Robert Stack is a former war hero, a dedicated, cold-hearted airplane stunt pilot who enters races in 1932 but barely scratches out a living. Dorothy Malone is his wife. Her main job in the act is to parachute out of Stack's airplane, allow her filmy skirt to billow up, and show everyone her undies. Everyone lusts after her -- Jack Carson the pudgy mechanic, and Rock Hudson the reporter covering the family for his Louisiana newspaper. Malone yearns for Stack's love (sob), but begins to turn towards the behemoth Hudson. I can't reveal the end because I couldn't see through my tears.
I know Douglas Sirk has an avid following. I just don't know why. "Written on the Wind" was a long, boring tale. "The Tarnished Angels" is executed in a most perfunctory manner.
The four leads are stereotypical Hollywood stars. They're well known for their well-knownness. They can't be well known for their acting abilities because they're all mediocre in that department.
The story is set in 1932 but you'd never know it. Except for the mean-looking little airplanes, it looks exactly like 1959 -- from Dorothy Malone's hair style and wardrobe to the source music, which is to the early 30s as your image in a carnival distorting mirror is to you. The signs on the cafe wall -- "Fries 15 cents", "Oysters on the half shell, 30 cents" -- appear to have been painted by some prop guy half an hour before the scene was shot.
The story takes place in the Mississippi delta but was obviously filmed in semi-remote areas of California. Nobody sweats. It doesn't rain. There is no sense of place. The extras and bit parts are filled with people from Central Casting.
I haven't read Faulkner's book so I can't comment on how closely the film follows his story, but I imagine that, as usual, much of the novel's enjoyment stems from Faulkner's style, which is impossible to capture in a movie. As it stands, the plot could have easily been bent to fit the format of an afternoon domestic drama.
An exception to these negative comments: two very nicely staged airplane races that Stack participates in. For a few minutes, the film is lifted out of the sludge as the period airplanes buzz around the pylons in exhilarating contests, sometimes smoking and cracking up. During these scenes we can SEE the love of flight in whose thrall Stack manages to exist. The problem is that neither Stack the actor nor the writer, George Zuckerman, are able to communicate that devotion.
I know Douglas Sirk has an avid following. I just don't know why. "Written on the Wind" was a long, boring tale. "The Tarnished Angels" is executed in a most perfunctory manner.
The four leads are stereotypical Hollywood stars. They're well known for their well-knownness. They can't be well known for their acting abilities because they're all mediocre in that department.
The story is set in 1932 but you'd never know it. Except for the mean-looking little airplanes, it looks exactly like 1959 -- from Dorothy Malone's hair style and wardrobe to the source music, which is to the early 30s as your image in a carnival distorting mirror is to you. The signs on the cafe wall -- "Fries 15 cents", "Oysters on the half shell, 30 cents" -- appear to have been painted by some prop guy half an hour before the scene was shot.
The story takes place in the Mississippi delta but was obviously filmed in semi-remote areas of California. Nobody sweats. It doesn't rain. There is no sense of place. The extras and bit parts are filled with people from Central Casting.
I haven't read Faulkner's book so I can't comment on how closely the film follows his story, but I imagine that, as usual, much of the novel's enjoyment stems from Faulkner's style, which is impossible to capture in a movie. As it stands, the plot could have easily been bent to fit the format of an afternoon domestic drama.
An exception to these negative comments: two very nicely staged airplane races that Stack participates in. For a few minutes, the film is lifted out of the sludge as the period airplanes buzz around the pylons in exhilarating contests, sometimes smoking and cracking up. During these scenes we can SEE the love of flight in whose thrall Stack manages to exist. The problem is that neither Stack the actor nor the writer, George Zuckerman, are able to communicate that devotion.