Reviews

To compare a mini-gem such as Till the End of Time with the hugely promoted, star-studded Best Years of Our Lives -- the film that, historically, often is regarded as the screen icon for the re-adjusting soldiers' genre -- is like comparing Ray Robinson or Roberto Duran with Jack Dempsey, Joe Louis or Rocky Marciano.

The same way that Robinson and Duran were, pound-for-pound, on the same level with their larger, heavier, stronger counterparts, Till the End of Time -- "pound-for-pound" -- is right with its larger, more celebrated celluloid counterpart.

While Best Years, with its flashiness of celebrated cast (i.e. Frederick March, Myrna Loy), is much more expansive, Time expertly utilizes a small-scale, more focused look at the returning-soldier theme.

As the proverbial slice-of-life, Time not only is more easily palatable for viewers, it also is quite accurate in the depiction of its conceptions and characterizations.

The primary characters created by Guy Madison, Robert Mitchum and Bill Williams---as the returning World War II veterans -- and Dorothy McGuire, as the mildly cynical war widow with whom Madison's Cliff Harper becomes infatuated, are outstanding portrayals. Yes, Madison's sensitive performance in his first key role was effective, regardless of the less-than-sterling reviews traditionally given by critics.

Fetching, twenty-year old Jean Porter, as the adorably saucy bobby-soxer who likewise is infatuated with Harper, also is quite effective.

Excellent character performances are given by: Tom Tully and Ruth Nelson, as Harper's parents; Selena Royale, as the mother of Williams' Perry Kincheloe; and Bill Gargan, as the veterans' representative.

Director Edward Dmytryk expertly orchestrates the film, which captures the unique flavor of its time frame as if it were bottling a rare wine.

Though "Best Years" deserves much of its traditional praise, do not overlook "Time" simply because its focus is smaller. "Pound-for-pound" it is at least as good. Possibly even better.

Why is it that a film production company and its supposed professionals undertake a project that would seem sufficiently elastic to really emerge as a significant exponent of its subject-matter...only to become a pale facsimilie, causing its knowledgeable audience to feel slighted?

This was the case with the shouldn't-have-been low-budget "Joe Louis Story."

After Rocky Marciano one-and-for-all ended Joe Louis' memorable career, with that devastating TKO at Madison Square Garden that October night in 1951, everyone---not just fight fans---realized that a great sports era in this country had ended. Even non-liberal Americans reluctantly understood Joe Louis' significant impact not only in sports but on society.

A decade before Jackie Robinson, there was Louis. Joe not only had to win his battles inside the ring, but---in a struggle to win-over White fans---he had to remove much of the residue tarnish from the (1908-1915) reign of the first Black heavyweight champion, the talented but unsavory Jack Johnson.

Thus, when officials of the Chrysler Company, shortly after Louis' final fight, chose to do a film about the fighter's life/career, there was immense material at-hand.

Rather than utilize sufficient funds and really produce a true feature film---covering the story's multi-dimension potential---officials instead chose to go the cheap, shallow route. That's truly unfortunate because both Louis and his impact deserved so much more.

The biggest problem with the movie is that it sugar-coats the circumstances Louis faced, in-and-out of the ring. It shows him coming from a strong, middle-class Detroit neighborhood. He certainly did not come from this type of affluency.

When Black business leaders, John Roxborough and Julian Black, assumed roles as Louis' mentors/financial backers, much of their motivation was financial. They saw his ring potential and, despite their own economic status, wanted to ride his coat-tails to greater fortune.

This was not addressed in the film. Neither was the combination of prejudice and attempted mob-influence Louis encountered.

Few of Louis' early fights were shown/depicted, though clips from his key early bouts with Primo Carnera and Max Baer were shown.

When people think of Louis' opponents, two immediately come to mind: Max Schmeling and Billy Conn. The film discusses, and offers clips from, the Schmeling fights but virtually ignores the Conn bouts. Very brief mention is made of the anti-climatic second Conn fight; but it was the classic first fight that should have been developed and shown. Had light-heavyweight Conn---a huge underdog to a vintage Louis---survived the 13th round, and won either the 14th or 15th, he would have taken Louis' title.

There should have been much more continuity shown as Louis' career is presented. More clips from his title defenses would have been excellent---and necessary---bridges as we relived Louis' great career. He came within an eyelash of losing his Dec. 5, 1947, defense against Jersey Joe Walcott. Then, six months later, he made his final defense with a KO of Jersey Joe.

There were, however, a few positives. Coley Wallace facially resembled a young Louis so much that it was almost eerie. And Wallace, who had a brief, undistinguished professional career during the late-1940's and early '50's, of course accurately handled the up-close training and fighting scenes. Ironically, Wallace also is remembered for having been the last man to beat Marciano---if he actually did. Though all accounts say that Wallace was given a gift three-round decision of Marciano in their early-1948 amateur bout, he did win the official decision. Wallace was smart enough not to fight Rocky when both were pros.

Strong character performances were given by James Edwards, as Jack Blackburn, Louis' trainer and close friend; Paul Stewart, as a sportswriter and Louis supporter; John Marley, as Mannie Seamon, a Louis latter-career trainer; and Hilda Sims, as Joe's lonely, increasingly nagging, wife Marva.

The few clips of Louis' bouts add a touch of realism to the program.

This film should have been a major undertaking. It comes-off as a small-letter production when it should have been in all-caps.

Too bad Mister Cory isn't given a first name; he deserved one...especially when expertly portrayed by Mr. Tony Curtis.

About the time this film was done, in 1957, Curtis was gaining rapid momentum in what would become a memorable career. "Mister Cory" was bookcased by excellent mid/latter Fifties' Curtis films such as "Trapeeze", "The Vikings", "The Defiant Ones", "The Sweet Smell of Success", "Kings Go Forth" and "Operation Petticoat." Each of these Curtis efforts received critical acclaim...particularly "The Defiant Ones," for which he won an Oscar nomination, and "Sweet Smell of Success", for which he should have been nominated.

"Mister Cory" rarely is listed among Curtis' major early efforts. It should be. It is a real "sleeper." The actor, and those around him here, lift the film multiple steps above its melodramatic flavor, into the realm of something quite riveting.

Curtis was 32 when "Mister Cory" was done, but his boyish good-looks and trim physique make him quite believeable as the story's young man just out of the Navy, seeking his future. However, if anyone believes Curtis became successful on the screen just for those elements need only to watch performances as this to learn otherwise.

Cory is a complex character study, with volatile undercurrents beneath his attractive, agreeable surface. Curtis expertly handles the various nuances of the role. He makes the viewer believe he IS the tough kid just out of Chicago, seeking to escape his seamy roots. First, in the verdant Wisconsin resort locale, and later as a manager/host for a glittering Lake Shore Drive gambling house catering to the wealthy and snobbish.

In reality, Curtis was a tough kid seeking to escape his Bronx roots. He certainly could identify with Cory. But merely identifying with a character isn't sufficient for a believeable screen performance. Curtis demonstrates that he brought much more to the table than attractiveness and a pleasing personality. "Mister Cory" is only one such example.

Joining Curtis in "Mister Cory" are a wealth of outstanding supporting people. Twenty-two year old Kathryn Grant, less an a year from marrying Bing Crosby, is the saucy, outdoorsy, girl-next-door Jen Vollard who makes little doubt of her interest in Cory. In the role, Grant is adorable. She favored marriage over a screen career, a choice unfortunate for viewers.

Martha Hyer likewise is effective as the lacquered, polished Abigail Vollard, Jen's sister. Like most males who come into contact with her, Cory is taken. Unlike others, he is not overwhelmed. Ultimately, he learns that her smooth veneer merely whitewashes over unattractive beneath-the-surface elements.

Veteran character actor Charles Bickford is excellent as the stolid Jeremiah Caldwell, Cory's friend/mentor. Russ Morgan also turned in a fine performance as Ruby Matrobe, the suggestively shady force behind the gambling house.

But, with Curtis and Grant, the film is stolen by British stage/screen veteran Henry Daniell.

As Mr. Earnshaw, Daniell initially is boss to Cory's busboy at the resort. Later, he is recruited by Cory to tend to customers' needs at Matrobe's establishment. It is Earnshaw's "air of snobbery" that is his most marketable quality to Cory. Daniell carries off the stuffy, Mr. Manners role with enjoyable aplomb. With an O Henry-like twist near the film's conclusion, Cory learns that stiff, protocol-spouting Earnshaw once was arrested...for bigamy.

The film's most thankless role is that of Abigail's long-time suiter, Alex Wyncott. He has spent much of his life eagerly, if a bit wearily, fending-off numerous would be-rivals for her. William Reynolds handles the role well, and deserves credit for undertaking it. Not only is Wyncott portrayed to be a rich man's apparently inept son, he verbally is accosted by Cory in witheringly demeaning fashion. Only near the the 92-minute film's conclusion is Wyncott finally allowed to demonstrate backbone: he shoots Cory in the arm. Curtis responds: "...I didn't think he had the guts."

Upon viewing "Mister Cory," those unfamiliar with the film might likewise reply, "Where has this been all this time?"

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There was quite a lot to recommend "Man's Favorite Sport?" In almost every category this was a solid, mildly humerous production. But, as Rock Hudson later suggested, one negative element undermined the effort...and the film's popularity. Most viewers undoubtedly grew weary, uncomfortable, and even irritated, with seeing someone with Hudson's imposing size and appearance constantly being put into deprecating situations by Paula Prentiss' constantly-on-the-edge character, Abigail Page. In Hudson's other two major romantic comedies, "Pillowtalk" and "Lover Come Back"---with Doris Day---viewers were happy to see Hudson's conniving playboy characters ultimately get their comeupance. But his Roger Willoughby character here did nothing to deserve his fate. Many members of the audience no doubt were saying to themselves, "Enough already. Let the poor guy alone." Willoughby, a fishing-oriented salesman/author at Abercrombie and Fitch, had never actually fished. Really a big crime. Page, hoping to cash-in on his name-recognition at a fishing tournament hosted by her friend's lodge, blackmails Hudson's character into competing in the tournament...threatening to expose his secret if he doesn't comply. Once at the lodge, Hudson is placed into one humiliating vignette after another...always under the thumb of Prentiss. Even in the matter of a kiss, which her character obviously enjoyed, Page nonetheless further undermines Willoughby's self-image by telling him that the kiss "...just wasn't any good." In "Pillowtalk" and "Lover Come Back," the audience was happy to see Hudson's characters justly reprimanded by Day in the end. At the climax of "Man's Favorite Sport?", we instead are happy to see big, strong Willoughby finally assert himself against the aggravatingly prickly Page. Prentiss, with her wholesome brunette beauty, athletic appearance and lively personality, expertly assimilates into her character. Cool, Germanic Maria Perschy, as her lodge-owner friend, and stunning, statuesque Charlene Holt, as Willoughby's ultimately former girlfriend, likewise give solid performances. As for Hudson, he deserves much credit for agreeing to play an accident-prone character such as Willoughby. The question is why did he do so. The answer is that Hudson obviously was a team player in his films. That is why he was popular among the performers with whom he worked. Character actors Roscoe Karns, John McGiver, Forrest Lewis, Regis Toomey and Norman Alden each adds professional support to "Man's Favorite Sport?" The Northern California fishing lodge locale likewise is a plus. Again, there is much to endorse the film. But the enterprise is undermined by what occurs to Hudson and his character virtually throughout.

During the three years just following World War II, Kirk Douglas had completed seven feature films. He already had caught the attention of key motion picture executives, such as producer Hal Wallis. Success was gradually coming Douglas' way. But, with "Champion", like a sudden knockout punch, Douglas instantly achieved his lofty aim. In this low-budget film gem, populated by outstanding character portrayals, Kirk Douglas' performance as boxer Midge Kelly is the bravura centerpiece. Though the multi-textured character of Kelly, as created by Ring Lardner in his short story, lends itself to a strong performance, it is Douglas who lifts the character into the stratosphere. At age 33, and having been a wrestler while attending New York's St. Lawrence University a decade earlier, Douglas still possessed the phyical tools for this role. His work in the fight and training scenes are accurate and strongly believeable. But it is his performance as Midge Kelly the individual that is stunningly riveting. During "Champion", Douglas becomes the character until it is virtually impossible to separate actor and role. He eagerly assimilates Kelly's various nuances and attitudes. Passion has always been a Kirk Douglas hallmark. Never has he been so powerfully passionate as in this performance. Contemporary audiences may like to compare the screen work of son, Michael, with that of his father. But after seeing Kirk Douglas' unforgettable performance in "Champion", comparisons fade.

In his biography, "Ragman's Son," Douglas tells of watching a screening of "Champion" in the home of a studio mogul who had invited numerous people unknown to the actor...who himself was unknown to the guests. After the screening, Douglas relates, the guests---as one---turned back toward him with overwhelmed expressions. They now had a startled new knowledge of the young actor whose presence at the back of the room they only vaguely had acknowledged.

Joining Douglas, with excellent performances of their own, were Paul Stewart, Marilyn Maxwell, Luis Van Ruten, Ruth Roman, John Day, Arthur Kennedy and Lola Albright. Each was highly believeable.

Even if Carl Foreman's adaptation of Lardner's story was sometimes predictable, the combination of Douglas' volatile performance, and the high-calibre work of the supporting actors make "Champion" a mini-masterpiece.

Above and beyond all the semi-enjoyable camp and melodrama of "The Oscar" is this...and it doesn't surface until the final scene, and final bit of dialogue: Frank Sinatra is shown to be the "good guy"...the role model for Frank Fane and other actors, regardless of whether they actively are seeking The Oscar.

In reality, according to many who were there in Hollywood and Vegas during Sinatra's heyday and fell inside his considerable orbit of influence, 'Ol Blue Eyes was more full of himself, and could be even more difficult to be around, than the character of Fane, as created by author Richard Sale in the novel and effectively portrayed here by Stephen Boyd.

Sinatra, in fact, would have been a more realistic Fane than Boyd...because the character he was playing was not too far off himself. Yet, when Oscar presenter Merle Oberon, at the film's conclusion, says, "...Frank.....SINATRA (not Fane)...!" as the winner for Best Actor, everyone stands and applauds. For all his iconoclasm throughout his career and life, Sinatra suddenly has become Establishment.

As for "The Oscar" itself, it's like watching an accident. We're filled with a kind of shocked fascination, so we continue to watch. A major question here is why all those excellent professionals---Joseph Cotten, Ernest Borgnine, Eleanor Parker, Broderick Crawford, Walter Brennan---chose to be a part of this trite, unrealistic tale of Hollywood.

As Fane, Boyd projects a sarcastic, sometimes vicious---though at times curiously vulnerable---persona. Elke Sommer is at her physically charismatic best. And her acting is surprisingly good.

Tony Bennett, though, is the metaphor for all that is laughable in "The Oscar". He portrays Fane's pal, Hymie Kelly, with cartoonish over-acting.

Milton Berle, as agent Kappy Kapsetter, shows how solid a straight actor he could be. All those prominent people who have smaller roles here do creditable jobs.

About the same time "The Oscar" came out, in 1966, Broadway was doing the Budd Schulberg story, "What Makes Sammy Run?" Its theme, and that of "The Oscar", are similar: sooner or later, those who step on others on the way up will get smacked back down.

After what was done on the screen to "The Oscar", Schulberg probably was happy his story never was made into a film.

In Claire Hodgeson Ruth's fascinating book, "The Babe and I," about her famous husband, she is openly critical of the biopic, "The Babe Ruth Story." The film, according The Babe's widow, was rushed into production and on to the public in mid-1948, while Babe was still alive, although he was less than three months from death. It's easier to exploit a live man's life than a dead one's, Mrs. Ruth suggests. That's a primary reason why the production and everything associated with it was hurried. In the book, she also stated that she would forgo all royalties from the film's showings...if it were to be permanently shelved. It wasn't...but should have been. In fact, it never should have been done, if speed, indeed, were the primary motivation.

Babe Ruth was the greatest American sports hero ever...including those who followed him during the second half of the twentieth century. Babe deserved a much grander---and accurate---portrayal than this '48 laugher.

There were only two positive elements to the story..and both involved casting. Claire Trevor as the Babe's second wife, Claire, and Charles Bickford as Brother Matthias, were excellent choices. But selecting comic William Bendix for the title role was more than a case of poor casting; it was one that completely undermined both the film and its title character.

Through Bendix's portrayal, audiences see the "Sultan of Swat" as a buffoonish character. Someone who belongs in a cartoon. Not that Bendix didn't try his best. But he was miserably mis-cast. Mrs. Ruth, in her book, stated that she would like to have seen Paul Douglas portray her husband. Not only was Douglas an excellent actor, she said, but he had been an athlete in his youth. He easily could have handled the baseball scenes.

The whole tone of "The Babe Ruth Ruth" story was embarrassingly melodramatic. Again, The Babe deserved much better.

Haste makes waste, the saying goes. It certainly is true here.

Actress Myrna Loy is one of the legendary names in (early) Hollywood. In her biography, she admits that the only major mistake she made in her career was underestimating the raw physicality and animal presence, as well as the dominating personality, of heavyweight champion-to-be Max Baer for "The Prizefighter and the Lady". This film was made in 1933, less than a year before Baer demolished Primo Carnera for the title. The 6-3, 225-pound Baer was 24 when this film was made, and at his physical peak. His chiseled features rivaled those of any actor. Though Baer had never had formal drama training, his sheer presence---and fun-loving personality---often dominated scenes, regardless of those with him. Nowhere is it more evident than in this film. Despite the skills and experience of his primary co-stars, Baer utterly overshadows everyone. About all Loy and everyone else can do here is try not to look too much overshadowed. Everyone who knew Baer, including those who fought him---such as Joe Louis---stated that Max was a frustrated performer. As for the film itself, as an early talkie, its plot and character interactions were quite elementary. Corny might best describe them. Loy, and Otto Krueger, when not in scenes with Baer, demonstrate solid acting. For fight fans, this is a Who's Who. Some of the greatest names of early boxing appear here in walk-on roles. Jack Dempsey, just seven years removed from his championship days, is the referee in Baer's climactic title fight with cinema---and actual world champion---Carnera. Other renowned figures are Jim Jeffries and Jess Willard (former heavyweight titlists), and former heavyweight challengers Tom Sharkey and Frank Moran. Some trivia: Baer here played a character named Steve Morgan. Though his celluloid fight with Carnera was judged a draw, Morgan gives the champ quite a beating early in the bout. When Baer and Carnera actually met for the championship, on June 14, 1934, at New York's Long Island City Bowl, Max entered the ring wearing not his own robe, but the one from the film...with Steve Morgan's name emblazoned on the back. Obviously, it was an attempt to psych Carnera. One of the ringside reporters quipped: "Too bad Max couldn't make it tonight. I think he might have beaten Primo." Whichever name he used, Baer knocked down Carnera a record 11 times in 11 rounds before the referee stopped the bout and awarded Max the crown. This film is worth watching for the charismatic Baer, his exciting and entertaining battle with Carnera, and all those historic boxing figures.

Errol Flynn and Ward Bond are perfect examples of how successful an actor can be without one second of acting school classes/workshops. Both were absolute naturals. Why was Flynn one of the biggest stars of his time? He had not only the physical ability to handle any role he undertook, he had the subtle skill to make the role totally believeable. As Gentleman Jim Corbett, heavyweight champion from Sept., 1892 until his startling loss to the inferior Bob Fitzsimmons, March, 1897, Flynn certainly had the physicality to make himself appear as a "real" heavyweight champion, albeit of the sport's prehistoric era. As well, the Flynn personality---very much evident in all of his film vehicles---brings color to his roles. Here, as Corbett, Flynn perfectly captures the rogueish, dapper, likeable former champion. And he is able to match the Corbett boxing style. As for Bond, he absolutely matches Flynn's portrayal. As the blustery but good-natured John L. Sullivan, Bond likewise brings both the physicality and personality that made "The Boston Strong Boy" the Babe Ruth of his sports period. In the climax of the film, after Corbett has taken his title via a 21st round knockout, Sullivan appears at Corbett's victory party. Instead of berating his ring conqueror, Bond's Sullivan warmly and sincerely congratulates him...earning everyone's admiration, on the screen and bringing moistness to the eyes of viewers. It is a tragedy that both Flynn and Bond died prematurely. "Gentleman Jim" is a must for all sports fans, not just those who enjoy boxing. It is a thoroughly enjoyable story, with a solid cast throughout. A bit of trivia about Corbett: in 1926, he was brought in to the training camp, as an advisor, to Gene Tunney before the first fight with Jack Dempsey. Though Corbett was almost 60, he actually sparred with the 28-year old Tunney. Gene later reported that even an elderly Corbett gave him more trouble than most of his actual opponents. In fact, Corbett---because of his success during the Tunney sparring sessions---actually considered a comeback but ultimately rejected the notion.

Save for a slight alteration of a fact in the genesis of the Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis saga, this made-for-television bio-pic is perfect in its story and depictions. The alteration concerns how the duo got together for what would be the triggering of their memorable 10-year partnership. The film shows Lewis, about to bomb himself out of his engagement at the 500 Club in Atlantic City, phoning Martin's (first) agent, Lou Perry. Lewis specifically asks him to send Dean to reprise their earlier-shown, spur-of-the-moment, stage collaboration (at the Havana-Madrid Club). In reality, it was the compassionate Perry who, upon receiving a frantic call from a sobbing Jerry Lewis asking for help, decides to send Dean Martin to the rescue. The result correctly is shown to be alchemic, and, for at first better-then-worse, the Martin and Lewis team is truly born. In 1973, Arthur Marx penned an outstanding bio-novel about the duo, "Everybody Loves Somebody Sometime." As Marx, the writers/producers of this film are admirably unafraid to present full character profiles of Martin and Lewis. As human beings, the performers sometimes glaringly left much to be desired. Jeremy Northam and Sean Hayes, as Dean and Jerry, give excellent performances, as do Paula Gale and Kate Levering as Martin's first and second wives, Betty and Jeanne. This is a first-rate production, not the least of its values is its capturing of the post-war cultural flavor of the period in which the Martin and Lewis tandem flourished.

Particularly significant facets of this entertaining film involve Kirk Douglas and Thelma Ritter. Douglas is primarily known for his tough portrayals which often have slightly amusing undercurrents. In "For Love or Money," he demonstrates an outstanding flair for romantic comedy. He has made only one other romantic comedy, "My Dear Secretary" (1947), when the actor was just beginning what would become a legendary screen career. In the 1963 film discussed here, based upon the novel by John Tessitore, Douglas---as attorney Deke Gentry---presents a not-so-surprising romantic comedy skill. He is most believeable as the lawyer hired by Ritter's hotel matriarch, Chloe Brasher, to "arrange" suitable marriages for her daughters, delightfully portrayed by Mitzi Gaynor, Leslie Parrish and Julie Newmar. The story calls for Gentry to end up as Gaynor's groom, rather than Gig Young's stereotypical rich playboy Sonny Smith, initially Gentry's choice for her. Douglas expertly and solidly carries off his role. That Kirk Douglas, one of the finest actors of our time, is successful in this slight change from his usual screen personal, should surprise no one. Ritter's case, though, not only is surprising but gratifying. Brooklyn-born Ritter was one of the top character actresses of her era. She became a semi-star portraying dowdy---if likeable---domestics, mothers, secretaries and "sidekicks" to the female stars with whom she performed. Ritter, as the ditzy, alchoholic maid, Alma, to Doris Day in "Pillowtalk" earned the veteran actress a "Best Suporting Actress Oscar" nomination in 1959. But never, before "For Love or Money", did this excellent actress have the opportunity to truly display her skill as a properly adorned female lead. She does here. Like Eliza Doolittle at the ball in "My Fair Lady," Ritter finally is shown in finest decorative wear. Anyone unfamiliar with her previous screen work would easily take Ritter to be a veteran of roles such as Chloe Brasher. Six years before her 1969 death, Ritter at last got the opportunity she long had deserved. And she made the most of it. Unfortunately, "For Love or Money" does not seem to be available on VHS. It sometimes is shown on cable tv. The viewer should make every effort to see it.

Like Babe Ruth, Marciano and his inspiring story provides much opportunity to tell an exciting and moving tale. In both movies about Ruth, Hollywood erred. In this latest attempt about Marciano, the producers likewise failed. The major depictions, of Rocky and his manager, Al Weill, are both inaccurate. For all his well-known frugality, Marciano was not the vicious, money-hungry pug shown here. Jon Favreau physically resembles the Brockton Blockbuster, and his ability to mirror Rocky's crab-like style in the ring are fine. But unfortunately, Favreau is the victim of an extremely poor teleplay, regarding the title character. In the 1979 tv-movie about Marciano, Tony LoBianco was given a more realistic depiction of Rocky, and performed it well. Here, it seems as if someone has a vendetta about The Rock. As powerful and courageous as he was inside the ring, outside he was---as is well-documented---a gracious, very likeable person. A true credit to himself and his sport. Sportswriter Jimmy Cannon wrote of Marciano that he "...was like a rose in a garbage dump." As for Weill's character, he is shown to be a milquetoast in the latest Marciano film. In reality---as demonstrated in Vincent Gardenia's '79 version---Weill was a thoroughly despicable person. The major reason Marciano retired in 1956 was that he absolutely despised Weill. Though fight fans might enjoy the ring action in the latter film, these critical errors completely undermine the effort.

All the superlatives bestowed upon this film are well-deserved. Of course, the prime performers' work was just magnificent. Unfortunately, mention this film and most people first will think of Sinatra and the Best Supporting Actor Oscar he received. Deserved, certainly. But Frank was just a sixth man. Like someone playing alongside Michael Jordan. Lancaster, Clift and Kerr are the real stars. And Donna Reed, like Sinatra, earned a Best Supporting Oscar. Also deserved. The legend about this great film is the Ernest Borgnine was the prime bad guy. That's only partly true. Fine character actor John Dennis (Galovitch) never got the credit he deserved. He was at least as effective as Borgnine. When Clift whips him in a fist fight near the film's climax, I imagine a lot of viewers were gratified. There are no weak spots in Eternity. And screenwriter Daniel Taradash, who just recently died, did a marvelous job of culling down Jones' 1000-plus page novel to a two-hour screenplay. I'd like Dennis to get the credit he deserved before he passes away. In my opinion, he's been unfairly uncredited all these years.

After listening to, and watching, Jolson, the Sinatras, Crosbys and others are exposed as merely "good." Jolson was the real thing...to entertainment what Babe Ruth was to baseball...Jack Dempsey and Rocky Marciano to boxing...John Wayne to acting. Even just listening to that Jolson voice via tapes and records gives the listener the feeling of being in an electric storm. While other "great" performers wanted to perform, Jolson HAD to perform. It's that quality that helps separate him from the others. There was an extra-terrestrial aspect to him that nobody else had.