Frank Pisano

Constrained by a low budget, John Moxey used only four locales—the homes of two professors, the town of Whitewood, Massachusetts, and (briefly) a gas station on a a remote road near the town. These are juxtaposed with significant effect: the bright interiors of the homes, with every element in sharp clarity, contrast the shadowed gray tones of the interiors of the inn in Whitewood and the dim exteriors walled off from the rest of the world by fog. Another contrast is illustrated by the homes of the academics. Professor Driscoll’s living room is a cozy place for a graduate seminar and the rest of his living space is elaborately decorated with artifacts. Professor Barlow’s home is modern and without adornment. In Whitewood, Moxey’s fog masks the empty elements of the set with layers of the white stuff swirling around the shins of the actors and hanging between the buildings. This both exposes the limitations of the budget and serves the film with the suggestion that the fog is an unnatural phenomenon created by the witches to shroud the town. Into the shadows and wafting white comes Nan Barlow (Venetia Stevenson), a lovely young woman with shining blonde hair. Stevenson does her best playing a student who is both bright and ingenuous, the later trait developed to the extent that pushes credulity. This also drives her to a series of decisions that Siskel and Ebert long ago characterized as “too stupid to live.” Stevenson also offered the director the opportunity to introduce a touch of salaciousness that is laughable. When Nan sheds her dress, she’s wearing a bustier. Huh? The young student is a luminous candle inside the dark gray inn where the fire sends flecks of light across the lobby and silence is punctured only by voices and the heavy ticking of a clock. As Ms Barlow settles into her room, the first faint tones of the witch coven’s chanting rise from the floor. As the movie progresses, the chanting adds a creepiness that penetrates like a chilly fog. Horror film fixture Christopher Lee is the only member of the cast with a long film resume and appearances of his character bookend the movie. But the horror is projected by accomplished stage actor Patricia Jessel in a dual role, opening the film as condemned witch Elizabeth Selwyn—her face flashing with fury—and the sinister inn keeper Mrs. Newliss, whom she portrays with cool composure. Jessel’s angular face is highlighted by shadows and every subtle smirk and slightly raised eyebrow convey menace. There’s no waste in the just over hour and twenty minutes, and the concluding scene is filled with palpable tension.

Two American tank destroyers are ordered to secure a section of road before the US units advance in force. This is the framework for an action movie, which it is…in spots and places. The script is primarily constructed as a morality play focused on segregation and bigotry in the Army during WWII and presented through African American Sergeant Owens and the bigoted white Corporal Simms. It proceeds predictably: Owens’ soldierly skill and valor turn Simms’ from his biased perspective. And neither the performances nor the dialogue are strong enough to adequately treat the serious topic. Technical elements are nearly enough to recommend the movie. The armored vehicles, weapons and uniforms are authentic, yet, as another amateur reviewer pointed out, the vehicles and the soldiers are too clean to have been in the field for any stretch of time. Then there is an annoying detail to consider. The German vehicles ride on the chassis of Mark series tanks, but are armed with canons that panzer units used early in the war. The action inside the American vehicle effectively presents the firing and steering mechanisms, though not near as well as the shooting and editing in the far better financed Fury. The best action occurs when, for some reason, Owens and Simms move out on foot and skirmish with German infantry. The room to room fighting is well photographed as the adversaries crouch and pivot to take cover and to discharge their arms. The sounds of the weapons (Owens’ carbine, Simms’ BAR, and the enemy machine pistols) sound right. (An enduring legacy of Saving Private Ryan—exceptional fidelity to the noises of modern battle—is present even in low budget productions, like the subject movie.) There is also realism in a flashback (which is dramatically unnecessary) as red tracer rounds streak across the dark trunks of trees, the bullets punching through members of a doomed squad. This scene is notable for the lighting: it’s night, but the infantrymen are visible in moonlight refracted from snow. While the details of close combat are authentic, the fighting only scantly evokes audience concern for the characters. The sense that these guys could suddenly be killed is absent. It’s difficult to say why, but it seems like all of the principles are going to survive. Lacking dramatic tension and unable to create investment in the fate of Owens and his comrades, the production plays out more like a series of scenarios than a well developed drama.

A unique piece in that it is a western set in the Austrian mountains, Andreas Prochaska’s film gathered a sack full of German Film Awards but failed to impress in the wider world. Its half dozen Rotten Tomatoes reviews average to a shabby 33 percent. It’s not as good as the German awards indicate. Neither is it nearly as bad as its RT score suggests. The photography by Thomas Kienast is superb. The snow laden exteriors, shot under overcast skies, and the warm hued interiors are rightly comparable the exceptional images captured by Vilmos Zsigmond in McCabe and Mrs Miller. Like Zsigmond, Kienast’s images appear to originate from ambient light. The snow (featured in tight shots and broad landscapes) contrasts with groups or deep toned wooden structures and dark veins on mountain ridges, all with a subtle bluish cast. Interiors vary: soft golden light emanating from candle and lamp flames illuminates faces on the source side, receding into gradients of shadow on the other; daylight, starkly framed in rectangular windows, backlights the characters: light seeps into rooms deep within structures, illuminating people and features of the rooms just well enough to make them discernible. (Not a single shot has the viewer straining to see in the near blackness that too many filmmakers present as realism.) Kienast also presents particulars that convey the cold of high elevations in Austria in mid winter. White steamy breath jets from the muzzles of horses and trails backward as they move. Curls of white drift from noses and mouths (inside as well as outside), making the constant discomfort of the characters palpable. A particularly notable white wisp rises from the metallic side panel of a rifle as a warm shell is ejected. The cold controls this film. A stiffened hand struggles to hold onto shotgun shells; faces are reddened by the wind. The cast obviously performed in the elements. The award winning production design is also first rate. The assortment of weapons, the overcoats and dresses, the tableware, and more are not only authentic but exhibit use and wear. The plot is only mildly compelling—yet another revenge tale. And some of the protagonist’s decisions are boneheaded. In one scene he has the entire array of villains at gunpoint and shoots no one. Another flaw is use of pop rock in portions of the movie that are irritatingly anachronistic and add nothing. Watch for the action and a remarkable ambiance that so immerses the audience that we feel the bite of the wind and sting of snow, smell leather and dank wool.

Well acted drama with outstanding production values, the film is, aptly, brilliantly lit and offers a rich color palate—something rare in this era of desaturated hues. The science is delivered in enough measure to elucidate and engage, while the tension between the conflicting personalities drives the movie. The cutting between closeups of the devices and schematics and wide shots adds to the texture of this sadly underrated offering. A follow up film about Edison as the primary force impelling the movie industry and his ruthless responses to competition would be grand. Given the critical reception, this will never happen.