Welcome to the first edition of what will become a monthly article, where I open up Hidden Treasures to allow you, the Row Three Community, a chance to speak out. Below are three films that you believe are hidden treasures, and I thank this month’s contributors for selecting such a diverse trio of movies. If you have a hidden treasure that you would like to share, please click here to learn how to go about doing so. Next month’s open forum will be posted on Thursday, June 19th, but only the first three submissions will be eligible for inclusion (and one has already been sent). I look forward to hearing from you, and thank you for continuing to support Hidden Treasures.

Submitted by Mike rot:

Summertime (1955)
Director David Lean is perhaps best known for his epic films such as Doctor Zhivago, The Greatest Story Ever Told, and Lawrence of Arabia, to name a few, but for me one of his greatest works remains one of his lesser known ones, his 1955 love letter to Venice, Summertime, starring Katherine Hepburn. Summertime is a refreshingly honest depiction of Anglophone abroad storytelling that consecrates onscreen the multifaceted nature of traveling with its strange mix of the mundane and the glorious. Where a lesser film would editorialize the experience and keep only salient moments to document, this journey into Venice takes in the complete panorama including the quiet moments like leisurely walking to the hotel, or basking in the first morning before all the possibilities. Filmed entirely on site, Summertime seems every bit as rich and sensuous as I imagined Venice would be, which is an incredible feat considering that this was made in 1955 Technicolor and yet this deficiency works in a histrionic way to sheath the visuals in a nostalgic light. In the end it is the characters that make the film. Hepburn’s Jane Hudson goes against every preconception of what a Hepburn character ought to be; here she plays a meek lonely woman who rages at every attempt by others to appease her state (a surprisingly sensitive depiction of depression, considering the time period). Jane is a woman with very little back story who embodies a lived-in loneliness that clings to culturally idealized perceptions of how love is supposed to occur. Rossano Brazzi as Renalto de Rossi, the uninhibited Italian who wants to consummate his love for Jane, is also against type; while still conventionally handsome, he is not without his flaws, and his advances are less than ideal fare for the romantic. He is a man stumbling into love, at every turn trying to offset Jane’s erratic trepidation with intimacy. This chemistry results in a beautifully imperfect dance of psyches that mirrors the imperfections of the picturesque which surrounds them. Lean depicts the central love story without condescension, allowing the characters proper depth and cultural background. Here we do not find the typical harlequin romance where the man concedes to the woman’s every fantasy, but rather a corpuscular attraction, a sharp edged, smooth sided and uneasy alliance with intense bursts of drama. One of the most extraordinary elements to the film is how Lean (both writer and director) chose to end the story; of course with this kind of story, it is practically inevitable that the tourist will have to return home, but rarely has it been done with such iconic flare. In one long take Lean establishes one of the best endings to a picture I have ever seen, one that compliments as a perfect book-end everything established in the beginning.

Submitted by Kurt Halfyard:

The King and the Clown (2005)
The King and the Clown is a South Korean riff on William Shakespeare’s Hamlet, but only in the loosest of fashion. It is a fusion of bold storytelling, Korean history and traditional theatre wrapped in a taboo busting modern package which captures the essence of the dangerous thrill (and resulting joy) of performing art. The story follows two actors who leave their tight-rope/comedy troupe because the leader of their band is more interested in selling the younger of the two, a fellow so smooth-skinned and effeminate as to be quite easily mistaken for the opposite gender, to rich noblemen for sexual favours. They make their way to Seoul to start their own troupe, and make a name for themselves by turning the gossip of the King and his ex-prostitute consort into satire of the monarchy. This leads to notice by a key minister of the King and gets the players caught up in the in political (and sexual) intrigues of one of Korea’s long lasting Joseon Dynasty. The tightrope is a fitting visual metaphor seen constantly in the movie as the players, as they do in the ‘play within the play’ in Hamlet, wield power of a sort by confronting the court with things that no member of the aristocracy or monarchy could say outright. The King and the Clown spends a fair bit of time going into the consequences on giving the ‘common people’ so much power without the protections of station. They suffer for that power, and the effect of their art. When given the choice however, each player indicates that they would do it all again for the euphoria of performing. If this movie were made in English and a Hollywood studio film (not that I’m suggesting a remake, the film is universal in its appeal, but Korean at its core) it would likely get an Academy Award nomination for best picture. In fact The King and the Clown was submitted (but ignored) for the Best Foreign Language Award; and up until recently it was the highest grossing domestic film in South Korea. This is even more impressive in that the director and principle actors were basically unknowns when the film was released.

Submitted by John Allison:

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum (1966)
Back when I was a Classics major I had a Professor who brought in A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum for us to watch. He explained how it was actually a good modern representation of Roman New Comedy. Roman New Comedy is a style of play that focused on slapstick and farce which is quite rowdy. A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum, which is originally a stage musical by Stephen Sondheim, Burt Shevelove and Larry Gelbart is the 1966 musical comedy film penned by the same creators. Like a few of its historical predecessors, A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum tells the story of Pseudolus (Zero Mostel) a lazy slave who is trying to win his freedom however possible from his hen pecked Master Senex (Michael Hordern) and domineering mistress Domina (Patricia Jessel). He is placed in charge of their son Hero (Michael Crawford) and soon discovers that Hero has fallen in love with Philia (Annette Andre) who just happens to be a virgin protistute, living next door who has already been sold to the Roman General, Miles Gloriosus (Leon Greene). Pseudolus makes a deal with his young master that he will free Philia from the brothel’s owner Marcus Lycus (Phil Silvers). Hysterium (Jack Gilford) is Pseudolus’ supervisor who tries to keep everything from spiraling out of control. This is all set up in the first ten minutes or so of the story and as you can imagine anything and everything goes wrong. A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum is a great comedy with some really catching music that will make you both laugh and groan at the same time and you really have to see the chase scene to believe it. An attempt could be made to briefly summarize all the turns and twists that happen throughout this movie up until the over the top happy ending but it would not do the movie justice. A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum is a classic comedy that stars several big comedic names from the 1960s that needs to be seen if you consider yourself a fan of comedy. One final note that is worth mentioning is that Buster Keaton plays Senex’s other neighbour Erronius. At the time of filming Keaton was 70 years old and terminally ill with cancer. This did not stop hip from doing his on stunts in what would be his final film performance.