The American Film Theatre: Collection Three

Between 1973-1975, the American Film Theatre, under the guiding hand of Ely Landau, produced 14 films adapted from plays--directed by luminaries such as John Frankenheimer, Harold Pinter, and Tony Richardson, and starring such acclaimed thespians as Katharine Hepburn, Laurence Olivier, and Fredric March, who all worked for a pittance of their regular salaries--that were shown in selected theaters to members who had purchased annual subscriptions. Although briefly released on video in 1978, these films have been largely unavailable in any format for the past quarter century. Like the 10 entries compiled in the first two volumes, the final four in this set are variable in quality but on average quite good. The highlight is the fine adaptation of Lost in the Stars, the 1949 Kurt Weill-Maxwell Anderson musical based on Alan Paton's novel Cry, the Beloved Country, about a black minister searching for his son in Johannesburg, South Africa. Though the treatment of the theme of prejudice is sporadically heavy-handed, the memorable score (Weill's last), sensitive direction by Daniel Mann, and a superb performance by Brock Peters (as well as Melba Moore's beautiful voice) make this a gem. Almost as fine is Bertolt Brecht's Galileo, directed by Joseph Losey, who also oversaw the original 1947 Broadway production. The play is rather schematic and stagey, and in the title role Topol, while sound enough, makes one long for Charles Laughton, who originated the part on stage (as well as co-translating the piece with Brecht). But the remainder of the cast is exceedingly good, and the work remains thought-provoking. Of lesser interest is Brian Friel's Philadelphia, Here I Come, which launched the Irish playwright's career in 1964, a memory play in which a young man (Donal McCann) debates with his private self (Des Cave) on the eve of his planned departure for America, while longing for some sign of affection from his distant, aged father. The cast, which includes Siobhan McKenna as the family's insightful housekeeper, is a good one (though Cave comes on rather too strong), and the Irish locations are well chosen, but nearly four decades after it was penned this all comes across as a bit frail and obvious. Unfortunately, the final item in the set, the revue Jacques Brel Is Alive and Well and Living in Paris, is badly dated, both in content and in style. While some of Brel's chansons, with their repetitive melodies and characteristically bittersweet observations on love, life, and war, retain their punch, the 1968-set sensibility of the piece strikes one as more than a little affected, and the approach taken by director Denis Heroux exhibits the alternately cute and overemphatic feel that often marked supposedly hip productions in the 1970s. Though it's valuable to have the composer himself represented on film (he sings his signature song, “Ne Me Quitte Pas” here), as a whole “Jacques Brel” may be alive but isn't all that well. Each of the DVDs includes extras--trailers, posters, stills, and essays, as well as interviews with performers (Topol) and executives (Edie Landau, Ely's widow). Given the ambition, uniqueness, and definite triumphs of the project, coupled with the long unavailability of these titles--all available separately on DVD for $29.95 each and VHS for $24.95 each--this set is recommended. (F. Swietek)