For those accustomed to this blog's devotion to 'movies' this review will come as a minor surprise. But every once in a long while, a book about one of the
irrefutable masters of Hollywood comes along to pay homage with a clear-eyed evaluation
on either the artist or his art, though usually not both; the biography, rather
slavishly devoted to what happened ‘after’ the cameras stopped rolling, while the
chronologist’s approach merely documents the making of the pictures, but barely
scratches the surface of the man who created them. The title of J.R. Jordan’s latest
endeavor, Robert Wise: The Motion Pictures purports to be of this latter
ilk. And yet, in only the first few introductory pages, devoted to glowing ruminations,
first, from actor, Gavin MacLeod (of Mary Tyler Moore, and Love Boat
fame), and then, Douglas E. Wise, the nephew of Jordan’s subject, we quickly
discover a unique bent into which Jordan’s subsequent text will many times crisscross
with anecdotal stories, documented history, and, of course, more than just a
snap summation and scant analysis of the movies themselves – undoubtedly, the
focus of this book.
Robert Wise holds a curious distinction in the annals
of picture-making. For certain, he is one of the unassailable genii of his
medium, with such essential touchstones in the history of film as Curse of
the Cat People, The Day The Earth Stood Still, Executive Suite,
West Side Story, The Haunting, The Sound of Music and The
Sand Pebbles, just to name some of the enviable highlights, any one of
which would have otherwise made a legacy to be immortalized in the forecourt of
Grauman’s Chinese Theater and honored with a star on Hollywood’s Walk of Fame. Even
so, much of what has been written about Wise has been distilled to quaint reminiscences.
It didn’t help, I suppose, that Wise – in life – was a modest man, a
characteristic that, in a town edified by ego, has otherwise setback any
well-grounded assessment of the man in his art, with even Wise’s own self-portrait,
Sergio Leeman’s Robert Wise on His Films, leaving a good deal left
unsaid or worse, open to impressions Wise himself never intended.
The world said goodbye to Robert Wise in 2005, or
rather, he quietly departed it with as little fanfare as he often afforded his
contributions to the picture-making biz.
But now, there is Joe Jordan’s comprehensive compendium of Wise’s work to
reconsider, both as art and the artiste – a word, I have no doubt Wise would
have likely blushed at, made in reference to him - auteur, too. If Wise’s early RKO tenure in the movies is
recalled at all in print, it’s usually as a footnote on the fast track to exploring
his golden period, or, viewed from the shadow of Orson Welles and Val Lewton –
two influential makers of movie-land magic who have somehow, unintentionally
managed to infer Wise’s contributions to their movies as mere grunt work,
performed entirely under their auspices and with Wise merely there to man the
camera and make certain no one bumped into any furniture walking in or out of
the shot. Ah, but now there is Jordan’s account of this period in Wise’s aegis
to reconsider; Jordan, who brings all of Wise’s entertainment into focus, particularly
to crystalize this fledgling period and coax it into the forefront as he lends
it the stand-alone stature and singular importance it so rightfully deserves.
Until this book, I must confess to only ever having ‘heard’
of Wise’s one remake, 1945’s A Game of Death, referenced elsewhere as a
wan ghost flower to 1932’s Most Dangerous Game, and, cannot recall –
even in passing – any authorship on 1946’s Criminal Court or 1977’s Audrey
Rose (the one movie in Wise’s canon I have always considered a shameless Exorcist
rip-off and awful turkey besides) with such guileless perspective as to make me
want to reassess my own opinions. But Jordan here has done, not only his
homework, but his due diligence in honoring Wise as a rare illusionist, painting
in shadow and light. Whether delving into the psychological complexities of Curse
of the Cat People or indulging in The Sound of Music’s frothy
ebullience, Jordan here manages to lend ballast to every last critique. His
reflections are unfettered by his own opinions of Wise, while allowing the testament
of others who stood in Wise’s presence, and thusly appear in his copiously
amassed research, to speak for themselves and for Wise’s contributions to their
artistry.
Robert Wise: The Motion Pictures is a loving valentine to Wise’s workman-like business acumen (he usually brought his movies in on budget and on time, making him something of an industry darling, never to be confused with the less than flattering moniker of ‘company whore’). But Jordan’s book is also a lasting testament to Wise’s creative devotion to genuine works of art, even more miraculously to emerge from that constantly micromanaged and bean-counting backwater we lovingly refer to as ‘the movie industry’ – a bizarre faction of Americana where commerce must, indeed, do the dance with art, and where, as director, Billy Wilder once pointed out, much of its decision-making process vacillates between abject fear over commercial failure and manic anxiety to do the best work that can be done under its pressure-cooker-esque atmosphere on the set, burdens to cripple even the most aspiring creative to the point of wild distraction. Under these rules of engagement, Jordan’s account of Wise, as the consummate professional, always prepared, ever-devoted to the work, and, as concerned for the welfare of his cast and crew, speaks volumes to Wise’s total immersion in his work. At 464-pages, Jordan’s account of Robert Wise, man, as well as maker of magic at the movies, seems effortlessly to bottle the essence of genius in its own time, and likely will prove a very good read for many generations yet to follow, if not, in fact, for all time. It is important to study the past – yes, but even more imperative to document it without any needless seepage of all those hyperbolic pontifications made by some, to contemporize the past for our present age’s prevailing verve for much fluff and nonsense. Jordan’s book steers clear of these pitfalls, and, stays true to Wise – a man who never considered himself a legendary talent in his own time, but who has since justly earned this honor in spades. Robert Wise: The Motion Pictures comes very highly recommended indeed!
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