Deborah Lipp

Ace in the Hole (1951) 10/10
Down on his luck newspaper reporter Charles Tatum (Kirk Douglas) takes a job at an Albuquerque paper. His hope is that some big story will bring him back to the attention of the major urban papers. When a man (Richard Benedict) is trapped in a cave, Tatum sees his big break, but if Mimosa (Benedict) is rescued too soon, Tatum can’t play the story for all it’s worth. Tatum persuades the local sheriff and construction chief to use a slower rescue method while a media circus gathers. Directed by Billy Wilder.

This is a dark, cynical story of corruption and self-interest. It was honestly hard to watch, and yet it was compelling and I can’t fault it in any way. None of the main characters are likeable, certainly not Douglas’s Chuck Tatum, who is a son-of-a-bitch from the opening scene and only gets worse. Jan Sterling as Mimosa’s wife is unpleasant through and through, and yet strangely sympathetic. She doesn’t want to fool anyone or play any games for fame or even fortune, she just wants enough money to get her out of town and away from an unhappy marriage.

The sheriff (Ray Teal, who is painfully familiar from having been in everything ever) is a thoroughly despicable guy. Tatum easily convinces him that appearing heroic to the media will get him re-elected, and of course, good media depends on Tatum. With that little detail handled, Tatum owns the town and the story.

Forgotten in all of this is Leo Mimosa, trapped, pinned, and thoroughly isolated. He seems, from what little we see, like a decent guy; trusting, direct, a veteran, and pathetically trying to be a good husband despite knowing how badly his wife wants out. Of course, Leo matters to know one except his parents; not to Tatum, not to the sheriff, certainly not to the thousands of people who gather and set up camp to participate in the spectacle. Media circuses have only gotten bigger and gaudier, so as dated as this movie might appear in terms of technology and style, it is up-to-the-minute in terms of its opinions and observations about the way media attention buries (hah!) stories it tries to tell.

The actors chosen for this film, except for Douglas, are not stars, and they are not beautiful. The sense of ordinariness is perfect; everything feels present and immediate. This is important in building the sense of claustrophobia; for Leo, trapped in a cave, for Tatum, trapped in the media circus he created, for everyone playing out roles and telling lies. Whenever Tatum walks through the growing crowd into his quiet room, it’s like a breath of air, and the parallel to the trapped Leo is a constant subtext.

Tatum is a bastard, and sometimes he talks too much like a Billy Wilder bastard, all snappy dialogue and hard edges, but he is also thoroughly real. How different is he, truly, from Chris Matthews, or Joe Scarborough, or any of these guys who love the fact that there’s a story more than they care about anything happening inside the story? Tatum wants to write a story, and he wants to sell it, and he wants it to be his ticket back to New York. That Leo grows weaker with each day is secondary. That Lorraine Mimosa wants out is never a consideration at all. It’s all just a story.

Things to Come (1936) 6/10
Science fiction showing one hundred years in one anonymous city (“Everytown”), based on the work of H.G. Wells. The film begins in 1940 when (a fictional) World War II breaks out; war lasts decades, at which point, bombing and germ warfare have devasted civilization. In 1970, Everytown, now a primitive feudal state, is invaded by “Wings Over the World,” a newly-formed world government, ruled by a scientific elite, that has re-started manufacturing and air travel. By 2036, society is a technological utopia.

You will often hear people talk about the times we live in as an ironic age, and about the 1930s and 1940s as being without irony. Things to Come is really a perfect expression of that. It is the least ironic movie ever made. I really wish I’d seen it with a bunch of drunken gays, because it simply longs for camp.

You can see how this movie must have been exciting and startling in 1936, and certainly all of the dialogue about ideas (as opposed to relationships or adventure) is interesting, and must have been kind of thrilling. It opens with an ordinary British family (Everytown is London in thin disguise) discussing the coming war; they discuss whether war is ever necessary, and the cost to culture, medicine, and technology. Sure enough, the pessimist wins out; strategic bombing destroys civilization, a plague devastates what’s left of society, manufacturing ceases, and the streets of Everytown in 1970 strong resemble 1570.

There’s a raw beauty in these scenes, the bombastic “Boss” (Ralph Richardson) is utterly over the top, but the use of cars as horse-drawn carts, and of scraps of old clothes with fur attached as royal robes, is kind of stunning. Then the mighty airman (Raymond Massey) comes. And I do love how, when civilization is rebuilt (in Basra of all places) it’s a priority to make sure clothing is futuristic. I’m looking at the guy and thinking, If I were retooling dormant factories, I’d stick with pre-existing molds for efficiency. But no. Gotta have those jumpsuits. The Boss fights back, with like nothing, so it doesn’t last long, and John Cabal (Massey) informs us that from now on, it’s world government, no religion, and the rule of the Airmen, hurrah. It’s all kind of creepy.

Now there’s a scene of rebuilding. It’s like a love song to manufacturing and technology, about 2 minutes of close-ups of rock-blasting and dye-casting and assembly, all to highly inspirational music. And I thought, these people really love science. Really. Love.

Skip forward to 2036 and everyone is wearing jumpsuits or tunics. And capes. With big-ass shoulder pads. Seriously, I needed to watch this with Chris March. Life is incredibly perfect, except for, you know, the dictatorship. But it’s totally benevolent and good for you and run by scientists. Scientists are high-minded and only make decisions that are for the good of high-minded things. There is nothing wrong with that model.

Anyway, it’s all utopian. No hunger or poverty or bad weather (underground cities!). And they’re just now getting around to shooting a “rocket gun” at the moon. This upsets some people, who think all this progress is just too much. Mankind needs a rest. Progress, progress, progress, it’s so tiring. And seriously, this is the actual argument. I’m not leaving out any of the nuance. But of course, the Luddites lose and the rocket gun launches, causing Raymond Massey (playing his own great-grandson) to give a speech about how cool progress is and how without it, life sucks.