Arsenic and Old lace review

 Number 242 on the top 1000 films of all time is Frank Capra's 1944 black, screwball comedy 'Arsenic and Old Lace.'

Mortimer Brewster (Cary Grant) is a theatre critic and author who's just married minister's daughter Elaine (Priscilla Lane.) Before they go on their honeymoon, he goes to see his aunts Abby (Josephine Hull) and Martha (Jean Adair) who are living with his mentally deranged brother who believes that he is Teddy Roosevelt. There he is horrified to learn that his aunts have been poisoning lonely, old men and burying them in the cellar. To make things worse, Mortimer's other brother Jonathan (Raymond Massey) arrives - also a murderer and fugitive of justice.

You get screwball comedies and then you get this completely off-the-wall farce. It gives the genre of "screwball comedy" a whole new meaning. It was so kooky that I'm not even sure where to begin.

Actually let's start with Cary Grant who once again put his vaudeville background to good use. He was a delight as the straight-edged Mortimer Brewster who is trying not to lost his mind at his aunt's gleeful admissions that they are serial murderers. He was so funny both in his mannerisms and dialogue.

We also need to credit Josephine Hull and Jean Adair who brought a lovely whimsy to their roles as the killer aunts. Despite being murderers, they made the aunts so endearing. They were just as funny as Cary Grant especially in their physical comedy. One particular scene sees them trying to poison a potential lodger by lacing his wine with arsenic, yet every time he goes to take a sip, he gets distracted. Their constant excitement and disappointment was a joy to watch.

As the film progresses, things do become increasingly ridiculous - particularly when the murderous Jonathan enters the scene along with the hack German Doctor Herman Einstein (Peter Lorre) and a whole cohort of police officers. Chaos ensues as the film descends into a completely meaningless farce.

Despite the strange ending, Arsenic and Old Lace was a charming, funny and often ridiculous screwball comedy. 

Review for M

So number 62 on the top 1000 films of all time is the 1931 German drama-thriller M.

Set in Berlin, Germany, Hans Beckert, (Peter Lorre) a peadophile and child killer is on the prowl.  After the police are unable to stop him, the citizens led by crime bosses band together.

This film is a great exploration of mob psychology and vigilante justice.  After it becomes obvious that the police aren't going to do anything, the people take the law into their own hands.  There is something poetical in how it is crime bosses who are leading the charge in catching this killer, as if they are any better than him.  Although their motivations for doing so make sense.  They want to stop this killer, as he is driving away business.  To catch him, they use the city's homeless population is used.

When a blind beggar recognises the familiar whistle of Hans Beckert, the people take him to stand trail at a Kangaroo Court that is strongly biased against him.  The jury are the townspeople and the judges are the criminal bosses.  However, despite this, Beckert still receives a defence lawyer.  This is where the film's best scene takes place.  Beckert gives an impassioned speech claiming that he was not conscious of his killings; something inside of him made him do it.  

From here the lawyer argues that Beckert is criminally insane and should therefore be sent to hospital instead of prison or being executed.  This touches upon the incredibly sensitive and hotly-debated issue of mental illness and crime.  If somebody is insane, are they really aware of that they're doing? Or is something deeper compelling them to do it? I'm not claiming to provide an answer, but the way this film engages with this theme is one of its driving forces.

Despite the power of the last scene, I did not enjoy the film, as much as I thought I would.  It flitted about a lot from scene to scene and the characters weren't as memorable, as they could have been.  Even as I am writing this review, I'm having trouble remembering the names of any of the characters. There seemed to be a distinct lack of a main character.

This notwithstanding, the film is still a fascinating examination of the human psyche.  It becomes even more poignant with the recent case of Anders Breivik who was denied the status of criminally insane.  If he had been declared insane though, would this have excused the deaths of seventy-seven people? I'll leave you to think about that.