Backward glances

Without any plan, based on broadcast or disk availability, my movie viewing has been proceeding into the past. I’m no fan of Anthony Mingella as a director, but I always like to watch Matt Dillon, so when I happened upon Mr. Wonderful (1992, *6+*) on HBO in HD, I tuned in and was rewarded with a flavorful if unsurprising romantic comedy. Dillon is a Con Ed electrician who spends his days underneath Manhattan, and wants to go in with his buddies on buying and restoring an old bowling alley, if only he could get out of paying alimony by marrying off his ex-wife, Annabella Sciorra, a girl from the neighborhood who left him behind when she went off to college. He is now with nurse Mary-Louise Parker, and the ex is having an affair with her English prof, William Hurt. Annabella is courted by a young and thin James Gandolfini, and Vincent D’Onofrio among others, but we know all along whom she is meant to wind up with. Still a lot of appealing performers convey a lot of local color, and if the story arc is evident from the get-go, there are some enlivening details along the way.

Then over on TCM, they were showing The Hustler (1961, *9*), which I’d re-watched not too long ago when it was only available in the woefully-misnamed “full screen” format. I vowed at that time to watch it again in genuine Cinemascope, and having now done so, I can completely reaffirm its classic status. Paul Newman is all that -- and more -- as pool shark Fast Eddie Felson, while Jackie Gleason and George C. Scott are indelible as Minnesota Fats and the gambler who pushes the buttons and pulls the strings, as is Piper Laurie as “Eddie’s girl,” though her story ends in a not-quite-realized scene that keeps the film out of absolute pantheon status. Robert Rossen does a great job of using the widescreen frame in claustrophobic interiors. Now I will follow up by re-watching Scorsese’s sequel, The Color of Money.

On the other hand, my earlier evaluation was not confirmed by re-watching Excalibur (1981, *6+*), as part of my intermittent Helen Mirren retrospective. Her role was not as large as I remembered, and John Boorman’s direction was not as sure-footed. Visually spectacular in parts, this retelling of Camelot is risible and incoherent in other parts. Though Nigel Terry is okay as Arthur, Lancelot and Guinivere are played by nonentities, and Nicol Williamson is a jokey Merlin. It was probably hard to keep a straight face in returning to this hoary tale after Monty Python and the Holy Grail, but the uncertainty of tone cripples the enterprise. It was amusing to see Liam Neeson, Gabriel Byrne, and others, in small roles at the beginnings of their careers, but this is no classic in need of resurrection.

And neither is The Bishop’s Wife (1947, *6*), which TCM showed on Christmas eve as an alternative to the ubiquitous It’s a Wonderful Life. In this one, Cary Grant is the angel who comes down to help out David Niven, playing an Episcopal bishop who has lost his way in trying to build a new cathedral in a generic, studio-set Manhattan. The bishop has fallen out of touch with his wife, Loretta Young, as well as his vocation, in pursuit of wealthy donors. Cary woos her back, but for the bishop or for himself? Though the charm is largely manufactured, Cary’s definitely got it, whether angel or not (he’s certainly better as no angel in Only Angels Have Wings), and makes the sentiment not a chore to watch.