User Reviews

Inter-racial marriage, dope smoking...that's the sex and drugs. No rock-n-roll I'm afraid, just Elvis Costello's grandpappy playing some cool jazz tunes on the old joanna. Richard Atenborough sheds no tears while ex-Rank glamour boys Keith Michel and Patrick McGoohan get together one more time to play the good and the bad.

McGoohan plays the scheming drummer trying to start his own band. He has become squeezed by his potential backers who insist he must get Marti Stevens as his singer. Unfortunately for him Marti has fallen for the hulking Paul Harris. This white chick / black guy relationship proceeds with absolutely no comment from anyone, a refreshing change from the Hollywood routine of forcing Poitier to have to justify such things! To be truthful it is difficult to see what Marti sees in the guy, who is a real chauvinist, but such is love! He is the leader of a popular band but he has insisted his wife ended her singing career when they married.

McGoohan's plan then is to split the couple up. His main weapon in this regard is Keith Michel playing a reformed dope fiend who, as an old friend, Harris has kept on as his manager. McGoohan passes Michel a bizarre-looking spliff in a quiet moment to try and get him hooked-up again. This forms part of McG's scheme to create the illusion to Harris that his wife is 'playing away' with Michel.

The plotting becomes quite complex, with the inclusion of some incredible tape-to-tape equipment owned by the rich, upper-crust, but groovy cat: Richard Attenborough. McGoohan performs some sound engineering work worthy of a Danger Man episode to set up his final proof to Harris that Marti is unfaithful.

Throughout all this Dave Brubeck and the dudes flesh out some jazz while everyone clicks fingers as they get hep! The film has become mainly famous because of the capture of these guys on celluloid.

Aside from McGoohan, my favourite aspect of the movie is the fact that it was 1961, Mississippi was yet to start burning, yet the movie is impressively colour blind. The portrayal of the marriage of Marti and Paul and the sub-plot involving Michel fretting over whether to marry his black songstress girlfriend all proceed without skin colour even being mentioned.

The final scene is the best of the whole film. Betsy Blair and McGoohan play out a powerfully cruel dismemberment of their life together while McGoohan makes your hair prickle as he rips his own personality to shreds and then stamps on it. While you are still shuddering at his dysfunctional alienation the movie fades out with him slaying his drum-kit, alone in the emptied warehouse-apartment.

OK, maybe it's not perfect, but, this movie is so pleasingly NON-Hollywood. There are two mixed-race couples and it's never mentioned even once, WOW!. Then we get to witness two pot smoking musicians, with no COPS waiting in the wings to destroy their lives. Most of these musicians are good actors. There are no ridiculously stupid idiot characters, who could never make it in the real world, no bombs, guns being fired, car chases, stupid macho heroes defying all of the laws of physics, totalitarian law enforcers killing 'evil-doers' to protect the national security. The movie follows an outdated plot (even if this was made 46 years ago), but it flows and there's never a boring moment. There are some great jazz tunes and jams going on throughout most of the movie. And, of course, the movie had to made in England, since Hollywood has been, and still is, so scared of going outside of their own collection of simplistic formulas. Therefore, I must have this film.

There will be three camps of people who watch this and choose to analyze it. Those who have seen Shakespeare's "Othello" and are curious to see how it has been updated, those who have no interest in seeing "Othello", and those like me who have not yet seen any variation of that play (one of the few Shakespeare's I have not viewed) and plan to. Then there is another camp, students of jazz who find out about this in their research and decide to spend 90 minutes at a London jam session and chill out as the action unfolds in the same setting.

The world of music through an all night party becomes the setting for the scheming of several members of the jazz community who scheme against long time friend Paul Harris and his wife Marti Stevens, a retired band singer they desperately want to go on tour with them, knowing that this would lead to the end of their marriage. Patrick McGoohan and Richard Attenborough bring out their best calculating schemers to make it appear through altered tapes that Stevens is cheating on Harris, and this could easily backfire on them, leading to tragedy.

Don't let the single setting keep you from getting into this combination of classic Shakespeare and gloomy melodrama, greatly enlivened by some terrific music and a few numbers sung by Stevens. The cast also includes "Marty's" Betsy Blair in another terrific characterization as a married woman trapped by unhappiness but in denial of how miserable she is. I know now that I'll be revisiting this as soon as I see Shakespeare's play. This is one of the first variations outside of musical theater to bring the Bard to a modern audience, and it's an instant classic.

Continuing my reviews of people of color in films in chronological order for Black History Month, we're now at 1962 when in England, a jazz-flavored version of Othello in modern times is made with Paul Harris playing musician Aurelius Rex who's married to retired singer Delia Lane (Marti Stevens). Maria Velasco, as Benny, is another person of such race who's also in an interracial relationship with recovering drug musician/band manager Cass Michaels (Keith Michell). Others of the non-white variety include jazz players Charles Mingus on bass and Barry Morgan on bongos and Geoffrey Holder is somewhere there too. Anyway, Rod Hamilton (Richard Attenborough) has thrown a party to celebrate the marriage of Rex and Delia on their first anniversary. The party atmosphere is celebratory with the music playing throughout but a drummer named Johnny Cousin (Patrick McGoohan) who's in the audience is so hell bent on getting Delia for his new band that he does various forms of blackmail to get his way. It's not until his wife Emily (Betsy Blair) reveals something that Johnny gets caught. All I'll say now is All Night Long is highly recommended for both the drama and the music that dominates throughout. P.S. It was a treat to also see Dave Brubeck on the piano.

There has been talk recently of Idris Elba being the first Black to be seriously considered to play the role of James Bond. When I heard of this, I thought to myself, 'Why bother?', there must be more original and inventive roles for an actor of Elba's stature to play without having to don the persona of some popular white hero. There are plenty of figures from Black History worth fictionalizing from Jomo Kenyatta to Bob Gibson to Isaac Hayes even.

But then I saw Paul Harris' performance in this film! I was riveted by the suave, stylish way he carried himself and it was no stretch at all to see him as 007 with a License to Kill. I thought after awhile, I would begin to see cracks and flaws in his portrayal of Othello in Jazz Country, but no such moments arrived. Here was a guy like our teacher at Foch Junior High who taught us Shop, and Mister Singleton, who taught our Gym classes and paddled us when we got out of line. There was this sense of unstated manly authority similar to what I have seen in the performances of Marlon Brando, and yet he wasn't aping Brando. No, if anything, he was channeling Duke Ellington with a no nonsense attitude and without the solicitous smile and amiable ever willing to please manner.

This reminds me of a story I told you about Doctor Peoples in an earlier review. I will not bore you by recounting it. But here's another way to get at what I'm talking about. There are times when brassy white men will barge into a room and demand 'Who's in charge here?' But I am sure you have had the experience where you walk into a room and your eyes immediately fix on one person because you sense and know they are the one in charge. That's what I take away from Paul Harris' portrayal of Aurelius Rex in ALL NIGHT LONG. This is personal presence altitude acting such as I have seen in films like THE GODFATHER and GANDHI, but without the production values or trappings of grandeur.

I spoke of this at length because it is rarer to see a Black Male actor dominate the atmosphere in a film not through anything he says or does, but simply by being there. I don't believe this is something that can be learned or taught, in my humble opinion. Some people exude authority as their innate gift, while others preen and posture and dramatize to show that they have it. You can reference Brando about this, as well as Rex Ingram, William Marshall and Toshiro Mifune.

I found it amazing and wonderful to watch Patrick McGoohan as Johnny Cousin hammer away at the strength and dignity of Aurelius Rex and meeting nothing but a brick wall of sanity. Unfortunately, through the wonders of technology, he finally breaks through a chink in the armor of Rex's manly reserve and it's downhill into Othello land after that. There's a metaphor in all this, but I think it best you draw your own conclusions.

It's great to see Charles Mingus and Dave Brubeck in a film together, and I kind of wish the synergy between the ensembles of musicians and actors were more artfully developed with the musicians sharing anecdotes from their personal lives since they are essentially playing themselves. This would have made for a fascinating fusion of fantasy and reality. Marti Stevens as Delia Lane beautifully demonstrates how in awe she is of Rex, and having Richard Attenborough as Rod Hamilton, Keith Mitchell as Cass Michaels, Betsy Blair as Emily, the wife of Johnny Cousin and Maria Velasco as Benny, the girl friend of Cass Michaels; the cast seems to be working outside of formulaic Hollywood conventions. But you will discover this for yourself.

The reason I spent time recognizing and crediting Paul Harris is because I have seen him in bit parts in other films and always felt he would make a strong male lead given a suitable opportunity. I think this film is evidence of that. I think he might have developed a career comparable to Marlon Brando, or at the very least Lorne Greene but for extenuating circumstances.

But I don't have to go into all that.

(There are Spoilers) It at first looked like it was going to be a groovy and wonderful evening when jazz lover Rodney Hamilton, Richard Attenborough, invited the who's who of the London jazz community to his spacious East London loft to celebrate legendary black jazz pianist Aurellius Rex, Paul Harris, and his white wife singing sensation Delia Lane, Marti Stevens, first wedding anniversary.

At the party jazz drummer boy Johnnie Cousin, Patrick McGoohan,tries to talk Delia into joining his new jazz band, as its lead singer, in order to get the some 25,000 pound sterling he needs to finance it. Delia who has since retired from show business to spend all her time with her husband Aurelius rejects Jonnie's offer that has top London music agent Lou Berger, Bernard Braden, drop Johnnie as a client. Trying to get Delia to join his band, and thus save his floundering career, Johnnie tries to start up trouble between the two love birds, Aurelius & Delia, by adding jazz saxophonist- and good friends of both Aurelius and Delia- Cass Michaels, Keith Mitchell,into the mix.

As we've seen already Cass's relationship with Delia is both professional and purely platonic with him having a study girlfriend Benny, Maria Velasco, of his own who's ,like Aurelius, also black. This goes to show how liberal and uninhibited for the early 1960's both Cass and Delia are! Johnnie seeing an opening in breaking up the interracial couple uses Cass, whom he gets both drunk and high on pot, as a battering-ram to break them apart.

To his credit Aurelius at first doesn't fall for Johnnie's sneaky and underhanded tactics but being the determined and manipulating creep that he is Johnnie goes a step farther with his state-of-the-art, for 1962, tape recording equipment that leaves no doubt, in Aurelius' mind, to his wife's infidelity.

****SPOILERS****This also leads Aurelius to completely crack up and not only attack a shocked and surprised Delia, almost strangling her, but knock Cass down a fifteen foot balcony, in Rodney's loft, almost breaking both his neck and back! It's only when Johnnie's wife Emily, Besty Blair, who had no idea what her crazy husband was planning came clean with what a lying and conniving rat he is, and alway was, that Aurelius came to his senses but not after all the damage was already done.

Even though he was the villain in the movie Johnnie Cousin got away almost Scott/free in his instigating Aurelius to commit a number of violent acts that would, in real life, have but him behind bars for at least five years. It's true Johnnie lost his dream of becoming a big time band leader with his wife Emily, whom he more or less kicked out of his life, leaving him. The ending seemed a bit far fetched, or feel good, in Delia coming back to her uncontrollably violent husband Aurelius without as much as having him get help-or anger management- for his manic depression that was very obvious in the movie. He could very well lose it in the future, if he ever again becomes suspicious of Delia, and end up finishing what he started in ringing her neck! As for Cass he's left lying on the floor unable to move with his career as a saxophone player in doubt and even the apology from a tearful Aurelius doesn't seem to be enough to get him back on his feet again.

God knows over they years we've had some pretty pathetic actors in English movies - Maxwell Reed, Alan Lake, Michael Gough, Richard Todd, John Gregson, Keiron Moore, Richard Pascoe, Laurence Harvey, I could go on but you get the picture and I'm here to tell you that in this movie Patrick McGoohan makes all of the above look like Michael Redgrave and Donald Wolfit the epitome of subtlety. From his very first appearance all he needs is a sign on his back saying 'I'm the heavy here, Iago, get it?' It's cringe-making to watch and a Master Class in ham. Come back Arthur Mullard all is forgiven. On the plus side we do get to hear some tasty music from the likes of Dave Brubeck and Charles Mingus and Eng. Lit. students can have fun with the links to Othello - Keith Michell, as the Cassio figure is actually called Cass and McGoohan's wife Emily (Iago's wife was Emilia).

I kind of looked forward to this -- Patrick McGoohan, Charlie Mingus, Dave Brubeck, Billy Shakespeare. How could it go wrong?

But it's pretty slow and ultimately unbelievable. When I see a band manager being taunted by a drummer, McGoohan, and becoming enraged while stoned, instead of flinging himself on the couch with three bags of Doritos, there's something wrong. With dialog like, "Do you agree with Margolis that jazz is nothing more than regressive narcissism?", I shiver all over.

I couldn't even get hep to the music. It's noisy and represents the most banal form of West Coast jazz. And while the saxophonist could keep up, the trumpeter had no idea of what the hell Dave Brubeck was up to at the piano with his fancy 5/4 time.

Brubeck can't act either, though he's not pressed too hard in that regard -- one or two lines. McGoohan CAN act but he's playing a fast-talking hustler and con man here and that's not his strong suit -- not his FORTE, so to speak. He's best at slow, sly, deliberate lines delivered in a clipped voice with odd hesitations as if there are all kinds of wheels turning behind that utterance. Richard Attenborough can act too, but he doesn't put much effort into his role here. There is, after all, nothing to put much effort into.

One notable property of this film. If it had been made in the USA, it would have been all about the happy marriage of a black man and a white woman. Racial epithets would have been hurled around. Charlie Mingus, author of "Beneath the Underdog," would have torn off his clothes on the bandstand and run around naked, shouting, "Oogoo Boogoo MAU MAU." But in this British movie, nothing is made of the mixed marriage. Nothing is made of race at all. Refreshing in a 1962 movie.

It's not bad, in the sense that it's not insulting. It doesn't treat the audience as a horde of unkempt morons. It's just that it's so much less than engrossing.