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The Manchurian Candidate Richard Condon Books

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The Manchurian Candidate Richard Condon Books

I can't imagine what an experience it must have been sitting in the theater seats in 1962, and seeing this surreal, paranoid masterwork spill out on the big screen. Watching men get murdered in the middle of an unfazed tea party, Angela Lansbury incestuously and wickedly purring, and Frank Sinatra karate-chopping a dude. This movie exists in its own (literal) nightmare vision of America, and I love the film for jumping headlong into that abyss.

There is nothing more terrifying to an American than the idea that something "wrong" has crawled into their friend, family, or neighbor's skin -- or worst, their own. Just as much as in ancient Rome, 1962, or now, pick any society and there's the fear that the Enemy is already in place and waiting to pull the switch, and there's nothing in our power to stop them. And in poor, friendless Raymond Shaw's case, he's been powerless since the day he left his hateful mother's womb.

Angela Lansbury is obviously the real star of this movie, drenching even sweet gestures with venom. But Frank Sinatra turns out probably his best acting role as the tortured puppydog Major Marco, clawing for a grip on his postwar sanity, and then fighting for Raymond's. Laurence Harvey as Raymond and Sinatra make a good pair, feeling like actual war buddies, gazing down empty bottles of wine on Christmas Eve, while real horrors broil in their minds.

One small thing, though, is the "Asian" characters...Yes, it was a different time, but it's distracting seeing mostly Western actors portraying a room full of Chinese officers. Particularly with Raymond's valet Chunjin, played by the very not-Asian Henry Silva. But on the flipside, and probably unintentionally, it adds to the weird dreamlike uncertainty pervading the film. How can Raymond and Marco trust anything when even their torturer looks fresh out of a Charlie Chan or Dr. Fu Manchu movie?

The second I started this movie, I could not look away for a moment. And best of all, I like the movie had the courage to end with a tinge of bitter-sweetness.


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The Manchurian Candidate Richard Condon Books Reviews

It's great. It's iconic. And it's totally bonkers. The story is insane. Poor Janet Leigh's character is utterly inane and makes absolutely no sense in any possible context. Some of the casting and acting is laughably bad. Then again, you gotta admit it's like no other movie ever made. And Angela Lansbury is brilliant. And Lawrence Harvey is the perfect bitter pill. Sinatra's pretty good, too. Some people try to excuse its gobsmacking goofiness by claiming it's a satire, but it all looks dead serious and perfectly in line with the hysterical political paranoia of its time. It is what it is, unique and unforgettable.
I could do nothing but love this book and give it no less than 5 stars. This book was published before I was born. The first movie made from it; directed by the great John Frankenheimer, was released before my first birthday. I had to wait until I was in my 20s to ever see it. And I instantly loved it. Yet I never thought to track down a copy of the book.

I found the book just wonderful and fascinating. It made me appreciate the two films that were adapted from it even more. While the story; American soldiers in the Korean conflict who are taken and brainwashed by a collective of Russian, Chinese and Korean 'brain washers' was shocking for its time, there are other subplots that would never make it past the Hayes Code of 1962 and even in 2016 are shocking.

The book's style is rather unique. It is a bit like the writing of the hard boiled detective novels if the author kept a thesaurus on their desk to drop in obscure and obsolete words and phrases. I was often using the dictionary function of my . There were even words that stumped the 's dictionary. The book is manly. Most of the main characters are men or women who act like men of the time. Yet the author repeats the theme of the love of a 'good woman' as a redemptive cure for what ails you.

The other thing that I found amazing in this almost 60 year old book was that parts of it almost seemed to be ripped from the headlines of today. There is a Senator who is accusing everyone of working with the Russian Communists and who runs to the media to accuse all of his political enemies of this baseless charge.
When I was in high school, I bought the Denzel Washington remake of this from a flee market, because it was the first dvd case I'd ever seen without any summary or synopsis.
Completely blown away over 10 years ago by the 2004 remake, and craving for some nostalgia, I looked up this classic title, to see what the good ol' folks at Prime had of the old story.
Not only was I delighted to see they had the 2004 remake for free on Prime, but they also had this 1962 original film (1 year before Kennedy's assassination) for free on Prime as well; both apparently fantastic depictions of the 1959 book.
My favorite aspect about this 1964 version, that I don't remember from the 2004 version, is (no homo) the mind reversing power that love had on the sleeper, and the Romeo/Juliet vibe it took on.
I think there's a message in here somewhere, that talks about how men are tamable (yes, ma'am) from our default blunt, sometimes savage tendencies, by our biological drive to protect and serve our woman - which is naturally followed by family and community. Something, something, make America great again.
I can't imagine what an experience it must have been sitting in the theater seats in 1962, and seeing this surreal, paranoid masterwork spill out on the big screen. Watching men get murdered in the middle of an unfazed tea party, Angela Lansbury incestuously and wickedly purring, and Frank Sinatra karate-chopping a dude. This movie exists in its own (literal) nightmare vision of America, and I love the film for jumping headlong into that abyss.

There is nothing more terrifying to an American than the idea that something "wrong" has crawled into their friend, family, or neighbor's skin -- or worst, their own. Just as much as in ancient Rome, 1962, or now, pick any society and there's the fear that the Enemy is already in place and waiting to pull the switch, and there's nothing in our power to stop them. And in poor, friendless Raymond Shaw's case, he's been powerless since the day he left his hateful mother's womb.

Angela Lansbury is obviously the real star of this movie, drenching even sweet gestures with venom. But Frank Sinatra turns out probably his best acting role as the tortured puppydog Major Marco, clawing for a grip on his postwar sanity, and then fighting for Raymond's. Laurence Harvey as Raymond and Sinatra make a good pair, feeling like actual war buddies, gazing down empty bottles of wine on Christmas Eve, while real horrors broil in their minds.

One small thing, though, is the "Asian" characters...Yes, it was a different time, but it's distracting seeing mostly Western actors portraying a room full of Chinese officers. Particularly with Raymond's valet Chunjin, played by the very not-Asian Henry Silva. But on the flipside, and probably unintentionally, it adds to the weird dreamlike uncertainty pervading the film. How can Raymond and Marco trust anything when even their torturer looks fresh out of a Charlie Chan or Dr. Fu Manchu movie?

The second I started this movie, I could not look away for a moment. And best of all, I like the movie had the courage to end with a tinge of bitter-sweetness.