There was the Vietnam war to bring pictures of flag covered coffins to the newscasts, the assassination of the Kennedy brothers, the Soviets pushing the world to the brink of extermination, Marilyn Monroe dying in suspicious circumstances, Dr. Spock solemnly declaring that children shouldn’t be disciplined, and the ingesting of hard drugs. The only area where there seemed to be an effort to improve, rather than destroy, what had gone before was in the film industry. The move towards more realistic and thoughtful films was started by a bunch of French film critics. They saw the screen as a powerful medium to convey and change, for the better, the life of the average citizen and by doing so the direction of the ruling powers. Their aim was to sweep aside the Cinema du Papa and launch a New Wave. And like a celluloid tsunami it swept around the world. Francois Truffaut’s Shoot the Pianist in 1960 started the revolution although it was on the backs of several lesser talents in countries like Czechoslovakia, Italy and to some extent, Germany. And, of course, Jean Renoir. Shoot the Pianist (1960) was swiftly followed by Claude Chabrol’s Les Bonnes Femmes and Juan-Luc Godard’s Vivre sa Vie two years later. These films laid the template for most of the films of the Sixties and still have resonance today. Cinecitta in Rome soon hosted films by Italy’s elite directors such as Federico Fellini. Fellini’s kitchen sink was obviously kept in the bedroom. The Vatican was so scandalised by Fellini’s louche view of life in the capital that the Pope threatened to excommunicate him unless he changed his ways. For once the American Studios were late to recognise a trend. They had been the leaders in International cinema for so long that it was hard for them to think outside what they were churning out on the studio stages. Then Roger Corman stirred the pudding with Wild Angels (1966) and was followed by Peter Fonda’s Easy Rider (1969). It was all drugs, sex, violence, motor-bikes and Rock and Roll. Those who like to analyse these things put it down to the Viet Nam war and the lack of breast-feeding. The cinema has always relied on the star actors to sell its goods. When the studios ruled the screens it was relatively easy to make or break a star. But the stranglehold the big producers had maintained for decades had been loosened by the arrival of new young directors and the shift from Studio-bound extravaganzas to the age of the quick cut and the hand held camera. Now the wannabe stars had to rely to a greater degree on their own resources. Producers were happy to use the leading actors name to promote their own product but once the film wrapped the actors were on their own. This produced a regiment of male and female actors who could sandbag a producer into hiring them purely on the basis of their reputation. No nonsense about nurturing talent or looking to the future. Charlton Heston had been around for a long time when he made Ben Hur (1961) and had capitalised on his studio fostered background, but it was the action packed Hippodrome where he made the impact that would establish him as top of the heap in the years to come. Taylor and Burton met on location for Cleopatra in 1963 and 20th Century Fox overspent by nearly 100% on its original budget. It was a great boost to the Taylor/Burton brand, which they both exploited throughout a long and often stormy relationship – and career. Julie Andrews didn’t do badly from signing up for Robert Wise’s production of The Sound Of Music. (1963). It gave her a shoo-in for practically any film she fancied doing when the studio heads lost her telephone number as they down-sized the premises after losing a packet on Dr. Dolittle talking to the animals and Andrews trying to be the legendary Gertrude Lawrence in Star! There was also the epic musical starring the beautifully fragile Audrey Hepburn, My Fair Lady. My favourite film of all. It has everything. Brilliant acting, fantastic costumes, an intelligent story (based on George Bernard Shaw’s Pymalion) and humable songs. Just wish they had left GBS ‘s final scene intact. James Bond promoted Sean Connery from the chorus line of South Pacific to International status with Dr. No in 1962 and opened up a highly profitable francise, while Peter O’Toole notched up his household name in the desert sands with Lawrence of Arabia. The following year Albert Finney and Susannah York brought a restrained chuckle from the blue rinses in the 1/9s with Tom Jones and in 1966 Doctor Zhivago went spectacular with a detailed account of the Russian Revolution and made stars of Julie Christie and Tom Courtenay. In Italy a TV cowboy in Rawhide made a film called A Fist full of Dollars and injected new blood into the fading Western genre. Clint Eastwood went on to invent a new line of work for himself with a string of hard-bitten characters like Dirty Harry. In 1968 he had the privilege of appearing with me in Where Eagles Dare and he never looked back. It was also the time for Steve McQueen to find his love of speed in the thriller, Bullitt (1968), and spin The Great Escape (1963) into another re-jigged piece of war history adventure. To go off-theme. If you are looking for something to do next weekend, 18 & 19 October, pop into the Days Hotel in Manchester for a chat. I’m going to be there promoting the release of the film I made in New Jersey a couple of years ago. It’s called Sea of Dust. I haven’t seen it yet but I’ve heard good things and can’t wait. It’s part of the Festival of Fantastic Films. For full details log onto fantastic-films.com. Read Ingrid’s column every Tuesday at Den Of Geek. Last week’s is here.
