I got some bad news around the turn of the year—that the gorgeous Lafayette Theater in Suffern, N.Y., a vintage movie palace complete with full-tilt Wurlitzer (I wrote about the house in the latter section of this post), would no longer be hosting the Big Screen Classics program so lovingly overseen by Nelson Page and Pete Apruzzese. The good news is that the fellas have moved their operation to the Cedar Lane Cinemas in Teaneck, N.J. It ain't exactly the same house, but there's still magic conjured there. My pal Joseph Failla went to a recent screening of On The Waterfront there, and e-mailed me his impressions:
I have to say, watching the film projected as large as it was brought home again just how powerful WATERFRONT still is. Not since my first viewing, watching it as a kid on CH. 9 with my dad oh so long ago, has it hit me quite so hard. First off, it looked different than any DVD or video version I can recall. While the print admittedly had some wear to it, when you talk about grain and texture being part of the picture, it was all here to witness and discuss. They also ran it at 1.85, which differs greatly from the DVD but approximates what was shown on TCM recently. I wish I had screen shots to demonstrate the dissimilarities, but I can now describe the scene with the four thugs waiting outside a saloon for word on Joey Doyle as looking more like a line up rather than some hoods gathering on a street corner.
Perhaps the audience had not seen the film in years, but there was an audible gasp when Dugan is killed by the falling crates dropped on him from above. More evidence that the size of the screen makes all the difference in the world. I myself noticed for the first time—even though I knew he was in the film—Fred Gwynne as one of the mugs who throws a tomato at Karl Malden later during the same scene. The images that grabbed me the most were in the sequence where Brando tells Eva Marie Saint the truth about his involvement in her brother's fate. These close ups had long ago burned themselves into my memory, but here they packed the original emotional wallop that can't really be appreciated on television. Speaking of which, the whole shadowy look of the film could place it squarely in noir territory, if not for the inspirational ending. Other standouts were the alley way chase, the discovery of Charlie's body, and Terry Malloy's beating. These scenes as seen on this screen were never more exciting, touching or vivid, in that order.
Of course we were all waiting for the "contender" speech; you could feel the anticipation there in the house as soon as Steiger and Brando sat down in the back of the cab. All the praise that gets heaped on this moment is as well deserved today as it ever was. It's an intimate scene which allows the actors to do what they do best with no distractions (Kazan was right about those blinds which block the rear window). No wonder this film is all over RAGING BULL.
And as for the "Let's go to work!" ending? When that metal door comes down, it's like a final curtain lowering on a magnificent modern opera. There was a round of applause that lasted well after the film itself finished. All in all I'd say the only sore spot for me is Karl Malden's overdoing it as the concerned Father Barry ("I'm just a potato eater myself."). He just doesn't come off nearly as natural (in the Kazan way) as everyone else does. (He is a hoot in BABY DOLL though.) Now if I can just get the Big Screen Classics guys to run EAST OF EDEN or A FACE IN THE CROWD...
Next Wednesday's show is of Stanley Kramer's gargantuan oddity It's A Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World, another picture whose full, um, magnitude, is best appreciated big. I don't think I'll be able to make it, but if you can, you should.
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