Movies in Brief

The Chase. Director Arthur Penn and adapter Lillian Hellman have halfheartedly disowned The Chase. But it looks like Penn, and it sounds like Hellman. If what they wanted was expressionistic comment on the wickedness of Texans, they have it, here. But perhaps “Hollywood” insisted upon a real plot with at least one good guy (Marlon Brando as sheriff). In any case, they also have a thriller with tolerable suspense and a horrendous finale—as an escaped convict (Robert Redford) heads for his home town on a Saturday night, while the folks revel, in their way, getting ready to lynch anybody, and the sheriff tries to keep things quiet and gets beaten to a pulp. The cast is large and prestigious and the whole production is admirably slick, except for Brando’s colorful bruises, which are unconvincing.

Inside Daisy Clover. “Why do you sing?” asks the producer. “My mother says the world’s a garbage dump, and we’re only the flies it attracts. Maybe she’s right. But when I sing, the smell isn’t so bad,” replies his fifteen-year-old discovery (Natalie Wood). This is not altogether convincing, but most of Inside Daisy Clover has a weird but disciplined beauty that would be widely acclaimed if it were in Italian. The script is sad biography: guided by the Swans of Swan Studios (Christopher Plummer and Katharine Bard, who make superb vampires), little Miss Clover becomes a star; she marries a star (Robert Redford) who promptly deserts her; she loses her mother (Ruth Gordon), who never was much help; she breaks down during a dubbing session; and the conclusion has a hollow sound. Although it is pleasant to see an anti-stardom movie in which, for once, the victim is not extinguished at the end, nothing about Miss Clover suggests that she could endure, let alone triumph. Gavin Lambert adapted his own novel for the screen. Robert Mulligan directed, and generally triumphed.

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Richard M. Hodgens

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The Chase. Director Arthur Penn and adapter Lillian Hellman have halfheartedly disowned The Chase. But it looks like Penn, and it sounds like Hellman. If what they wanted was expressionistic comment on the wickedness of Texans, they have it, here. But perhaps “Hollywood” insisted upon a real plot with at least one good guy (Marlon Brando as sheriff). In any case, they also have a thriller with tolerable suspense and a horrendous finale—as an escaped convict (Robert Redford) heads for his home town on a Saturday night, while the folks revel, in their way, getting ready to lynch anybody, and the sheriff tries to keep things quiet and gets beaten to a pulp. The cast is large and prestigious and the whole production is admirably slick, except for Brando’s colorful bruises, which are unconvincing.

Inside Daisy Clover. “Why do you sing?” asks the producer. “My mother says the world’s a garbage dump, and we’re only the flies it attracts. Maybe she’s right. But when I sing, the smell isn’t so bad,” replies his fifteen-year-old discovery (Natalie Wood). This is not altogether convincing, but most of Inside Daisy Clover has a weird but disciplined beauty that would be widely acclaimed if it were in Italian. The script is sad biography: guided by the Swans of Swan Studios (Christopher Plummer and Katharine Bard, who make superb vampires), little Miss Clover becomes a star; she marries a star (Robert Redford) who promptly deserts her; she loses her mother (Ruth Gordon), who never was much help; she breaks down during a dubbing session; and the conclusion has a hollow sound. Although it is pleasant to see an anti-stardom movie in which, for once, the victim is not extinguished at the end, nothing about Miss Clover suggests that she could endure, let alone triumph. Gavin Lambert adapted his own novel for the screen. Robert Mulligan directed, and generally triumphed.