Posts Tagged ‘Shelley Winters’

Movie Reviews 328 – The Tenant (1976)

January 12, 2018

Trelkovsky (Roman Polanski) is a young Polish man seeking an apartment in Paris when he stumbles upon a vacant unit and immediately tries to secure it for himself. He learns what while it is empty, Simone, the current leaseholder, hasn’t technically relinquished it but in fact attempted suicide by jumping out on the windows and is now in the hospital. As he makes arrangements to rent it out his concerns that the former tenant may return are rebuffed by the lethargic concierge (Shelley Winters) and the landlord (Melvyn Douglas) whose only concern seems to be the reputation of his establishment.

Posing as a friend he visits Simone in the hospital in order to determine her true health prospects and finds her in traction, bandaged like a mummy and with evident serious injuries. He also meets Simone’s friend Stella (Isabelle Adjani), a vivacious and ravishing woman who is also visiting. In the next few weeks the two strike up a flirtatious relationship while Trelkovsky maintains the pretense of having known Simone.

But all’s not well in his new apartment. The other tenants constantly complain about every bit of noise that Trelkovsky makes. And the one shared bathroom common for all the tenants is actually across the courtyard and every time Trelkovsky looks out his window he can see the other tenants just standing, mesmerized in there. But strangest of all is how Trelkovsky’s life begins mimicking that of Simone who has now passed away. Every time he asks the shopkeeper downstairs for his brand of cigarettes he is told they have run out and is offered another brand, that which Simone used to smoke. The coffee shop insists that he try out a breakfast and snacks formerly favored by her. Drawn into her life, Trelkovsky wavers between trying to stem the influences and drowning ever deeper into Simone’s shadow.

The Tenant is one of those films in which the viewer has to decide what is real and what may just be in our protagonist’s mind. A world of blurred realities or a descent into madness? And in typical Polanski style, other topics such as xenophobia, sexual perversion and paranoia are touched upon in this dark and atmospheric thriller. Previously a title that I never heard off, it was a delightful viewing although perhaps not as rich as the other two Polanski films of this supposed ‘apartment’ trilogy, Repulsion and Rosemary’s Baby.

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Movie Reviews 301 – Cleopatra Jones (1973)

June 3, 2017

Lets just start by being clear on one thing. Tamara Dobson is no Pam Grier and Cleopatra Jones is no Coffy. That in a nutshell summarizes this mid seventies sub genre of blaxploitation flicks featuring chic but tough ghetto savvy women that kick ass and drop jaws at the same time. But just because Cleopatra Jones may not be the best entry in the genre but it is not to be dismissed either. In an odd way the imperfections are part of the charm making this one worth your while as long as expectations are kept in check.

The lavish intro zooms in on a camel caravan in the remote desert which I assume was designed to lure audiences into thinking that this Cleopatra may have more of an exotic Egyptian link than the poster would have us believe. But the illusion is shattered when a whirling helicopter enters the panorama and then lands and we get our first glimpse of our enchantress Jones (Dobson). With a assembled delegation that looks like a United Nations cast of generals, suits and arab nobility, Cleopatra oversees an order to have a military jet fly in out of the blue and before the eyes of the shocked contingent strafes and torches a field of poppies.

Her remark “That’s $30 million of shit that isn’t going into some kids veins.” sets the course of the film firmly as an anti-drug message movie which then shifts the action into Jones’s home-turf of a Los Angeles ghetto being torn from within by the scourge of drugs. Cleopatra is a special agent secured by the President of the Unites States no less – her id card says just that – working to rid the world of narcotics but especially in her home hood where the local addict recovery house is run by Reuben Masters (Bernie Casey), Cleo’s beau.

Part of Cleo’s problems are rogue cops giving Reuben a hard time but that is nothing compared to “Momma” (Shelley Winters) a local drug lord who was to receive some of the drugs that would have been made from that desert crop. This is where the movie starts to show some of it’s loose threads as Winters’ portrayal of Momma sticks out like a sore white thumb and whose every appearance in the movie shifts the otherwise gritty mood to farcical comedy with inept goons. It’s just  jarring and does gel with the tone of the rest movie at all.

Thankfully other characters ease the pain, the real standout being Antonio Fargas (“Huggy Bear” to Starsky and Hutch aficionados) as Doodlebug, one of Momma’s street distributors mounting a coup and incurring the wrath of Momma. Doodlebug is the real thing, cocky and corny and prideful of his Afro coif but ruthless at the same time.

Speeding along in her signature Corvette and wearing more fur than an entire Eskimo village’s wardrobe Cleopatra has to placate the cops, rescue the recovery house and put Momma in the doghouse and do all that looking mighty fine. A few acting debacles aside – including Dobson herself to a degree – there are enough muscle car chases and crashes and Jive Talkin to complete the blaxploitation checklist promised. One last notable missed opportunity is the unsatisfying funk score as the producers opted to mimic some of the ghetto hits of the time instead of using ‘the real thang’. Well, ya can’t have every thang, I guess.