One, Two, Three (Blu-ray Review)
- Review Date: Dec 03, 2024
- Format: Blu-ray Disc
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Director
Billy WilderRelease Date(s)
1961 (November 19, 2024)Studio(s)
The Mirisch Company/Pyramid Productions/United Artists (Kino Lorber Studio Classics)- Film/Program Grade: A
- Video Grade: B-
- Audio Grade: B
- Extras Grade: B-
Review
One, Two, Three is a sadly neglected Billy Wilder treasure that deserves its own place in the pantheon of his other much more revered comedies. A box office failure on its original release, it ended up falling victim to its own topicality. The Berlin Wall went up overnight while it was being shot on location in Germany, forcing the production to move to Munich and the budget to go way overboard. Despite the otherwise innocuous nature of its story about Coca-Cola executive C.R. MacNamara (James Cagney) trying to work out a deal to market the soda in the Soviet Union, growing tensions between East and West made the political undercurrents a bit too uncomfortable for audiences to laugh at in 1961. Wilder and co-writer I.A.L. Diamond even unintentionally foreshadowed an international crisis that would occur the following year:
“We have trade agreement with Cuba. They send us cigars, we send them rockets.”
“You know something? You guys got cheated. This is a pretty crummy cigar.”
“Do not worry. We send them pretty crummy rockets.”
While the topicality of that gag was just a happy accident, there are numerous other intentional topical references in the film that may be lost on modern audiences:
“Have you ever made love to a revolutionary?”
“No, but I once necked with a Stevenson Democrat.”
One, Two, Three is also replete with in-jokes that include references to previous Cagney films, Wilder films, Edward G. Robinson films, and even Gone with the Wind. Fortunately, everything moves at such a stunningly breakneck pace that viewers don’t have a spare second to mull over any gags that they might have missed. One, Two, Three moves so quickly that it makes His Girl Friday look like Barry Lyndon in comparison. Wilder didn’t use overlapping dialogue like Hawks would have, but his verbal exchanges are so rapid fire that they may as well have been overlapping—each quip barely has a chance to register before the next zinger lands on top of it.
Cagney was in the waning days of his career when he did the One, Two, Three, but he still showed an astonishing level of energy for a man in his sixties, and his dynamic performance is the engine that drives the entire film. He was also well served by a fine supporting cast that included relative newcomers like Horst Bucholz and Pamela Tiffin, as well as a memorable collection of German character actors. Cagney ended up detesting Bucholz, but their antipathy actually proved beneficial for the film since it made their scenes together even more spirited than they might have been otherwise. The real jewel in this crown, however, is the under-appreciated Arlene Francis. She effortlessly kept pace with Cagney no matter how hard that he tried to stay ahead of her, and she also provided the perfect sardonic foil for his manic energy:
“Some fun. And remember when I had Tommy?”
“Do I ever. Right in the Zurich airport.”
“We had a helluva time getting him out of customs.”
All of this frenzied activity was captured perfectly in widescreen black-and-white cinematography by the versatile Daniel L. Fapp, accompanied by a driving musical score adapted by the legendary Andre Previn. What more could anyone want in a feature film? Audiences in 1961 may have disagreed with that sentiment, but One, Two, Three is a delightful comic masterpiece that deserves rediscovery even though we’re now more than six decades down the road from the events that nearly derailed it. It may no longer be topical, but even if any of its myriad references fall flat when viewed today, never fear, another joke will land so quickly that you won’t have time to puzzle over the previous one. And then another, and another, and you’ll run out of breath trying to keep up. One, Two, Three is prime Billy Wilder, prime James Cagney, and prime comedic joy.
Cinematographer Daniel L. Fapp shot One, Two, Three on 35mm film using anamorphic Panavision lenses, framed at 2.35:1 for its theatrical release. This version uses the same master that Kino had previously used for their 2017 Blu-ray, which was likely derived from a 2K scan of an interpositive. While some of these reissues from Kino have been encoded onto a BD-50 instead of a BD-25, with a proportionately higher bitrate, in this case it’s still a BD-25 (and probably the exact same disc as well). There’s a fair quantity of minor damage throughout, most of it in the form of dirt, speckling, and other small debris, but there a few scratches as well. There’s also evidence of digital processing like sharpening, and while ringing isn’t a significant issue, the grain has an unnaturally noisy look to it. The contrast and grayscale are both fine, however. Given the nature of this older master, to say nothing of the fact that it’s a black-and-white ‘scope film, a higher bitrate probably wouldn’t have made much of a difference anyway. It’s highly unlikely that One, Two, Three will ever receive a new scan and digital restoration anytime in the near future, so for now, this is the best that we’re probably going to get.
(As an interesting historical sidenote, Fapp was nominated for an Oscar for his black-and-white cinematography in One, Two, Three, but he lost to Eugen Shuftan for The Hustler at the 1962 Academy Awards. Yet Fapp wasn’t shut out completely that year, because he ended up winning for his color cinematography on West Side Story instead. Thanks to the fact that the Academy used to split the awards for black-and-white and color, there was always the possibility of a second chance, however remote.)
Audio is offered in English 2.0 mono DTS-HD Master Audio, with optional English subtitles. It’s a solid track with no significant noise, hiss, or distortion, and most importantly, the dialogue is reproduced perfectly. Andre Previn’s score (which makes heavy use of the familiar Sabre Dance from Aram Khachaturian’s ballet Gayane) is also reproduced well, within the limitations of the original recordings.
Kino Lorber’s Blu-ray reissue of One, Two, Three includes a slipcover and a reversible insert with alternate theatrical poster artwork on each side (the slipcover is a new addition this time around, while the insert is the same one as their previous release). The following extras are included:
- Audio Commentary by Michael Schlesinger
- Billy Wilder and Volker Schlondorff Discuss One, Two, Three (SD – 3:08)
- Billy Wilder on Politics and One, Two, Three (SD – 6:03)
- Trailer (SD – 2:11)
- Witness for the Prosecution Trailer (SD – 3:07)
- The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes Trailer (SD – 3:00)
- The Gallant Hours Trailer (HD – 2:49)
Filmmaker, historian, and all-around good egg Michael Schlesinger is on hand to provide one of his patented socko-boffo commentaries for One, Two, Three. He also provides a good guide to all of the myriad references in the film, topical or otherwise. As usual, he goes out of his way to identify each and every actor on screen, no matter how small that their roles may have been. He covers the complicated production history of One, Two, Three and notes elements that were added later in order to account for the real-world historical changes that had nearly derailed the film. He also provides some historical context, noting things like the fact that Wilder’s use of real-world product placement was unusual for that era.
Billy Wilder and Volker Schlondorff Discuss One, Two, Three is brief featurette that has Schlondorff introducing a vintage interview clip with Wilder. Billy Wilder on Politics and One, Two, Three is an extended version of the same vintage interview with Wilder. It’s still far too brief, but it does provide some insights into the director’s thoughts about the politics surrounding his film.
Considering that this is the exact same disc as Kino Lorber’s previous Blu-ray release of One, Two, Three, then there’s no reason to pick up this one if you already own that version—unless you really, really love slipcovers. If you don’t own it, however, then it’s pretty much mandatory addition to your library. Everyone, be they man, woman, child, or household pet should own a copy of One, Two, Three. The transfer may be showing its age, but we’re unlikely to get a new one, so don’t make the mistake of missing out on one of the best (and certainly the most under-appreciated) comedies of the Sixties. Dated master or not, it’s still highly recommended.
- Stephen Bjork
(You can follow Stephen on social media at these links: Twitter, Facebook, and Letterboxd).