What To Do When There are Multiple Versions of a Film, The Blogger Advises on Nine Such Cases

Blackmail by Hitchcock

Something that’s become easy these days is watching a movie. Used to be that you would have to wait for a film to appear in theaters again or worse, hope it showed up on TV.  In which case it would be riddled with commercial breaks — yuck! You had no control. Today you can watch virtually any picture you’ve a mind to. For me, as an example, a film I’m interested in — especially if it’s one I love — could be part of my extensive DVD collection (over 300 titles). It might be available on Netflix, The Criterion Channel, HBO, Hulu, TCM, You Tube, Peacock or Amazon. In the past few years I’ve only come across a handful of movies that I can’t find anywhere. Yes, finding a movie to watch is easy. Unless….

It has multiple versions. Which one to watch? If you’re going to invest two hours in a film it damn well better be the better version of the two or the best version of the five. Let me see if I can help.

As a general rule the “extended cut” or “director’s version” or especially the “extended director’s cut/version” is better. But not always. Often there’s a director’s cut because the suits at the studio thought the film too long and butchered it. Okay, sometimes they didn’t butcher it, but they did take out key scenes. Of course, sometimes studios make cuts that improve a film, the director was over-indulgent. Usually not.

One example is Orson Welles’ The Magnificent Ambersons (1942) Welles. The story is that Welles made a masterpiece. Then he left the country and the studio got a hold of his print and eviscerated it. Welles was mortified and refused to have anything to do with the new version. Sadly, a copy of the original has never been found and may not even exist. The studio version was a very good film. But a very good film is a far cry from a masterpiece. 

Alfred Hitchcock has to be in any discussion of the greatest directors of all time. He made cinematic classics from the silent era through the Sixties. But he also made two absolute clunkers: The Paradine Case and Jamaica Inn. What was different about those two besides the fact that they stunk? The studios re-cut them. When you’re watching one of those films (and I’d advise against it) you’re not truly seeing a Hitchcock film.

I cannot advise you on every film that has multiple versions as there are so many and so many of them are the types of films I don’t watch. Also, in many cases there is no longer more than one available, unless you go to a used DVD store. Streaming services and TV channels don’t tend to offer you more than one version. Understandably.

But I thought it worthwhile for me to offer guidance on a few films that I’m well acquainted with. All are part of my extensive DVD collection (I love saying and writing “my extensive DVD collection.”) I will try avoid telling  you that one is BETTER than the other(s) though it will be, at times, unavoidable. In some cases the differences are a matter of taste and we all have different tastes — or so I’m told.

The Gold Rush (1925) Chaplin. There is the original version that was released in theaters in 1925 and then a 1942 re-release from Chaplin. The latter version includes Chaplin’s narration and is slightly shorter as Chaplin deleted a few scenes, notably ones featuring Georgia Hale, the female lead. In my opinion the narration is unnecessary and the deleted scenes are sorely missed, so I’d strongly recommend the original version. If you appreciate silent films than you’ll definitely favor the original. 

The Big Sleep (1946) Hawks. With my DVD of this great film you choose between the pre-release and theatrical versions. Without going into details, the major difference between the two is that the theatrical version has a greater emphasis on the romance between Bogart and Bacall. The pre-release is more plot heavy. To me, the plot is heavy enough and I dearly love the byplay between the two leads, so I always watch the theatrical version. Either is fine but I think the general consensus —if it matters to you, is that the romantic focus is essential to the film.

Fanny and Alexander (1982) Bergman. Here’s a case in which I’m going to say one version is far superior to the other. There is a theatrical version of Fanny and Alexander and the TV version. Watching the theatrical version is — in my humble opinion — just plain silly. Think of it this way, imagine watching three episodes of Breaking Bad edited into one episode. Fanny and Alexander was meant for TV, when you reduce its 320 minutes to 188 minutes you’re cutting down it to and into the bone. It’s silly that they even thought to make a theatrical version. Fanny and Alexander (the full version) is one of the great gems of cinema — even if it was originally for TV.

Das Boot (1981) Peterson. To me this a case of three bears where one of three is “just right” — the middle one. There is the first U.S. theatrical version which is 149 minutes. Too short. There is original German TV mini-series which is 282 minutes. Too long. Finally there is the director’s cut which is 208 minutes. Just right. Indeed the director’s cut is, for me one of the great films of all time. The other two versions are fine and if you love the story as I do watching all three isn’t a bad idea, I think if you do, you’ll settle on the director’s cut as the best of the three.

Blade Runner (1982) R. Scott. There have been four versions. The original U.S, theatrical version and the International version are probably pretty hard to find these days, which is just as well as they are not highly regarded. I don’t believe I’m over-stepping when I say that I’d not bother. Both feature voice over narration which is totally unnecessary and indeed distracting. Worse, they also feature a studio-imposed happy ending that maybe doesn’t ruin the film but doesn’t fit with its general tone. That leaves you with the two director’s versions, one from 1992 and the other from 2007. The latter was fully controlled by the director Ridley Scott and is the one that you’re most likely to come across today. Frankly I don’t know why anyone would bother with any other version but feel free to check out the others.

Apocalypse Now (1979) Coppola. Here’s the big one. Cinephiles are divided between the original version and Apocalypse Now Redux. The difference between the two is the added scenes in Redux which lengthen the film by fifteen minutes. I’ve read that more people like the original because it is tighter and gets to the crux of the film faster. I like the Redux better because to me it expands the story to include a bit more history and an exploration of imperialism and colonialism. I’d never get into an argument about which version is better. The best thing to do — if you really like the film — is watch them both. I have and…well, you know what I think.

Andrei Rublev (1966) Tarkovsky. This is an easy one. There is an original 203 minute cut and the director-approved version, which is twenty-two minutes shorter. The second time I watched Andrei Rublev, unlike the first time, I found myself a bit bored at times. When it was over I realized I’d watched the longer version by mistake. The third time I watched I was sure to watch the shorter version. I wasn’t bored for a second. That’s all I’ve got to say on the matter other than that you should feel free to watch the longer version, as opinions may differ.

Blackmail (1929) Hitchcock. There is a silent version and a talking version of this great film. It was made as studios were transitioning to sound, hence the two takes. I much prefer the silent version. Early talkies were not great and this is an example. Sound was just being developed for use in films and actors weren’t yet comfortable with it. This comes across in Blackmail. Also Blackmail is powerful in large part because of the striking visuals, these are emphasized more in the silent version. If you don’t like silents then by all means watch the talkie version, otherwise I’d strongly recommend the silent version.

Touch of Evil (1958) Welles. There are three versions. The original theatrical version (93 minutes), The Preview Version (108) minutes and the 1998 reconstruction (111 minutes). I’m not going to tell you outright which one to watch but I’ll say that the first version was butchered by the studio. The second version restores much of Welles’ vision. The third restores even more of it and eliminates the upbeat score that accompanies the opening tracking shot in the other versions. I don’t believe anyone prefers the originally released version and most prefer the last version — as do I. But the second version has it’s supporters, mostly people who like original score and think the third has awkward sound edits. I believe the opening scene needs to be seen without the score and with the ambient street noises as in version three.

If there’s anything else I can help you with please drop a line. 

My Top 30 Films From 1925-1949 (Last of a Series)

Cary Grant and Rosalind Russell in His Girl Friday

Regular readers of this blog (I'm looking at you Geronimo O'Hara of  Narragansett, Rhode Island) will recall that three months ago I published a list of my top thirty films from the first quarter of this century. I followed that two months ago with my top thirty from the preceding twenty-five year period (1975-1999) and last month with my favorites from 1950-1974  This month I offer my top picks from 1925 through 1949. You're welcome. You will note several directors combine to dominate this list. There are four movies from Alfred Hitchcock, three from Preston Sturges and two each from John Ford, Howard Hawks, Charlie Chaplin and Frank Capra. So those six provide half the films here. Cary Grant, Joseph Cotton and Humphrey Bogart are each in three films, as is the despicable John Wayne. Ward Bond appears in a supporting role in three films and if I'd expanded the list to fifty he would have been in four or five more. But John Qualen tops that being in four pictures on this list. Among women Barbara Stanwyck and Ingrid Bergman are both in two films.

1.His Girl Friday (1940) Hawks

2. Duck Soup (1933) McCarey

3. Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939) Capra

4. Casablanca (1942) Curtiz

5. The Grapes of Wrath (1940) Ford

6. Treasure of the Sierra Madre (1948) Huston

7. Foreign Correspondent (1940) Hitchcock

8. Sullivan’s Travels (1941) P. Sturges

9. Shadow of a Doubt (1943) Hitchcock

10. Rome: Open City (1945) Rossellini

11. It’s A Wonderful Life (1946) Capra

12. The Third Man (1949) Reed

13. Holiday (1938) Cukor

14. City Lights (1931) Chaplin

15. The Big Sleep (1946) Hawks

16. All Quiet on the Western Front (1930) Milestone

17. My Man Godfrey (1936) LaCava

18. Red River (1948) Hawks

19. Stagecoach (1939) Ford

20. The 39 Steps (1935) Hitchcock

21. The Gold Rush (1925) Chaplin

22. Citizen Kane (1941) Welles

23. Double Indemnity (1944) Wilder

24. The Lady Eve (1941) P. Sturges

25. Notorious (1946) Hitchcock

26. Bicycle Thieves (1949) De Sica

27. Hail the Conquering Hero (1944) P. Sturges

28. The Long Voyage Home (1940) Ford

29. The Big Parade (1927) Vidor

30. A Canterbury Tale (1944) Powell and Pressburger

I've Watched 14 Films in Nine Days?!?! Might As Well Write About Them

Holiday, the first film I watched in 2022

Nine days into the new year and I’ve already watched fourteen films. It is a pace that I can’t won’t shouldn’t couldn’t wouldn’t mustn’t shan’t maintain. Today for example, I reckon I’ll not watch a single one.

Anyhoo, I thought that it would be a worthwhile exercise for me to write some comments on each of them and thereby create a blog post for your reading pleasure. You’re welcome!

New’s Year’s Day

Holiday (1938) Cukor. An original member of my top 100 films of all-time, it’s a favorite this time of year as it includes a scene on New Year’s Eve. I’m sure I’ve watched Holiday over a dozen times, the first occasion being in the mid-eighties in a now defunct revival theater in Berkeley. Of course co-stars Cary Grant and Katharine Hepburn are luminous but I’m increasingly impressed by Lew Ayres as Hepburn’s alcoholic younger brother. He is sad and wise and one can’t help rooting for him to break away from his oppressive father and job.

The Lost Daughter (2021) Gyllenhaal. It’s a sign of what a good year in cinema we’ve just had that this fine film could only manage the seventh spot on my top ten films of the year. Olivia Colman and Jesse Buckley sparkle in the this story of a middle-aged academic (Colman) named Leda on a working holiday in Greece. Much of the movie is a flashbacks of Leda's younger days (where she is played by Buckley) and her struggles as a young mother, her affair and the dissolution of her marriage. Meanwhile there is psychological drama aplenty, much of it involving Leda and her odd relationship with fellow vacationers, one of whom is ably played by the gorgeous Dakota Johnson. 

January 2

Nightmare Alley (1947) Goulding. Based on its reviews I was not interested in seeing he Guillermo Del Toro remake. I’m not enamored of his directing style, finding it indulgent and excessive. But I did decide to re-visit the original as it was enjoying a revival. It’s a fine film with Tyrone Power — somewhat limited in range — solid in the lead. But it’s not a picture that sticks with me. A lot of late forties and early fifties noir is like that for me. Diverting while watching but ultimately forgettable.

The More the Merrier (1943) Stevens. For the first two-thirds or so of it’s running time, this is a classic screwball comedy that is utterly delightful. But for me the film fades towards the end. The plot goes off the rails and takes a roundabout way to get to the inevitable conclusion. Joel McCrea and Jean Arthur are excellent as the leads and the racist Charles Coburn (member of the White Citizen’s Council) deservedly won an Oscar for his supporting role, if a racist can be deserving of awards.

January 3

The Enemy Below (1957) Powell. Robert Mitchum is the captain of a destroyer in the South Atlantic during World War II locked in a life or death battle of wits with a German U-Boat commander. Dick Powell directed and did a fine job of fitting all the action into under an hour and forty minutes. A lot of fun as seemingly most Mitchum films are.

January 4

The Tragedy of MacBeth

The Tragedy of MacBeth (2021) Coen. MacBeth is my favorite Shakespeare play. I’ve seen it on stage twice. Once at the Berkeley Rep starring Frances McDormand who co-stars in this film version, and once in Boston. I also own Roman Polanski’s film of it on DVD. I really enjoyed this version of the Scottish play. Joel Coen (without his brother Ethan this time) clearly got a lot of inspiration from German expressionism. Characters and action are accented by the large angled sets and the brilliant black and white cinematography. Denzel and Ms. McDormand are excellent in the lead roles.

January 5

The Big Steal (1949) Siegel. Wow, what a fun movie. Director Dan Siegel crammed an amazing amount of action into a film that somehow clocks in at seven-one minutes. Mitchum stars opposite the underrated and lovely Jane Greer in a chase picture through much of Mexico (or so it seems). Money has been stolen and there's questions about who the real good guys and bad guys are. John Qualen, who appeared in seemingly half the films made between 1930 and 1960 and on TV through the early seventies, makes a rare appearance as a someone who is definitely a bad guy.

When Women Kill (1983) Grant. Better known as an actress, Lee Grant was also a documentarian. The good folks at Criterion Channel have put up a batch of them and this was my first look at a Grant-directed movie. In it she interviews about a dozen women who serving sentences for murdering men, usually either a boyfriend or husband. The exception being Leslie Van Houten who participated in the Tate-LaBianca murders as part of the Manson Family. It's not unsurprisingly a compelling film and I often found that my sympathy was largely toward the murderesses many of whom had been horribly treated by their eventual victims.

January 6

Lifeboat (1944) Hitchcock. Like virtually all Hitchcock films, I'm quite familiar with this gem. Also like most of the great director's pictures it is a pleasure to re-visit. I was once again drawn to the luminescent Tallulah Bankhead. Ms. Bankhead was a wild lady with a penchant for sex, booze, drugs and parties, some of which inspired her to get naked. During the filming of Lifeboat she had to climb some stairs everyday. This was much appreciated by crew members as she eschewed underwear. 

January 7

People Will Talk (1951) Mankiewicz. Simply put, this film stinks. I'm so disappointed that I wasted nearly two hours watching it that I don't want to waste any more time writing about it. Certainly Cary Grant's worst film. Jeanne Crain was terrible and the pacing was awful. 

Trouble In Paradise

Trouble In Paradise (932) Lubitsch. This was probably my fourth viewing and this time I fell completely in love and am here ready to declare it my favorite of Lubitsch's films, which is saying a lot because he made some beauts. Herbert Marshall was never more charming. Miriam Hopkins never more devilish and Kay Francis never more stylish. Charles Ruggles and Edward Everett Horton were two highly regarded supporting players of the time and they added immeasurably to this exemplar of the Lubitsch touch.

January 8

Mirror (1975) Tarkovsky. A film deservedly placed among my top 100, Mirror reveals something different every time one watches it. It defies easy explanation though it is ostensibly about a dying man looking back at his life. Several cast members play two roles, seemingly disconnected scenes are placed in the middle of the story and there is footage from Russian wars and the Spanish Revolution mixed in. Mirror demands repeat viewings and I already look forward to my next one.

Witness for the Prosecution (1957) Wilder. This was the first time I watched WFTP remembering exactly how it ended. That didn't diminish my enjoyment of it one iota. Billy Wilder wrote and directed (from an Agatha Christie story) and it starred Charles Laughton, Elsa Lanchester and Marlene Dietrich -- and a scenery chewing Tyrone Power. With the exception of my wife, no woman has ever aged as well as did Dietrich who looked nowhere near her true age of fifty-six -- especially not those gams.

January 9

Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans (1927) Murnau. Another member of my top 100. It really deserves a better print although given that the original negative was destroyed that's a big ask. Sunrise was one of the first films to include a soundtrack which was composed of music, street noises and other ambient sound. It is a great example for film students of framing and letting the camera tell the story. Few title cards were used, especially after the first fifteen minutes. A masterpiece.

The Unfunny Business of Describing Funny Movies, Plus the Difficulty of Creating Great Comedies, Plus Ten Greats From Ten Different Decades

Andy left Jorma right with Jimmy Fallon doing the Donkey Roll

"We'd like to get to the point where Connor is everywhere, like oxygen or gravity or clinical depression." -- From Pop Star: Never Stop Never Stopping

Yesterday I watched Pop Star: Never Stop Never Stopping (2016) Taccone/Schaffer for the third time and immediately wanted to write about it. But then the conundrum: How the hell do you write about comedy? It is — pun intended — seriously difficult. 

For the sake of argument let’s say you consider Ingmar Bergman’s Cries and Whispers (1972) to be absolutely hilarious. What do you say? 

"I laughed a lot."

"It was really funny."

"I laughed so hard I cried."

"There were endless sight gags, screamingly funny prat falls, jokes aplenty, unparalleled satire."

"Side-splitting."

It equates to a "you had to be there" situation.

(By the way, Cries and Whispers, a film I revere, is certainly the least funny movie ever made.)

To convey how funny a movie is, you have to give examples. But there are many problems associated with this approach. First of all, how do you describe slapstick so that the humor comes across? You sound like a ten-year old. “There was this really funny part where they threw pies at each other.” 

You can repeat some of the one-liners but can you deliver them like Groucho Marx? Because if you can't (and you can’t, trust me) then they lose some of their zing — I mean, most of their zing. How do you describe the antics of Chaplin’s Little Tramp? For example the boxing scene in City Lights (1931) Chaplin. You can’t do it justice. Also a lot of humor is surprise. It’s funny because you weren’t expecting it. Which leads to another issue, if you discuss the funny bits in a movie you’re giving away a lot of humor that people should discover for themselves. To really describe a comedy you have to give a lot away. Nobody wants that.

Describing what makes you laugh is like describing an orgasm. Try that. Here, I’ll give it a go:

“Upon ejaculation I felt really good.” 

Doesn't capture the moment, does it?

How about “it was ecstasy.” 

Yeah, it probably was, but what’s that like? 

From Pop Star

You might as well try to explain to someone who has never had a strawberry what strawberries taste like. “They’re fruity!” Or: “they’re kind of like raspberries but different.” Do tell.

How do you describe the manner in which  Gold Rush, makes you laugh? “There’s a scene where Chaplin makes potatoes dance.” Yeah? And? 

See what I'm saying?

Again this was inspired by my third viewing of Pop Star. I laughed more than the previous two times I saw it, the mark of a great comedy. (I now feel obligated to tell you that the three stars and writers of the film, Andy Samberg, Jorma Taccone and Akiva Schaeffer, were all students of mine when I taught middle school. See this post from last Summer about hanging with Jorma in a park.) Great comedies aren't just funny the first time, they stay funny and can even get funnier. Not sure how that works -- but it does.

When I set out to write about Pop Star I was struck by how clever it is. It’s a brilliant satire on…well, a lot of things. The modern music industry, celebrity culture, consumerism and friendship. It is also at times very silly. Silly, when done right, can be hilarious. Silly, when not done right, can be an absolute bore.

You've got to be smart to get silly just right. Indeed if you pay attention you'll notice that virtually all great comedians and comedy writers are intelligent people. 

Something just occurred to me that I’m going to insert here. Humor is subjective. I suppose there are some people who don’t find Groucho Marx funny (I hope never to meet such an individual). I may shock some of you by stating that I’ve never found Laurel and Hardy particularly funny and to me W.C Fields is tedious. Most comedy films made in the last forty years leave me cold. (Does Adam Sandler appeal to anyone over fourteen?) So you can recommend a comedy film to someone and they may not dig it at all. Different strokes. Comedy that appeals to a broad audience is rare. That's what made Chaplin a genius.

(Here I diverge to the topic of how difficult comedy is to do, never mind write about.)

Comedy is hard to do in films. In a sit com you’re trying fill about twenty-two minutes with laughs, in a movie you’re looking for ninety minutes worth of chuckles. Plus with a sitcom you’ve already established characters, setting and common scenarios. Making a succession of comedy films that are all funny is nigh on impossible. Look at some of the masters. Chaplin did it for a long time with one and two reelers that lasted from a quarter to a half an hour. When he did features he was taking several years to make them. He had a nearly perfect record but wasn't cranking out one a year. The Marx Brothers made six great comedies right out of the gate but after that the laughs were fewer and farther between. Woody Allen has probably made as many or more great comedies as anyone over fifty years but he’s mixed in some serious films as well. 

Chaplin and potatoes in Gold Rush

The Monty Python troupe had an impressive run on their television series and with a few movies, but they burned out. Comedy is hard work. When writing humor pieces I usually find that the first few funny bits pop right out, then I have to give the next few a good think. Later it's like pulling teeth. I've scrapped a lot because it wasn't worth the investment of time. (It's not like anyone is paying me.)

Comedies rely almost totally on good writing. A bad script for any film is impossible to overcome. In comedy especially. Of course you’ve got to have a good director. It doesn’t even need to be a director whose done a lot of comedy. Alfred Hitchcock directed one screwball comedy and it was one of the best of all time, Mr. and Mrs. Smith (1941). 

Howard Hawks directed some of our greatest comedies (His Girl Friday (1940), Twentieth Century (1934), Bringing Up Baby (1938)) but also directed westerns, gangster films, war pictures and anything else you can name. 

Billy Wilder directed a passel of good comedies but he was working with scripts that he co-wrote. 

Many directors exclusively do comedies and only a few of them are really good at it. Mel Brooks comes to mind. Sam Wood was pretty consistent as was Leo McCarey. Ivan Reitman and Harold Ramis had a lot of success too. But many of the worst comedies are cranked out by hacks who can’t seem to get it right. Many of these make money but they don’t add to the culture as they're rife with predicable bits, toilet humor and the over done man-getting-hit-in-the-groin. They're quickly forgotten.

Mike Mysers produced what I consider a masterpiece of comedy with the first Austin Powers film. His second Powers movie was not quite as good and the third was a dog. That's a reflection on how difficult it is.

Preston Sturges wrote and directed seven of our great comedies (highlighted by The Lady Eve and Sullivan's Travels both in 1941) in a five-year span from 1940-1944 and that, folks, was that. Nothing after.

Comedies also rely on the right actors and they don’t have to be people who deal exclusively or mostly in comedy. "Serious actors" have appeared in very funny films and been part of what made them good. Jack Lemmon, Robert DeNiro, Henry Fonda, Diane Keaton, Meryl Streep and Katherine Hepburn all graced hilarious films. If you can act, you can act funny.

Of course there are actors who have regularly graced comedies. Cary Grant, William Powell, Carole Lombard, Gene Wilder, John Belushi, Seth Rogen, Bill Murray and Catherine O’Hara, to name but a few.

Catherine O'Hara reminds me of the Christopher Guest troupe which had a great run of comedies such as Waiting for Guffman (1996), Best in Show (2000) and A Mighty Wind (2003). But there's been nothing new for years.

Groucho Marx in Duck Soup

(It appears that in some respects I’ve disproven my point. I’ve been able to write about funny films. Of course this hasn’t been terribly funny and I’ve mentioned films, directors and actors without giving any examples of how they tickle the ribs.)

Comedy is hit or miss for everyone involved. The writer, director and certainly the audience. There's little worse than watching a movie for laughs and getting nary a chuckle out of it. It takes a brave person to even try it.  Thankfully there are  talented souls who love getting a laugh and are willing to work at it. When it works they've made us laugh and laughter is one of the greatest gifts you can provide. The next most difficult thing to making a good comedy is writing about it. But I tried.

My Ten Favorite Comedies From Each of the Ten Preceding Decades

Twenties: The Gold Rush (1925) Chaplin

Thirties: Duck Soup (1933) McCarey

Forties: His Girl Friday (1940) Hawks

Fifties: Some Like it Hot (1959) Wilder

Sixties: The Producers (1967) Brooks

Seventies: Manhattan (1979) Allen

Eighties: Arthur (1981) Gordon

Nineties: Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery (1997) Roach

Oughts: Mean Girls (2004) Waters

Tens: Pop Star: Never Stop Never Stopping (2016) Taccone/Schaffer