and mock trial. He would have walked away from the war. Adolphe Menjou and George Macready came through with outstanding performances, each one an incarnation of Machiavellian evil. When on the screen, their performances are like machine-gun fire directed at you. There is much to chew on as far as ideas, despite how simple the film might appear on first viewing, and thereby lies its true greatness. It seems to make a timeless argument against war; and, as in most Kubrick films it is not dated, in fact, it seems to get better with age. REVIEWED ON 1/22/2000 GRADE: A+ Paths of Glory (1957) BY ROGER EBERT / February 25, 2005 Stanley Kubrick's "Paths of Glory" (1957) closes with a scene that doesn't seem organic to the movie. We've seen harrowing battlefield carnage, a morally rotten court-martial, French army generals corrupt and cynical beyond all imagining, and now what do we see? Drunken soldiers, crowded into a bistro, banging their beer steins on the tables as the owner brings a frightened German girl onstage. He makes lascivious remarks about her figure and cruel ones about her lack of talent, but she has been captured and must be forced to perform. Hoots and whistles arise from the crowd. The frightened girl begins to sing. The noise from the crowd dies away. Her tremulous voice fills the room. She sings "The Faithful Hussar." A hush falls, and some of the soldiers begin to hum the notes; they know the song but not the words. If the singing of "La Marseillaise" in a bar in "Casablanca" was a call to patriotism, this scene is an argument against it. It creates a moment of quiet and tenderness in the daily horror these soldiers occupy -- a world in which generals casually estimated that 55 percent of these very men might be killed in a stupid attack and found that acceptable. Songs at the ends of dramas usually make us feel better. They are part of closure. This song at the end of this movie makes us feel more forlorn. It is not a release, but a twist of Kubrick's emotional knife. When Truffaut famously said that it was impossible to make an anti-war movie, because action argues in favor of itself, he could not have been thinking of "Paths of Glory," and no wonder: Because of its harsh portrait of the French army, the film was banned in France until 1975. The film, made in 1957, is typical of Kubrick's earlier work in being short (84 minutes), tight, told with an economy approaching terseness. Later his films would expand in length and epic scope, sometimes to their advantage, sometimes not. It does however contain examples of one of his favorite visual strategies, the extended camera movement that unfolds to reveal details of a set or location, and continues long after we expect it to be over. Early in the film, the camera precedes its hero, Col. Dax (Kirk Douglas) on an inspection tour of a muddy fortified trench that goes on and on and on. Later the camera follows doomed men into No Man's Land, tracking alongside them through mud and shell blasts, trenches and craters, past bodies that drop before our eyes. Still later, there is a dolly shot through a formal ball to find a French general. And toward the end, an elaborate military parade for a firing squad, with the camera preceding three condemned men as they walk and walk and walk toward their deaths. These shots of long duration impress the importance of their subjects upon us: The permanence of trench warfare, the devastation of attack, the hypocrisy of the ruling class, the dread of the condemned men. If some of Kubrick's later extended shots, including the endless tracking shot down long hotel corridors in "The Shining" (1979), seem like exercises in style, the shots in "Paths of Glory" are aimed straight at our emotions. The story is simply summarized. French and German armies face each other along 500 miles of fortified trenches. Both sides have been dug in for two years. Any attempt at an advance brings a dreadful human cost in lives. The effete little Gen. Broulard (Adolphe Menjou) orders his subordinate, Gen. Mireau (George Macready), to take an impregnable German position, "The Anthill," by, incredibly, the day after tomorrow. Mireau argues that it cannot be done. Broulard thinks perhaps it can be accomplished with no more than 55 percent casualties. He hints that there is a promotion and a third star for the general who does it. The two-star Gen. Mireau goes through the motions of protest: "The lives of 8,000 men! What is my ambition against that? My reputation?" And then: "But, by god, we might just do it!" Col. Dax must lead the charge. He knows it is doomed, and he protests, but he follows orders. In a scene set the night before the raid, a scene which in other language might have been conceived by Shakespeare, two of his men debate the merits of dying by machinegun or bayonet. One chooses the machinegun, because it is quick; while the bayonet might not kill, it would hurt. The other says that proves he is more afraid of pain than death. The actual assault has a realism that is convincing even now that we have seen Stone's "Platoon" and Spielberg's "Saving Private Ryan." The black-and-white photography is the correct choice; this is a world of shapes and shadows, mud and smoke, not a world for color. The loss of life is devastating. The advance is halted. Watching from the safety of the trenches, Gen. Mireau decides the men are cowards and orders French artillery to fire on their own men, to drive them forward. The battery commander refuses to act without a written order. At the end of the day, to save face and protect his promotion, Mireau orders that three men, one from each company, must be executed for cowardice. One is chosen by lot. One because he is "socially undesirable." One because he was an eyewitness to the cowardice of a superior officer, who abandoned a comrade on a reconnaissance mission. Dax is outraged and asks to act as defense counsel before the military tribunal, which is, as we expect, a farce. When Dax argues for the defense that any further advance was "impossible," the prosecutor snaps, "if it was impossible, the only proof of that would be their dead bodies at the bottom of the trenches." The survivors are obviously cowards, then, because they are alive. That night, the condemned men share the same cell. "Do you see that cockroach?" one says. "Tomorrow morning I'll be dead, and it will be alive." The film until this point has been bitter and unromantic, but we think we glimpse a turn in the plot. Dax learns of Mireau's order to fire French artillery at French troops. He finds Gen. Broulard at a fancy ball and informs him of Mireau's artillery order. In any conventional war movie, in a film made by 99 directors out of 100, there would be an 11th-hour reprieve, the condemned men would be spared, and the stupid and treacherous Mireau would be publicly humiliated. Not here. Kubrick finds a way to draw all his story threads tight without compromising his harsh and unforgiving theme. The plot is resolved, yes, but cruelty and duplicity survive, and private soldiers are still meaningless pawns. Broulard believes the executions will be "a perfect tonic" for the army: "One way to maintain discipline is to shoot a man now and then." "Paths of Glory" was the film by which Stanley Kubrick entered the ranks of great directors, never to leave them. When I interviewed Kirk Douglas in 1969, he recalled it as the summit of his acting career: "There's a picture that will always be good, years from now. I don't have to wait 50 years to know that; I know it now." It has an economy of expression that is almost brutal; it is one of the few narrative films in which you sense the anger in the telling. Samuel Fuller, who fought all the way through World War II, remembered it in "The Big Red One" with nostalgia for the camaraderie of his outfit. There is no nostalgia in "Paths of Glory." Only nightmare. Kubrick and his cinematographer, George Krause, use sharp and deep focus for every shot. There is not a single shot composed only for beauty; the movie's visual style is to look, and look hard. Kirk Douglas, a star whose intelligence and ambition sometimes pulled him away from the comfortable path mapped by the system, contains most of the emotion of his character. When he is angry, we know it, but he stays just within the edge of going too far. He remains an officer. He does his duty. He finds a way to define his duty more deeply than his superiors would have wished, but in a way, they cannot condemn. And then that final song. It is sung by a young actress named Christiane Harlan, who soon after married Stanley Kubrick. One day in the summer of 2000, I visited her on their farm outside London, and we walked through the garden to the boulder engraved with Kubrick's name, under which he rests. I wanted to tell her how special and powerful that scene was, how it came out of nowhere to provide a heartbreaking coda, how by cutting away from his main story Kubrick cut right into the heart of it. But it didn't seem like the moment for film criticism, and I was sure she already knew whatever I could tell her. A restored print of "Paths of Glory" opened Friday at the Music Box. Also read my 1969 Esquire interview with Kirk Douglas, and Great Movie reviews of Kubrick's "2001: A Space Odyssey" and "Dr. Strangelove, or How I Stopped Worrying and Learned to Love the Bomb" and Fuller's "The Big Red One." Rev 2 “Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back. I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence.” - Robert Frost There are many avenues available that will lead travelers to that moment in a special realm where they receive praise and honor for their efforts. Yet as we are reminded in the last scene of Patton, that moment is always fleeting. Sometimes that moment is marked by heroism, bravery, or some Herculean accomplishment. Other times, actions are remembered as having shown cowardice in the face of the enemy. No other form of human endeavor provides more opportunities for both than war. The Criterion Collection will release Paths of Glory on DVD, October 26, 2010, adding to their already impressive inventory of classic and contemporary films. The transfer from film to disc was supervised by Leon Vitali, who was Kubrick’s technical assistant. Vitali’s efforts are detailed in a sixteen-page booklet that accompanies the DVD and features an interesting and informative essay by James Naremore about the movie’s plot and action. Stanley Kubrick started out as an apprentice photographer for Look magazine in 1946 and later became a full time staff photographer there. He did three documentary films in the early fifties and in 1957 did Paths of Glory, his fourth feature film. Even the casual viewer can see the influence of his still photography experience in almost every scene. Never one to shy away from controversial topics, Kubrick embraces execution for cowardice (by firing squad) here - as well as the arrogance of officers. Private Eddie Slovik was the last American executed by the United States for cowardice and that happened in Word War II about the time of the Battle of the Bulge, as Hitler’s panzers attacked in the Hurtgen Forest. Slovik was arrested for his actions. In Paths of Glory, the French soldiers executed were chosen to die, one by drawing lots, as representatives of their inadequate unit. Here‘s another irony of war. It’s unimaginable that in today’s society, an American serviceperson would be chosen at random for capital punishment. We send our young men to die in battle but wouldn’t think of drawing lots to hang one. Apparently, in The Great War, this was acceptable, at least by French standards (as was a superior officer slapping an enlisted man). A penetrating study of several characters, their motives, and reactions to life and war, Paths of Glory withstands the test of time - a true classic. One battle scene is enough to make the necessary points as battlefield technology changes, the motives and actions of men repeat themselves in each generation. If you haven’t seen Paths of Glory, now is the time. If you have seen it, see it again in a new light. For me, it ranks right up there with Patton and Schindler’s List on my short list of great war movies. [The Criterion Collection release of Paths of Glory bonus features include interviews with the director, producer, and actress, Christiane Kubrick, and a commentary by film critic Gary Giddins. In addition, a French television piece about an actual execution that influenced the film is shown.] Cast Cast overview, first billed only: Kirk Douglas ... Col. Dax Ralph Meeker ... Cpl. Philippe Paris Adolphe Menjou ... Gen. George Broulard George Macready ... Gen. Paul Mireau Wayne Morris ... Lt. Roget Richard Anderson ... Maj. Saint-Auban Joe Turkel ... Pvt. Pierre Arnaud (as Joseph Turkel) Christiane Kubrick ... German Singer (as Susanne Christian) Jerry Hausner ... Proprietor of Cafe Peter Capell ... Narrator of Opening Sequence / Chief Judge of Court-Martial Emile Meyer ... Father Dupree Bert Freed ... Sgt. Boulanger Kem Dibbs ... Pvt. Lejeune Timothy Carey ... Pvt. Maurice Ferol Fred Bell ... Shell-Shocked Soldier BAFTA Awards 1958 Nominee BAFTA Film Award Best Film from any Source USA. Grand Prix de l'UCC 1959 Winner Grand Prix de l'U

ANATOMY OF A MURDER (director: Otto Preminger; screenwriters: John D. Voelker/Wendell Mayes/from the book by Robert Traver; cinematographer: Sam Leavitt; editor: Louis Loeffler; music: Duke Ellington; cast: James Stewart (Paul Biegler), Lee Remick (Laura Manion), Ben Gazzara (Lt. Frederick Manion), Arthur O'Connell (Parnell Emmett McCarthy), Eve Arden (Maida Rutledge), Kathryn Grant (Mary Pilant), George C. Scott (Asst. State Atty. Gen. Claude Dancer), Orson Bean (Dr. Matthew Smith), Murray Hamilton (Alphonse Pacquette), Joseph Welch (Judge Weaver), Brooks West (Mitch Lodwick), Don Ross (Duane 'Duke' Miller), Russ Brown (George Lemon), Ken Lynch (Det. Sgt. James Durgo); Runtime: 161; MPAA Rating: PG-13; producer: Otto Preminger; Columbia Pictures; 1959) "Otto at the top of his game." Otto Preminger's ("Laura") brilliant courtroom drama is based on the best-selling novel by Robert Traver (Michigan Supreme Court justice John D. Voelker). It also includes an appropriate Duke Ellington jazz score. Wendell Mayes provides the well-written tight screenplay. Preminger shoots for a highly detailed trial that takes up practically the entire 161 minutes of the film, and is cynical if the system works as it probes trial procedures. It caused controversy at the time because it introduced 'daring' words (like panties and contraceptives) and concepts (like the never before used 'sexual penetration' for rape) into the trial, but that pales besides Preminger's real aim in showing how justice can be manipulated. The trial judge Weaver, a visitor from downstate, was superbly played by real-life Boston trial judge Joseph Welch (he represented the army as a lawyer against Senator McCarthy in 1954 before becoming a judge). Paul Biegler (James Stewart) is a bachelor, smalltown lawyer in rural upstate Michigan, who is disappointed he lost in a recent election his prosecutor's job to someone he considers inferior, Mitch Lodwick (Brooks West), after giving his all in serving his Thunder Bay community for the last ten years. His first client is surly, brutish, shrewd army Lieutenant Frederick Manion (Ben Gazzara), who killed an ex-boxer bar/restaurant owner Barney Quill after he raped and beat up his gorgeous wife Laura Manion (Lee Remick) near her trailer camp. Her character is questionable as she at times acts like a slut and other times as the good wife, while hubby has anger management problems over his jealousy. Biegler is aided by his sarcastic wisecracking loyal secretary Maida Rutledge (Eve Arden) and elderly mentor has-been lawyer Parnell Emmett McCarthy (Arthur O'Connell), who promises to keep off the sauce. The DA is aided by the smooth big-city Asst. State Atty. Gen. Claude Dancer (George C. Scott). Army shrink Dr. Matthew Smith (Orson Bean) gives expert testimony that the soldier because of something called an 'irresistible impulse' committed murder, which allows the defense to cop a temporarily insanity plea even though the murder, which no one disputes the soldier committed, took place an hour after the rape. What ensues are a diverse group of characters called to the witness stand, including to the surprise of the DA's team the bar owner's daughter (Kathryn Grant), previously thought to be his mistress; a convict (Don Ross) with damning testimony against the accused; Quill's close-mouthed bartender (Murray Hamilton); the caretaker on the grounds where the rape took place (Russ Brown); and a coached by the prosecutor's detective (Ken Lynch). By the trial's end there's an uncertainty as to guilt or motive, as the jury could decide either way and not be faulted. Interest is sustained throughout, as the acting is first-class (especially by Stewart) and the smart dialogue resounds in the courtroom as the defense and prosecutors use words as dueling weapons. It's Otto at the top of his game; perhaps his most accomplished film.

trailer https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l_qXQQZ2wHs movie review last train from gun hill released in 1959 Directed by John Sturges Screenplay by James Poe Story by ("Showdown") Les Crutchfield Produced by Hal B. Wallis cinematographer: Charles Lang editor: Warren Low music: Dimitri Tiomkin Cast Kirk Douglas as Marshal Matt Morgan Anthony Quinn as Craig Belden Carolyn Jones as Linda Earl Holliman as Rick Belden Brad Dexter as Beero Brian G. Hutton as Lee Smithers Ziva Rodann as Catherine Morgan Bing Russell as Skag Val Avery as Steve, Horseshoe Bartender Walter Sande as Sheriff Bartlettand

Blackboard Jungle Blackboard Jungle is a 1955 American social drama film about an English teacher in an interracial inner-city school, based on the 1954 novel The Blackboard Jungle by Evan Hunter and adapted for the screen and directed by Richard Brooks. It is remembered for its innovative use of rock and roll in its soundtrack, for casting grown adults as high school teens, and for the unique breakout role of a black cast member, film icon Sidney Poitier, as a rebellious yet musically talented student. In 2016, Blackboard Jungle was selected for preservation in the United States National Film Registry by the Library of Congress as being "culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant".[3][4] Plot In the mid-1950s, Richard Dadier is a new teacher at North Manual Trades High School, an inner-city school of diverse ethnic backgrounds. Led by student Gregory Miller, most engage in anti-social behavior. The school principal, Mr. Warneke, denies there are discipline issues, but the school faculty, particularly Mr. Murdock, warn Dadier otherwise. Dadier befriends two other new teachers, Joshua Edwards and Lois Hammond. Dadier's class includes Miller and Artie West, a rebellious bully and gang leader. The class shows no respect for Dadier. Dadier encourages Miller to lead the class in the right direction. After Dadier subdues a student who attacks Miss Hammond, the class gives Dadier the silent treatment and are even more uncooperative. Dadier and Edwards are mugged by West's gang. Reluctant to quit, Dadier seeks advice from his former teacher, Professor Kraal, the principal of an academically superior school with disciplined students. Kraal offers Dadier a job, but he declines. After chastising his class for calling each other racially divisive names, Dadier is himself falsely accused by Mr. Warneke of using racial epithets in the classroom. West encounters Dadier during his gang's robbery of a newspaper truck. West tells Dadier his classroom is on the streets and to leave him alone. Several students, led by West, assault Edwards in his classroom and destroy his music record collection. Dadier's wife, Anne, who is pregnant, begins receiving anonymous letters and phone calls telling her Dadier and Miss Hammond are having an affair. Dadier discovers Miller can play piano and sing, and wonders why Miller can show such talent but also be so rebellious. Dadier shows his class an animated film about "Jack and the Beanstalk" which sparks discussion about moral choices. Anne goes into premature labor caused by the stress of the phone calls about Dadier's alleged affair. When a neighbor shows Dadier the anonymous letters, he angrily decides to quit. Mr. Murdock encourages him to stay, telling Dadier he is making progress and has inspired him too. Anne apologizes for doubting Dadier's loyalty in their marriage and says she was wrong for telling him to quit. Their premature baby boy, though weak, eventually thrives. When Dadier observes West openly copying from another student, he demands that West bring his paper to the front to have it docked five points. West rebuffs his repeated request, but Dadier is unrelenting. The conflict quickly escalates, and West pulls out a switchblade. Dadier does not back down. Miller stops Belazi from jumping Dadier from behind. The rest of West's gang fails to assist. Dadier accuses West of the false allegations made to both Mr. Warneke and Anne. Dadier subdues West, and the other students join in to subdue classmate Belazi, who has picked up the knife to escape. Miller then leads the class in helping Dadier take West and Belazi to the principal's office. In the final scene, Miller and Dadier ask if the other is quitting at the end of the school year. Miller says no, because the two of them had a pact that neither would quit if the other stayed. Dadier's expression makes clear he has no intention of breaking the agreement. Directed by Richard Brooks Screenplay by Richard Brooks Based on The Blackboard Jungle 1954 novel by Evan Hunter Produced by Pandro S. Berman Cinematography Russell Harlan Edited by Ferris Webster Music by Max C. Freedman, Jimmy DeKnight (song "Rock Around the Clock") (uncredited), Willis Holman (song "Blackboard Jungle"), Jenny Lou Carson (song "Let Me Go, Lover!"; uncredited) Running time 101 minutes Country United States Language English Budget $1,168,000[2] Box office $8,144,000[2] Cast Glenn Ford as Richard Dadier Anne Francis as Anne Dadier Louis Calhern as Jim Murdock Margaret Hayes as Lois Judby Hammond John Hoyt as Mr. Warneke Richard Kiley as Joshua Y. Edwards Emile Meyer as Mr. Halloran Basil Ruysdael as Professor A. R. Kraal Warner Anderson as Dr. Bradley Sidney Poitier as Gregory W. Miller Vic Morrow as Artie West Dan Terranova as Belazi Rafael Campos as Pete V. Morales Paul Mazursky as Emmanuel Stoker Horace McMahon as Detective Jamie Farr as Santini (credited as Jameel Farah) Danny Dennis as De Lica Cast notes: This was the debut film for Campos, Morrow, and Farah, and one of Poitier's earliest. Farah later changed his name to Jamie Farr, best known for playing Corporal Maxwell Q. Klinger in the M*A*S*H TV series. Factual background Hunter's novel was based on his early job as a teacher at Bronx Vocational High School, now known as Alfred E. Smith Career and Technical Education High School in the South Bronx. Hunter, then known as Salvatore Lombino, took the teaching job in 1950 after graduating from Hunter College. He was quickly disillusioned and quit in frustration after two months.[5] Critical reception Positive reviews Drive-in advertisement from 1955. In a positive review, Bosley Crowther of The New York Times wrote: "As a straight melodrama of juvenile violence this is a vivid and hair-raising film. Except for some incidental romance, involving the teacher and his wife and a little business about the latter having a baby, it is as hard and penetrating as a nail." - Bosley Crowther (1955)[6] Variety called it: "...a film with a melodramatic impact that hits hard at a contemporary problem. The casting, too, is exceptionally good."[7] Harrison's Reports called the film: "...a stark, powerful melodrama, sordid, tense, and disturbing. The picture no doubt will stir up considerable controversy, but at the same time it probably will prove to be a top box-office grosser."[8] John McCarten of The New Yorker wrote: "While the film has a good many faults (the acting at times is a bit shaky and the conclusion is rather unbelievable), it nevertheless confronts its subject matter head on, and in the circumstances it is an unsettling piece of work." - John McCarten (1955)[9] Negative reviews Not all reviews were positive. Richard L. Coe of The Washington Post slammed the film as "so sensationalized as to negate any laudable purpose its supporters claim", further explaining: "Yes, the papers regularly have news about shocking conditions in the schools. Vandalism certainly is more rampant than it was only a few years ago. Sex crimes and thuggery do occur. Even murder is not beyond our young. But to pile these things and more into a few months within one classroom surely does not show 'courage' on the part of the moviemakers. This approach simply is one more dodge at making a box office buck to anyone with his eyes open. This is the Dead End kids, the gangster melodrama, in another setting." - Richard Coe (1955)[10] The Monthly Film Bulletin delivered a mixed to negative assessment: "Contrived situations and some rather thin characterisation reduce the impact and effectiveness of Blackboard Jungle, both as an exposé of a current American educational problem and a plea for more strenuous efforts by teachers at similar institutions. Characters such as the flirtatious woman teacher and the pregnant wife are fictitious trimmings which only emphasise the artificiality in the handling of the main theme. There are several tense and hard-hitting sequences, and a general atmosphere of strident earnestness, but only in the tiny part of the trade school headmaster, played with considerable force by John Hoyt, is there any real suggestion of complexity or depth." - Monthly Film Bulletin (October 1955)[11] Popular culture The song "Rock Around the Clock" was included in the film, making the recording an anthem for rebellious 1950s youth.[12] It was Number 1 on the pop charts for two months and went to Number 3 on the R&B chart.[13] Rotten Tomatoes gives the film a "fresh" rating of 76%. On their best of Sidney Poitier list, it says: "This was the role that put Poitier on the map. The struggles of educators and students are well documented in this violent and controversial film, based on Evan Hunter's seminal novel about inner-city school conditions. Modern audiences might struggle to sympathize with the tactics employed by Poitier's character, Gregory Miller, but the cultural impact his performance had on both society and education are undeniable." - Rotten Tomatoes[citation needed] Box office According to MGM records the film earned $5,292,000 in the US and Canada and $2,852,000 elsewhere.[2] Awards and honors Award Category Nominee(s) Result Academy Awards[14][15] Best Screenplay Richard Brooks Nominated Best Art Direction - Black-and-White Art Direction: Cedric Gibbons and Randall Duell Set Decoration: Edwin B. Willis and Henry Grace Nominated Best Cinematography - Black-and-White Russell Harlan Nominated Best Film Editing Ferris Webster Nominated Directors Guild of America Awards[16] Outstanding Directorial Achievement in Motion Pictures Richard Brooks Nominated National Film Preservation Board National Film Registry Inducted Writers Guild of America Awards[17] Best Written American Drama Richard Brooks Nominated In 2010, Turner Classic Movies (TCM) listed the soundtrack of the movie on its list of the Top 15 Most Influential Movie Soundtracks of all time. TCM described the impact and the influence of the movie: MGM brought Hollywood into the rock'n'roll era with BLACKBOARD JUNGLE. In search of the kind of music teens like the film's potential delinquents were listening to, director Richard Brooks borrowed a few records from star Glenn Ford's son Peter. When he heard Bill Haley and his Comets perform 'Rock Around the Clock', he found the perfect theme song -- the first rock song ever used in a Hollywood feature. Teens flocked to the film, dancing in theatre aisles as the song played over the opening credits. Parents may have been shocked by such uninhibited behavior, but things got worse when screenings also inspired violence and vandalism around the world. Thanks to BLACKBOARD JUNGLE, the song hit number one on the Billboard charts, eventually selling 25 million copies and becoming what Dick Clark called 'The National Anthem of Rock'n' Roll'.[18] Cultural impact The film marked the rock and roll revolution by featuring Bill Haley & His Comets' "Rock Around the Clock",[19] initially a B-side, over the film's opening credits (with a lengthy drum solo introduction, unlike the originally released single), as well as in the first scene, in an instrumental version in the middle of the film, and at the close of the movie, establishing that song as an instant hit. The record had been released the previous year, gaining only limited sales. But, popularized by its use in the film, "Rock Around the Clock" reached number one on the Billboard charts and remained there for eight weeks.[citation needed] In some theaters, when the film was in the first release, the song was not heard at all at the beginning of the film because rock and roll was considered a bad influence. Despite this, other instances of the song were not cut.[citation needed] The music led to a large teenage audience for the film, and their exuberant response to it sometimes overflowed into violence and vandalism at screenings.[20] In this sense, the film has been seen as marking the start of a period of visible teenage rebellion in the latter half of the 20th century. The film was banned in Memphis, Tennessee and Atlanta, Georgia,[21] with the Atlanta Review Board claiming that it was "immoral, obscene, licentious and will adversely affect the peace, health, morals and good order of the city".[22] The film marked[citation needed] a watershed in the United Kingdom and was originally refused a cinema certificate before being passed with heavy cuts. When shown at a south London cinema in Elephant and Castle in 1956 the teenage Teddy Boy audience began to riot, tearing up seats and dancing in the aisles.[23] After that, riots took place around the country wherever the film was shown.[24] The 1982 crime action thriller film Class of 1984 serves as a loose remake of The Blackboard Jungle, with Perry King, Timothy Van Patten and Michael J. Fox in the roles of Glenn Ford, Vic Morrow, and Sidney Poitier, respectively.[25] In 2007, the Journal of Criminal Justice and Popular Culture published an article that analyzed the film's connection to crime theories and juvenile delinquency.[26] In 2015, the Journal of Transnational American Studies published a study with a focus on the film's reception in West Germany and Japan.[27] The influential Jamaican reggae album Blackboard Jungle Dub (1973) by The Upsetters references the film's title.[citation needed] The film touches on the still-current issue of teacher pay. The dialog states that in 1955, the pay for teachers was US$2.00 an hour (equivalent to $23 in 2023), or about US$4,000 a year salary (equivalent to $45,496 in 2023), as compared with congressmen and judges at US$9.25 (equivalent to $105 in 2023), policemen and firemen at US$2.75 (equivalent to $31 in 2023), carpenters at US$2.81 (equivalent to $32 in 2023), plumbers at US$2.97 (equivalent to $34 in 2023), and plasterers at US$3.21 an hour (equivalent to $37 in 2023).[citation needed] In March 2005, the 50th anniversary of the release of the film, which had influenced the subsequent upsurge in the general popularity of rock and roll, was marked by a series of "Rock Is Fifty" celebrations in Los Angeles and New York City, involving the surviving members of the original Bill Haley & His Comets.[clarification needed][citation needed] In 2016, the film was selected for preservation in the United States National Film Registry by the Library of Congress.[citation needed] Home media The film was released on DVD in North America on May 10, 2005, by Warner Home Video. See also It was a shocking movie at the time and was said to provoke violence, and when Clare Boothe Luce, then American ambassador to Italy, protested its showing at the Venice Film Festival, its international fame was assured. The subject-contempt for authority (in a metropolitan trade school)-is treated as a problem with a definite solution. Surrounded by hostile and delinquent boys, the hero, an idealistic teacher, played by Glenn Ford, tries to reach the salvageable one among them-Sidney Poitier, who gives an angry, exciting performance. (He makes you feel his tensions and heat.) The director, Richard Brooks, wrote the script, adapted from Evan Hunter's novel, and it's sane and well worked out, though it's hard for audiences to believe in the hero's courage, and not hard at all for them to believe in the apathetic cowardice of the other teachers. If you excavate Evan Hunter's short story on which the rather shoddy novel was based, it's no big surprise to find that in the original account, "To Break the Wall," the teacher did not break through. Once again, a "daring" Hollywood movie exposes social tensions-touches a nerve-and then pours on the sweet nothings. But along the melodramatic way, there are some startling episodes (and one first-rate bit of racial interchange), and recordings by Bix Beiderbecke, Stan Kenton, Bill Holman, and others set quite a pace. (The music behind the opening titles-Bill Haley and the Comets on "Rock Around the Clock"-really made people sit up.) Glenn Ford seethes all the time, but he's fairly competent. With Louis Calhern, who's always fun to watch; Margaret Hayes, as the teacher who's a candidate for rape; Anne Francis in the tiresome role of Ford's pregnant wife; Richard Kiley, as the embarrassingly weak-kneed teacher whose jazz records get smashed. Also with John Hoyt, Paul Mazursky, Emile Meyer, Horace McMahon, Warner Anderson, and Vic Morrow as the Brando-style hoodlum. Cinematography by Russell Harlan. Produced by Pandro S. Berman, for MGM. BLACKBOARD JUNGLE (director/writer: Richard Brooks; screenwriters: from the book by Evan Hunter; cinematographer: Russell Harlan; editor: Ferris Webster; music: Charles Wolcott; cast: Glenn Ford (Richard Dadier), Anne Francis (Anne Dadier), Louis Calhern (Jim Murdock), Margaret Hayes (Lois Hammond), John Hoyt (Mr. Warneke), Richard Kiley (Joshua Y. Edwards), Sidney Poitier (Gregory W. Miller), Vic Morrow (Artie West), Dan Terranova (Belazi), Rafael Campos (Pete V. Morales), Paul Mazursky (Emmanuel Stoker); Runtime: 101; MPAA Rating: NR; producer: Pandro S. Berman; MGM; 1955) "Tells us as much about teaching as Einstein's Theory of Relativity tells us about football." Reviewed by Dennis Schwartz A dreadful urban melodrama about teachers and juvenile delinquents clashing in a NYC vocational high school in the 1950s. It's based on Bronx born novelist Evan Hunter's moralistic novel about an idealistic young teacher, Richard Dadier (Glenn Ford), and his rough opening semester in a tough slum school. The author took his first name from the high school he attended--Evander Childs--and his last name from the college he attended--Hunter College. Richard Brooks is the writer-director, whose screenplay was nominated for an Oscar. Don't ask me why? I thought all the histrionics, teaching methods dropped, and over-the-top class violence were bogus. In addition the teaching atmosphere was phony and all the melodramatics were unconvincing. Though the film comes with good intentions about the nobility of the teaching profession and the hope that it's possible to teach most children, these good intentions give way to a confused look at what teaching is all about. The film received notoriety for its use of contemporary rock music over the opening and closing credits, as Bill Haley and his Comets played "Rock Around The Clock." Its use of rock music, the first time for a major film, proved successful and started the trend to use rock music that still continues today. Otherwise this is a dated movie that has little relevance for today's world, except education is still mired with many problems and discipline is still one of its major problems. And, let's not forget teachers are still underpaid. Married war veteran Richard Dadier gets his diploma through the G.I. Bill of Rights and begins his career as an earnest English teacher in an inner-city New York boys high school with a terrible reputation for discipline problems. He meets the bug-eyed principal Warneke (John Hoyt) who is in denial about his school having a discipline problem; the cynical veteran teacher Jim Murdock (Louis Calhern) who relates the school to a great big garbage can; the attractive bored Lois Hammond (Margaret Hayes), who nearly gets raped the first day of class; and naive math teacher Josh Edwards (Richard Kiley), who wants to teach but his rowdy students wouldn't let him. Most of the faculty feel beaten down and just go through the motions of teaching. Dadier is faced with a problem class that includes wise guy black student Greg Miller (Sidney Poitier), calling him Chief; repulsive gang leader Artie West (Vic Morrow), a surly career criminal type who sneers at the teacher and calls him "Daddy-O;" Puerto Rican class clown Morales (Rafael Campos); troublemaker Belazi (Dan Terranova), a member of West's armed robbery gang; and an assortment of other juvenile delinquent types. Even after Dadier is jumped after school and beaten along with Edwards by his students, he is determined to do a good job and refuses to quit. He emphatically tells his pregnant wife Anne (Anne Francis): Dadier: "Yeah, I've been beaten up, but I'm not beaten. I'm not beaten, and I'm not quittin'." Edwards quits after West and his classmates destroy the teacher's valuable record collection. But Dadier hangs in, fights off charges of racism, directs the school Christmas play, and almost loses it when he learns his wife received threatening letters from his students and she gives birth prematurely. Things get tied up in a nice neat knot as the cynical teacher learns the kids are human and can be taught, Poitier learns to believe in the system and remains in school for his senior year to pursue his talent in music, and Ford finally reaches the kids by showing them a movie and motivating them to use their imagination. Ford also has to disarm switch-blade yielding West in a classroom outbreak in order to gain respect and control of the class. But by the time that rolled around, I wouldn't have been surprised by any incident taking place in this so-called jungle environment. The film tells us as much about teaching as Einstein's Theory of Relativity tells us about football.