DVDFile

Paul Newman: The Tribute Collection may not be definitive - only MGM/Fox titles are included here, so iconic turns of his like Cat on a Hot Tin Roof and Cool Hand Luke are nowhere to be found - but as a crash course in an impressively panoramic selection of Newman's output, it's a godsend. Presented in a big, sleek box, this13-film DVD set showcases many of Newman's historic faces, from bright-eyed pool shark to gristled grey-haired attorney and a whole lot of other vestiges in between. Let's take a look:

The Long, Hot Summer (1958) begins with a barn on fire. It is a mesmerizing start, an image that evokes both the film's intense sexual heat and its characters, all torn between duty and passion. As far as the rest of the movie goes, well...

The cast is certainly first rate. One couldn't really ask for an ensemble with more potential for onscreen combustion than that which director Martin Ritt was able to attract here: Paul Newman, Joanne Woodward, Angela Lansbury and an obese, sweaty Orson Welles. All chew up the Southern scenery, delivering the drawl-tinged dialogue with sass and gumption. But despite such all-star wattage, The Long, Hot Summer never really generates the sparks it should. This picture marks Newman and Woodward's first acting collaboration (and they've been married ever since) and although every once in a while they are able to send shivers up your spine, most of the time they are stuck trying to draw blood from a stone.

All in all, The Long, Hot Summer is a bust, but a compulsively watchable one, an old-school notorious barn-burner more famous for its legendary first Newman/Woodward screen pairing and Welles' cranky off-camera antics than its narrative quality. An interesting misfire.

Rally 'Round the Flag, Boys! (1959) is another Woodward/Newman match-up, but it's even more hit-and-miss than The Long, Hot Summer. A kind of Desk Set with Newman as Spencer Tracy and Woodward as Katharine Hepburn, the film allows for its stars to have some great sequences together, but their collective starpower outshines any directorial or screenwriting elements here. That being said, even as one of the lesser pictures on this Tribute set, Joan Collins' amorous intentions toward Newman's character in the film are ludicrously over-the-top enough to be fascinating to watch, even if they don't fit the film's tone at all.

From the Terrace (1960) offers the first real punch of storytelling prowess on this set: With this dark, death-riddled drama, Woodward and Newman really get a chance to sink their teeth into their parts, offering both the charisma that they infused the first two films here with, as well as (thankfully) moving through a storyline that is worthy of its major talent. This tale of an army man (Newman) who comes back from the war to find his family riddled with alcoholism and disdain only to attempt to break free of his family trouble by heading to the Big Apple to start a business and a name for himself especially gives Newman a chance to offer one of his grandest on-screen personages: Both a wildly talented and handsome young man with the potential for anything and a die-hard family man who wants to keep up the nobility of his clan's status quo. It's an emotional push/pull the actor perfected with Hud, and even though From the Terrace isn't entirely moving, it's absolutely a valiant dramatic effort.

Exodus (1960) also gives Newman a chance to deliver a powerful performance - this Otto Preminger war picture about the establishment of the state of Israel in 1948 is a long, epic look at the bloody struggles involved with this historical affair. Newman plays an ex-captain of the Jewish Brigade of the British army in WWII, who attempts to smuggle a couple hundred Jews out of a Cyprus detention camp only to find a full-tile blockade waiting for him. With Sal Mineo as a young Zionist, Eva Marie Saint as a friendly nurse, Newman has great supporting cast backup, and while the film sometimes seems a little long - it's a good 3 1/2 hours - between Preminger's authoritative direction, Newman's leading man swagger and a fascinating storyline, Exodus is grand old-fashioned Hollywood entertainment.

The Hustler (1960): Newman's "Fast Eddie" Felson in Robert Rossen's The Hustler is a character so strong and empathetic it hasn't been duplicated. I remember watching this film when I was younger and wanting to be Fast Eddie: he's funny, cool, and plays pool like nobody else. The way he walks into a room, he owns it and everybody in it. There's a power to Newman here, a wide-eyed, talented cockiness that you can help but respond to.

It's by pure coincidence that I've recently been rereading what is arguably my favorite novel, Kerouac's On The Road, and there's more than a little similarity between "Fast Eddie's" charming asshole and the inspired looniness of Dean Moriarty, the famous, lionized character in Kerouac's mythic book.

Both exude the power, the prowess, of the mid-century American male. But more importantly, there's an undeniable dedication to form, to professionalism present in both characters. Moriarty's church is the road, the unpredictable mobius strip of the American highway where the journey is the destination. But while his zany actions seem to those who don't understand him as being infantile and irresponsible, he has a self-mandate on how to approach life on the road. He's a beatnik bum, but one with a serious, altruistic sense of honor.

Fast Eddie has a similar relationship to the pool halls of The Hustler. To many, these are seedy dives - holes in the walls of otherwise "nice" neighborhoods. But to Eddie, the halls are havens for a certain diversity, a smorgasbord of both professional pool hustlers and the 9 to 5 working man looking for a small respite from his redundant everyday life. Like Moriarty's ties to the road, there is a sacred mystique to these smoky bars. Sure, "Fast Eddie" hustles everybody - no one knows (or, for that matter can ever know) who he really is. But he approaches his job (and yes, hustling is his career) with the sincerity and heft of an artist. When he hustles in the "wrong" pool hall and thugs approach him from all sides filled with violence in their eyes, Eddie knows what's coming; he has no choice but to follow the code of the lifestyle he's created for himself. And it's marvelous to watch.

I haven't mentioned the extraordinary performance Piper Laurie turns in as Eddie's main squeeze or the impeccable, quintessential appearance of Jackie Gleason as Minnesota Fats. Nor have I mentioned the stunning cinematography by Eugene Shuftan, given a true applause-worthy transfer here on this new DVD. But for those who share my wonder of Fast Eddie and all his pool hall cronies, this film remains, 41 years after the fact, a stunning, unparalleled allegory of the dark days of the postwar 1950s. And metaphorical musings aside, this is a slam-bang pool movie, one with enough cool trick shots and involving power plays to keep even novice viewers engaged.

Hemingway's Adventures of a Young Man (1962) is a far more uneven affair, even though it pairs Newman with Hud director Martin Ritt (which is typically a slam-dunk). This overlong film based on Papa's Nick Adams stories doesn't quite add up simply because Richard Beymer's performance at film's center doesn't have the kind of gravitas the source material demands. Newman's in supporting territory here, which is a shame because whenever Paul comes on screen, he dances circles around everybody else - Ritt was able to get monumental performances out of Patricia Neal and Melvyn LeRoy in Hud, but here, all we're left with is some noble pretenses and a ho-hum cumulative cinematic experience.

What a Way to Go! (1964) is definitely not a highlight of this set, but what it lacks in distinct narrative quality, it compensates for with a grade-A cast and a full-tilt weird-ass storyline. This tale of a young lady (Shirley MacLaine) who believes she has a curse on her that forces her to marry for money and not for love (it's established early on that she has a handful of rich, dead husbands) is hard to follow even before she turns up in Paris and finds Larry Flint (Paul Newman), an avant-garde artist who ends up marrying Shirley and, of course, gets killed - in a ridiculously odd way, to boot. Again, this is an oblique affair - to say the least - but look at the rest of the cast here: Robert Mitchum, Dean Martin, Gene Kelly, Dick Van Dyke - just in terms of the revolving door of stellar big-name supporting turns, What a Way to Go! is worth watching, even if it's a strange, strange, beast.

Hombre (1967) is the first official western here, and it remains one of Newman's greatest films. Paul plays a white man who has been raised since early youth by Apaches who returns to white culture to pick up his biological father's inheritance and leave town, choosing to sell off all his daddy's valuables and buying a herd of horses far away from home rather than follow in anybody footsteps. But as the story unfolds (it's based on a novel by Elmore Leonard), this simple act is complicated very quickly, and John Russell (Newman) gets involved with an ever-increasing vortex of bad-buy sheriffs, vigilante gangs and other underworld nasties. Newman would participate in greater westerns after this one - Butch Cassidy, to name but one - but Hombre is a gritty, action-packed oater, nonetheless.

Comments (0)

Write comment

Title
Comment	smaller | bigger
Name
Email
	Add Comment