Most Helpful Customer Reviews
|
|
3 of 3 people found the following review helpful:
3.0 out of 5 stars
Much better than the remake, 10 Nov 2005
The 1955 version of A Kiss Before Dying is much better than James Dearden’s TV-looking remake, but doesn’t hold up as well as it could to a second viewing. Gerd Oswald directed many of the best episodes of The Outer Limits but never made much impact on the big screen, and at times this is a little too conventional in its approach to its once taboo subject matter, although he makes a surprisingly decent stab at the unfilmable twist from Ira Levin’s novel. But there’s still the feeling that he gets more mileage out of the first half of the film, as Robert Wagner’s All-American working class psycho finds his plans to marry into money shattered by an unplanned pregnancy (thrown away almost entirely in the remake) than the amateur detective work of the second half. Jeffrey Hunter’s stiff turn as the eternally pipe-smoking square doesn’t help matters much, but it’s still worth seeing at least once. Curiously, the film looks and feels almost exactly like a mid-50s 20th Century Fox film, but was actually an independent picture released by United Artists.MGM/UA's disc has a good 2.35:1 transfer and the original theatrical trailer.
|
|
|
4 of 5 people found the following review helpful:
4.0 out of 5 stars
Robert Wagner's Finest Hour?, 5 Jan 2005
Gerd Oswald's first film arguably provides Robert Wagner's finest hour. Like Tony Curtis in The Boston Strangler (1968), screen pretty-boy Wagner played cunning sociopath Bud Corliss partly in an attempt to prove he could act darker parts than usual . Taken from a novel by Ira Lewin, the film is a well mounted, taut B-movie, albeit shot widescreen, in Deluxe Color, by no less a talent than Lucien Ballard, who later did sterling work for Sam Peckinpah. His crisp cinematography reveals a land dressed in bright open colours, where American meritocracy is secure. On the surface at least, all seems right and carries echoes of contemporaneous romantic fluff such as Pillow Talk as well as the late, luscious films of Douglas Sirk.Watching A Kiss Before Dying however is a wholly different experience from Sirk's ironic stagings of smug Eisenhower society, despite the presence of a clean-cut, pipe smoking Jeffrey Hunter. His academic character Grant, perhaps the least convincing in the film, is more of a stereotype than the German director managed, acting as a counterweight to Corliss' callous misuse of his own good looks and intelligence. Self-satisfied and entirely free of remorse, the student is a much more modern figure his presence undermining Grant's rather ineffectual 1950s' decency. Oswald's film focuses on this cold heart - an individual whose ambition, and eventual downfall, might have found its roots in such earlier films as Ulmer's Ruthless (1948), just as it anticipates some of Hitchcock's work. Corliss has obviously been affected by his experience in the war ("It's my side where I was wounded," he says briefly at one point, and one of the first things we see are military photographs.) The implication, typical of noir, is that the conflict has affected his mental state. Intriguing similarities exist between A Kiss Before Dying and Psycho of four years later: both films begin with furtive discussions of lovers discussing the implications of illicit sex, go on to feature the premature demise of a blonde before the investigation of mystery by a determined female relative. There are echoes of Vertigo (1958) too, in the dangerous heights of City Hall where Budd finally commits his heinous crime, and more than a taste of Hitchcock in some of the of the suspenseful machinations of the plot - especially in the chemistry supply room scene where Corliss furtively steals his poisons. It's somehow apt that Mary Astor, who played the calculating Brigid in The Maltese Falcon (1941), should be cast as Corliss' mother here - although even she is much reduced, manipulated by him, facing a final humiliation on the doorstep of the Kingship residence. Her son is a ruthless social climber, for whom the earlier 'problem' posed by Dorothy was just another obstacle to his inevitable rise just as his mother's dress sense is then another. As a schemer he leaves little to chance, evidenced by his careful arrangement of events in the first half of the film and detailed knowledge of the Kingship mining operation casually revealed at the close. When he is undone, it is by misfortune rather than carelessness - a fact that makes his success all the more frightening, being compromised by chain of chance more than anything else. Wagner is entirely convincing in a ruthless part that, at first sight, would have been ideal casting for Dennis Hopper. Beneath the familiar clean-cut image lies a calculating blackness. He suggests this by effective mannerisms, such as the throwaway, amoral shrug reflected in the jeweller's shop window after his second meeting with Dorothy, or by holding his arms high and clear, as if in supplication to his own genius, as she makes her final descent. Years down the line, after the amiable dross of such later work as Hart To Hart (1980-5), it is a shock to see the actor create such an impact in such a unique role. Oswald's direction is frequently distinguished by long takes: the first scene, which contains a fair chunk of dialogue, consists just of a pan over some photographs and one other extended set up. Part of this can be put down to necessary economies of shooting. In those scenes alone between Corliss and Dorothy, this refusal to cut away acts as if to trap the participants in their own moral universe, the unflinching lens demanding that the viewer make judgement. (There are sly visual jokes contained within shots too, as when at the conclusion of Corliss' second meeting at the sports ground, after her 'trip' down the bleachers, he is framed under a 'speed kills' road sign, or when Corliss and Ellen later flirt - in the wrap up shot they have been chatting under a tombstone-shaped rock.) This is not altogether to the film's advantage; in the middle section of the film, when Corliss is largely absent, some scenes drag a little. Occasionally Oswald changes pace, such as when he uses a fast dolly-in on the suicide note. But one senses that this exposition would have benefited from shorter cutting, as the earnest Ellen and nice-but-dull Grant when alone are not very dynamic. However this is a minor quibble in a film that relishes a broad mise-en-scène, typical of 1950s' melodrama. George Macreedy, gives excellent, grouchy support as the character who undergoes the only real metamorphosis in the film. His daughter of course learns that things are not really what they seem, discovering what Budd is really like under his tailored surface. Kingship Senior's education is far more profound, as he almost loses her through his over-protectiveness and intransigence. In one respect he is like Corliss: both have seen the nexus of family ties fray, leading to personality problems. At the end of the film, escorting his daughter away from the last encounter, Kingship does so more in sorrow than with the previous anger. Here, as events take a final turn, the desolation of the mines provides a physical corollary for the stark moral drama being played out between the principals.
|
|
|
1 of 1 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
A Dark, Sombre Tale, 11 April 2009
This is, perhaps one of Robert Wagner`s finest roles, as he progresses from an ordinary college boy to psychopathic killer. The tone is set during the first scene, when we hear a girl sobbing; then the couple are shown on the bed and the situation becomes obvious. Later, when Corliss has decided to kill "Dorrie", the lyrics we hear emanating from the juke-box are very poingnant: "You were always pretending, what have I left to live for; just a kiss before dying, when you kissed me goodb`ye". There is a piece of grim humour when Bud, in the mistaken belief he has poisoned the girl, dons a black tie in her memory! The sequence where she unexpectedly re-appears in the classroom might, perhaps, been better handled by a P.O.V. (point-of-view) shot, so that seeing her comes as much of a shock to the viewer as it does to Corliss.
It is interesting that the story has echoes of the "Red Barn" murder which took place in Suffolk, England, in 1828, as both William Corder and Bud Corliss tell their respective girls: "You have been disappointed (i.e. regarding marriage) and you shall go now" just as Maria Marten was not to leave the Red Barn alive, thus with Dorrie on the roof. Notice, incidentally, what prominence the blue handkerchief receives in this scene! The dialogue is notable for the glimpse we get into the mind of a true psychopath; the kind of person whom F. Tennyson Jesse described as: "The man who is such a convinced egoist that he quite honestly thinks he is justified in anything he may do to another human being to gain his own ends" In the sequence leading up to the murder, Corliss tells her: "You look like a very happy girl...I love you, I really do" In his mind the girl is already dead; however, he wants her to know that he truly loves her and is content in the knowledge that she will die a happy person. Which is just the way his distorted mind would look at the situation.
In contast,the killing of Dwight Powell is carried out with such callousness that it makes the blood run cold; it is interesting how there is a precursor to Dwight`s subsequent fate,when he and Ellen are almost run down by a car: it comes towards the D.J. like a bullet from a gun. Notice, too, how the discordant music emphasises Bud`s insanity. The music, in fact, is well handled throughout, coming as it does from those fine musicians Lionel Newman, Nelson Riddle and Billy May.
The director has provided a good pictorial symbolism when Ellen returns to her home, and the fir trees cast shadows across the driveway, which resemble gigantic fingers, illustrating that the Devil himself (in the shape of Bud) is waiting for her. This is taken further in the next scene when Ellen says Corliss casts "A diabolic spell" over her. Bud replies that there is: "Something about me you don`t know...I`m a man with a shameful, sinister secret". It would appear these remarks subconsciously register with Ellen, leading to the denoument in the final scene of the movie.
Altogether, a classic film.
John Harman
|
|
|
Most Recent Customer Reviews
|