no down payment blue denim

A film doesn't have a responsibility to be timeless. In fact, as an art form, cinema works best as a reflection of the era in which it was made. But sometimes art reveals how little we've actually changed as a culture, for better or worse, as in the case of two new releases from Twilight Time, starting with No Down Payment (1957), an early canary-in-coal mine criticism of America's post-war obsession with capitalism that is still accurate enough to give anyone the shivers - Republican or Democrat!

Ensconced in a perfectly landscaped neighborhood full of houses no one can quite afford, a gaggle of upwardly mobile residents are introduced to the newest members of the club: newlyweds David & Jean Martin who are quickly co-opted into a parade of marital problems including alcoholism, overspending, thwarted ambition, overt racism and rape. Sly subverting the old adage, "If you lived here, you'd be home by now!" director Martin Ritt elevates the melodramatic source material with his (unfortunately) all-too accurate prediction of things to come. From the crash of the housing market to the dark underbelly of the American Dream, No Down Payment hits on it all and then some. But the juicy performances - Joanne Woodward's performance as a flighty child-bride gets top billing but she's matched by the rest of the cast - are what make this nightmare neighborhood feel lived in. The movie is almost a horror film (check out the font used in the opening credits!) sans castle and fangs, but peeking in on other people's problems is just another cultural obsession we haven't seem to outgrown.

Twilight Time's 3000-copy Blu-ray limited edition is a black-and-white beauty with an isolated score track, trailer and liner notes for extras.

1959's Blue Denim ferrets out another dirty little secret hidden amongst the sock hops and poodle skirts of the '50s: teen pregnancy. Not only that, but the young protagonists faced with this unexpected crisis - Arthur and Janet - decide that an abortion is their only solution. Of course, the illegalities of that procedure pose an even bigger problem, which involves their mutual friend securing a doctor who will keep his mouth shut. As the situation spirals out of control, Arthur and Janet wrestle with their conscience and their lack of parental support, the latter of which seems to be the overriding message here.

Of course, the production code helps predict exactly how all this will turn out. And the histrionics and staged performances make half of the film feel like a propaganda piece by way of Broadway (it was based on a successful play with several actors reprising their roles). But Arthur and Janet (played by the youthful Brandon De Wilde and Carol Lynley) offer up an all-too real scenario that commands your attention, sympathy and eventually respect. The world around them may have changed, but the agony of their decision is still reluctantly relatable. And director Phillip Dunne (aided by a Vertigo-lite score from Bernard Herrmann) handles it all rather sensitively for an era in which such situations were believe to be cut and dry.

Twilight Time's 3000-copy Blu-ray limited edition is lovely to look at from frame one and includes an isolated track for Herrmann's score, original theatrical trailer and liner notes.