The 100 Best Movies You've Never Seen (24 page)

March 1964 was a busy month in show business. The British tabloids reported that George Harrison had met model Patti Boyd on the set of
A Hard Day's Night
. Liz Taylor divorced her fourth husband, Eddie Fisher. Later that same month Taylor married Richard Burton, telling reporters at the wedding that “it will last forever.” Barbra Streisand became a sensation on Broadway, starting a three-year run at the Winter Garden Theatre as the star of
Funny Girl
. Dusty Springfield had a Top 40 hit with “Stay Awhile.” On television Honor Blackman's last episode of
The Avengers
aired in the U.K.

There was a fair amount of action in the movie theaters too. The first installment of the Inspector Clouseau series,
The Pink Panther
, was released, becoming a big hit. Disney's
The Misadventures of Merlin Jones
with Tommy Kirk and Annette Funicello opened in U.S. theaters. Sophia Loren could be seen starring in
The Fall of the Roman Empire
. But the most engaging film to hit the screens that month was director George Pal's
The 7 Faces of Dr. Lao
, with Tony Randall and Barbara Eden.

George Pal possessed one of Hollywood's greatest imaginations. As a director he made a string of films, sometimes with very low budgets, that helped define the science-fiction/fantasy genre. In
Destination Moon
he told the story of a group of businessmen who send the first spaceship to the lunar surface. Pal showed us how scientists saved mankind by building a giant ark in
When Worlds Collide
.

Using a combination of live and stop-motion effects, he created worlds and creatures that hadn't been seen before, but his films were more than a series of special effects. He may have destroyed Los Angeles in
The War of the Worlds
, but he managed to weave a thread of humanity through the story. He always infused his fantastic stories with real people in unreal situations. It's a technique that makes his films special. In a George Pal film the viewer can look in wonder at the special effects but still enjoy a good story, populated by real, fully rounded characters. Often the lower budget science-fiction films of the '50s and '60s fell prey to the trap of supplying visual special effects with little or no believability character-wise. Pal never believed, as so many in Hollywood did, that sci-fi films were second-class citizens compared to Westerns or musicals. From the 1940s on George Pal raised the bar for all other fantasy filmmakers.

The source material for
The 7 Faces of Dr. Lao
is an obscure novel by Charles Finney, a marine who wrote the book while stationed in China. Published in 1935 by Viking Press,
The Circus of Dr. Lao
featured illustrations by well-known Russian illustrator Boris Artzybasheff, and told the story of a mysterious Asian magician/ringleader and his menagerie of weird and wonderful creatures. Literally the greatest show on earth (or any other planet) with a supernatural twist.

The book is at times funny and satirical, painting a vivid picture of small town Abalone, Arizona, the site of the traveling circus's latest show. Finney populates his book with a cast of colorful characters. The townspeople are described in succinct, but sparkling detail. In one of my favorite passages Agnes Birdsong is described as someone who “the boys said was damned good company after she learned to smoke and drink.”

The star of the book, of course, is Dr. Lao, a mysterious impresario who oversees a sideshow that features such “unbiological creatures” as Apollonius, Satan, a satyr, Medusa, and the Great God Yottle. Finney is sketchy on the details of Dr. Lao's background. We never learn what kind of doctor he is, or the source of his magical powers.

Seasoned wordsmith Charles Beaumont was hired to tailor the novel for the screen. As one of the main writers on the original
Twilight Zone
television series, Beaumont was skilled at fleshing out this type of magic realism story where ordinary people encounter metaphysical forces tinged with moral issues. He took liberties with the book, including subverting the ending.

Beaumont starts the action with a ruthless businessman, Clint Stark (Arthur O'Connell) who secretly learns of a plan to build a railroad near the town of Abalone. Seeing dollar signs, he tries to buy up the town with the hope of turning a handsome profit. The shortsighted townspeople are more than happy to sell, with the exception of Ed Cunningham, a crusading newspaper reporter (John Ericson) who tries to fight Stark's plans. Along the way we meet the greedy inhabitants of Abalone, and a pre-
I Dream of Jeanie
Barbara Eden, who plays Cunningham's love interest. While Cunningham wages a war of words against Stark, a mysterious circusmaster arrives in town and takes out an ad in the newspaper.

Flip-flopping between pidgin English and eloquence, Dr. Lao (Tony Randall) changes his demeanor to suit whatever situation he is in. Using his mysterious powers, he morphs into Merlin the Magician, Pan, Medusa, The Abominable Snowman, Apollonius of Tyana, and a Talking Serpent to teach the townspeople about themselves and how they can solve their problems.

Beaumont's treatment of the story played fast and loose with Finney's original text, particularly in Dr. Lao's interactions with the people of Abalone. In the book he has no appreciable effect on the people who come to see his show. For the film, however, it was decided that he should transform the townsfolk with his magic, teaching them the folly of their ways.

There is a lot to like about
The 7 Faces of Dr. Lao
. In the truest practice of satire Beaumont and Pal hold a mirror to society. The people of Abalone are stock characters who represent various types of human nature and learn about life and morality from the strange displays of Dr. Lao. Beaumont's script is never heavy-handed; he uses humor to examine the human condition. The use of Dr. Lao's sideshow attractions blurs the line between fact and illusion, questioning the very nature of human spirit.

Also featured are some great (for 1964) special effects, designed by Academy Award-winner William J. Tuttle. To modern eyes accustomed to
Jurassic Park
-style cgi, Dr. Lao's Loch Ness Monster and other creatures may look quaint, but are a wonder of stop-motion puppetry.

Tony Randall's portrayal of Dr. Lao and six of his seven alter egos (John Ericson doubled as the horned god Pan in an odd dance sequence) is a marvelous bit of work. Usually I would have trouble with a Caucasian actor playing an Asian character, particularly when that character is central to the story, but Randall treats Dr. Lao with respect. His character believes in the good of his patrons, and is truly perceptive. In addition to using a stereotypical Hollywood Chinese accent, Randall also peppers the film with English, Southern, and French accents, thereby obscuring the doctor's mysterious past, adding intrigue to his portrayal.

It is unusual for a film made at this time to promote racial tolerance, but Pal subtly does so by having the people of small town Abalone ultimately embrace the unusual Dr. Lao.

The 7 Faces of Dr. Lao
is appropriate for kids and adults alike.

Simone
is a wickedly funny satire on the movie business and the nature of celebrity. Al Pacino is Viktor Taranski, a middling filmmaker who has never had a hit. When his star walks out on him in mid-production on his latest film he must find a replacement or the movie will never be released. A chance meeting with an eccentric computer programmer with terminal cancer leads Viktor to his new leading lady, a synthespian named Simone (a shortened version of Simulation One). The blonde, blue-eyed vision of beauty doesn't actually exist except on a floppy disc, but becomes an overnight sensation after the release of the picture.

Taranski must resort to trickery to keep his secret and her identity under wraps. As she becomes more and more popular — at one point being nominated for two Best Actress Academy awards in the same year, and winning both of them — Taranski realizes that his personal success is completely linked to her existence, and it eats away at him. The movie skewers the Hollywood star system and gently pokes fun at Simone's fans, who completely accept her as a real, breathing superstar.

“We, the audience, worship these celebrities and in this case the ultimate joke is that we are worshiping a celebrity that is thin air,” director and screenwriter Andrew Niccol told
Reel to Real
in 2002. “Then you have to ask yourself how real are the so-called
real
celebrities. Even they are artificial to some degree. We have digital newscasters. We have actors acting from the grave. Oliver Reed died during the making of
Gladiator
, and they finished the film with a digital Oliver Reed. Even the so-called real actors have digital work done to them. I've stretched actors to make them look slimmer and I've fixed their complexions. You can now do face replacements. You have a stuntman do a stunt and then you'll insert the actor's face. So it is being done now, and it is most successful when you don't know it's a digital effect.”

Pacino shines as Taranski. Gone are the dark days when he simply yelled his way through a role. The histrionics have disappeared and he has started acting again. His Taranski is an interesting character, a man who cares only about art, but finds himself tangled up in the most artificial business in the world. Pacino plays him with humor and restraint. “I thought it was so subversive after it was done to have Al Pacino, one of the world's great actors say, ‘Who needs actors?'” says Niccol.

Catherine Keener is here playing an entertainment executive for the third time in the same year —
Death to Smoochy
and
Full Frontal
were the other two — and hands in the kind of solid, funny, sexy performance she is known for. Winona Ryder has a small role as a fiercely difficult actress named Nicola Anders. I remember thinking that after her dreadful performance in
Mr. Deeds
it seemed like Ryder had forgotten how to act. Well, she's back in my good books after seeing her in
Simone
. While she doesn't exactly
steal
the movie, she is very good.

Catchphrases can be a blessing and a curse. For instance, Arnold Schwarzenegger's reading of the Terminator's most famous line “I'll be back,” struck a chord with audiences, and became a favorite punch line of every hack comedian hoping to get a cheap laugh at Arnold's expense. On the one hand it helped embed the image of the muscleman in popular culture; on the other it forever labeled Arnold as the brunt of jokes.

It's not a new phenomenon. Way back in 1937 Katherine Hepburn uttered a line that would plague her for the rest of her career. In
Stage Door
she plays a wealthy, headstrong amateur actress who delivers the line, “The calla lilies are in bloom again,” in a monotone voice as she makes her stage debut. Lines like that make guys like Rich Little rich. It transcended the popularity of the movie, becoming the quote that everyone used when poking fun at Ms Hepburn and her distinctive voice. The movie, of course, has much more to offer than just that one famous line.

Based on a stage play by Edna Ferber and George S. Kaufman,
Stage Door
sees Hepburn and Ginger Rogers (in her first major role sans Fred Astaire) leading a large ensemble cast (including future stars Lucille Ball, Ann Miller, and Eve Arden) as residents of the Footlights Club, a seedy boarding house for wannabe actresses. Terry Randall (Hepburn) is a prim-and-proper rich kid with stars in her eyes. She doesn't fit in with the rest of the women, who respond to her well-bred ways with wisecracks. “How many doors are there to this place?” asks Terry. “Well, there's the trap door, the humidor, and the cuspidor. How many doors would you like?” replies Jean (Rogers).

Eventually the inexperienced Terry is given the chance to act, and during rehearsals delivers the classic interpretation of the calla lilies line. Although she's thrilled to be a working actress, her big break comes with a heavy price. Kaye (Andrea Leeds), another roomer at the hostel, had her heart set on the part that Terry won and kills herself on opening night. With just minutes before the curtain rises Jean tells Terry the tragic news, blaming her for Kaye's death. Distraught, Terry refuses to go on, but is talked into performing as a tribute to Kaye. The tragedy stirs something in her, pushing her acting to new levels.

Stage Door
sparkles with good dialogue. Shooting started without a finished script, so director Gregory LaCava relied on improvisation between the actresses for much of the back and forth in the boardinghouse. This lends a spur-of-the-moment, natural feeling to the movie and adds to the chemistry among the cast members.

On the strength of these strong performances,
Stage Door
was a breakthrough for two cast members. Ginger Rogers was already an established song-and-dance star with three dozens films to her credit, but this was her first dramatic role. No longer typecast as a hoofer, she used
Stage Door
as a springboard, as she went on to make many dramas, including 1940's critically acclaimed
Kitty Foyle
. Lucille Ball had appeared in 40 movies, although mostly in non-speaking parts with names like “Davy's Girlfriend at Racetrack,” or “blonde telephone operator.” Her small but effervescent role in
Stage Door
gave her a chance to share her comic gift. It was just the kind of role she needed to graduate from uncredited parts to starring in low-budget comedies.

Although the film was nominated for four Academy Awards, Katherine Hepburn wasn't honored. Her famous line, however, lived on, which may have been a delicious irony for Hepburn. She borrowed the line from her failed 1933 Broadway vehicle
The Lake
, which was met with critical indifference. The quote from the unsuccessful play that she believed in so much had finally achieved immortality.