Reviews

A man (Ciarán Hinds) spends all day at a table outside a Marseilles restaurant, a vaguely dissatisfied expression on his face. In the evening, he sees five men throw what looks to be a shrouded body into a canal. When they spot him, the man hurries back to his hotel and departs on what seems to have been a planned journey north across France.

This is a movie that defies the genres. It has been described as a comedy - the poster, with its misleading 'tagline', implies it, too - and, while it has amusing moments, mostly silent, it is not really a comedy. Nor is it a drama. I would describe the atmosphere in the film as one of gentle melancholy, a happy kind of sad, if you will, or perhaps close to what Germans call Sehnsucht.

As for its form, that too is difficult to place. Though superficially a straightforward, if episodic, adventure, The Man in the Hat has no plot, no story-line, at least on the surface. It is a series of vignettes, some of which feature the Man at their centre; in others, he merely observes or eavesdrops on a scene, or on dialogue.

I think the movie is an allegory; his journey is his death. He doesn't want to die; not because he is afraid but simply because he likes his life too much, likes the people in it too much: "I miss them all", he chalks on the trunk of a tree. The ferry voyage at the end is his crossing-over. His expression in the final scene is not one of fear, but of regret. He does not want to go.

In this context, the movie is a series of random memories, woven together into a very loose narrative. There are elements of the surreal to it: the Man keeps seeing or meeting the same people, though, logically, he should not, and he does not think this strange. The people represent those from his life; the girl in the photograph, his wife when young? The woman on the bicycle, his wife as he left her? Most of the vignettes appear to be about loss; this would fit with the theme of the allegory.

Hinds is the main performer, but his character, about which we learn nothing directly, is, as I wrote above, not always in the middle of events. Hinds is called on to react a great deal, such as when he first meets a couple of moonshiners who wordlessly agree to help him with automobile troubles, or when he overhears an involved story featuring a girl's vanished boyfriend. While there is some mugging for the camera, by him and other actors, in the style favoured by silent-film makers, he nonetheless, with just a couple of words spoken through the film (other players say much more), make us sympathise with the Man.

Others in the cast do very well. They are a mixture of British and French performers, few, perhaps, known to North American audiences except Stephen Dillane. Aoife Hinds, the star's daughter, plays a singing garage mechanic, while her mother, Hélène Patarot, portrays another.

The writing is very good; at least I think it is: for what I perceive the movie to be about, it is very good. There are moments of misfire. One example is when the Man spills olive oil on his shirt. He cuts out the stained patch of cloth, then uses a felt marker to make a portion of his white under-shirt the same colour as his outer garment, creating the illusion of a complete shirt. This Mr Bean-like scene is incongruous, since nothing else the Man does is similar. The writers were probably waiting years to include it in some film or other.

Yet there are effecting scenes, such as when the Man consoles another, who is crushed by grief, or when a haunting song plays while the Man sits seemingly alone in his car.

This is certainly not a movie for all tastes. It may be seen as a waste of time by many; one amateur reviewer called it a 'failed travelogue'; others saw no point to it. One professional reviewer hoped for a sequel; if my theory of the allegory is right, then the reviewer missed the point all together. Other reviewers seem to have applied the word 'whimsical' to it quite often. I would not think much about The Man in the Hat is whimsical. Nor is it depressing. Writing this review a week after I watched the movie, I find that I like it more now than I did immediately after its conclusion, and think about it more than I did. If you like that sort of motion picture, you will find The Man in the Hat worth its ninety-five minutes.

In 1966, Berlin is at the centre of the Cold War and international intrigue. British intelligence operator Quiller (George Segal) is sent to the city to investigate a murderous organisation dedicated to the resurgence of Nazism. Two of his colleagues have already been killed in attempting to expose the group, and Quiller may have a difficult time completing their mission while not suffering their fate.

The 1960s saw a great number of 'spy' stories brought to the big and small screens. Some were comedic (eg. "Get Smart" and the original "Casino Royale"), others fun but not meant to be taken seriously (eg. "The Man From U. N. C. L. E." and "Our Man Flint"), while still more were relatively realistic (eg. "Danger Man" and "Callan"). "The Quiller Memorandum" falls into the last category, featuring a credible threat and a believable protagonist. Unfortunately, neither the villains nor the hero strike the viewer as smart. In fact, no one in the movie comes across as particularly brainy.

I should mention that Segal makes an engaging lead. Just on this side of average-looking, his Quiller is no James Bond. He can take care of himself in a fight but isn't a super-man; he charms ladies but won't supplant Don Juan. His training is probably very good but he gives the impression that he has learned more from experience.

I've seen a number of films with leading actors who, while portraying Englishmen, abandoned any attempt at English accents (eg. "Five Graves to Cairo" and "Love Letters"). Segal does, too, though in his case, it is just as well: someone who looks like he was born exactly where he was (New York City) could never convincingly impersonate an Englishman. But at no point did I think Quiller was British. It is not inconceivable that an American works for British intelligence, any more than it is for the reverse (as in the television series "The Equalizer".) In other words, Segal was a good choice for the role.

The other players are satisfactory in their parts, as well. Alec Guinness portrays Quiller's controller, Max von Sydow is the chief villain (with unconvincingly blond hair - despite his own blond hair in real life), and Senta Berger plays a possible love-interest.

The trouble with "The Quiller Memorandum" is the script. Harold Pinter wrote the screenplay, adapted from Adam Hall's novel "The Berlin Memorandum". The dialogue itself is good (but no more). What wrecks the film is the rather alarming stupidity of the characters. This may, to be fair, be present in the book, too; if so, it was not improved by the script.

Quiller presents himself in Berlin first as an entrepreneur, then as a swimming coach, and finally as a journalist for a yet to be published Philadelphia newspaper. How easy would it be for him to be tripped up as a fraud if two or more of his new acquaintances compare notes? He attaches himself, not unreasonably, to the beautiful Inge Lindt (Berger), who knew a man who had hanged himself after being exposed as a Nazi. At one point, after justifying his questions to her by claiming to be writing a story on the re-birth of Nazism in Germany, he dismisses this fiction by stating that he won't be writing about Nazis because politics 'aren't his thing'.

Deliberately eschewing support from a fellow operator (Peter Carsten), Quiller is promptly kidnapped by his opponents. Despite an order for his death, he is spared. It wouldn't take much thought on a viewer's part to guess why. Later, pointless actions result in his re-capture. He doesn't carry a firearm because without one he is 'less likely to get killed', yet he goes unarmed into a situation in which he should know that he will be murdered if he is caught.

In a long and boring sequence, Quiller is followed, quite openly, by criminals who had earlier released him, when it would have been easier for their purpose just to keep him incarcerated. A car is booby-trapped and meant to kill Quiller, though there is no evidence that the intention of the villains to keep him alive has changed.

But that's not all. Quiller's superiors use a phrase about cigarettes to identify one another. They use it three times over several days. Passwords are usually changed frequently, even after a single use, to prevent enemies from taking advantage of overhearing them. This is, apparently, no danger here. The opening scene of the film shows Quiller's predecessor (Herbert Stass) being shot. Despite being obviously nervous of his surroundings (a dark, deserted lane at night) and wary of danger, he walks down the centre of the street and enters a well-lit telephone booth to make a call; there is, however, no discernible reason why he could not have waited until he reached his home or even a crowded café.

One gets the feeling that the talent in front of the camera in "The Quiller Memorandum" was let down by that behind. Not having read anything Adam Hall wrote, I cannot comment on him. I have seen little of Pinter's plays but have the impression that much comes from what people think they see rather than what is actually in them. This movie's writing has a lot in the way of situations - clandestine meetings, painful interrogations, chases - but little thought put into them, either by the writer or by the characters. And in a story that relies heavily on plot, rather than action, that is disastrous. (I was also struck by similarities between "The Quiller Memorandum" and "The Ipcress File", made the year before. Both films contain a cynical but capable operator, a brain-washing scene, and superiors who don't appear to care much for their subordinates' welfare.)

In short, "The Quiller Memorandum" ended up being the espionage-thriller equivalent of a slasher movie in which the viewer is always saying, 'Why did he do that?' and 'That was dumb.' And, really, the espionage-thriller is a genre in which those comments should be the last a viewer feels he must utter.

Directed by John Sturges; produced by Nicholas Nayfack

In the middle of the American Civil War, and in the middle of nowhere, a group of Confederate States soldiers plan to escape from the Union fort that is their prison. Their main obstacle - aside from being in the Arizona desert hundreds of miles from anywhere - is a ruthless cavalry troop commander, Captain Roper (William Holden), whose casual ferocity has never failed to capture escapees. But the prisoners have a secret weapon, a woman (Eleanor Parker) coming to the fort for a visit. In league with the Southerners, she, however, has her own difficulties, starting with her feelings for Roper.

Considering the stars, the director and the promising premise, "Escape from Fort Bravo" is a big disappointment. Holden does his usual fine job, playing a tough guy with dreams, and Parker is good as the woman confused by her emotions. Able support is loaned by other familiar names and faces: John Forsythe, William Demarest, William Campbell, Richard Anderson and Polly Bergen.

But the direction is bland, surprising since Struges also directed "The Great Escape" and "The Magnificent Seven"; his final effort was the entertaining "The Eagle Has Landed". Indeed, his next film after "Escape from Fort Bravo" was the excellent "Bad Day at Black Rock". But here, much of the third reel comprises a stand-off between troopers and prisoners on the one hand and Indians on the other, and it is nowhere as tense as I suspect it was meant to be. It is, in fact, rather boring.

The real villains in "Escape from Fort Bravo" are the story and the script. The Confederates' scheme to escape includes, as mentioned above, the use of an outside accomplice, who also serves to decoy Roper's attentions. But how she was apprised of the plan and its details, we don't know. By letter? None is mentioned. She shows up at the fort for the wedding of a friend, intending to return to Texas a day or two later. I found it incredible that someone would travel hundreds of miles by stage-coach, in the middle of a civil war, through hostile Indian country, just to stay a few days, like it was the bus-trip in "It Happened One Night".

Inconsistencies abound: Anderson's character marries Bergen's; the former's commanding officer hesitates to send him on an assignment because the new husband is on his honeymoon. Yet he is seen, on duty, taking a roll-call of prisoners minutes earlier. A shop-keeper visiting the fort is questioned as to why he is returning to town without cavalry escort, even though numbers of wedding guests did the same just before.

Also, when asked why the prisoners aren't under guard (though we see guards on duty), Roper explains that there is nowhere for them to go if they escaped - even though they do try to escape. It was strange to me that, since we are told there are as many prisoners as there are Union soldiers, the Confederates don't simply seize control of the fort; a Union station under Confederate control would not only give an excellent chance of genuine escape, and put a large supply of munitions in their hands, but surely disrupt Union communications in that region.

There is no explanation for the threatening behaviour of the Indians in the story. They are described as Mescalero, and "on their way" to join Cochise, presumably in his fight against the U. S. government, and whites in general. This is not elaborated upon, nor is it stated that the Mescalero are a tribe of Apaches, which may have clarified matters somewhat. The revolt of the Apaches seems to be general knowledge, yet a small train of four wagons loaded with rifles - surely a prize to anyone in rebellion - travels without escort through hostile districts.

For their part, the Indians' notion of attack appears limited initially to riding at speed past a well-armed enemy. They later exhibit some ingenuity in hitting targets with their arrows, but I can't see the intelligent and imaginative Cochise thinking these countrymen would be a particularly bright addition to his cause.

There is, as well, the small detail and big coincidence of Roper apparently having been raised in Arizona, joining the U. S. Army and finding the Federal cavalry regiment to which he belongs posted back to his home territory, while a million Northern soldiers are needed far to the east in the Civil War. It would have been better to have had him an officer in a local Arizona volunteer unit, kept in the land they knew, to guard the frontier during the current war.

Add to this the behaviour of the characters, which I felt was more appropriate for the 1950s than the 1860s, and the fact that the man who seems the senior officer of the prisoners is seeking to escape before almost all the others (perhaps I think too much of the form and protocol of World War Two POW-escape films), and the movie becomes just a costume drama: modern characters in fancy-dress.

The story is so abysmally inconsistent, and the script half-hearted, that any other qualities "Escape from Fort Bravo" may have are lost in a mire of silliness and muddle. Consider watching some of Holden and Sturges's other works instead.