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What Was The Last Movie You Watched?

FOXTROT LAMONT

One Too Many
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View attachment 603269
Remains of the Day from 1992 with Anthony Hopkins, Emma Thompson, James Fox and Christopher Reeve


It is hard to turn an outstanding book into an outstanding movie, but Ruth Prawer Jhabvala's screenplay of Kazuo Ishiguro's novel Remains of the Day, with James Ivory's deliberate directing, realized on screen a movie worthy of Ishiguro's subtle and moving novel.

A butler, the head of staff for a prominent English estate, sees being "in service" as a calling. Like his father before him, he has devoted his life to his work and has reached the pinnacle of his career, only to then, in the quietest way possible, have his values challenged.

Anthony Hopkins plays the perfect butler, Mr Stevenson, who, just prior to WWII, runs Lord Darlington's estate with firm and thoughtful leadership. Hopkins takes great pride in his position, in Darlington Hall and in the respect that Lord Darlington, himself, commands.

As a butler should, Hopkins has submerged his personal feelings beneath a surface equanimity. He runs the estate with complete efficiency so that Lord Darlington, played by James Fox, can, without disturbance, deal with the "important affairs of state."

Presented early on, Hopkins is a content man until very slowly his beliefs and decisions are called into question. The arrival of an attractive and strong-willed new housekeeper, played by Emma Thompson, is the first ripple.

Thompson is, like Hopkins, professional in her work, but she has a fire for something more out of life than just being "in service." When, tactfully, she alights upon Hopkins as the object of her affections, he brushes her romantic hints off with feigned professional obtuseness.

Amidst this low-burn attempted romance in his head staff, Fox, as Lord Darlington, is advancing those earlier noted "affairs of state." He fancies himself a diplomatic éminence grise trying to help England, in the late 1930s, negotiate a peace with Hitler's Germany.

Fox believes England and the Allies set such oppressive conditions for peace with Germany at the end of WWI that they did not act with honor and, thus, share the responsibility for the problems in Germany today.

All of this is seen through flashbacks as Remains of the Day opens in the 1950s with Hopkins meeting the new owner of Darlington Hall, a retired United States senator, played by Christopher Reeve.

Reeve had been the American representative at one of Fox's pre-war "conferences," where Reeve called Fox out on his naive view toward Germany and on his amateurism. Things have come full circle for Hopkins.

Nineteen-fifties Hopkins is a man who has somewhat lost his moorings. The now-deceased Fox, if remembered at all, is universally derided as a "Nazi sympathizer" or even traitor. It's hard to see your career in service to that man as being a success.

Perhaps a presently more "flexible" Hopkins will, at least, have a second chance at romance. Thompson has written to him that her marriage, she left Darlington Hall in the late 1930s to wed, has failed. On the pretext of wanting to rehire her, he takes a trip to see her.

The climax, no spoilers coming, is Hopkins reunion with Thompson. For Hopkins it is a last chance at romance. It is also a chance for him to come to terms with the man he was when Thompson first knew him and the man he has become.

Hopkins embodies the character of Mr. Stephens. Being "in service" was a calling for many back then. To have the tenets of that world smashed up, as quietly happened to Hopkins' character, is a shattering experience that the actor captures with incredible nuance.

Thompson is equally well cast as the "change agent" in Hopkins' life. At Darlington Hall, she tries to push him out of his celibate comfort zone. Thompkins, like Hopkins, has to show a lot of emotions - love, fear and heartbreak - with little outward display.

Fox, a man born to play an English Lord, is wonderful as an Englishman who acted with honor within his cultural framework. It was, though, a framework horribly out of step with the times.

You'll also want to catch Hugh Grant popping up in a small but fun role as Fox's upstart godson who sees how out of touch his sincere but obtuse godfather is.

Author Ishiguro layered in so many "small" stories - look for the brutal vignette about the Jewish maids or the sad end to Hopkins' father's life - that the two-plus hour movie requires several viewing to take everything in.

All of this subtly, and subtly is Remains' genius, is beautifully portrayed by director James Ivory's lush sets and locations, plus, his meticulous directing. Every scene and moment is there for a reason, even if it takes a few times to consciously see all the connections.

Remains of the Day is also an early example of a period movie working very hard to get the era's details right. Experts will, no doubt, find flaws, but the overall feel for the viewer is one of being transported to another time and place.

Through the life of one seemingly nondescript man, author Ishiguro manages to combine the disparate elements of a heartbreaking tale of a suppressed love with the story of a well-intentioned, but ultimately ignoble international appeasement of a genocidal regime.

Remains of the Day is a thoughtful, moving and poignant novel. Driven by a talented director, screenwriter and cast, the movie's greatest achievement is that it did not let this wonderful book down.
I promised meself I'd read Ish's book first, then the film. To this day held but not yet sorted.
This review puts things in place for me swift sure approach.
 
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I promised meself I'd read Ish's book first, then the film. To this day held but not yet sorted.
This review puts things in place for me swift sure approach.

I love the book and have read it three or four times (it's a fast read). I also love the movie and have seen it at least three or four times.

Knowing you as I do from this forum, I think you will greatly enjoy both the book and film, but as you plan, reading the book first is the way to go.
 
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tumblr_18e68ab8f962b26cbd984f5cb399e27f_d78979e6_400.gif

Sleep, My Love from 1948 with Claudette Colbert, Robert Cummings, Don Ameche, (sizzling) Hazel Brooks, George Coulouris and Raymond Burr



If Gaslight and Dial M for Murder were mashed up, you'd have something like Sleep, My Love.

It has Gaslight's husband trying to make his wife think she's going insane so he can get control of some money, but as in Dial M for Murder, there is also a love interest serving as the wife's white knight.

Claudette Colbert plays the rich wife of a seemingly nice man, played by Don Ameche. But Ameche is really attempting to convince his wife she's going insane through the use of psychotropic drugs and scripted events to make her question her sanity.

Part of his plan includes the use of a man, played by George Coulouris, to come to the house to talk to Colbert as her psychiatrist. Coulouris then disappears unseen by anyone else, which has Colbert further questioning her mental state.

In one of Colbert's fugue episodes, she meets a kind man, played by Robert Cummings (in a similar role to the one he'd later play in Dial M for Murder), who proves to be a pleasant but tenacious man convinced Colbert isn't nuts.

All of this is motivated by Ameche's desire to replace his wife with his girlfriend, played by Hazel Brooks, while keeping the wife's money. Not surprisingly, with all the moving parts, Ameche's plan gets knocked about requiring several on-the-fly adjustments.

One wrinkle is when Colbert insists they go to the police to have the authorities look for the "missing" psychiatrist, which puts Colbert, Ameche and their house on the radar of the local detective, played by Raymond Burr.

There's also a good but convoluted side story about Cummings having an honorary Chinese brother, which is used to get Colbert away from Ameche a few times, but it often feels forced. A biological brother would have served equally well.

With that very busy setup, the story plays out to its predictable climax, but it's still an enjoyable trip. Colbert is good as the damsel in distress, but she doesn't quite bring the feeling of terror and confusion as the victim that Ingrid Bergman did in Gaslight.

Ameche, too, seems a bit too passive as the genesis of so much evil. He's convincing as the sincere husband, but you never quite believe that his passion for Brooks or willingness to hurt his wife runs very deep. If it doesn't, then none of the rest follows.

Cummings is excellent as the "friend in need is a friend indeed." His combination of boyish charm and honest suspicion of the husband makes him a quiet, almost harmless looking, but quite-formidable opponent to Ameche.

Cummings has never been more comfortable in his acting skin than he is here. He tosses off quips with ease, while showing an internal perception that is hard to convey on screen. He all but takes over the movie.

Coulouris is in his acting sweet spot here playing, once again, a greedy and immoral man whose ambitions and avarice exceed his limited intelligence and capabilities. He made a career of playing small, evil men who want more than they can ever achieve.

The real question raised by Sleep, My Dear is where the heck has Hazel Brooks been all these years? This long and shapely legged brunette's frightening portrayal of harridan femme fatale from hell makes you wonder why she wasn't a noir regular.

You wish her role had been expanded as you can't take your eyes off her. However, she's so mean in her brief time, you'll wonder why Ameche wanted her so badly. In the end, you can only have so much sex, after that, you still have to live with the woman.

Also given way-too-small a role is noir regular Raymond Burr. You'll wish his detective character had been woven into the story throughout both stalking Ameche and bumping up against Cummings who would annoy him as an "amatuer" investigator.

Sleep, My Love is a good entry in the film noir genre at the peak of its popularity. Despite underutilizing a few of its characters, it's an engaging picture that provides a solid hit of entertainment.

sleepmylove-1600x900-c-default.jpg
 

Doctor Strange

I'll Lock Up
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On Chesil Beach (2017)... A couple honeymooning at an English seaside resort in 1962 - despite how accomplished they are otherwise - are both clueless virgins... and things go terribly wrong.

OnChesilBeach1.jpg

I'd tried watching this once before and gave up quickly, but I managed to get through it yesterday. Saoirse Ronan is great as usual, but the rest of the cast is kinda blah. The film looks good, but the story feels awkward, with a badly paced second act.

And there's a lot here that doesn't hold up to scrutiny. Even in 1962, it's hard to accept these beautiful Oxford grads as being THAT utterly ignorant and uber-repressed. The third act, set 12, then 40 years later, skips over some key transitions and leaves us in the dark about, for example, how she overcame her frigidity and became a parent.

That said, it's the ending that makes the film work for me (to the extent that it does). And coincidentally, I feel exactly the same way about another film based on an Ian McEwan novel, Atonement. I hated most of that one... but I was shocked and impressed by its ending, which ALMOST redeems the film for me.

Anyway, it's a drag. Not really recommended unless you're a Saoirse Ronan completist.
 
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⇧ I saw it years ago on cable, closer to when it came out, and remember a similar reaction. Ronan's performance, as always, is impressive, but the story felt force and incomplete (from memory).
 

GHT

I'll Lock Up
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I watched Goldfinger on TV last night. 60 years ago the third Bond film was released:

bond.jpg


Goldfinger contains more durable images than any other title in the series: the young woman killed by being coated with gold paint; the steel-rimmed bowler of the mute Korean assassin Odd Job; the Aston-Martin tricked out with deadly gimmicks and an ejector seat; Bond's sexy karate match with Pussy Galore; the villain Goldfinger with his gold-plated Rolls-Royce, and of course the laser beam pointed at that portion of Bond's lower anatomy that he most required if he were to continue as hero of the series.

The Bond formula continues: The summons by 'M,' head of British Secret Service, and the briefing on a villain obsessed by global domination. The flirtation with Moneypenny. The demonstration by Q of new gimmicks invented especially for his next case. Then the introduction of the villain, his murderous and bizarre sidekick, and his female assistant/accomplice/mistress. Bond's discovery of the nature of the villain's evil scheme. Bond's capture and the certainty of death. Bond's seduction of the villain's woman.

The storyline is predictable but Sean Connery, as Bond, had the sleek self-assurance needed for the role, and a gift with deadpan double entendres. But he had something else, steely toughness. When his eyes narrowed and his body tensed up, you knew the playing was over and the bloodshed was about to begin.
 

FOXTROT LAMONT

One Too Many
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I watched Goldfinger on TV last night. 60 years ago the third Bond film was released:

View attachment 603941

Goldfinger contains more durable images than any other title in the series: the young woman killed by being coated with gold paint; the steel-rimmed bowler of the mute Korean assassin Odd Job; the Aston-Martin tricked out with deadly gimmicks and an ejector seat; Bond's sexy karate match with Pussy Galore; the villain Goldfinger with his gold-plated Rolls-Royce, and of course the laser beam pointed at that portion of Bond's lower anatomy that he most required if he were to continue as hero of the series.

The Bond formula continues: The summons by 'M,' head of British Secret Service, and the briefing on a villain obsessed by global domination. The flirtation with Moneypenny. The demonstration by Q of new gimmicks invented especially for his next case. Then the introduction of the villain, his murderous and bizarre sidekick, and his female assistant/accomplice/mistress. Bond's discovery of the nature of the villain's evil scheme. Bond's capture and the certainty of death. Bond's seduction of the villain's woman.

The storyline is predictable but Sean Connery, as Bond, had the sleek self-assurance needed for the role, and a gift with deadpan double entendres. But he had something else, steely toughness. When his eyes narrowed and his body tensed up, you knew the playing was over and the bloodshed was about to begin.
^ Chesil Beach and Oxford female frigidity. Umm hum, quite.

Bond is of course a Cambridge man through and through. :cool:
And despite Goldfinger's overall sheen, I must remark the late Ms Eunice Gayson, woman of my adolescent dreams seen earlier. A woman so unforgettably wonderously cast Cupid.:)
 
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I watched Goldfinger on TV last night. 60 years ago the third Bond film was released:

View attachment 603941

Goldfinger contains more durable images than any other title in the series: the young woman killed by being coated with gold paint; the steel-rimmed bowler of the mute Korean assassin Odd Job; the Aston-Martin tricked out with deadly gimmicks and an ejector seat; Bond's sexy karate match with Pussy Galore; the villain Goldfinger with his gold-plated Rolls-Royce, and of course the laser beam pointed at that portion of Bond's lower anatomy that he most required if he were to continue as hero of the series.

The Bond formula continues: The summons by 'M,' head of British Secret Service, and the briefing on a villain obsessed by global domination. The flirtation with Moneypenny. The demonstration by Q of new gimmicks invented especially for his next case. Then the introduction of the villain, his murderous and bizarre sidekick, and his female assistant/accomplice/mistress. Bond's discovery of the nature of the villain's evil scheme. Bond's capture and the certainty of death. Bond's seduction of the villain's woman.

The storyline is predictable but Sean Connery, as Bond, had the sleek self-assurance needed for the role, and a gift with deadpan double entendres. But he had something else, steely toughness. When his eyes narrowed and his body tensed up, you knew the playing was over and the bloodshed was about to begin.

I really enjoyed reading your well-written observations.

I made some similar comments several years back when last I watched it. Comments here: #26,651
 

GHT

I'll Lock Up
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I really enjoyed reading your well-written observations.

I made some similar comments several years back when last I watched it. Comments here: #26,651
Thank you for the link, how close were we? Your points were astutely observant, you got it, right on the button, as we Brits say.
Bond is of course a Cambridge man through and through. :cool:
And despite Goldfinger's overall sheen, I must remark the late Ms Eunice Gayson, woman of my adolescent dreams seen earlier. A woman so unforgettably wonderously cast Cupid.:)
Eunice Gayson.jpg

Ian Fleming had Bond attend Cambridge University, whereas Fleming went to Eton, followed by Sandhurst.

While working for Britain's Naval Intelligence Division during the Second World War, Fleming was involved in planning Operation Goldeneye and in the planning and oversight of two intelligence units:30 Assault Unit and T-Force. He drew from his wartime service and his career as a journalist for much of the background, detail, and depth of his James Bond Novels.
 

FOXTROT LAMONT

One Too Many
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Ian Fleming had Bond attend Cambridge University, whereas Fleming went to Eton, followed by Sandhurst.

He drew from his wartime service and his career as a journalist for much of the background, detail, and depth of his James Bond Novels.
Fleming actually killed Bond off in From Russia With Love, finished by that vile hag cast out the Macbeth witches and admirably caught in the Broccoli cheese wiz flick with her poisoned razor shoe blades kick to his shin.
A ladykiller felled by a woman, so appropos fated luck.

All before the 007 Franchise embraced Fleming; whom rose to occasion to retire Bahamas as satyr in his own bacchanalia beach romp.

Bye the bye a few bits n' bobs. Brosnan really slipped the glove with Bond. Easily seen Cambridge and RN officer, MI6 material recruited. Connery never achieved the man's requisite suave cultured urbanity.
 

Edward

Bartender
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I watched Goldfinger on TV last night. 60 years ago the third Bond film was released:

View attachment 603941

Goldfinger contains more durable images than any other title in the series: the young woman killed by being coated with gold paint; the steel-rimmed bowler of the mute Korean assassin Odd Job; the Aston-Martin tricked out with deadly gimmicks and an ejector seat; Bond's sexy karate match with Pussy Galore; the villain Goldfinger with his gold-plated Rolls-Royce, and of course the laser beam pointed at that portion of Bond's lower anatomy that he most required if he were to continue as hero of the series.

The Bond formula continues: The summons by 'M,' head of British Secret Service, and the briefing on a villain obsessed by global domination. The flirtation with Moneypenny. The demonstration by Q of new gimmicks invented especially for his next case. Then the introduction of the villain, his murderous and bizarre sidekick, and his female assistant/accomplice/mistress. Bond's discovery of the nature of the villain's evil scheme. Bond's capture and the certainty of death. Bond's seduction of the villain's woman.

The storyline is predictable but Sean Connery, as Bond, had the sleek self-assurance needed for the role, and a gift with deadpan double entendres. But he had something else, steely toughness. When his eyes narrowed and his body tensed up, you knew the playing was over and the bloodshed was about to begin.

If I had to pick the definitive Bond picture, it would have to be Goldfinger. It still holds up as a yarn, even if very much a period piece. I like Connery in the role (even if, for me, his absolute career zenith was playing Henry Jones Snr). He had the sense of menace that none of the others until Craig carried. It may not have been a hit to the same degree, but Never Say Never Again is just so far superior to Octopussy, released the same year, it's laughable. To be fair, all the others, again until Craig (who had about a 50/50 hit rate with his films), were blighted with pretty poor writing, and no real sense of what they were about. Moore, whose tenure I loathe, at least worked with what he was given and played into it being a camp joke. Dalton felt rather lost in a post-Cold War era, and by Brosnan they had become essentially self-parody without the confidence to embrace that. I wish Eon would have the gumption to go to the streamers and redo all the books, from the start, as period pieces, true to the books. A series, even. not films. It would work beautifully. Unfortunately, that's not the audience they see for their product, and so we'll just get more and more of the bloated same.


Knew a guy years ago who worked front of house in the West End. One night, he realised the patrons whom he was guiding to their seats were none of the Connery and partner. Feeling the need to say something, he panicked, and blurted out "very good seats, Sir." Connery rolled his eyes and growled "Of courshe they're good sheats, I bloody paid for them."
 

Edward

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Brosnan had the goods. A quiet silence with urbane elegance wrapped around his wrist like a Rolex Submariner timepiece. Unfortunately, his script material so hack-lacked.
They certainly did him no favours. For my money Craig was far superior, but he did have the benefit of the series having a clear direction, and (some) better writing.
 
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If I Had a Million from 1932


If I Had a Million is an early talkie curio of a movie comprising several short episodes related to each other by one overarching narrative. It's most valuable to us today for its incredible number of stars as each episode has one or several new well-known actors in it.

A putatively dying millionaire, played by Richard Bennett (Joan and Constance's father), is so disgusted with his greedy relatives and calculating business partners, that he begins giving his money away in one-million-dollars gifts to individuals he picks randomly from the phone directory.

With that setup, the rest of the movie, until the closing moment, is short segments showing the reaction different people have to receiving the gift.

There's a henpecked husband who is a lowly clerk in a department store who gets a chance to assert himself.

We also meet a streetwalker who almost can't believe she doesn't have to sleep with men who are repulsive to her anymore. Later we meet a forger, played by George Raft, who might have received his gift, ironically, too late for it to matter.

In the most-slapstick scene, W.C. Fields and Alison Skipworth use their bounty to exact revenge on bad drivers. It's a one-joke idea that is funny until it is dragged out for too long.

In another segment, a private in the army, played by a ridiculously young and handsome Gary Cooper (wearing too much eyeliner), is so skeptical of the gift that he might end up accidentally giving the money away.

Charles Laughton, who never had a false moment on film, in the shortest segment, strikes a blow against senior management. In a separate segment, Mae Robson might have an opportunity to turn the tables on the dictatorial staff at her nursing home.

There are few surprises in this obvious effort where the fun is watching regular people's wish fulfillment play out or, sometimes, not play out.

With the Depression crushing the average person in the 1930s, If I Had a Million can be seen as social commentary on the morality of inheritance: should the wealthy man's selfish heirs get his money or would the money do more good spread amongst the population?

The movie's answer is obvious, but of course, the heirs are conveniently shown to be cardboard greedy relatives.

None of this, also, addresses the moral and constitutional issues of private property, individual ownership and the right of a person to decide to whom he or she will bequeath his or her possessions.

It's fun and easy to say "the rich'' shouldn't keep it, but most people want to be able to pass their money and possessions on to whomever they choose. So there at some hypocritical cross current at play.

All that philosophical debate, though, can be put aside since If I Had a Million can simply be enjoyed as a silly fairytale where, for a ten-cent ticket, a tired and poor public could see its daydreams play out on a big screen. Plus, the cast alone is worth the price of admission.
 

Julian Shellhammer

Practically Family
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Gentleman's Agreement (1947), with Gregory Peck, Dorothy McGuire, and John Garfield, dir. Elia Kazan. A look at anti-semitism, with the story told as a reporter's series in a prominent magazine. Reporter Peck presents himself as Jewish in order to experience the bigotry both subtle and violent. The TCM announcer cited Kazan as unhappy with the final film, thinking it too lightweight to convey the depths of the actual prejudice.
 

FOXTROT LAMONT

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They certainly did him no favours. For my money Craig was far superior, but he did have the benefit of the series having a clear direction, and (some) better writing.
I initially had hopes with Craig as to depth w/Bond and total done away all insipid nonsense.
Mores the pity political corrective dysphagia all things factual cogency. I'm finished with franchise.
 
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Escape from East Berlin from 1959 with Don Murray, Christine Kaufmann. Werner Klemperer and Ingrid van Bergen


Escape from East Berlin's minimal political commentary might appear surprising, but when a movie is predicated on a country having built a wall to keep its people in and, then, shooting those who try to breach it, do you need to say more about that country's political system?

The movie opens with one man trying a daring escape by smashing the newly built wall with a heavy truck and then running through the hole he creates. Unfortunately, the East German soldiers shoot him dead when he's only a few feet on the West German side.

With that opening, director Robert Siodmak tells the viewer this is a life and death struggle. The dead man's sister, played by Christine Kaufmann, asks her brother's friend, played by Don Murray, to help her get out so that she can join her brother, whom she believes is alive.

Murray doesn't have the heart to tell Kaufmann her brother is dead, so guilt compels him to help. Plus, Murray's family also wants out and encourages him to do it. Murray says he doesn't want to go, but agrees to build a tunnel for them to the West. Why a tunnel?

Murray's family's house is only yards from the wall, so with much labor and some smart engineering, a tunnel is their best chance of escape. Most of the movie is showing the challenges of building a tunnel with the Stasi, the East German police, hovering nearby.

The Stati patrol in front of the wall and the house day and night. As in any police state, the police are as scared of failure as the people are of the police. Everyone lives in fear as in a communist/socialist reality, the individual matters not to the all-powerful state.

The other risk is an informant, another feature of a "people's paradise." Informing is a way to gain favor with the state. It pits everyone against everyone. Siodmak captures this fear as we see the family tip-toeing through its days as the tunnel gets built.

There are a few scary mishaps including a minor cave in and a telephone trunk line getting nicked. The scene of the telephone company repair truck's caterpillar tracks slowly crunching the ground down over the tunnel is a well-done nail-biting moment.

While the picture slows a bit in the middle, tunnel building is only that interesting, the palpable sense of fear keeps it engaging right up to the climatic escape attempt as the police, because of an informant, raid the house just as the escape begins.

It's a gripping and well-filmed climax. Also, having been very loosely based on a true escape that took place only months before the film was made, there had to be a bit of a "docudrama" or "true-events" feel for those watching the movie upon its release.

Despite its small budget and fast production schedule, Siodmak captures the genuine feeling of the fear and dread that pervades the East Germany police state. He also creates several complex characters you come to care about.

Murray lets too much of his American show through his supposedly German character to be fully convincing, but you still like this grouchy guy as he's balancing a lot of pressures coming at him from several angles.

Kauffman is excellent as the young girl who pressures Murray, but for a good reason. She's just a teenager who wants to live in a free country. In West Germany she'd be playing her records too loud; in East German, she becomes a "political criminal" by necessity.

The Berlin Wall, by dividing one city/one people, created a nearly perfect controlled experiment for looking at communism versus capitalism. The intellectuals can fight all they want, but it was the people from the East who risked death to get to the West, not vice versa.

Murray's sister, played by Ingrid van Bergen, is outstanding as the slightly selfish girl who wants to get to the West to live a life not spent worrying about power outages and empty store shelves. She's no hero; she's just a regular person who wants a better future.

Eventually, the list of escapees grows. Most of them aren't heroes either; they are just regular people who want to live lives where they don't fear their government and where personal effort not "informing" on others will let them improve their lot.

Fans of the TV show Hogan's Heroes will enjoy seeing Werner Klemperer in a dramatic role where he shows he has real acting chops. You aren't sure which way he's leaning until nearly the end. It's a strong and nuanced performance from Klemperer.

Escape from East Berlin is important because it is true, despite its characters being fiction. East Berlin was a communist police state that built a wall to keep its people in and then shot them if they tried to escape. The movie's value today is that it reminds us of that evil.
 

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