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Films

It Happened Here

I Think It Happened Here has been the subject of praise in excess of its true worth. Here is a case where knowledge of the origins of a film is a positive hindrance to any just understanding and appreciation.

The opening scenes, for example, suffer from murky photography and muffled sound. The conscientious viewer, eager to give the film its due, searches around for excuses and comes up with comforting phrases like "made under difficult conditions, amateurs doing their best with limited funds," etc.

This rather condescending attitude is unfair to the film and its makers because it leads one to praise the more "professional" sections of It Happened Here while neglecting to say quite clearly where and why the film is less successful.

Having made the point I will agree Kevin Brownlow and Andrew Mollo have made a film that is often technically brilliant and thought provoking in its choice of subject.

It Happened Here lacks tension and dramatic bite probably because it looks a little too much like an on-the-spot documentary. I have rearely been able to find "real" people in "real" situations exciting on the screen despite whatever interest is intrinsic in their behaviour.

The sequence I found most interesting was in fact the unreal, rather mysterious one where the main character walks past the rubble of bombed buildings to the last bars of the first movement of Bruckner's Ninth Symphony.

On reflection I think it was probably the music that made the whole scene exciting but all credit to Brownlow and Mollo for choosing these massive unearthly chords.

Peter Suschitzy's photography, at its best, makes extensive use of high contrast lighting and his hand held camera work, evident throughout the film, is controlled and fluent. The editing, especially in the street riots and the final shootings, is remarkable in an Eisensteinian sort of way.

The disconcerting thing about It Happened Here is the diversity of quality and style. It lacks the cohesion and consistently high standard of the companion piece on the programme, War Hunt, another minor masterpiece from Terry and Denis Sanders (their first was Crime and Punishment U.S.A.).

Comparison highlights the faults and fluctuations of It Happened Here, but does not negate its-many worthwhile qualities or render it less than a film eminently worth seeing.

In the Heat of the Night is a brilliantly constructed entertainment. I use the label with care because the film is primarily an ingenious thriller with a quirky plot twist not a significant contribution to the industry's efforts on behalf of integration.

It is unfortunate some people have seen the film in precisely this light. In the Heat of the Night is "significant", "liberal", and so forth not because it is a worthy film because of these factors not because it is a worthy qua cinema, drama or entertainment.

One person was disappointed because he found the course of the film moving inexorably to the quasi-happy ending where Poitier and Steiger exchange fond words at the station.

This he regarded as something of a cliche. Such a reaction shows how one's appreciation of the film can be fouled up by trying to squeeze it into a context for which it was not intended.

The nig nog/racial bigot exchanges surely exist but I think they must be regarded at the level of personal drama not from any racial or political point of view. In the Heat of the Night is a rewarding film partly because the Steiger-Poitier relationship is a series of confrontations as people and character in a dramatic situation not as ciphers representing an ideology or racial attitude.

Indeed if In the Heat of the Night was intended as blatant propaganda, it is quite intolerable as such because Poitier is too handsome, understanding, well educated, etc.—so good and pure the dice would be loaded entirely in favour of his race.

All bitching aside the merits of the film are considerable and obvious. The script offers Steiger and Poitier plenty of scope for a cut and thrust duel and both perform their parts with relish.

If Steiger seems to have the edge it is probably because Poitier's role appears to be merely yet another in his gallery of distinguished Negroes whereas Steiger's is sufficiently different from his other recent parts to draw our attention to his virtuosity.

Warren Oates (a regular with Stony Burke) as Officer Wood and Larry Gates as local czar Endicott lend commendable support while Quentin Dean makes one of the most gorgeous nymphos ever seen on screen.

On the evidence of this film and The Russians Are Coming Norman Jewison can be considered one of the best of young American directors if not yet in the class of Frankenheimer, Penn, and Kubrick.

He has a way with atmosphere and detail of setting that is quite unique. As much is evident in this film in the way the camera dwells on the sheen of car metal, the squalor of flies and oppresive heat, or the golden blaze of autumn leaves.

Credit for the stunning visual surface must be shared with Haskell Wexler, one of the best cinematographers in the business. This collaboration of director, photographer, and cast has provided one of the most unsual and exciting thrillers seen in recent years.

—Rex Benson.