Review #1,426: 'Mickey One' (1965)

Arthur Penn's Mickey One is a great example of a film that could have made real waves had it arrived at the right time and found the right audience. Sadly, audiences were perhaps unprepared for this radical new approach to film-making, at least for an American studio, as the film's free-wheeling, care-free attitude and style, heavily influenced by the burgeoning French New Wave in Europe, was a turn-off for critics. Despite attracting attention at the Venice Film Festival, Mickey One bombed hard at the box-office, and has faded into obscurity ever since. Had it arrived a few years later, when Hollywood really started to embrace new ideas and the visions of filmmakers, it may now be more highly regarded, although with its offbeat, freestyle-jazz swagger, Mickey One would still infuriate as much as it would inspire.

Mickey One (Warren Beatty) is a handsome, successful stand-up comic in Detroit enjoying a hedonistic life of alcohol, women and gambling. When a night of over-indulgence causes him to lose a wad of cash at the craps table, he flees the city for Chicago, knowing that the Mafia will be after his head for failing to pay his debts. He lays low, renting a tiny apartment and taking a job washing dishes at a restaurant. Unsatisfied with his situation, Mickey can't resist the lure of the clubs, and is soon in the front row heckling a fellow comic and stealing his laughs. He gets himself an agent and eventually returns to the stage, taking lowly gigs as he remains wary of the target on his back. Mickey can sing, play piano, and spit jokes at the drop of a hat, so it isn't long until he lands a spot at an upscale club called Xanadu. With his paranoia raging, Mickey struggles to decide whether or not to take the job, and the predicament isn't helped by the arrival of a beautiful, yet unwanted flatmate named Jenny (Alexandra Stewart).

Mickey One is a very odd film indeed. Scattershot in style and heavy on visual metaphors, it dazzles and demands your attention, but is about as infuriating as being forced to spend the night in a jazz club when you hate jazz. It introduces Mickey - which isn't even his real name - via a dizzying montage before throwing him out in the cold as he looks to duck any gangsters coming his way. We barely get to know him before being pulled along on his existential journey of self-discovery, and Penn is happy to grind the story to a halt in favour of a long conversation in a room (a la A bout de souffle). Still, its difficult to resist being swept along in its uncompromising rhythm and savouring some of the truly bizarre imagery on show. The sight of people trampolining in front of a bridge comes out of nowhere, as does a demonstration by a man credited as 'The Artist' (played by Kamatari Fujiwara), which involves a huge, self-destructive machine called Yes that quickly catches fire. I have no idea what it all means, but it's delightfully unique. And that about sums up Mickey One as a whole: you probably won't know what the hell just happened, but you'll have a memorable time.


Directed by: Arthur Penn
Starring: Warren Beatty, Alexandra Stewart, Hurd Hatfield, Franchot Tone, Teddy Hart, Jeff Corey
Country: USA

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #928: 'Seconds' (1966)

The opening scene of John Frankenheimer's massively overlooked thriller Seconds follows everyman Arthur Hamilton (John Randolph) as he ushers along a familiar railway station seemingly heading to another day at work. Through Frankenheimer and Oscar-nominated cinematographer James Wong Howe's eyes, this is our world but not quite as we know it, but how a lot of us will no doubt feel it. Obscure camera angles and extreme close-ups invoke a deep sense of paranoia, like someone is subtly observing from afar while the walls of our world feel like they're closing in. The man looks like the kind of pod-person Mad Men depicted so well, but who is he and where is he going? Eventually the man is handed a note from a stranger baring an address.

Seconds is the last and least well-known of John Frankenheimer's so-called 'paranoia trilogy', which began with The Manchurian Candidate (1962) and was followed by Seven Days in May (1964). Paranoid thrillers of the highest quality, Seconds is arguably the best. Dismissed by the majority of critics and unseen by audiences upon its release in 1966, it has been frequently re-evaluated over the years but has never achieved the level of recognition is surely deserves. It tries to answer the questions no doubt pondered by many middle-aged men caught up in the mundaneness of modern life, of what it would be like to be offered a clean slate - to change your appearance, be given the money to conquer your goals, and have your former self completely removed from the world. Will you achieve happiness and live the life you have always desired, free from the constraints of marriage and a 9 to 5 lifestyle? Or will you simply make the same mistakes as before?

Arthur Hamilton is contacted by an old friend he believed to be long dead, who tempts his old school buddy into a radical - and highly secretive - procedure that will transform him into a completely different person. Arthur cannot resist and visits the address he was handed by the stranger, and is soon transformed into a handsome and younger man, and is given a new name, Antiochus Wilson (played by a career-best Rock Hudson). Arthur's death is faked and he is whisked off to a warmer climate, where a swanky new pad and the tools to pursue his dream life as an artist await him. Is this life-changing reset merely covering up the underlying cracks deep within in his soul? Antiochus is soon indulging in trendy cocktail parties and the attentions of neighbour Nora (Salome Jens), but as the drinks are consumed his old self starts to bubble over.

Although he only appears around the hour mark, Hudson is nothing short of mesmerising here. Retained his handsome features but gaining a world-weariness, the man best known for his screwball comedies seems to perfect fit to play a man hiding his true self, given the double-life he was forced to lead to improve his public image and which eventually damaged his career. Wilson's drunken antics during a long party segment of the film are filled with pity and embarrassment, and it's here that Frankenheimer starts to lose his grip on the story. The narrative sags, but it only adds to the whole disorienting experience. Though technically a thriller, Seconds also works well as a horror, hiding the surgeons ready with their scalpels behind thick walls and shrouding the organisation offering the services in secrecy. Deserving of far more respect in the world of cinema, Seconds is a disturbing and depressing experience, but one that is drenched in irony, featuring one of the most unsettling closing lines I've ever heard.


Directed by: John Frankenheimer
Starring: Rock Hudson, Salome Jens, John Randolph, Will Geer, Jeff Corey
Country: USA

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie