It’s not uncommon for a great movie to fly under the radar. It’s tougher for great directors to fall short of the recognition they deserve. It’s not that William Dieterle, Richard Brooks, and Hal Ashby aren’t recognized as talents, just that they haven’t received credit equal to their achievements.
German-born Dieterle studied under legendary theater impresario Max Reinhardt before moving to Hollywood in the early 1930s. Few remember that he co-directed the incandescent, evolutionary 1935 production of
A Midsummer Night’s Dream with Reinhardt. Some of his best-known films haven’t aged all that well, such as his two Paul Muni Oscar-winners,
The Story of Louis Pasteur (1936) and
The Life of Emile Zola (1937). But his film credits are dotted with under-appreciated films. If you’ve never gotten around to seeing the 1939
Hunchback of Notre Dame, you’ve got an astounding visual treat in store. His 1941 film
The Devil and Daniel Webster was a notorious flop when released, but has been deservedly rediscovered. The movie is sometimes dry, but never less than visually sumptuous. If you want to dig deep for a treat, seek out
Jewel Robbery, a 1932 romp starring William Powell and another unappreciated talent, Kay Francis, in peak form. Bringing his German Expressionist heritage to Hollywood, Dieterle always brought evocative visual style to his work. But he also deserves credit for having directed his performers to 10 Oscar nominations. His 1950s movies starring Joseph Cotten and Jennifer Jones are merely adequate. But those earlier films prove that Dieterle was the equal of his more durable peers.
Brooks directed
Blackboard Jungle (1956),
Cat on a Hot Tin Roof (1958),
Elmer Gantry (1960), and
In Cold Blood (1967)—four acknowledged classics. Add in his screenplays for
The Killers and
Key Largo, and you’ve got a movie talent of incredible range. Yet Richard Brooks is hardly a household name. Maybe he’s cursed with not having an identifiable style, adjusting too well to the subject matter of each film. And that doesn’t include Brooks’ two overlooked westerns,
The Professionals (1967) and
Bite the Bullet (1975). I hadn’t even heard of these films until this year. The first is a fun, if overlong rescue movie with a twist, starring Lee Marvin and Burt Lancaster. The second is a 700-mile horse race starring Gene Hackman, James Coburn, and Candace Bergen, among many others. I’m stunned that this beautifully shot, intelligently scripted Western isn’t identified as one of the best of the genre. All I can guess is that by 1975 cinematic tastes had shifted too far from westerns in the year of
One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest,
Dog Day Afternoon,
Nashville, and
Jaws.
When you take a closer look at Brooks’ resume, you do find a common theme: a dogged and progressive call for justice and equality. Even as far back as Key Largo, Brooks shows minorities in a more honest and uncompromising way than others of his time. And that theme would continue through Blackboard Jungle right down to Hackman’s horse-loving cowboy in Bite the Bullet. It figures that Brooks is now the one who doesn’t get the justice he deserves.
I have long been a huge Ashby fan, and I have a feeling a lot of great filmmakers are as well. When you look at the work of the current writer/directors like Alexander Payne and Wes Anderson, you can find a direct line from Ashby’s easygoing, deceptively incisive storytelling. Though he first made his mark editing a number of great 1960s movies (he won an Oscar for
In the Heat of the Night), Ashby only directed 12 features before dying at the age of 59 in 1988. But his stretch from 1971 to 1979 is one of the great directing hot streaks:
Harold and Maude (1971);
The Last Detail (1973);
Shampoo (1975);
Bound For Glory (1976);
Coming Home (1978); and
Being There (1979). That’s an amazing run. Unfortunately, Ashby also had a run of heavy drug use and unreliable behavior, and his career fell apart soon after. For a man who lived a hard, maverick lifestyle, Ashby directed with a gentle bravery that, to me, makes him one of the most influential directors of the influential 1970s.
Alex Manugian lives in Sherman Oaks, Calif. He grew up in Groton and has reviewed movies for Harvard readers for many years.