SnoReptilePlenty Memorable, crazy movie

Ava-Grace Willis Story: It's very simple but honestly that is fine.

Calum Hutton It's a good bad... and worth a popcorn matinée. While it's easy to lament what could have been...

Lidia Draper Great example of an old-fashioned, pure-at-heart escapist event movie that doesn't pretend to be anything that it's not and has boat loads of fun being its own ludicrous self.

jcordwainer Everyone in the Liberal film community is on board. Surprised? Not me. I've studied Left wingers--Right Wingers--Middle of the road noonie-nannies. Most are all the same. They don't think for themselves--they have to be spoon fed their thoughts and opinions. Okay let's get down to brass tacks. The Communist Party of the USSR was a war with the U.S.--just like the Nazis were at war with the U.S.-- only in a hotter war. If you were a dunce--as are most actors--and you had no concept of what the U.S. stood for it was understandable. But what about writers as depicted in The Front. They were supposed to be halfway intelligent. This sympathetic script--maybe to those that did not want to come clean--tries to say it was not their fault they were dupes to Uncle Joe's plans to convert the U.S. to a Communist state. These infantile minds and morals did not want to take their medicine. They wanted to palm off the responsibility to the adults-- those who were trying to protect their country. True these adults were not always as clean as the driven snow, but what about your parents. I'm sure as a teenager you did not understand why they told you not to associate with certain other kids. The Front--full of misunderstood actors and writers--Oh woe is me! They probably would still do the same things today--and still blame the same people for their distaste of their own Nation--for making them take responsibility for their mistakes.

mark.waltz During the height of the communist scare, writers were being blacklisted it seems for purring explanation points where censors thought a period should be. For that, writers who wanted to work but couldn't hired someone they referred to as a "front". The idea of a pseudonym to work under a different name had been caught onto, so someone had to pretend to be them so they could earn some money. When greasy spoon employee Woody Allen gets the opportunity to earn a few extra dollars from blacklisted writer Michael Murphy, he grabs it, only to find out about the value of personal freedoms and rights taken away from those who don't agree to the status quo. Along the way, he encounters a blacklisted comic (Zero Mostel) who influences him in getting more involved in the fight but is secretly spying on him in an effort to provide a name so he can continue working. It's obvious, however, that the committee is simply using him and will betray him in the end, which leads up to a very touching scene at the end. A smart, often touching and funny drama, this takes on its own industry and attacks it for the careers it destroyed, the dreams it broke, and the freedoms it violated. Forty years later, it is equally valid as a mixture of liberal politics and p.c. attitudes threaten to censor people, not only in writing but in freedom of speech as well. Zero Mostel, for example, was one of several people named by Broadway director/choreographer Jerome Robbins, and when they were reunited in 1962 for "A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum", Mostel greeted Robbins with "Hello, loose lips", which adds to the passion he puts towards the characterization here. While this has all the markings of a Woody Allen film, it only stars him, and he is excellent. Even though he did not write the screenplay, it seems like each and every word came off of his pen. The real creative team behind the film were actual blacklist victims, including director Martin Ritt and writer Walter Bernstein. Mostel is terrific in a role that resembles his own real life situation, but unlike Mostel in real life, his character was never able to rebound and find bigger triumphs. I find that this holds up even better today to give us warnings that freedoms of thought and personal ideals are much more important than the liberal battle of the day and the censorship police who only will allow freedom of speech when it agrees with theirs.

dougdoepke The screen time may belong to Woody Allen, but the movie belongs to Zero Mostel. Few actors are more improbable than the artfully bulky Mostel, whose round head, tiny snub nose and large expressive eyes resemble a cartoon more than an actual person. Yet his range is phenomenal. Watch the breadth as he slyly tries to work around head witch-hunter Francis Hennesee, or comically greets the diminutive Allen, or explodes in eye-popping rage at the Borscht-belt proprietor who cheats him. His metaphorical loss in the film mirrors the very real loss film-goers suffered during his years of blacklist. And it's to Allen's credit that he generously showcases this prodigious talent in what would be Mostel's last film. The movie itself handles the blacklist of the 1950's with a congenial light touch. Allen is perfect as the nebbish who fronts for his screenwriter pals, and it's fun to watch him puff up and fluff out as the spotlight shifts abruptly his way. As expected, there are many amusing Allen bits scattered throughout. Even the romantic angle with Marcovicci works nicely into Allen's character as he evolves through the story-line, ending in a perceptive example of the old "worm turns" plot twist. All in all, this 1976, Martin Ritt film amounts to an amusing look at a dark period in American civil liberties, made unusually memorable by the sublime presence of the unforgettable Zero Mostel.

Merwyn Grote The McCarthy blacklisting era was a most peculiar time in America. On the one hand you had conservatives who felt fully justified in defending the rights and freedoms of Americans by supporting an ad hoc system that stripped some Americans of their rights and freedoms without any sort of due process or legal avenues. On the other hand, you had liberals who defended the rights and freedoms of those who advocated a political system that by its nature would strip Americans of their rights and freedoms. And there were quite a few people who were trapped in between, forced to choose either their freedom to think for themselves or their right to live their lives in peace.The only people not greatly effected it seems were the source of the confrontation, the communists. Though few in number and largely ineffectual as a group (at least, in America), they no doubt sat back and amused themselves as the country was being forced into two bitter camps. Had they had any real power within the United States, all the hub-bub about the communist influence might have served a purpose. But in reality it was hysteria over a non-existent threat, or a barely existent one. In hindsight, the panic over the Red Menace seems like the premise for a comic farce.THE FRONT isn't such a farce. Though it does star Woody Allen during his "early, funny" years and it is structured like a comedy, THE FRONT is a drama. It uses the talents of many who were blacklisted –- director Martin Ritt, screenwriter Walter Bernstein, and actors Zero Mostel, Herschel Bernardi, Joshua Shelley and Lloyd Gough -- and it tries to focus on those in the middle who lost their livelihoods and reputations because they were considered "pink," ordinary citizens whose paths crossed those of others who may or may not have been communists. Guilt, or at least proof of it, was irrelevant; the mere suspicion of being a communist sympathizer was enough to deny individuals the right to work in their chosen field, the cost being their careers, their families and even their lives. In the view of the House Un-American Activities Committee, you were either on their side or a threat to the very fiber of the American being. It was mostly played out in the political arena, but as with most politics it seeped into the pop culture. Perhaps because the government had relied so much on the media for propaganda purposes during WWII, the fear of its power was strong.In THE FRONT, Allen plays Howard Prince a part time bookie. When a friend of his, a writer for a network TV show, gets blacklisted, the friend persuades Howard to act as his proxy. The writer will create the scripts for the show, but Howard will submit them under his name, for a cut of the commission. The scam works so well that soon Howard is fronting for several other writers as well –- and Howard's reputation as a prolific and versatile author starts to grow. The complications come when Howard is expected to do on-the-spot rewrites of the material, and when he is suspected of red ties due to his friendship with the real liberal writers. As he sees first hand the dangers of the blacklisting, he also grows a conscience. Not a bad premise for a movie, even a comedy.One would think, with the involvement of those who were scarred by the blacklisting playing such a prominent role in the film, that THE FRONT would pulsate with a certain degree of rage. But it doesn't; the film isn't so much angry as it is wistful. It is not a question of the honesty of the material so much as the quiet feeling of hopelessness that pervades the story. The story unfolds in a slow, deliberate fashion, occasionally sticking in a joke or two, but mostly just reliving the past in a sad monotone. Perhaps it is supposed to be a reflection of the era the film is about, the 1950s, an era of passivity. Or maybe it is a reflection of the era in which the film was made, the 1970s -- after the chaos of the 1960s, maybe McCarthyism had just lost its power to scare. Either way, neither Ritt nor Bernstein inject much passion into the tale. Likewise, the characters lack depth; the bad guys who support the blacklisting are cold and mechanical (heaven forbid they might be acting out of genuine patriotism), while the good guys are either pure and passionate in their left-wing leanings or guileless innocents bewildered by it all. Thoughtful and low-key, THE FRONT is certainly sincere, but it isn't insightful and doesn't carry much of a punch.Even the big finale lacks power; after playing an ineffectual verbal game of cat and mouse with a HUAC subcommittee, Howard drops the "F-bomb" in a moment that is supposed to be shocking. Though it is jarring, it is because it is so pointless as a gesture. Did Ritt and Bernstein really think that uttering the F-word would jolt audiences in 1976? Even now, are we suppose to see such a foolish gesture as an act of courage on Howard's part? It is a key moment in the story and comes off as being just, well, stupid. In the end, Howard ends up going to jail, presumably on contempt of court charges; but is Howard's childish act of defiance really an heroic action? He takes a stand, but doesn't make much of a point. And neither does the movie.