Sabrina – a troubled Billy Wilder pic that still does it

I've just watched Sabrina for the first time in years. Written, directed and produced by the legendary Billy Wilder, and released in 1954, I'd rather forgotten how good it is.

Humphrey Bogart was cast against type as a respectable, buttoned-up businessman who is trying to stop his thrice-divorced playboy brother (William Holden) from ducking out of an arranged marriage that would profitably cement a deal between their Larrabee family businesses and those of another family ... and running off with the family chauffeur's daughter, played by the eternally glorious Audrey Hepburn in the eponymous role.

But the machinations fail, as Linus Larrabee (Bogart) finds his heart melted by Sabrina and eventually decides to give life a try.

Bogart struggled to get on with Wilder and had little time for Holden.

He'd wanted Lauren Bacall to be cast as Sabrina. Now I adore Bacall, but that would never have worked ... Betty as ingenue? She was light years beyond that by To Have and Have Not, her film debut.

I do wonder if Bogart was not feeling confident in playing a romantic lead and would have hoped to rely on recapturing the on-screen chemistry and wise-cracking of To Have or Have Not and The Big Sleep.

It is not that, but it works – and that includes in the chemistry between Bogart and Hepburn, which is different to that between Bogart and Bacall, but very much still does the job.

Holden does the playboy brother to perfection. Hepburn is ... well, Hepburn. She's an icon for a reason. There is a lightness to her performance and yet utter conviction.

And the supporting cast is delicious – watch out for Ellen Corby as Bogart's chief secretary; she went on to play Grandma Walton in The Waltons.

But two things. First, it's an excellent reminder of just what a great artist Wilder was. Having penned a witty, engaging script – and in spite of difficulties on set (Bogart apparently apologised later to Wilder for his behaviour) – he then drew out of Bogart a genuinely nuanced and critically acclaimed performance – just watch his eyes; this is not a role done by rote.

Second: Bogart was a far better actor than is sometimes assumed. I said 'watch his eyes' for a reason. He's thinking the part, not just saying it. It's almost Stanislavski (granddaddy of 'method' acting).

And to conclude ... Wilder's ending is an understated, funny, brilliant joy.

I'm delighted to learn that, in 2002, the film was selected for preservation in the United States National Film Registry by the Library of Congress, as being "culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant".

Zellweger shows us the isolation – and guts – of Judy

It’s not news that Judy Garland led a troubled life – or that her problems began as a child – but one of the things that Rupert Gould’s new film, Judy, does so well is to shine a light on those problems from a contemporary perspective of understanding about mental health and abuse.

It’s 1968 and Garland – pretty much unemployable and uninsurable in the US – is broke, homeless and about to lose custody of her two children by third husband Sid Luft.

Her only chance seems to lie in leaving them with their father in the US and taking up an offer of a season at the Talk of the Town in London.

But thousands of miles away, her problems remain.

In a series of flashbacks, we see gaslighting MGM boss Louis B Mayer during the filming of The Wizard of Oz, feeding her insecurities about her looks, while at the same time, she was being chronically overworked, forced to diet drastically and then given pills to quell her appetite/keep her awake/help her wake up – and sleeping tablets to allow her to sleep.

While it’s only barely noted here, her mother’s part in all this was not a positive one. It’s also a pertinent reminder that, while the studio system produced many great movies, it was also an abusive system of labour.

Tom Edge’s script in an intelligent one: it allows us to see and understand that, while Garland most certainly was “impossible,” the seeds of that had been sown long before she had any control over her own life.

While this is central to the film, it avoids making Garland a simplistic victim. She is vulnerable and emotionally frail, without doubts, but she also has guts. And, while she detests the “business,” once on a stage and with a loving audience, she comes alive. Most of all, this Judy is complex.

It’s possibly a good 10 minutes overlong. One could make the case that none of her relationships with other character is fully developed. Yet one of the things that the film achieves is to make clear the conflict between Garland’s desperate loneliness, her equally desperate desire for love and friendship – and her constant ability to push away those who care and want to help. This is isolation.

Jessie Buckley is excellent as Rosalyn, the woman charged with looking after her in London; Rufus Sewell turns in a neat, nuanced performance as Luft, Michael Gambon appears as impresario Bernard Delfont, Richard Cordery is suitably slimy as Mayer, Royce Pierreson is excellent as bandleader Burt and there is a delightful performance from Andy Nyman as a gay fan.

But ultimately, the film rests on Renée Zellweger – and expect to see her deservedly in the awards nominations lists next year.

This is no impersonation, but what she conjures is a really deep sense of the internal struggle in Garland: this is a woman caught between performance (even if dealing with hotel staff or a doctor), the pain of not having her children with her, her own self-doubt, her need for friendship and support, and her inability to maintain any meaningful relationship.

In the stage performances, Zellweger is more than equal to the task.

Garland was an extraordinarily gifted performer. This year is the 50th anniversary of her death – as well as being the 80th anniversary of the iconic Wizard of Oz.

Judy makes one wonder if, given the abusive conditions under which it was made and Garland’s career created, it is acceptable to watch the latter. Yet her films remain her legacy and continue to give joy. It is a positive from a negative.

At the end of the film, she asks the audience: “You won’t forget me, will you? Promise you won’t.”

No. We won’t. And the films are precisely what will ensure that her iconic status continues.

The wonderful ... WONDERFUL Wizard of Oz

We didn’t go to the cinema a lot when I was child, but memory suggests that the most regular period for family film-going was from around about 1968-1971 when we lived in west London and would pop over the river to a cinema in Putney. It was during that period I saw Disney’s Snow White on re-release – and was terrified.

This was still the era of two-film programmes: Snow White was my first cinema trip and it was paired, if I remember correctly, with MGM’s Tom Thumb (Russ Tamblyn, Terry-Thomas, Peter Sellers et al).

It seems fairly safe to think that I saw The Wizard of Oz at around this time – 1969 would have marked the 30^th anniversary of the film’s release and explain why it was back in cinemas.

Wizard of oz t captured my imagination then and has never stopped being an important part of my cultural life since – which includes being in two stage productions (as the Mayor of Munchkinland in a girls’ school production and later, as the Wicked Witch of the West, before you ask).

Last weekend, The Other Half and I went to our usual cinema to watch a single screening for the 80^th anniversary.

I know the film so well that I can mouth along with the songs and a load of the lines, but seeing it on the big screen for the first time in ... gulps ... 50 years was a fascinating experience.

Being in a cinema makes you pay closer attention than if you’re watching at home, with all the distractions. Never before, then, had I really appreciated Harold Rosson’s cinematography – particularly in the opening sepia section of the film.

As times change and history moves on, you can view cultural works through a changing prism.

Today, Frank Morgan’s blustering conman wizard seems like a harbinger of politicians and political leaders for whom bluster and empty rhetoric is all they have.

Terry the cairn terrier – cast first and paid best of all her co-players – really is more than a set-dressing. She’s in is much of the film. Apparently, when she broke a paw during filming, she convalesced at Judy Garland’s home – and Garland desperately tried to adopt her.

Margaret Hamilton’s Wicked Witch of the West remains scary – there is nothing to make her more ‘child friendly’ at any stage. There’s nothing to blunt the fact that, for instance, she is a torturer – not least in her psychological torture of Dorothy as the film builds to a climax.

And so to Dorothy and Garland’s iconic performance. Somewhere Over the Rainbow retains its magic – not least in her rendition.

She produced an extraordinary performance: there is nothing brattish about Dorothy: she’s a serious young girl – an orphan with (apparently) no friends of her own age; vulnerable at the same time as being self-reliant and with a simple yet strong sense of what’s right and what’s not.

There is an extent to which The Wizard of Oz is like Casablanca: there are many ways in which it shouldn’t work – or at least, not have travelled well down the decades.

The message of there being “no place like home” is twee and limiting. The film as a whole is arguably over long and, with the introductions of the Scarecrow, Tin Man and Cowardly Lion, repetitious.

And yet, and yet ...

At the cinema we went to, a new generation was seeing it on a big screen for the first time

Eight decades on, The Wizard of Oz defies so much and, in retaining its own magic, reveals for us again why cinema as a whole can be such a magical experience.

Let's sit down to good film

Ian McKellen in wonderful form

In between recent trips to the cinema, I’ve also managed to see a few films at home, both on television channels or discs, and it seemed too good an opportunity not to do a brief round up.

First up comes Mr Holmes, last year’s take on Sherlock – this time, with Ian McKellen as an aging and long-retired version of the iconic consulting detective.

It’s the late 1940s – a world changed utterly by the atomic bomb – and, worried that he’s losing his mind, Holmes is trying to piece together the final case that led to his retirement.

At the same time, he becomes the idol of the young, precocious son of the housekeeper who looks after him in his retirement home on England’s south coast.

Beautifully filmed and wonderfully acted – McKellen is simply a joy to watch – this gentle UK-made piece is full of hidden depths and philosophical ruminations.

Well worth a watch.

Messers Karloff, Lorre and Price

Rather different – but no less entertaining (albeit for very different reasons) is Roger Corman’s The Raven, which I caught up with a couple of weeks ago.

It’s less a case of being based on Edgar Allan Poe’s poem of the same name than having been inspired by it, in the loosest sense.

In this 1963 outing, we have three sorcerers vying against each other for magical supremacy, with Vincent Price, Peter Lorre and Boris Karloff as the trio, engaged at various points throughout in finger-pointy duels.

It’s deliciously camp, which is possibly not the first thing that one might expect from writer Richard Matheson, who penned the zombie horror classic, I Am Legend, while a young Jack Nicholson spend most of his on-screen time looking pretty much lost in such company.

Enormous fun – Price in particular had such a wonderful voice for this sort of film – and the blu ray comes with extras that includes a German documentary about Lorre.

It’s surprisingly serious in tone given the nature of the main feature, but very definitely worth watching, providing a reminder of just what a fine actor he was, and covering his relationship with Brecht as well as offering a detailed look at his breakthrough film role as the murderer in Fritz Lang’s classic of German Expressionist cinema, M (1931).

One reviewer on Amazon decided to be snotty about Lorre  ‘wasting his talent’ because of drink. It’s the point at which you decide to respond by suggesting they inform themselves better about the German exiles in the US and the problems that many of them suffered.

Doris Day and Rock Hudson suffering misunderstandings

On a completely different note, last weekend saw me slumped in front of the gogglebox, on cat cuddling duty, when up popped Send Me No Flowers, a 1964 rom-com that I haven’t seen in decades.

Starring Doris Day and Rock Hudson – with Tony Randall in the sort of friend-of-the-leading-man character that he made his own – it’s a typical farce spun out after Hudson’s hypochondriac suburbanite overhears his doctor discussing a terminal case and soon-to-be-deceased individual is himself.

Directed by Norman Jewison, this was the final of a trio of Day-Hudson-Randall outings and while it’s pleasing enough fodder, it doesn’t have anything like the zip of Pillow Talk and Lover Come Back.

Still, it was nice enough to see again one of the sort of films I feel as though I grew up with – and Day is always wonderful.

Last in this little round-up comes Paul, a 2011 sci-fi comedy road movie that I’d managed to see bits of before, but never the whole thing.

Nick Frost and Simon Pegg with Paul

Starring Simon Pegg and Nick Frost, it’s about two British geeks who go on their dream holiday to San Diego for Comic-Con, followed by a road trip across the US to visit various sites of importance in UFO lore.

However, their plans go awry when they find themselves on the run with Paul, a fugitive alien who is running away from plans to dissect him.

Really good fun, with a very enjoyable supporting cast that includes Blythe Danner, Seth Rogan (as the voice of Paul) and Sigourney Weaver, who subsequently described it to Graham Norton as a “love letter to sci-fi fans” (I think she said the same of the equally enjoyable Galaxy Quest).

Very good fun, pacey, with good characters – including an alien that is far from a film stereotype – plus loads of nods to other films and pop culture, what’s not to enjoy? It was the perfect way to follow a stack of the equally geek-oriented The Big Bang Theory.

In search of the world of the Brothers Grimm

The iconic Plönlein

The tour party flowed into the town square, streaming past their guide, leaving him standing rather lamely on the cobbles holding aloft a little paddle so they wouldn’t get lost; a 21st-century pied piper whose tune had – temporarily at least – lost its power.

There would be little time to see much. If they were quick, they’d be able to snap off a couple of selfies on Plönlein, where the road splits in two and exits the old city through different gates, and in the square itself, where the Rathaus stands on one long side and two large, half-timbered buildings make a perfect medieval corner.

It is doubtful that they would be able to make it into the Jakobskirche to see the wondrous wooden altarpiece by Germany’s Michelangelo, but there would doubtless be the opportunity to nip into one of the town’s many Käthe Wohlfahrt shops to pick up some extremely overpriced Christmas decorations as a souvenir as an arranged part of their trip, before heading back to the coach and the next stop on their whistlestop tour of Germany or Europe ...

Market place – Rathaus to the right

Such tourists bemuse me: it’s the same as with people in galleries, taking selfies in front of famous paintings – what do they honestly get out of it?

There may be a reason that Plönlein comes up as the main result in a Google image search for Rothenburg ob der Tauber.

You could be forgiven for imagining that it was the main (if not only) medieval vista in the old city. But to find some of the others, you have to scroll down further on that search – and you need to spend longer in the city itself than a coach visit will allow.

US travel writer Rick Steves has noted that, while millions visit Rothenburg, far, far fewer spend even a single night in the city.

For those who do, the benefits are obvious: whatever time of the year, after the tour guides pipe their charges back aboard buses, the city is yours as the sun falls.

Steves says that, after dark, you can almost feel the past. I beg to differ, but only ever so slightly: there were moments in the daytime when the centuries seemed to spin past, leaving me almost dizzy with a sense of times long gone.

Markusturm – complete with storks' next

Rothenburg ob der Tauber – there are other Rothenburgs, so its relationship to the river Tauber is important – is somewhat on the old side.

A prosperous, independent city state, it was besieged during first the Peasants’ War and then the Thirty Years’ War, before a subsequent burst of the Black Death effectively halted its development, leaving us with the most perfectly intact medieval city anywhere.

‘Rediscovered’ in the 19th century and, in the 1930s, it was raised by the Nazis to a semi-religious level as a perfect, idealised German town.

In 1945, bombing did much damage, but it was spared worse when the German commander defied Hitler’s orders and accepted a US army promise that surrender would spare the city.

It is one stop on Germany’s Romantic Road, a 350km route through the forests and mountains of Baden-Würtemburg and Bavaria.

Starting in Würzburg, it ends in Füssen, where we spent a few pleasant days last March, walking in the Alps and visiting Ludwig II’s Neuschwanstein – a visit that had led directly to this one.

Old bridge

We left London early on a Thursday evening, and spent the night comfortably in a hotel at Stuttgart airport before setting off the following morning by train – first to central Stuttgart and then, from there, to Bavaria and Rothenburg ob der Tauber itself, via three trains.

Our hotel was in the centre of the old city, just above an ancient gate leading to a park and, after unpacking as rapidly as possible, we set off for a first orientation.

It’s impossible not to be instantly struck by the city. Plönlein actually feels rather understated in medieval terms, such are the other sights to be encountered, but in general, this is like walking through a fairy tale.

Hardly surprising, indeed, that MGM’s Wonderful World of the Brothers Grimm was filmed here in 1961, while the village scenes in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang were also shot in its streets.

A view from the city walls

The latter, incidentally, also saw filming at Neuschwanstein, adding another sense of continuum to this trip.

If Neuschwanstein gave Disney the template for its castle, then Rothenburg gave Hollywood as a whole an architectural aesthetic for fairy tales.

The half-timbered, slanting, sloping, tiled buildings are what you expect. You’ve seen it all before before – on a small or a big screen – but wandering around, you have to keep reminding yourself that this is no theme park, but a real, living town, full of real, living people.

The Markusturm is one of the city’s gates, surrounded by half-timbered buildings in bright colours. Perched atop an adjoining roof is what looks to be a metal wheel, lying horizontally.

Burgator, leading from the garden to the city

In fact, it’s a frame for a stork’s nest: these huge birds have returned to the area in recent years and a couple of days before our arrival, a pair had just returned from their winter sojourn to Africa, triggering excitement among local people.

The previous year, “Mr and Mrs Stork” had produced four chicks, to the evident delight of the community. Another nest, opposite our hotel room, was still awaiting birds when we departed, but the sight of the birds taking off and returning to their nest at the Markusturm could only add to the magical sense of the place.

Anyway, after that initial stroll into the past, our first night’s repast in Rothenburg saw us dine at an old tavern, filled with local people and with a waitress dressed in a dirndl, serving properly hearty German food.

For me, that was a piece of pork shoulder, flaking off the bone and accompanied by red cabbage, gravy and potato dumplings, with a dunkel (dark beer) on the side.

And then we slept in the peace of our centuries-old hotel, dreaming the dreams of fairytales all around us.