Abdullah Abbas Movies

Few actresses other than Joan Crawford could have successfully pulled off the melodramatic excesses of Autumn Leaves. Though a very attractive fortysomething, Crawford remains aloof from romance until she meets Cliff Robertson, a young man half her age. An ardent and persistent suitor, Robertson finally breaks down her resistence to marriage. After a few weeks of wedded bliss, Crawford is confronted by Vera Miles, who claims to be Robertson's first wife. Miles further insists that Robertson is mentally unbalanced...and his subsequent behavior seems to bear this out. What Crawford doesn't know-but the audience does-is that the real villains of the piece are Miles and her middle-aged lover, Robertson's own father (Lorne Greene). Autumn Leaves works far better on screen than it does in print, thanks to the virtuoso performances of practically everyone in the cast. And, as anyone who's listened to top-40 radio during the past four decades already knows, the film also yielded a hit title song, written by Joseph Kosma, Jacques Prevert, and Johnny Mercer and performed during the credits by Nat King Cole. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

The tendency is to scoff at Macao as just another example of Josef von Sternberg's late-career exercises in exoticism; true, it has its problems, including a weak plot and a slightly hasty pace, but it is still an extraordinary film for its time and its personnel. The real sparkplug for the movie is Jane Russell as out-of-work singer Julie Benson, who inadvertently gets the plot rolling when she ends up in a cabin with a lout who won't take no for an answer. Her plight, and a flying shoe, brings in laconic, slightly mysterious traveler Nick Cochran (Robert Mitchum), who seems to have something to hide and manages to get his wallet (including passport) lifted by the opportunistic Julie. Crossing paths with them is Lawrence Trumble (William Bendix), a good-natured lunkhead salesman coming to Macao for the gambling. And gambling, among other less legal activities, is what local hood Halloran (Brad Dexter) is all about. He's just hot enough in international crime circles to attract the authorities, who can't touch him in Macao; he's already had one New York detective killed and expects another to arrive, and he's keeping an eye on any suspicious, unfamiliar Westerners arriving, which leads him to Julie, Cochran, and Trumble. Halloran has other, obvious plans for Julie, especially when obliging corrupt police chief Thomas Gomez points her to a singing job at his club, much to the distress of his one-time girlfriend (Gloria Grahame); he dismisses Trumble as a lovable clown. But Nick has cop written all over him and is hiding something. All of the pieces fit together neatly in the end, and everyone is keeping at least one secret that will surprise viewers.

What makes Macao truly special are the performances, beginning with Jane Russell, who, with the possible exception of Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, was never better. Her ample physical assets are on display as usual, but she also never gave a sharper, more naturalistic or purely sensual acting performance. Russell had clearly found her talent and her center with this film. Whether she's shooting a suspicious glance at larcenous police chief Thomas Gomez, singing a sultry torch song in a seductive white strapless outfit, or striding forward in an exquisite dolly-out shot, she commands every scene in which she appears. And it's not just her imposing physique that does it, but a boldness of nuance; Russell had learned a lot since The Outlaw. Brad Dexter, the odd man out in The Magnificent Seven, makes an excellent villain, like a more pathological version of Steve Cochran. Meanwhile, Robert Mitchum, in his portrayal of a neurotic, perhaps shell-shocked veteran, shows a vulnerable side that seldom came out so convincingly or touchingly in his RKO movies; and even William Bendix found a new wrinkle to his screen persona as the seemingly larcenous commercial traveler. The audience will be beguiled and surprised throughout this movie -- an underrated noir classic -- and not just by the stories that unravel. The last line and wrap shot create an amazingly lusty, censor-challenging denouement for an early '50s film. ~ Bruce Eder, All Movie Guide

Set in the Cuba of 1933, We Were Strangers stars John Garfield as revolutionary-minded Tony Fenner. A member of an underground movement dedicated to toppling the despotic Machado regime, Tony supervises the booby-trapping of a cemetery where several top Cuban officials are planning to converge for a state funeral. Also involved in the assassination scheme is China Valdes (Jennifer Jones), whose brother had been executed by the government. As often happens in a John Huston film, the best-laid schemes of the protagonists go tragically awry. Based on a portion of Robert Sylvester's novel Rough Sketch, We Were Strangers was scripted by frequent Huston collaborator Peter Viertel. The film has the curious distinction of being lambasted by both the left-wing and right-wing critics in the U.S. Audiences were likewise underwhelmed, compelling Columbia Pictures to withdraw the film from distribution early on. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide