Reeling Backward: "Action in the North Atlantic" (1943)

At first glance, "Action in the North Atlantic" seems like a typical jingoistic World War II war drama, conceived to pump up the troops overseas and the folks at home, while delivering some thrilling action and a little romance.

And it is. All that is missing is a "Buy War Bonds" title card.

It's about the Merchant Marines, carrying oil and military arms across the sea where they are desperately needed by Allied forces while dodging German U-boats and aircraft. It's the usual "swell bunch of guys" rogue's gallery of supporting characters, playing cards and getting into beefs, while coming together in a swell way during times of duress, with occasional nostalgic asides about their swell gals back home. It's swell!

What sets it apart from the pack, though, are two things: the truly impressive naval combat sequences/special effects, and the realistic grim tone and depictions of violence.

Let's talk about the latter first. I was struck by the overt (for its time) depictions of bodies being flung away in explosions or otherwise severely traumatized. Usually in films of this era, you'd hear an explosion off-sceen and then cut to dissipating smoke as a noble hero lies dying, but largely undamaged other than some handsomely blackened cheeks.

In one early scene, a lifeboat full of men is rammed by a German submarine, and a body is seen being chewed up by its propellers. It's very brief -- I rewound and played the film frame-by-frame to confirm -- but still gruesome stuff.

Beyond the depictions of violence, though, is the dire sense of consequences ready to befall anyone. (Well, maybe not star Humphrey Bogart.)

During that same sequence, when an oil tanker is torpedoed and sunk, one of the younger crewman, Johnny Pulaski (Dane Clark), valiantly rescues one of his mates who got trapped in the mess room. He turns back from the clamor toward the lifeboats, busts through the door with an ax, shields him from the raging inferno, straps him into a life vest, then takes it off when they see the ocean is a pool of fire from burning oil, dives into the icy brine together, helps him swim under the glames... only to have the man drown a few feet from the lifeboat.

Similarly, the captain and first mate (Raymond Massey and Bogie, respectively) learn there are men trapped in the stern of the ship, and make to go back and rescue them personally. But they take one look a the burning deck in front of them and conclude it's suicide. Neither do they go down with the ship, though they are the last ones into the lifeboat.

That may not seem like a big deal. But normally we'd see some kind of "we'll find a way!" heroics. The fact they decline to sacrifice themselves in a brave but pointless act speaks to the realities of wartime.

And speaking of war, the depictions of it are just tremendous. By 1943 the U.S. military had accrued a decent library of stock footage from the war, which is sprinkled throughout the film. But for the most part director Lloyd Bacon, a workhorse of the Warner Bros.' pen, used actual actors on actual sets, often with fire and debris right up in their faces.

I was mentally comparing it to similar scenes in the recent "Deepwater Horizon," and "Action" holds up quite well 74 years later.

This is especially impressive given that war edicts prevented any filming at sea -- the threat of enemy submarines right off our coastlines being a very real thing in 1942-43. So everything was shot on the Warners lot, including some rather good ship models for the complicated maneuvers depicted.

Even by today's standards, the war scenes are engrossing and impressive.

(I should note that Bacon did not actually complete filming on the production, as his contract was up and a dispute with the studio resulted in an uncredited Byron Haskin wrapping things up.)

The story's a pretty straight line. John Howard Lawson penned the screenplay, from a story by Guy Gilpatric. Gilpatric got an Academy Award nomination for his work while Lawson did not, under the more arcane rules of the Oscars back then.

Massey plays Steve Jarvis, Captain of the tanker Northern Star, and Bogart is his wiseacre first office, Joe Rossi. Their ship is torpedoed and sunk by a German submarine, whose crew even films and taunts the survivors before running aground their lifeboat. Jarvis vows to get his revenge, and after some floating in a raft and a little shore time for lovin' and such, they get a new mission aboard the Liberty-class cargo ship Seawitch, and another scrap with the Nazis.

The Germans are repeatedly referred to as Nazis, though of course the terms are not interchangeable. The depiction of the enemy is one of the harshest I've ever seen in a WWII film, with the Germans seen as bloodthirsty killers not dissimilar from a pack of slavering wolves. They also speak their native language throughout, a notable departure for films of that era, in long dialogue scenes that can be annoying if you don't sprechen sie deutsch.

Alan Hale, Sr. -- daddy of "The Skipper" and a noted character actor in his own right -- plays "Boats," the older bosun who's in charge of the enlisted men. He rarely goes ashore, because that means facing legal papers from his growing gallery of wives, ex- or otherwise. Sam Levene plays "Chips," the vaguely ethnic veteran  who can divine the movement of the Germans by the ache in his corns. He's supposed to be a veteran of World War I, though Levene was only born in 1905.

Dick Hogan is the young cadet fresh from Merchant Marine officer school, distrusted by the captain for getting his learning from books instead of the open sea. Though he proves himself able in the end. Julie Bishop plays the lounge singer who attracts Bogart's eye and becomes his wife in about a minute and a half.

Ruth Gordon, who would go on to an accomplished screenwriting career before becoming a star late in life, tackles one of her early acting role as Jarvis' loving wife. She would not act in another movie until 1965.

Wilhelm von Brincken plays the sneering German submarine captain. He has an interesting backstory. He met his wife in America while serving in the German consulate during World War I, and was arrested for espionage and sent to prison (including Alcatraz). Afterward he was recruited by Erich Von Stroheim to work in Hollywood, enjoying a busy career for the next two decades, including playing the Red Baron in Howard Hughes' "Hells Angels." When war came again, he was kept quite busy playing enemy commanders on land, sea and air.

"Action in the North Atlantic" may not amount to much more than wartime propaganda. But it's very well-done propaganda.

Reeling Backward: "My Bodyguard" (1980)

It's always amazing what movies stick with you and why. I watched "My Bodyguard" when I was 10 years old, and I don't think I saw it again in the ensuing 30 years, until now. And yet this film has stayed with me, and I've thought about it often.

It might not surprise you to learn that I was bullied when I was in school. (What? A geeky film critic bullied?) I'm not proud to say that I stopped taking the bus and began riding my bike to junior high school to avoid a particularly nasty cretin who liked to sit behind people and flick earlobes with a force that seemed not possible for 14-year-old fingers.

Of course, one good smack in the nose would've silenced him, but it is the nature of the bullied to have blinders to obvious solutions. One lives in a constant state of fear, and the consequences of standing up seem much more dire than quietly taking the abuse, and hoping the bully will grow bored and shift his attention to a juicier target.

Fear is the coin of the realm for bullies, one they know how to leverage well.

In virtually all contemporary iterations of cinematic bullies, they are simply victims who themselves have been pushed around, and pass on the cycle of abuse to others. I think this is usually poppycock in comparison to real life. Bullies bully because they like doing it. They enjoy the power and being the center of attention.

Perhaps my bias is why I've always liked "My Bodyguard," since the bully is never granted a redemptive moment. He's simply a jerk, and will continue being one until someone puts a stop to it.

The bully, Melvin Moody, was memorably played by Matt Dillon in his very first screen role. Adam Baldwin, playing the title character, also made his film debut. Ditto for Joan Cusack, who has a small but memorable role as a geeky girl with a crush on Moody, and Jennifer Beals, who had an uncredited bit part as one of Moody's hangers-on.

Chris Makepeace was the veteran of the group, having appeared in "Meatballs" a year earlier. "My Bodyguard" more or less marked the height of his career. With his curly mop of hair and big, wet eyes, Makepeace prompted me to make (derisive) comparisons to Shia LaBeouf early in his career, and I think the resemblance, both physically and the range of roles LaBeouf has pulled off, still holds.

One thing about "My Bodyguard" that sets it apart from most movies starring teenagers that followed: They're actually played by teen actors. Dillon and Makepeace would both turn 16 the year the film came out; Beals was 17; Cusack 18. Even Baldwin, playing scary troubled high school sophomore Ricky Linderman, who looms over his classmates like a surly giant, was 18.

Nowadays, filmmakers prefer actors comfortably past their pimples-and-awkwardness years.

The film was directed by Tony Bill, in his first outing, from an original screenplay by Alan Ormsby. It's set in Chicago and was shot there. Despite my fondness for the notion of bullies getting their comeuppance, that's not the part of the movie that lingered for me.

The Moody plot is disposed with in a little over a half-hour, with the bully refusing to take on Linderman after Clifford Peache (Makepeace), the put-upon newcomer, convinces the hulking outcast to be his bodyguard. Moody returns for the final act, with an older tough brought on as his bodyguard to run off Linderman, which succeeds for awhile until the final fisticuffs -- first between Linderman and the thug, and then (improbably but satisfyingly) between Clifford and Moody.

No, the middle third is where this movie's heart lies. It's the slowly growing bond between these two lonely boys, both pushed into rebel roles they never sought. Linderman was content to stand outside the school's social structure, and the last thing Clifford wanted was to become the symbol of an uprising against Moody, who'd been extorting protection money from half the school.

Although he lives in comfort and gets picked up and dropped off by a limousine, Clifford is not rich: Just the son of the manager of a swanky hotel manger, played by Martin Mull. His grandmother is played by Ruth Gordon, and she's a troublemaking sexpot who likes to pick up older gentlemen in the hotel lounge. It's the sort of horny grandma role that would inevitably be played by Betty White if the film was made today.

But there's some soul and depth to the old gal. While she's reading Linderman's palm, Clifford notices some scars on his wrist -- it wasn't until years later I realized these were the result of an implied attempted suicide. Linderman, his shell of impervious indifference pierced, pulls back his hand. Gordon sternly holds on: "You're among friends here, you're among friends."

This is when we realize Linderman is not the tough guy he's been made out to be. He's shattered by the accidental shooting of his kid brother a year earlier, and his mask of belligerance hides a frightened youngster who hates himself.

In this light, it's not surprising that Linderman backs down from Moody's hired thug later on -- even allowing him to smash up the motorcycle he spent years restoring, with a little help from Clifford. It may well be that Linderman had never been in a fight before. He'd relied on his reputation and his size to keep the likes of Moody at bay, but he too reacts to a bully with freezing fear.

The bodyguard who's never thrown a punch: What an audacious concept. I think that's why I keep coming back to "My Bodyguard" -- it continually reveals new layers of truth about what it's really like to be a teenager, whether an outcast, a bully or the bullied.

3 stars out of four

Reeling Backward: "Harold and Maude"

"Harold and Maude" is short, simple and perfect.

I first saw this wonderful movie in college, when I was about the age of Harold, the death-obsessed protagonist who falls in love with an 80-year-old woman. I figured it would be an absurdist comedy -- a 20-year-old boning a woman four times his age?!? -- but instead discovered a joyous movie about living life to its fullest, and in your own way.

I got to thinking about it again while reviewing "Adam's Rib," which Ruth Gordon co-wrote. It's astonishing to think that she was such a talented screenwriter -- thrice nominated for an Oscar -- and then transitioned into an onscreen performer. She'd made bit appearances here and there, but really launched her acting career in 1965, just shy of her 70th birthday.

Think about that. It sounds like a parlor joke: "Well, I got too old to be a writer so they made me an actress instead."

She went onto two more Oscar nominations for acting, including a win for "Rosemary's Baby." She was not nominated for her performance in "Harold and Maude," though, which is a travesty since it's the performance of her career.

Maude is a force of nature, but never feels like a cinematic contrivance. This vivacious, impish oldster meets Harold, who like her enjoys anonymously attending the funerals of strangers. She steals cars as a way of shaking people out of the comfort of their normal lives.

There's a great scene where Harold makes her a button at the carnival that says, "Harold loves Maude." She calls it the best present she's received in years, then immediately flings it into the harbor. He looks at her with astonishment: "Now I'll always know where it is."

The humor in the film comes from the tension between Harold and his mother, who wants to marry him off, or see him join the Army, or do anything besides mope around and pretend to kill himself. The scene where she invites a blind date for Harold, who arrives at their mansion only to see Harold apparently immolate himself, is a comedy classic.

People tend to think of "Harold and Maude" as a Hal Ashby film, but he merely directed it. It was dreamed up by Colin Higgins as an original screenplay -- his first feature film. He also wrote "Silver Streak," "Foul Play" and "Nine to Five" before dying young in 1988.

The final topping on the cake for this film is the soundtrack, comprised mostly of Cat Stevens songs. They just seem to capture the essence of the movie, in much the way the Simon and Garfunkel soundtrack did for "The Graduate" a few years earlier.

"Harold and Maude" is a movie about love, and hope. Even though the two main characters seem obsessed with dying -- one as an escape, the other as a release -- it is only because they found so much in life that made it worthwhile.

4 stars