“Long Day’s Journey Into Night” (1962)
It’s hardly surprising, considering the length and emotional brutality of his work, that Eugene O’Neill was never really manna for cinematic adaptation in the way that, say, Tennessee Williams was. But there are good big-screen O’Neill works out there — John Frankenheimer and Lee Marvin turned out an underrated version of “The Iceman Cometh,” for example. But head and shoulders above the rest is Lumet’s 1962 version of the playwright’s masterpiece “Long Day’s Journey Into Night,” for which he assembled a dream cast of Ralph Richardson, Dean Stockwell, Jason Robards and, most toweringly, the great Katharine Hepburn. The quartet shared the acting prizes at Cannes that year, and it’s well-deserved — all four are riveting and flawless, even across the film’s punishing three-hour running time; a testament to Lumet’s dedication to the rehearsal process, something that almost every film could benefit from, but very few actually use. The film was criticized at first for failing to open up the play, but, as with “12 Angry Men,” Lumet expertly plays with lenses and lighting to make the film feel as claustrophobic as it should. Anyone serious about acting should seek it out without delay. [A]
“The Pawnbroker” (1964)
Sidney’s Lumet’s career has its ebbs and flows, but other than his better-known ‘70s period, no other era is as peerless as his early ’60s phase that saw him deliver classics such as “Fail Safe,” “Long Day’s Journey Into Night,” and to a lesser degree “The Hill” and “The Pawnbroker,” which features what is arguably Rod Steiger’s finest performance as an emotionally withdrawn Holocaust survivor living in New York City (though the Academy didn’t see it that way — he won an Oscar for “In the Heat of the Night” but was only nominated for the Lumet film). As the story slowly unravels, we discover that an embittered Sol Nazerman (Steiger) witnessed his wife and two children die in Nazi concentration camps and has since callously distanced himself from the world by quietly keeping to himself in his Harlem-set pawnshop. Shunning faith and all belief in what he calls the “scum” of mankind, Sol is apathetic to everyone including his Puerto Rican shop assistant (Jaime Sanchez) who idolizes him and his business. Geraldine Fitzgerald plays a frequent customer and compassionate social worker who tries to awaken his own humanity, but the Shakespearean tragedy of his actions — the realization that his fellow man has value — arrives far too late. Lumet’s lessons and moralizing on paper can sound a little too sanctimonious (and granted, it doesn’t work in every picture), but “The Pawnbroker” is a powerful and haunting look at how death can make us realize life is worth living. [A-]
“Fail Safe” (1964)
The Cold War and threat of nuclear extinction was on the minds of politicians and filmmakers alike in the late ‘50s and early ‘60s, but arguably this crisis reached its cinema fever pitch in 1964. Earlier in the year, Stanley Kubrick presciently turned the burgeoning genre on its head with the highly satirical and biting “Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb,” which is perhaps why the dead-serious “Fail Safe” is less well known, and was less well regarded when it arrived in theaters 10 months later (if you didn’t know better, you’d assume ‘Strangelove’ is almost a spoof as they are about the exact same subject with some uncanny and incredibly similar scenes and archetypes though essentially made at the same time). Though somber and terrifyingly real — the movie almost plays out like a suspenseful horror — “Fail Safe” is not the humorless version of Kubrick’s masterpiece. It is in fact, a masterpiece in of its own kind. A gripping, nail-biting and intense portrait of the spiraling-out-of-control arms race — and it’s a wonder this picture’s disturbing drama didn’t come to pass in our history. Henry Fonda plays the earnest and compassionate leader of the United States, Walter Matthau plays a ruthless scientist bound by stats and cold logic, and the picture also contains excellent performances by Dan O’Herlihy, Frank Overton and Edward Binns, plus early appearances by Dom DeLuise, Larry Hagman and Fritz Weaver. Need a foolproof nuclear deterrent? Just watch “Fail Safe,” one of the best wartime cautionary tales (nuclear or otherwise) ever made. [A+]
“The Hill” (1965)
Set in a North African British “glasshouse” during World War II (the name of an English military detention center) in the middle of the baking hot Libyan desert, Lumet’s dusty and sun-bleached 1965 war film centers on the injustices of war and its outdated rules by focusing on five new soldiers imprisoned and being punished for a litany of infractions such as going AWOL, stealing booze and in one special case, defying direct orders and assaulting his commanding officer. The idea is the dogs of war must be beaten and broken, and spirits and wills are almost crushed in this gritty 1965 military prison picture. But one incorrigible soldier, Sean Connery — who took this detour, the first of five team-ups with Lumet, in the middle of his Bond run between “Goldfinger” and “Thunderball,” much to the chagrin of most critics — doesn’t make it easier for his tyrannical, near blood-thirsty superiors, himself, or his fellow inmates, one of them being the late, great Ossie Davis. Connery’s insubordination means his exhausted and parched outfit is humiliated, demeaned and punished to the edges of human limits by his barbaric staff sergeants (British character actors Ian Hendry and Harry Andrews play the monsters of discipline). One man dies during the abuse which sets off a chain of rebellion and makes Connery even more intractable. While “The Hill” is very much a message film and wears its morality on its sleeves, it is nevertheless, a highly engaging and underrated work in the Lumet body. The crushing, tragic ending and its bitter irony make it all the more striking. [B+]
“The Deadly Affair” (1966)
Later this year will finally see John Le Carre’s best-known character, the anti-Bond spy-catcher George Smiley, reach the big screen, played by Gary Oldman in Tomas Alfredson’s much-anticipated version of “Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy.” But Smiley’s actually been the central character in a film before — sort of. Le Carre’s first book, “Call for the Dead,” was adapted by Lumet in 1966 into “The Deadly Affair” as a vehicle for James Mason, and, while the character has been renamed Charles Dobb, it’s Smiley in all but name. While Lumet and writer Paul Dehn may take some liberties with the story, it’s very faithful to Le Carre in spirit, and Mason is particularly good in the lead — it’s arguably one of his best screen performances. The cast around him, particularly Maximilian Schell as the colleague sleeping with Dobbs’ wife, are equally good. It’s a neat little spy thriller — probably not action-packed enough for contemporary audiences, but mostly terrific, and yet another film from this era of Lumet’s work that deserves reappraisal. [B-]
