(6/2/00)
It's riveting from start to finish. This is powerful movie-making. And it was made with a sense of outrage. This is about a man who was sentenced to a chain gang for a minor offense. Really, the only thing he did wrong was run from the police. He escapes and makes a success of himself, but his identity is dicovered. He agrees to voluntarily rerturn to the state he escaped from, having been promised a pardon. The pardon doesn't happen. He escapes again and at the film's end is a man who can only flee--and steal.
It's exciting stuff. It's even more exciting in that it is based on a true story. This film is the equivalent of muckraking journalism. And it points its finger directly at authority. James Allen's speech when he learns that his promised pardon was denied is pure rhetoric--but it is forfceful and scathing.
I Am a Fugitive From a Chain Gang presents a vivid and convincing picture of life in America. It is a raw, tough, down-to-earth picture. James Allen comes home from World War I. He wants to go into construction, but is instead persuaded to resume his pre-war desk job in a mill. He finall gives that up to follow his dream. But work is hard to find and he becomes a bum. This is "real life" with which 1932 audiences were all too familiar.
The life on the chain gang is a sharply-drawn picture. I remember in particular how Allen was hit for simply wiping the sweat from his brow. None of this is glamorous; it is all gritty and down-to-earth.
The most shocking part of the film is when Allen goes back to the chain gang voluntarily, believing in promises which were made to him but were not kept. It seems like a stupid thing for him to do, but this basically decent man believes in "the authorities." He doesn't question authority, even after what it did to him in the first place. That, I think, is the real lesson of the film--that belief in institutionalized authority is a very dangerous illusion. And it is stated with such a sense of outrage. This is a pretty subversive film.
And of course the second escape appears to ruin his life. After having spent a decade (or thereabouts) making something of himself he is unable to keep a job because someone or something alwys turns up. The final, pointed indictment of the criminal justice system are Allen's last words in response to the question "How do you live?" He answers, "I steal."
So much of the impact of this film is communicated visually. I forget the specific details that impressed me, but this is a very visual film. I remember one very effective scene when the camera dollies in to Allen's face at a crucial moment. But it is full of great moments, such as when he is told, after having returned to the chain gang for a year that the commission had suspended
decision on his pardon--indefinitely.
And some of the minor characters are wonderfully etched characterizations. Allen's clergyman brother who sits back and asks Allen to "tell us all about the war" is memorable as is the southern lawyer who assures him that he'll get the pardon, but that the clerical job they promised him "isn't so definite."
It is also worth mentioning how Allen is preyed upon by a woman who blackmails him into marrying her and then turns him in when he wants a divorce. There are a great many things to admire in this film, not the least being that heartbreaking final scene when he visits the woman he loves but can never have, then hears the sound of someone approaching and fades into the darkness.
I would really like to know more about the man on whom this film was based. What was the rest of his life like after that film came out?
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Thursday, December 17, 2009
42nd Street. 1933. Directed by Lloyd Bacon.
(5/30/00)
This is probably the classic musical about putting on a Broadway show and it is probably the most famous of the musicals that Busby Berkeley made at Warner Brothers in the 1930s. And I think it deserves to be. It is not a silly comedy, but a film about believable characters and what goes on behind the scenes.
It doesn't have Footlight Parade's relentless energy. Instead it has a series of scenes which genuinely involve the viewer on an emotional level. The scenes are allowed to breathe--we don't have a sense of being bombarded. I felt more relaxed watching 42nd Street--and more interested.
The center of the backstage story is the character played by Warner Baxter. He has done great shows, but doesn't have anything money-wise to show for it. He's not well and is risking his life for this one. It is his last chance. And at the end of the film he sits alone, unacknowledged, after his show has succeeded. Poignacy doesn't hurt a picture like this.
Then there is the intrigue about the leading lady. A wealthy admirer (and she is probably sleeping with him) is bankrolling the show on her behalf. Meanwhile, she is seeing her ex-boyfriend on the sly. It is an arrangement that is making no one happy.
What was interesting for me was the realization that both the wealthy man and the leading lady feel degraded by this arrangement. He certainly knows that people are laughing at him behind his back and she knows that everyone knows that she only has the part because of her relationship with this man. That really came through. And the situation is resolved when, after spraining her ankle, she finally realizes her true values and gives up her dubious career to marry the man she really loves.
Guy Kibbee comes up with another discovery to do the part, but there is a truly touching moment when Joan Blondell admits to Warner Baxter that she can't do it justice, but that she knows someone who can. She does the right thing and points him in the direction of newcomer Peggy Sawyer, played by Ruby Keeler.
Warner Baxter is just right as he gives pep talks to Ruby Keeler. It seems a little too much, but it isn't. The man is desperate; this is his last chance. And it is quite a metamorphosis as Sally changes from an amateur into a star. Those scenes are archetypal, practically.
But 42nd Street is, more than anything else, about its musical numbers. And they are classics. They are, first of all, a first-class group of songs. "You're Getting to Be a Habbit With Me," "Shuffle Off to Buffalo" and "42nd Street" have deservedly become standards that everyone knows.
It's Busby Berkeley's show all the way, but I'm not going to say very much except that the scenes are well worth the wait. It's too bad that "You're Getting to Be a Habit With Me" doesn't get a big production number. I would have liked to see Ruby Keeler paired with Dick Powell for "Shuffle Off to Buffalo," but you can't have everything. "I'm Young and Healthy" is one of the best examples of Busby Berkeley's overhead shots of dancers arranged in moving abstract patterns. It is an art deco fantasia, brilliantly set off by its black background. And "42nd Street" provides an exuberant finish.
Ruby Keeler has her one memorable role as Peggy Sawyer. It was the right woman in the right role at the right time. She has major chemistry with Dick Powell which was not repeated in Footlight Parade. And it is fun to see Ginger Rogers sporting an affected British accent.
Gold Diggers of 1933 and Gold Diggers of 1935 also have some very fine production numbers, but 42nd Street just has a special something.
(6/2/00)
I want to qualify my comments on Ruby Keeler and say that I thought she was quite fetching as "Shanghai Lil." And I very much liked the scene (Footlight Parade) in which Herman Bing goes over the titles of songs in the music library that have something to do with cats.
This is probably the classic musical about putting on a Broadway show and it is probably the most famous of the musicals that Busby Berkeley made at Warner Brothers in the 1930s. And I think it deserves to be. It is not a silly comedy, but a film about believable characters and what goes on behind the scenes.
It doesn't have Footlight Parade's relentless energy. Instead it has a series of scenes which genuinely involve the viewer on an emotional level. The scenes are allowed to breathe--we don't have a sense of being bombarded. I felt more relaxed watching 42nd Street--and more interested.
The center of the backstage story is the character played by Warner Baxter. He has done great shows, but doesn't have anything money-wise to show for it. He's not well and is risking his life for this one. It is his last chance. And at the end of the film he sits alone, unacknowledged, after his show has succeeded. Poignacy doesn't hurt a picture like this.
Then there is the intrigue about the leading lady. A wealthy admirer (and she is probably sleeping with him) is bankrolling the show on her behalf. Meanwhile, she is seeing her ex-boyfriend on the sly. It is an arrangement that is making no one happy.
What was interesting for me was the realization that both the wealthy man and the leading lady feel degraded by this arrangement. He certainly knows that people are laughing at him behind his back and she knows that everyone knows that she only has the part because of her relationship with this man. That really came through. And the situation is resolved when, after spraining her ankle, she finally realizes her true values and gives up her dubious career to marry the man she really loves.
Guy Kibbee comes up with another discovery to do the part, but there is a truly touching moment when Joan Blondell admits to Warner Baxter that she can't do it justice, but that she knows someone who can. She does the right thing and points him in the direction of newcomer Peggy Sawyer, played by Ruby Keeler.
Warner Baxter is just right as he gives pep talks to Ruby Keeler. It seems a little too much, but it isn't. The man is desperate; this is his last chance. And it is quite a metamorphosis as Sally changes from an amateur into a star. Those scenes are archetypal, practically.
But 42nd Street is, more than anything else, about its musical numbers. And they are classics. They are, first of all, a first-class group of songs. "You're Getting to Be a Habbit With Me," "Shuffle Off to Buffalo" and "42nd Street" have deservedly become standards that everyone knows.
It's Busby Berkeley's show all the way, but I'm not going to say very much except that the scenes are well worth the wait. It's too bad that "You're Getting to Be a Habit With Me" doesn't get a big production number. I would have liked to see Ruby Keeler paired with Dick Powell for "Shuffle Off to Buffalo," but you can't have everything. "I'm Young and Healthy" is one of the best examples of Busby Berkeley's overhead shots of dancers arranged in moving abstract patterns. It is an art deco fantasia, brilliantly set off by its black background. And "42nd Street" provides an exuberant finish.
Ruby Keeler has her one memorable role as Peggy Sawyer. It was the right woman in the right role at the right time. She has major chemistry with Dick Powell which was not repeated in Footlight Parade. And it is fun to see Ginger Rogers sporting an affected British accent.
Gold Diggers of 1933 and Gold Diggers of 1935 also have some very fine production numbers, but 42nd Street just has a special something.
(6/2/00)
I want to qualify my comments on Ruby Keeler and say that I thought she was quite fetching as "Shanghai Lil." And I very much liked the scene (Footlight Parade) in which Herman Bing goes over the titles of songs in the music library that have something to do with cats.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Footlight Parade. 1933. Directed by Lloyd Bacon.
(5/29/00)
It's frenetic. The viewer gets caught up in the sheer energy of the whole thing. It's about the trials and tribulations of a showman who, facing extinction due to talking pictures, decides to produce prologues to accompany those pictures.
A young James Cagney plays the showman. He faces a competitor who steals his ideas, partners who are screwing him out of his share of the profits, a woman who wants to marry him for money, and a host of other plagues. He fights his way through all these troubles in a manner reminiscent of the performance he was to give so many years later in Billy Wilder's One, Two, Three. And we even get to see him sing and dance.
This is film of the depression. It is about struggle, hard work and an aggressive attitude towards life's challenges. It shows show business as just that--business--and damn hard work as well.
This picture has a wonderful ensemble, including Cagney, Ruby Keeler, Dick Powell, Huy Kibbee, Frank McHugh and Hugh Herbert. They are all fun to watch, although Hugh Herbert grates on me a little. Dick Powell is likable and eager and all that, though why he is so interested in Ruby Keeler when she looks so dowdy is a little beyond me.
The film takes a tough, cynical stance, particularly where relationships are concerned. I addition to being pursued by a mercenary woman, Cagney is married to a woman who doesn't go through with a divorce when it looks like Cagney will make good and then wants $25,000 to leave him alone.
The musical numbers are what the audience waits for in this film. They are strung together at the end. They are elaborate fantasies concocted by Busby Berkley. "Honeymoon Hotel" is a lot of fun with its midget dressed as a child and ending up in bed with Powell, but I was a little disappointed with "By a Waterfall" which has no story, but does have elaborate visual designs. Perhaps the song itself didn't grab me.
"Shanghai Lil" is the finale of the film and quite memorable. It is clever how we hear the music of "Shanghai Lil" throughout the film, preparing us for this finale. I loved it how the male performer didn't feel he can go on and he and Cagney come to blows. A figure falls onto the stage just as the curtain goes up, but we don't see who it is. The camera follows the unidentified figure through the first part of the sequence and then finally reveals that it is Cagney himself. I really liked that.
"Shanghai Lil" goes a little overboard towards the end with its legions of sailors, performers forming a great American flag with a picture of FDR and then the NRA symbol. But then, the whole picture tends towards the over-the-top. But it's certainly enjoyable.
(5/30/00)
One great moment I neglected to mention is when Frank McHugh rehearses a love duet with Dick Powell. (They hadn't chosen the female singer yet.) He sings the lines that were meant to be sung by a young woman with a cigar in his mouth. I really enjoyed that.
It's frenetic. The viewer gets caught up in the sheer energy of the whole thing. It's about the trials and tribulations of a showman who, facing extinction due to talking pictures, decides to produce prologues to accompany those pictures.
A young James Cagney plays the showman. He faces a competitor who steals his ideas, partners who are screwing him out of his share of the profits, a woman who wants to marry him for money, and a host of other plagues. He fights his way through all these troubles in a manner reminiscent of the performance he was to give so many years later in Billy Wilder's One, Two, Three. And we even get to see him sing and dance.
This is film of the depression. It is about struggle, hard work and an aggressive attitude towards life's challenges. It shows show business as just that--business--and damn hard work as well.
This picture has a wonderful ensemble, including Cagney, Ruby Keeler, Dick Powell, Huy Kibbee, Frank McHugh and Hugh Herbert. They are all fun to watch, although Hugh Herbert grates on me a little. Dick Powell is likable and eager and all that, though why he is so interested in Ruby Keeler when she looks so dowdy is a little beyond me.
The film takes a tough, cynical stance, particularly where relationships are concerned. I addition to being pursued by a mercenary woman, Cagney is married to a woman who doesn't go through with a divorce when it looks like Cagney will make good and then wants $25,000 to leave him alone.
The musical numbers are what the audience waits for in this film. They are strung together at the end. They are elaborate fantasies concocted by Busby Berkley. "Honeymoon Hotel" is a lot of fun with its midget dressed as a child and ending up in bed with Powell, but I was a little disappointed with "By a Waterfall" which has no story, but does have elaborate visual designs. Perhaps the song itself didn't grab me.
"Shanghai Lil" is the finale of the film and quite memorable. It is clever how we hear the music of "Shanghai Lil" throughout the film, preparing us for this finale. I loved it how the male performer didn't feel he can go on and he and Cagney come to blows. A figure falls onto the stage just as the curtain goes up, but we don't see who it is. The camera follows the unidentified figure through the first part of the sequence and then finally reveals that it is Cagney himself. I really liked that.
"Shanghai Lil" goes a little overboard towards the end with its legions of sailors, performers forming a great American flag with a picture of FDR and then the NRA symbol. But then, the whole picture tends towards the over-the-top. But it's certainly enjoyable.
(5/30/00)
One great moment I neglected to mention is when Frank McHugh rehearses a love duet with Dick Powell. (They hadn't chosen the female singer yet.) He sings the lines that were meant to be sung by a young woman with a cigar in his mouth. I really enjoyed that.
Saturday, December 12, 2009
I Walked with a Zombie. 1943. Directed by Jacques Tourneur.
(5/28/00)
I kept thinking that this film could have been a pilot for Strange Paradise. It has a sort of highbrow feel to it with fine photography and dignified action, but I found it disappointing.
It is hard to follow, or maybe part of it was that I kept expecting more--more secrets to be revealed. Two brothers were in love with thye same woman. She was married to one of them. She is in a coma or is a zombie or something similar. The nurse is determined to bring her back to health, believing that her husband loves her and wants her back. But he indicates that he doesn't want her to be restored to himin a way that suggests that we are going to learn something startling about their relationship. We don't.
The big revelation is that the mother used voodoo to kill thye woman. She's really dead. Or is she? The doctor points out that she still has the characteristics of the living. This is never resolved. Is the woman alive or dead?
The scenes of voodoo ceremonies are nice to watch. I didn'tfind them frightening or anything like that. This could be from living in a more sophisticated time and having seen the same sort of thing in Live and Let Die. If the filmmakers could have developed more intrigue about the voodoo I might have become more involved.
There is a fantastic character of a black man who seems to be a zombie. He has large, bulging eyes. He comes to the house where the people live and his presence there, since we don't know what he is there to do) is genuinely unnerving. But I think that the best, most haunting scene in the film is when the nurse and one of the brothers go to a cafe. A singer sings te tale of the family's story, not knowing that one of the brothers is there. When informed of this he immediately desists and comes over and obsequiously apologizes. But after the brother passes out he takes on a totally different demeanor and finishes the story (the song). He is like a figure of fate or something.
We keep seeing a statue of St. Sebastian pierced by arrows, which was the figurehead of a ship. It was a slave ship or the ship that first brought the family to the island. I don't know what it was intended to symbolize.
I kept thinking that this film could have been a pilot for Strange Paradise. It has a sort of highbrow feel to it with fine photography and dignified action, but I found it disappointing.
It is hard to follow, or maybe part of it was that I kept expecting more--more secrets to be revealed. Two brothers were in love with thye same woman. She was married to one of them. She is in a coma or is a zombie or something similar. The nurse is determined to bring her back to health, believing that her husband loves her and wants her back. But he indicates that he doesn't want her to be restored to himin a way that suggests that we are going to learn something startling about their relationship. We don't.
The big revelation is that the mother used voodoo to kill thye woman. She's really dead. Or is she? The doctor points out that she still has the characteristics of the living. This is never resolved. Is the woman alive or dead?
The scenes of voodoo ceremonies are nice to watch. I didn'tfind them frightening or anything like that. This could be from living in a more sophisticated time and having seen the same sort of thing in Live and Let Die. If the filmmakers could have developed more intrigue about the voodoo I might have become more involved.
There is a fantastic character of a black man who seems to be a zombie. He has large, bulging eyes. He comes to the house where the people live and his presence there, since we don't know what he is there to do) is genuinely unnerving. But I think that the best, most haunting scene in the film is when the nurse and one of the brothers go to a cafe. A singer sings te tale of the family's story, not knowing that one of the brothers is there. When informed of this he immediately desists and comes over and obsequiously apologizes. But after the brother passes out he takes on a totally different demeanor and finishes the story (the song). He is like a figure of fate or something.
We keep seeing a statue of St. Sebastian pierced by arrows, which was the figurehead of a ship. It was a slave ship or the ship that first brought the family to the island. I don't know what it was intended to symbolize.
Monday, November 16, 2009
The Treasure of the Sierra Madre. 1948. Directed by John Huston.
(5/28/00)
It is strange seeing this again. This is one of the films that I grew up with, that I watched over and over on television. I haven't seen it in many years and I found it difficult to reconnect with it.
It is a film about gold and what gold does to those who pursue and obtain it. Walter Huston talks about how gold affects prospectors and how they never get enough. He seems to be a figure of wisdom. But what is interesting is that the film which unfolds does not bear out his words.
Three men go out seeking gold. They find it. Two of them remain basically sane, decent people. It is only one who goes crazy. So the film does not bear out Walter Huston's words. Yes, gold can affect people as he describes--but that shouldn't be taken as a foregone conclusion. And, in fact, Huston is specifically proved wrong because when they have about $35,000 apiece they agree to call it quits.
Humphrey Bogart's performance as Fred C. Dobbs is considered by many his greatest performance. It is a portrayal of a man going mad. The problem I had with it was that as he does his "mad scene" you are one hundred per cent aware that you are watching acting. And that, of course, takes you out of the picture. Still, I don't know how else he should have played it. And it is quite possible that I might have been overly sensitive to it because I have seen this film many times when I was younger.
I said that the other two men remain basically decent and sensible people. They do, but the love of gold does exact a price. Curtin consents to the murder of Cody. Cody met Curtin at a trading post and got a pretty good idea of what was going on. He followed him back to the camp and told the three men that he wanted to join them as a partner. They couldn't just send him away because he would report their illegal activity and claim a share of their gold. Dobbs wants to kill him and Howard (Walter Huston) is willing to take him on as a prtner. Curtin has the deciding vote and the vote is for murder.
This is very sad to see, although Curtin had done everything from the beginning to discourage his questions and the three told him he wasn't wanted. Cody really brought this on himself, but still the love of gold almost put blood on their hands. (The Mexican bandits got him first.)
Curtin finds and reads a letterfrom Cody to his young wife in which he promises that this will be his last trip in search of gold. This seems like a cliche to me, although it certainly seems appropriate.
The great moment in The Treasure of the Sierra Madre comes when Curtin and Howard discover that the Mexicans, not knowing what it was, let the gold blow away. Howard takes it as a great joke on the part of some power and bursts into hearty, almost convulsive laughter. His laughter is indescribable and can only be experienced to its full effect in a theater.
His laughter is the laughter ofacceptance and I think there is a meaning there. I was disappointed when the gold was found to have blown away and I think that is a common reaction. Huston's acceptance of the situation is like a rebuke, because most of the audience cannot share that acceptance.
There is a sense of the earth in this film. When they are ready to leave Howard insists on binding up the wounds of the mountain and thanking it. And when the gold blows away there is that howling wind which seems almost to have a personality. Nature is a powerful force in the sense that it was in the silent Swedish pictures.
Walter Huston's performance occasionally seems too much. I'm thinking of when they were looking for gold on the mountain. I've already mentioned what I thought of Bogart, but his final encounter with the Mexicans was quite fine.
The whole sequence in which Dobbs and Curtin are recruited to work for a man who tries to swindle them out oftheir pay is a very nice introduction to the theme of gold (or money) and its effects on human character.
It is strange seeing this again. This is one of the films that I grew up with, that I watched over and over on television. I haven't seen it in many years and I found it difficult to reconnect with it.
It is a film about gold and what gold does to those who pursue and obtain it. Walter Huston talks about how gold affects prospectors and how they never get enough. He seems to be a figure of wisdom. But what is interesting is that the film which unfolds does not bear out his words.
Three men go out seeking gold. They find it. Two of them remain basically sane, decent people. It is only one who goes crazy. So the film does not bear out Walter Huston's words. Yes, gold can affect people as he describes--but that shouldn't be taken as a foregone conclusion. And, in fact, Huston is specifically proved wrong because when they have about $35,000 apiece they agree to call it quits.
Humphrey Bogart's performance as Fred C. Dobbs is considered by many his greatest performance. It is a portrayal of a man going mad. The problem I had with it was that as he does his "mad scene" you are one hundred per cent aware that you are watching acting. And that, of course, takes you out of the picture. Still, I don't know how else he should have played it. And it is quite possible that I might have been overly sensitive to it because I have seen this film many times when I was younger.
I said that the other two men remain basically decent and sensible people. They do, but the love of gold does exact a price. Curtin consents to the murder of Cody. Cody met Curtin at a trading post and got a pretty good idea of what was going on. He followed him back to the camp and told the three men that he wanted to join them as a partner. They couldn't just send him away because he would report their illegal activity and claim a share of their gold. Dobbs wants to kill him and Howard (Walter Huston) is willing to take him on as a prtner. Curtin has the deciding vote and the vote is for murder.
This is very sad to see, although Curtin had done everything from the beginning to discourage his questions and the three told him he wasn't wanted. Cody really brought this on himself, but still the love of gold almost put blood on their hands. (The Mexican bandits got him first.)
Curtin finds and reads a letterfrom Cody to his young wife in which he promises that this will be his last trip in search of gold. This seems like a cliche to me, although it certainly seems appropriate.
The great moment in The Treasure of the Sierra Madre comes when Curtin and Howard discover that the Mexicans, not knowing what it was, let the gold blow away. Howard takes it as a great joke on the part of some power and bursts into hearty, almost convulsive laughter. His laughter is indescribable and can only be experienced to its full effect in a theater.
His laughter is the laughter ofacceptance and I think there is a meaning there. I was disappointed when the gold was found to have blown away and I think that is a common reaction. Huston's acceptance of the situation is like a rebuke, because most of the audience cannot share that acceptance.
There is a sense of the earth in this film. When they are ready to leave Howard insists on binding up the wounds of the mountain and thanking it. And when the gold blows away there is that howling wind which seems almost to have a personality. Nature is a powerful force in the sense that it was in the silent Swedish pictures.
Walter Huston's performance occasionally seems too much. I'm thinking of when they were looking for gold on the mountain. I've already mentioned what I thought of Bogart, but his final encounter with the Mexicans was quite fine.
The whole sequence in which Dobbs and Curtin are recruited to work for a man who tries to swindle them out oftheir pay is a very nice introduction to the theme of gold (or money) and its effects on human character.
Sullivan's Travels. 1941. Directed by Preston Sturges.
(5/26/00)
Veronica Lake shines. She has tremendous presence in this picture and for me she has a lot more impact than Joel McCrea. It is a joy to watch her in the diner as she offers to buy him eggs. This is a very assertive, modern young woman and the slow, laid-back way she speaks her lines is thoroughly engaging. I would really like the opportunity to see more of her films.
Sullivan's Travels is supposed to be a classic. I find it uneven on a first viewing. By that I mean that it is inconsistent in tone. The first part of the film seems like a pretty silly comedy. When Sullivan loses his memory and gets trapped in a chain gang it takes on a seriousness and a power.
When Veronica Lake is dressed as a hobo I thought of Louise Brooks in Beggars of Life. I think those two films--both produced by Paramount--would make a great double feature.
One scene that made an impression on me was when Sullivan went out distributing $5 bills to the homeless. That had impact, especially the looks on their faces. Probably the most affecting scene was when he has been brought low and is in the black church where the prisoners have been invited as guests to see the movie. You can feel the kindness and how much it means and the blessed relief of laughter.
When Sullivan finds himself trapped in the maw of the criminal justice system with no way out he is granted his wish to really experience life and hardship. He gets it with a vengeance. But the funny thing about Sullivan is that he seems sincere in his quest for this knowledge. He really does want to learn. Why the gods seem to thwart his attempts in the first part of the picture don't make a whole lot of sense to me.
And the beauty of Sullivan's Travels is that what Sullivan discovers is his own value, or the value of his talent. He aspires to making something serious instead of the comedies he has been making, but the lesson he learns is that there is value in making people laugh, because laughter is all that some people have. His search for knowledge validates the worth of his talent.
I liked very much that there are a few digs at the income tax. Sullivan is trapped in a loveless marriage which was a business arrangement designed to save him money in taxes. When caught driving his expensive sports car and asked why he's wearing those clothes he says, "I just paid my income taxes."
And there is a very sharp comment on the criminal justice system. Sullivan gets out of the chain gang by getting his picture in the paper so people will know that he is alive and where he is. He does not clear himself of the crime he was charged with. The only thing that changes is the perception of who he is. If you're somebody you don't sweat on a chain gang even if you committed the very same offense. "And justice for all."
Veronica Lake shines. She has tremendous presence in this picture and for me she has a lot more impact than Joel McCrea. It is a joy to watch her in the diner as she offers to buy him eggs. This is a very assertive, modern young woman and the slow, laid-back way she speaks her lines is thoroughly engaging. I would really like the opportunity to see more of her films.
Sullivan's Travels is supposed to be a classic. I find it uneven on a first viewing. By that I mean that it is inconsistent in tone. The first part of the film seems like a pretty silly comedy. When Sullivan loses his memory and gets trapped in a chain gang it takes on a seriousness and a power.
When Veronica Lake is dressed as a hobo I thought of Louise Brooks in Beggars of Life. I think those two films--both produced by Paramount--would make a great double feature.
One scene that made an impression on me was when Sullivan went out distributing $5 bills to the homeless. That had impact, especially the looks on their faces. Probably the most affecting scene was when he has been brought low and is in the black church where the prisoners have been invited as guests to see the movie. You can feel the kindness and how much it means and the blessed relief of laughter.
When Sullivan finds himself trapped in the maw of the criminal justice system with no way out he is granted his wish to really experience life and hardship. He gets it with a vengeance. But the funny thing about Sullivan is that he seems sincere in his quest for this knowledge. He really does want to learn. Why the gods seem to thwart his attempts in the first part of the picture don't make a whole lot of sense to me.
And the beauty of Sullivan's Travels is that what Sullivan discovers is his own value, or the value of his talent. He aspires to making something serious instead of the comedies he has been making, but the lesson he learns is that there is value in making people laugh, because laughter is all that some people have. His search for knowledge validates the worth of his talent.
I liked very much that there are a few digs at the income tax. Sullivan is trapped in a loveless marriage which was a business arrangement designed to save him money in taxes. When caught driving his expensive sports car and asked why he's wearing those clothes he says, "I just paid my income taxes."
And there is a very sharp comment on the criminal justice system. Sullivan gets out of the chain gang by getting his picture in the paper so people will know that he is alive and where he is. He does not clear himself of the crime he was charged with. The only thing that changes is the perception of who he is. If you're somebody you don't sweat on a chain gang even if you committed the very same offense. "And justice for all."
Saturday, November 14, 2009
(Douglas Fairbanks, Jr., Home Movie). c. 1940. Directed by Douglas Fairbanks, Jr.
(5/22/00)
What a different experience a home movie can be when itis made by a professional! This is just a home movie of Fairbanks' infant daughter. She gets a bath, plays in her crib, etc. Fairbanks is seen bathing and dressing her, but he is hardly visible. The film is interspersed with "cute" intertitles, supposedly representing the baby's thoughts. And there are beginning and end titles which add to the professional look.
The infant isn't especially adorable, although there are a couple of cute shots of her face as she is being bathed. The intertitles aren't especially clever, but the film was certainly able to engage my interest for nine minutes.
What a different experience a home movie can be when itis made by a professional! This is just a home movie of Fairbanks' infant daughter. She gets a bath, plays in her crib, etc. Fairbanks is seen bathing and dressing her, but he is hardly visible. The film is interspersed with "cute" intertitles, supposedly representing the baby's thoughts. And there are beginning and end titles which add to the professional look.
The infant isn't especially adorable, although there are a couple of cute shots of her face as she is being bathed. The intertitles aren't especially clever, but the film was certainly able to engage my interest for nine minutes.
(Mom and Dad's Wedding April 23, 1938). 1938. Director unknown.
(5/21/00)
This is film of actually more than a wedding. It includes scenes of landscape photographed while traveling and playing in the snow. Everyone plays up to the camera, making faces and hamming it up. The camera itself--hand-held--is constantly in motion, giving this picture something of a Brakhage-like feel. It's all very agitated.
It's also very dark. My guess is that that is how the film was made, rather than a quality of the print. I found this fiolm irritating to watch, though I'm sure the familyhad fun making it.
This is film of actually more than a wedding. It includes scenes of landscape photographed while traveling and playing in the snow. Everyone plays up to the camera, making faces and hamming it up. The camera itself--hand-held--is constantly in motion, giving this picture something of a Brakhage-like feel. It's all very agitated.
It's also very dark. My guess is that that is how the film was made, rather than a quality of the print. I found this fiolm irritating to watch, though I'm sure the familyhad fun making it.
(Mr. Kenneth Marvin's Wedding). 1914. Director unknown.
(5/21/00)
This is a film of a double wedding, interesting as a document of it's time. The camera is placed in static positions. First we see the man enter with the two brides whom he gives to the grooms. Everyone is very formal and serious. Then we see scenes of couples dancing. Then there are scenes taken from another camera location where people assemble for formal portraits and more scenes of dancing.
The footage of people dancing just goes on and on. It had an Andy Warhol-like quality to it. I actually think that this footage could have been edited down into a nice little film.
This is a film of a double wedding, interesting as a document of it's time. The camera is placed in static positions. First we see the man enter with the two brides whom he gives to the grooms. Everyone is very formal and serious. Then we see scenes of couples dancing. Then there are scenes taken from another camera location where people assemble for formal portraits and more scenes of dancing.
The footage of people dancing just goes on and on. It had an Andy Warhol-like quality to it. I actually think that this footage could have been edited down into a nice little film.
Porch Glider. 1969. Directed by James Herbert.
(5/20/00-5/21/00)
Porch Glider draws on the power of pornography. There is something riveting about the attraction of two attractive young people of different sexes. Herbert exploits that, frankly. It is what keeps Porch Glider from being just another boring art film, well-made though it is.
This film does have a vivid sense of place. I remember the lightbulb hanging over the porch glider, the insects flying about. These are striking images of place, captured by a painter, which add a lot. The atmosphere is palpable. And I think that the atmosphere is intensified by the silence. It enhances a sense that we are looking while at the same time locked out.
There are other elements which suggest a story which is fractured. We see a naked child, a group of young people bathing or showering together. There are shots of an interior, a bedroom. A lot of this just seems extraneous to me, but I can't imagine what could have replaced it. I get the feeling that the film is structured to suggest impressions from someone (the filmmaker's?) memory. But it doesn't engage me.
There was at least one very nice shot through a spinning bicycle wheel. I didn't find the scene of naked young people bathing as inhteresting as the scenes of the young couple.
I liked this film better than I have on other occasions when I have seen it.
Porch Glider draws on the power of pornography. There is something riveting about the attraction of two attractive young people of different sexes. Herbert exploits that, frankly. It is what keeps Porch Glider from being just another boring art film, well-made though it is.
This film does have a vivid sense of place. I remember the lightbulb hanging over the porch glider, the insects flying about. These are striking images of place, captured by a painter, which add a lot. The atmosphere is palpable. And I think that the atmosphere is intensified by the silence. It enhances a sense that we are looking while at the same time locked out.
There are other elements which suggest a story which is fractured. We see a naked child, a group of young people bathing or showering together. There are shots of an interior, a bedroom. A lot of this just seems extraneous to me, but I can't imagine what could have replaced it. I get the feeling that the film is structured to suggest impressions from someone (the filmmaker's?) memory. But it doesn't engage me.
There was at least one very nice shot through a spinning bicycle wheel. I didn't find the scene of naked young people bathing as inhteresting as the scenes of the young couple.
I liked this film better than I have on other occasions when I have seen it.
(Chapman Films). 1934-42. Made by Mrs. Gilbert W. Chapman.
(5/13/00)
This film is made up of vignettes of important cultural figures of the time, such as Picasso, Matisse, Stravinsky, Gertrude Stein and Diego Rivera. I think it would be of great interest to anyone with an interest in the cultural history of the period.
The scenes have an intimacy and at the smae time are quite animated. I think that the film benefits from the fact that the people filmed were celebrities and by-and-large were comfortable with cameras.
It is fascinating to see Pavel Tchelitchew in his penthouse garden. Matisse looks a little bewildered. It is fascinating to see Picasso in a scene with his dealer Daniel Henry Kahnweiler. On the other side of the coin, it is a disappointment that Diego Rivera was not accompanied before the camera by his wife, Frida Kahlo.
There are so many interesting people in this picture and it moves so quickly that there isn't a chance to get bored. This film is a treat.
This film is made up of vignettes of important cultural figures of the time, such as Picasso, Matisse, Stravinsky, Gertrude Stein and Diego Rivera. I think it would be of great interest to anyone with an interest in the cultural history of the period.
The scenes have an intimacy and at the smae time are quite animated. I think that the film benefits from the fact that the people filmed were celebrities and by-and-large were comfortable with cameras.
It is fascinating to see Pavel Tchelitchew in his penthouse garden. Matisse looks a little bewildered. It is fascinating to see Picasso in a scene with his dealer Daniel Henry Kahnweiler. On the other side of the coin, it is a disappointment that Diego Rivera was not accompanied before the camera by his wife, Frida Kahlo.
There are so many interesting people in this picture and it moves so quickly that there isn't a chance to get bored. This film is a treat.
(Family Scenes). 1933-42. Director unknown.
(5/13/00)
This film is a home movie of the life of a family over a ten-year period. I actually question the dates. The earlier sections all have titles announcing the years, but towards the end there is a long stretch (longer than any of the previous years) which is broken up by patches of leader. The leader had been edited out of the previous sections, so I suspect that the last part of the film went beyond 1942, but was simply not identified as to the years.
It was interesting to me that this film began at the beach which seems to mean so much to me. Throughout the film there are a lot of long pans from left to right which I found annoying after a while.
I didn't like the static scenes of people posing for the camera as if they were having their pictures taken by a still camera. Of course, the motion picture camera can shown nuances that the still camera cannot, but I still didn't like those shots. I liked it much better when something was going on. I was especially frustrated when the people posing for the camera were speaking for the film was of course silent and I couldn't hear the words. Of course, some people can read lips, but I can't.
I liked the scenes of workmen adding on to the house because something was actually happening. There was some very interesting footage of dogs at play. Those scenes really livened up the film. My favorite scene was of a girl in a swimsuit swinging a golf club. She was attractive and I really enjoyed watching the movement of her legs.
It was interesting to watch the changeover from black-and-white to color footage. The first color scenes were blurry and the footage wasn't very attractive. Gradually, the color seemed to improve.
In one scene a young man is watching a military uniform--a haunting reminder that this was the time of World War II and that the war forced its way into people's private lives.
The film really left a vivid sense of how things looked in the early 1940s. And it was real life.
There is a scene outside of a theater where some sort of performance has gone on. A woman holds a volume of Schirmer's Library of Musical Classics in her arm.
There was so much of these people's lives that wa snot told in the film. I don't even know, for instance, what business the father was in. As close as I got to them through watching their home movies, this family remained strangers.
This film is a home movie of the life of a family over a ten-year period. I actually question the dates. The earlier sections all have titles announcing the years, but towards the end there is a long stretch (longer than any of the previous years) which is broken up by patches of leader. The leader had been edited out of the previous sections, so I suspect that the last part of the film went beyond 1942, but was simply not identified as to the years.
It was interesting to me that this film began at the beach which seems to mean so much to me. Throughout the film there are a lot of long pans from left to right which I found annoying after a while.
I didn't like the static scenes of people posing for the camera as if they were having their pictures taken by a still camera. Of course, the motion picture camera can shown nuances that the still camera cannot, but I still didn't like those shots. I liked it much better when something was going on. I was especially frustrated when the people posing for the camera were speaking for the film was of course silent and I couldn't hear the words. Of course, some people can read lips, but I can't.
I liked the scenes of workmen adding on to the house because something was actually happening. There was some very interesting footage of dogs at play. Those scenes really livened up the film. My favorite scene was of a girl in a swimsuit swinging a golf club. She was attractive and I really enjoyed watching the movement of her legs.
It was interesting to watch the changeover from black-and-white to color footage. The first color scenes were blurry and the footage wasn't very attractive. Gradually, the color seemed to improve.
In one scene a young man is watching a military uniform--a haunting reminder that this was the time of World War II and that the war forced its way into people's private lives.
The film really left a vivid sense of how things looked in the early 1940s. And it was real life.
There is a scene outside of a theater where some sort of performance has gone on. A woman holds a volume of Schirmer's Library of Musical Classics in her arm.
There was so much of these people's lives that wa snot told in the film. I don't even know, for instance, what business the father was in. As close as I got to them through watching their home movies, this family remained strangers.
The Road to Life (Putyovka v zhizn). 1931. Directed by Nikolai Ekk.
(5/11/00)
This film was also shown in Russian without subtitles. I was unable to follow it. It seemed to be about juvenile delinquents and the first half of the film had the look of a Warner Brothers social problem film of the 1930s.
The juvenile delinquents are taken somewhere to be rehabilitated. There is a harrowing moment when one throws a rock at a dog and kills it. As in a Fritz Lang film we do not actually see the rock hitting the dog. (Lang was famous for saying that you should never actually show the violence.) The same boy later goes beserk and has to be held down by the others.
The boys are engaged in the building of a railroad. Work is celebrated as was traditional in Soviet culture. The scenes of them at work with sledgehammers are uplifting.
One of the delinquents who has been working on the railroad is killed. Someone forces one of the rails out of alignment and the boy is thrown. Then he is killed. It is interesting that as he approaches on a handcar the film cuts away from him, but his approach is suggested by the soundtrack getting louder. This is a creative use of sound in an early sound film.
At the end of the film the body is found and placed on a train and mourned. This scene of mourning for a fallen comrade reminds me of a similar scene in The Battleship Potemkin.
I was very frustrated that this film was shown without subtitles and I could not follow it. I believe I would have been very impressed with it.
This film was also shown in Russian without subtitles. I was unable to follow it. It seemed to be about juvenile delinquents and the first half of the film had the look of a Warner Brothers social problem film of the 1930s.
The juvenile delinquents are taken somewhere to be rehabilitated. There is a harrowing moment when one throws a rock at a dog and kills it. As in a Fritz Lang film we do not actually see the rock hitting the dog. (Lang was famous for saying that you should never actually show the violence.) The same boy later goes beserk and has to be held down by the others.
The boys are engaged in the building of a railroad. Work is celebrated as was traditional in Soviet culture. The scenes of them at work with sledgehammers are uplifting.
One of the delinquents who has been working on the railroad is killed. Someone forces one of the rails out of alignment and the boy is thrown. Then he is killed. It is interesting that as he approaches on a handcar the film cuts away from him, but his approach is suggested by the soundtrack getting louder. This is a creative use of sound in an early sound film.
At the end of the film the body is found and placed on a train and mourned. This scene of mourning for a fallen comrade reminds me of a similar scene in The Battleship Potemkin.
I was very frustrated that this film was shown without subtitles and I could not follow it. I believe I would have been very impressed with it.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Moscow Laughs (Vesoyolye Rebyata). 1934. Directed by Grigori Alexandrov.
(5/7/00)
It was very frustrating to watch this film because it had no subtitles. I could not follow the story and I noted that other people in the audience were laughing at the dialogue which I was not able to appreciate. The audience applauded at the end.
So the best I can do here is to mention a couple of things that did impress me. The opening scene--a musical number--was elaborate in that it took a lot of camera movement. It is all done outside and the camera more or less follows the main character around as he sings and plays a flute or recorder.
Then he seems to call a roll call of animals, each of whom answers in its turn. There is a very funny scene involving animals which, upon hearing the leading character play his flute or recorder, invade a party, eat the food, drink the alcohol, fall asleep and generally cause havoc. The shots of the animals are framed for maximum impact. The scene begins with the leading character having what looks to me to be a ram outside the house attached to a rope. He first ties the rope arond a reproduction of the Venus de Milo, then around himself, then around someone else. It is funny when he is on the dance floor, the ram decides to go somewhere and he is pulled towards the window.
This scene at the party seems to go on a little too long for me, but it is hard to judge when I couldn't really get into the story because of the lack of subtitles.
Other interesting scenes are when this guy is mistaken for a conductor and all of his gestures seem to conduct the orchestra. Then there is a scene of a fight among musicians in which the sounds of the violence are integrated into a musical number. Very clever.
There is a wonderful shot during a scene at the beach. The camera tracks parallel to a woman and glides past feet and other anatomical parts of people lying on the sand.
There are a couple of very nice bits of animation, a couple featuring the man in the moon. The music was pleasant enough. This is a film of high spirits and my guess is that if I could have followed it I would have found it a silly, entertaining trifle, but not something I would want to watch over and over.
P.S. During the credits there appeared drawings of the faces of Charlie Chaplin, Harold Lloyud and Buster Keaton. I wonder what that was about.
It was very frustrating to watch this film because it had no subtitles. I could not follow the story and I noted that other people in the audience were laughing at the dialogue which I was not able to appreciate. The audience applauded at the end.
So the best I can do here is to mention a couple of things that did impress me. The opening scene--a musical number--was elaborate in that it took a lot of camera movement. It is all done outside and the camera more or less follows the main character around as he sings and plays a flute or recorder.
Then he seems to call a roll call of animals, each of whom answers in its turn. There is a very funny scene involving animals which, upon hearing the leading character play his flute or recorder, invade a party, eat the food, drink the alcohol, fall asleep and generally cause havoc. The shots of the animals are framed for maximum impact. The scene begins with the leading character having what looks to me to be a ram outside the house attached to a rope. He first ties the rope arond a reproduction of the Venus de Milo, then around himself, then around someone else. It is funny when he is on the dance floor, the ram decides to go somewhere and he is pulled towards the window.
This scene at the party seems to go on a little too long for me, but it is hard to judge when I couldn't really get into the story because of the lack of subtitles.
Other interesting scenes are when this guy is mistaken for a conductor and all of his gestures seem to conduct the orchestra. Then there is a scene of a fight among musicians in which the sounds of the violence are integrated into a musical number. Very clever.
There is a wonderful shot during a scene at the beach. The camera tracks parallel to a woman and glides past feet and other anatomical parts of people lying on the sand.
There are a couple of very nice bits of animation, a couple featuring the man in the moon. The music was pleasant enough. This is a film of high spirits and my guess is that if I could have followed it I would have found it a silly, entertaining trifle, but not something I would want to watch over and over.
P.S. During the credits there appeared drawings of the faces of Charlie Chaplin, Harold Lloyud and Buster Keaton. I wonder what that was about.
Monday, November 9, 2009
City of Contrasts. 1931. Directed by Irving Browning.
(5/2/00)
The credits to this film imply that itis narrated. I saw it shown silent. I think that narration would have made a big difference in holding my interest. It really looks as if the footage was meant to be attached to a narration.
Nevertheless, the film is touching as a portrait of New York during the depression. I remember one scene of a man playing an accordion for money with a sign saying how long he had been out of work. We see doormen outside of restaurants of different nationalities.
There are views of Manhattan from boats and scenes of the lights of Broadway and what goes on in nightclubs. But this film really needs the narration to pull it all together.
The credits to this film imply that itis narrated. I saw it shown silent. I think that narration would have made a big difference in holding my interest. It really looks as if the footage was meant to be attached to a narration.
Nevertheless, the film is touching as a portrait of New York during the depression. I remember one scene of a man playing an accordion for money with a sign saying how long he had been out of work. We see doormen outside of restaurants of different nationalities.
There are views of Manhattan from boats and scenes of the lights of Broadway and what goes on in nightclubs. But this film really needs the narration to pull it all together.
A Bronx Morning. 1931. Directed and photographed by Jay Leyda.
(5/2/00)
This film is interesting for showing us what the Bronx was like circa 1930. We see people buying groceries, children playing--a lot of things. But it didn't rivet my attention. It's more important as a document of its time than as a film.
This film is interesting for showing us what the Bronx was like circa 1930. We see people buying groceries, children playing--a lot of things. But it didn't rivet my attention. It's more important as a document of its time than as a film.
Rain (Regen). 1929. Directed by Joris Ivens.
(5/2/00)
This is another beautiful film by Ivens. It is a loving portrait of a rain shower in a city. Like The Bridge it is closely observed and full of beautiful abstract patterns--but this film is broader in scope and includes people.
It has a beginning, middle and end. We see the city before the storm, the storm begins, it rains, people scurry for cover, the storm ends. I can't help thinking that the raindrops are like staccato notes in this visual composition. This film is simple as far as its subject matter goes, but rich and very beautiful.
This is another beautiful film by Ivens. It is a loving portrait of a rain shower in a city. Like The Bridge it is closely observed and full of beautiful abstract patterns--but this film is broader in scope and includes people.
It has a beginning, middle and end. We see the city before the storm, the storm begins, it rains, people scurry for cover, the storm ends. I can't help thinking that the raindrops are like staccato notes in this visual composition. This film is simple as far as its subject matter goes, but rich and very beautiful.
The Bridge (De Brug). 1928. Directed by Joris Ivens.
(5/2/00)
This was a very engaging little film about the workings of a railroad bridge. I have the sense that Joris Ivens really looked at this bridge and really showed it to us. A lot of the shots are of abstract patterns and they are moreover abstract patterns in motion.
This is a film which truly celebrates the beauty of the machine. And although we do see a few human beings, this film is really about the products of those beings.
This was a very engaging little film about the workings of a railroad bridge. I have the sense that Joris Ivens really looked at this bridge and really showed it to us. A lot of the shots are of abstract patterns and they are moreover abstract patterns in motion.
This is a film which truly celebrates the beauty of the machine. And although we do see a few human beings, this film is really about the products of those beings.
The Enchanted City. 1922. Directed by Warren A. Newcombe.
(5/2/00)
A man and a woman stare out into the sea. The man tells her of a dream he had about searching for her in an enchanted city. I forget exactly what happens there, but it is rendered in the style of symbolist art.
I didn't find this film interesting, except insofar as it can be considered a noble attempt to make this style of symbolist art into a film. Perhaps I should see it again.
A man and a woman stare out into the sea. The man tells her of a dream he had about searching for her in an enchanted city. I forget exactly what happens there, but it is rendered in the style of symbolist art.
I didn't find this film interesting, except insofar as it can be considered a noble attempt to make this style of symbolist art into a film. Perhaps I should see it again.
Manhatta. 1921. Directed and photographed by Paul Strand and Charles Sheeler.
(4/30/00)
This is a beautifully photographed portrait of the modern industrial city. It is very positive and shows the modern metropolis as majestic in grand, broad views. On the other hand, views of the city from the surrounding waters and views of those waters and the sky bring in the presence of nature. Nature is also treated with respect and the man-made city is presented in harmony with it.
The human presence is reduced to views of masses of people. But this is a panoramic view of a city, not a portrait of the people in it and taken as that it is an inspiring film.
Interspersed with the photographed scenes are titles which appear to be taken from a poem. I can't tell if these lines were written expresly for this film or are from an already-written poem. They may seem a bit old-fashioned today, but I think that they add to the beauty of this film. I can't help thinking that Manhatta must have made quite an impression on audiences of its time who lived far away from a big city.
This is a beautifully photographed portrait of the modern industrial city. It is very positive and shows the modern metropolis as majestic in grand, broad views. On the other hand, views of the city from the surrounding waters and views of those waters and the sky bring in the presence of nature. Nature is also treated with respect and the man-made city is presented in harmony with it.
The human presence is reduced to views of masses of people. But this is a panoramic view of a city, not a portrait of the people in it and taken as that it is an inspiring film.
Interspersed with the photographed scenes are titles which appear to be taken from a poem. I can't tell if these lines were written expresly for this film or are from an already-written poem. They may seem a bit old-fashioned today, but I think that they add to the beauty of this film. I can't help thinking that Manhatta must have made quite an impression on audiences of its time who lived far away from a big city.
Feed 'Em and Weep.
(4/30/00)
This was a Hal Roach comedy (I believe) with a female imitation of Laurel and Hardy. They are hired as waitresses and wreak havoc in a diner. One imitates Oliver Hardy to the point of saying to the other one, "Let me do the talking." They do the routine of doing aggressive, hurtful things to each other in a slow, ritualistic way--and some of the other people there pick up on it and start doing similar things to each other.
All I can say about this film is that it made me even more aware of just how good Laurel and Hardy really are.
This was a Hal Roach comedy (I believe) with a female imitation of Laurel and Hardy. They are hired as waitresses and wreak havoc in a diner. One imitates Oliver Hardy to the point of saying to the other one, "Let me do the talking." They do the routine of doing aggressive, hurtful things to each other in a slow, ritualistic way--and some of the other people there pick up on it and start doing similar things to each other.
All I can say about this film is that it made me even more aware of just how good Laurel and Hardy really are.
Babes in the Woods. From the "Free and Easy" series.
(4/30/00)
This was a comedy about two not-very-funny comedians who are camping out in the woods. One cooks breakfast on the car's radio. They are chased out of their campsite by the owner and are chased by animals (at least one is) until they find themselves at an inn which is having a dinner for a group of hunters. I was so disinterested that I don't even remember what happened.
This was a comedy about two not-very-funny comedians who are camping out in the woods. One cooks breakfast on the car's radio. They are chased out of their campsite by the owner and are chased by animals (at least one is) until they find themselves at an inn which is having a dinner for a group of hunters. I was so disinterested that I don't even remember what happened.
Master of the House. 1925. Directed by Carl Theodor Dreyer.
(4/30/00)
The Master of the House is a richly-observed story of domestic life. It is about a man who has lost his business and takes his frustrations out on his family. He criticizes his wife incessantly and the children as well. His wife comes to a breaking point and is persuaded to go away for a rest. The husband is made to realize her value to him, but the family servant--who raised him as a child--will not allow her to return until he agrees to stand in the corner with his hands behind his back.
There is a sureness in the direction which I can't explain, but can certainly feel. The performances are right. Dreyer was a master in the use of faces and he certainly communicates through the face in this picture. I was especially impressed by the actress who played Auntie Mads, the family servant. The wife's mother, who appeared relatively briefly, was a fine study in dignity.
In the early part of the film we see the husband being cranky and making demands on and criticizing his wife. I immediately thought that he was an unhappy man and wondered why. It is not until later, when Auntie Mads and the mother are trying to persuade the wife to leave him, that we learn that he has lost his business and is having trouble keeping the family solvent. The withholding of this information for a time is quite effective.
I liked it when Auntie Mads takes over the household. The husband was always criticizing, but when he trips on an object that Auntie Mads left in his way (deliberately, I think) she just looks at him and says, "You should be more careful."
It is fun watching this man be tamed by this stern yet compassionate matriarch. He certainly needs to be taught a lesson, but it goes a little too far. What happens is that the family servant decides that the wife shall not return until the husband agrees to stand in the corner and be punished like a little boy. What gives this woman the right to make the rules? When the husband speaks to his mother-in-law, she says, referring to Auntie Mads, "You know her terms." I don't think he should have allowed himself to be bullied by this woman and I don't think that the wife should have gone along with it, either.
Other than that, I really enjoyed this film and would very much like to see it again. One shot that impressed me was when the daughter goes to comfor her father who is missing his wife. She tenderly puts her hand on his in a closeup and he puts his on hers.
The Master of the House is a richly-observed story of domestic life. It is about a man who has lost his business and takes his frustrations out on his family. He criticizes his wife incessantly and the children as well. His wife comes to a breaking point and is persuaded to go away for a rest. The husband is made to realize her value to him, but the family servant--who raised him as a child--will not allow her to return until he agrees to stand in the corner with his hands behind his back.
There is a sureness in the direction which I can't explain, but can certainly feel. The performances are right. Dreyer was a master in the use of faces and he certainly communicates through the face in this picture. I was especially impressed by the actress who played Auntie Mads, the family servant. The wife's mother, who appeared relatively briefly, was a fine study in dignity.
In the early part of the film we see the husband being cranky and making demands on and criticizing his wife. I immediately thought that he was an unhappy man and wondered why. It is not until later, when Auntie Mads and the mother are trying to persuade the wife to leave him, that we learn that he has lost his business and is having trouble keeping the family solvent. The withholding of this information for a time is quite effective.
I liked it when Auntie Mads takes over the household. The husband was always criticizing, but when he trips on an object that Auntie Mads left in his way (deliberately, I think) she just looks at him and says, "You should be more careful."
It is fun watching this man be tamed by this stern yet compassionate matriarch. He certainly needs to be taught a lesson, but it goes a little too far. What happens is that the family servant decides that the wife shall not return until the husband agrees to stand in the corner and be punished like a little boy. What gives this woman the right to make the rules? When the husband speaks to his mother-in-law, she says, referring to Auntie Mads, "You know her terms." I don't think he should have allowed himself to be bullied by this woman and I don't think that the wife should have gone along with it, either.
Other than that, I really enjoyed this film and would very much like to see it again. One shot that impressed me was when the daughter goes to comfor her father who is missing his wife. She tenderly puts her hand on his in a closeup and he puts his on hers.
A Man Whose Life Was Full of Woe Has Been Surprised by Joy. 1998. R. Bruce Elder.
(4/26/00)
Elder's film bombards the viewer with sight and sound. There is a lot in it and it basically numbed me. I was unable to put much of it together in my head. It just flowed past me.
The film progresses from anger to acceptance. That is something that he told us, but I could see that he was doing a lot of griping in the first part of the film and towards the end there is a lot of "spiritual talk" about limitlessness, about God. There is a lot of praising towards the end and the film seems to end on a chord.
We come out of what I would call "floating imagery" periodically to see snatches of what looks like an old-fashioned silent-movie comedy about a cop and a giant animal which is really a person wearing a costume.
There are lots of shots of a penis, in some of which it was ejaculating. I found this tiresome after a while. Often on the soundtrack we hear a quote from a popular song: "Waah! I feel good!," always (or almost always) played when we are looking at a shot of a penis. I got tired of that, too, after a while.
In addition to hearing spoken words we see words printed on the film like subtitles. They are in black and often appear over dark areas of the screen so that you can't read them. I am sure that this was deliberate. Moreover, some of the text is printed in reverse, like mirror writing, making it even harder to read. This reverse writing usually appears on screen simultaneously with that printed the regular way.
There are some beautiful drawings of nude figures that appear.
Sometimes it was hard to hear the spoken words which were enmeshed with other sounds--at other moments they came to the fore. There is a thread of spoken words which weaves in and out of our consciousness.
At one point the speaker talks about employment and how to be employed requires one to be an impostor. That caught my attention.
This film has been composed, basically, through free association. I found it to be very self-indulgent. Mr. Elder has made a very private film in which he puts a lot of what he was seeing, hearing and thinking over a period of time, but he doesn't sort it out for the audience. He doesn't direct them through it or organize the material in a way that would make it accessible to a viewer. Or so it seems to me.
Elder's film bombards the viewer with sight and sound. There is a lot in it and it basically numbed me. I was unable to put much of it together in my head. It just flowed past me.
The film progresses from anger to acceptance. That is something that he told us, but I could see that he was doing a lot of griping in the first part of the film and towards the end there is a lot of "spiritual talk" about limitlessness, about God. There is a lot of praising towards the end and the film seems to end on a chord.
We come out of what I would call "floating imagery" periodically to see snatches of what looks like an old-fashioned silent-movie comedy about a cop and a giant animal which is really a person wearing a costume.
There are lots of shots of a penis, in some of which it was ejaculating. I found this tiresome after a while. Often on the soundtrack we hear a quote from a popular song: "Waah! I feel good!," always (or almost always) played when we are looking at a shot of a penis. I got tired of that, too, after a while.
In addition to hearing spoken words we see words printed on the film like subtitles. They are in black and often appear over dark areas of the screen so that you can't read them. I am sure that this was deliberate. Moreover, some of the text is printed in reverse, like mirror writing, making it even harder to read. This reverse writing usually appears on screen simultaneously with that printed the regular way.
There are some beautiful drawings of nude figures that appear.
Sometimes it was hard to hear the spoken words which were enmeshed with other sounds--at other moments they came to the fore. There is a thread of spoken words which weaves in and out of our consciousness.
At one point the speaker talks about employment and how to be employed requires one to be an impostor. That caught my attention.
This film has been composed, basically, through free association. I found it to be very self-indulgent. Mr. Elder has made a very private film in which he puts a lot of what he was seeing, hearing and thinking over a period of time, but he doesn't sort it out for the audience. He doesn't direct them through it or organize the material in a way that would make it accessible to a viewer. Or so it seems to me.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
The Hunchback of Notre Dame. 1923. Directed by Wallace Worsley.
(4/24/00)
Lon Chaney's Quasimodo is considered one of his greatest performances and it deserves to be. He shows hate, he shows pain, he is like a wild animal. He feels love and is kind to those who have been kind to him. When Patsy Ruth Miller doesn't respond to him hist expression subtly changes and you hurt.
The Hunchback of Notre Dame is a big, impressive production. It's well done. It has a lot of action. It tells an intricate story with a lot of characters. It has vile villains, deceit, but also nobility. It's larger than life. There is torture and there is betrayal.
It is set in Paris in the late Middle Ages, but the action seems to revolve around Notre Dame Cathedral. The cathedral, beautifully reproduced, dominates the film. Maybe it's a representation of the spirit of the time. It certainly represents an ideal that the characters of the story fail, for the most part, to live up to.
Esmerelda is the great exception. She is almost a personification of the Virgin, an embodiment of the values that the cathedral represents. But she is so sexually desirable that she represents Venus as well as the Virgin. We first see her as an attractive gypsy dancing girl, but as the film progresses it is her attractive spirit which comes to dominate our image of her.
I liked Patsy Ruth Miller in the opening scenes. When we first see her in closeup--in the scenes with Norman Kerry at the inn (or wherever they stop to eat)--I didn't find her so attractive. But maybe that was a response to the shift in how she is presented because she seemed quite suitable as the film progressed.
Some of the scenes that impressed me were the ones in which Esmerelda gives water to Quasimodo after he has been whipped and when the woman who has been cursing Esmerelda because her own daughter had been stolen by gypsies rips the locket off of her and realizes that she is her own daughter. Both are powerful scenes. I unfortunately lost focus and missed what happens to the woman who we have learned is Esmerelda's mother. I think she was killed, but I missed how.
This film was unfortunately shown in a very worn 16mm print and without music. I would really love a chance to see it under better conditions.
(4/26/00)
A couple of other points about The Hunchback of Notre Dame:
It is fascinating to watch Lon Chaney flick his tongue, sort of like a snake. In fact, he seems very animal-like in a lot of his footage. And I also wanted to mention that after Phoebus arrives, he and Esmerelda just blithely go off together, leaving Quasimodo to die alone. This is sad, especially in view of the fact that Esmerelda is basically a kind person.
Lon Chaney's Quasimodo is considered one of his greatest performances and it deserves to be. He shows hate, he shows pain, he is like a wild animal. He feels love and is kind to those who have been kind to him. When Patsy Ruth Miller doesn't respond to him hist expression subtly changes and you hurt.
The Hunchback of Notre Dame is a big, impressive production. It's well done. It has a lot of action. It tells an intricate story with a lot of characters. It has vile villains, deceit, but also nobility. It's larger than life. There is torture and there is betrayal.
It is set in Paris in the late Middle Ages, but the action seems to revolve around Notre Dame Cathedral. The cathedral, beautifully reproduced, dominates the film. Maybe it's a representation of the spirit of the time. It certainly represents an ideal that the characters of the story fail, for the most part, to live up to.
Esmerelda is the great exception. She is almost a personification of the Virgin, an embodiment of the values that the cathedral represents. But she is so sexually desirable that she represents Venus as well as the Virgin. We first see her as an attractive gypsy dancing girl, but as the film progresses it is her attractive spirit which comes to dominate our image of her.
I liked Patsy Ruth Miller in the opening scenes. When we first see her in closeup--in the scenes with Norman Kerry at the inn (or wherever they stop to eat)--I didn't find her so attractive. But maybe that was a response to the shift in how she is presented because she seemed quite suitable as the film progressed.
Some of the scenes that impressed me were the ones in which Esmerelda gives water to Quasimodo after he has been whipped and when the woman who has been cursing Esmerelda because her own daughter had been stolen by gypsies rips the locket off of her and realizes that she is her own daughter. Both are powerful scenes. I unfortunately lost focus and missed what happens to the woman who we have learned is Esmerelda's mother. I think she was killed, but I missed how.
This film was unfortunately shown in a very worn 16mm print and without music. I would really love a chance to see it under better conditions.
(4/26/00)
A couple of other points about The Hunchback of Notre Dame:
It is fascinating to watch Lon Chaney flick his tongue, sort of like a snake. In fact, he seems very animal-like in a lot of his footage. And I also wanted to mention that after Phoebus arrives, he and Esmerelda just blithely go off together, leaving Quasimodo to die alone. This is sad, especially in view of the fact that Esmerelda is basically a kind person.
El ultima malon. 1917. Directed by Alcides Greca.
(4/23/00)
It is a shame that this film was shown with Spanish intertitles (without translation) because it was impossible (for me) to follow it. Even though the film had a lot of action the intertitles were extensive and it seemed to be an illustrated lecture.
It's about an insurrection in San Javier in 1904. The Mocovies seem like a tribe of Indians and the film resembles a western. It has plenty of action and we see such things as the roping of steer and Indians being stood up against a wall. A young woman appears to be kidnapped and held by the Indians. Someone comes and secretly brings her a knife. She gets away from one of her captors by pushing him down a well. She is re-captured and whipped.
With translation and music this would probably be a very exciting picture. As it was shown, it was a frustrating one. Not only could I not follow it, I couldn't focus on it either. My attention wavered the whole time.
It is a shame that this film was shown with Spanish intertitles (without translation) because it was impossible (for me) to follow it. Even though the film had a lot of action the intertitles were extensive and it seemed to be an illustrated lecture.
It's about an insurrection in San Javier in 1904. The Mocovies seem like a tribe of Indians and the film resembles a western. It has plenty of action and we see such things as the roping of steer and Indians being stood up against a wall. A young woman appears to be kidnapped and held by the Indians. Someone comes and secretly brings her a knife. She gets away from one of her captors by pushing him down a well. She is re-captured and whipped.
With translation and music this would probably be a very exciting picture. As it was shown, it was a frustrating one. Not only could I not follow it, I couldn't focus on it either. My attention wavered the whole time.
Underwater Blues. 1981. Poli Marichal.
(4/23/00)
This was an interesting little film about sea life. I think the background was (or was mostly) underwater footage, but I'm not sure. There was a fish drawn on the surface of the film and a lot of hand-drawn words. The words went by quickly and I couldn't read all of them.
Actually, I am surprised to find that I remember practically nothing of this film after a few days, but I enjoyed its lighthearted mood.
This was an interesting little film about sea life. I think the background was (or was mostly) underwater footage, but I'm not sure. There was a fish drawn on the surface of the film and a lot of hand-drawn words. The words went by quickly and I couldn't read all of them.
Actually, I am surprised to find that I remember practically nothing of this film after a few days, but I enjoyed its lighthearted mood.
American 30s Song. 1969. Stan Brakhage.
(4/23/00)
As I've said previously, I don't "get" what Brakhage's films are all about, but I nevertheless enjoy sitting through them. I don't see what this film has to do with America in the 1930s, but I enjoyed the pans, the superimpositions, the vast vistas seen from an airplane. I think there are shots of an airplane on the ground at the end, but I forget.
As I've said previously, I don't "get" what Brakhage's films are all about, but I nevertheless enjoy sitting through them. I don't see what this film has to do with America in the 1930s, but I enjoyed the pans, the superimpositions, the vast vistas seen from an airplane. I think there are shots of an airplane on the ground at the end, but I forget.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Clothe/Sline. 1975. Gail Vachon.
(4/23/00)
We see images of a clothesline; the film which contains them has been scratched, painted and burned.
I couldn't help thinking about Andrew Noren's The Wind Variations which made an interesting experience of such spare footage without needing to do all that stuff to it. But Clothe/Sline is a different film and the treament of the film surface is really its subject. That's how it seems, anyway.
I think there are too many burns in this film. Yes, it is interesting to call attention to what film looks like when it burns in a projector, but I don't see much point in doing as much of that as Gail Vachon does. I kept wondering how that might have been used to more effect. Possibly a burn could be used to obscure something at an important moment. But it should be used effectively.
I can see using burns just to give a film a humble, homemade effect. But in that case they should be used sparingly.
I think I'm being perhaps overly critical of this abstract film because it has the footage of a clothesline as a foundation. Whatever the reason, it didn't make a big impression on me.
We see images of a clothesline; the film which contains them has been scratched, painted and burned.
I couldn't help thinking about Andrew Noren's The Wind Variations which made an interesting experience of such spare footage without needing to do all that stuff to it. But Clothe/Sline is a different film and the treament of the film surface is really its subject. That's how it seems, anyway.
I think there are too many burns in this film. Yes, it is interesting to call attention to what film looks like when it burns in a projector, but I don't see much point in doing as much of that as Gail Vachon does. I kept wondering how that might have been used to more effect. Possibly a burn could be used to obscure something at an important moment. But it should be used effectively.
I can see using burns just to give a film a humble, homemade effect. But in that case they should be used sparingly.
I think I'm being perhaps overly critical of this abstract film because it has the footage of a clothesline as a foundation. Whatever the reason, it didn't make a big impression on me.
Cezannescapes #1 & #2. 1991. Gary Adelstein.
(4/23/00)
We see views of "Cezanne country" as it appears today, especially from a car. We see modern roads and electric wires. We hear what we would hear on the radio if we were there. This footage is contrasted with shots of Cezanne's works. In #2 we see cathedrals and towns.
It didn't make too much of an impression on me.
We see views of "Cezanne country" as it appears today, especially from a car. We see modern roads and electric wires. We hear what we would hear on the radio if we were there. This footage is contrasted with shots of Cezanne's works. In #2 we see cathedrals and towns.
It didn't make too much of an impression on me.
Farm. 1979. James Irwin.
(4/23/00)
This film is simply static shots of a farm in Pennsylvania. They fade in and out of black leader, like slides. But they aren't slides and we become aware of subtle movements, like a cow shaking its head.
There is almost no human presence. (I think we see a rider on a bicycle in the last shot.) The sound is naturalistic in places, but later on we hear an organ playing.
This is a pleasant film if you are in the mood for it. Otherwise it can be boring after a while.
This film is simply static shots of a farm in Pennsylvania. They fade in and out of black leader, like slides. But they aren't slides and we become aware of subtle movements, like a cow shaking its head.
There is almost no human presence. (I think we see a rider on a bicycle in the last shot.) The sound is naturalistic in places, but later on we hear an organ playing.
This is a pleasant film if you are in the mood for it. Otherwise it can be boring after a while.
Mother (Mat'). 1926. Directed by Vsevolod Pudovkin.
(4/23/00)
I think it is interesting that Mother was made (or released) the same year as Passaic Textile Strike. Both films deal with the events of a strike and the brutal attempts to bring it to a halt. But while the latter title is a simple, earnest document made without any pretense to "art," Mother was the work of a sophisticated film artist whose talents were directed to aiding the cause of proletarian struggle.
Another film that came to mind is the modern story in Griffith's Intolerance. It's the same situation. However, both Intolerance and the Passaic Textile Strike differ from Mother in one crucial respect: in both of those
films pains are taken to explain the motivations of the strikers. We are told why they are striking. In Pudovkin's film it is just assumed that the strikers are in the right and the owners or capitalists are in the wrong. The strike doesn't have to be explained or justified.
I suppose the comparison is only valid in the case of Passaic Textile Strike, as Intolerance is telling a story in which the strike merely happens to figure. Intolerance actually comes to mind because of Griffith's influence on Soviet directors and here one of them is dealing with similar material.
Noteworthy about Mother is its concentration on close-ups of faces and its superimpositions. The actors who play the roles of mother and son are remarkable, intense, and Pudovkin uses those wonderful faces for maximum effect. The superimpositions show a relationship with the European "art film." I thought of Leger's Ballet Mecanique and Epstein's Coeur Fidele.
The film is about a family in revolutionary times. The son is involved with a group of revolutionaries who intend to strike. The father is recruited to stop it. In the violence he is killed. The authorities come to the home, after the son. They want him to confess, but he won't. The mother, who is terrfified, gets the leaflets and guns that he has hidden under the boards.
The mother is fantastic in her obsequiousness before the authorities. She is humble, always bowing, a perfect supplicant. But is this unwarranted? It seems like an appropriate response to people in power. And the mother doesn't show much awareness of the issues involved. The son and his friends were responsible for her husband's death. That's about all she understands.
The son is put on trial. The trial is a great set-piece. It shows "justice" in this society as a dreadful--and deadly--farce. Well-dressed women attend, regarding the whole thing as entertainment. One of the tribunal of justices is more interested in his mare than the fate of the young man which it is his duty to decide. The attitude of Pudovkin or the filmmakers is as sarcastic as that of Griffith in the modern story of Intolerance.
The son is given a harsh sentence. The mother is shocked and cries out, "Where is truth?" You have to wonder--well, what did she expect? After all, the son was concealing guns that were intended for use byrevolutionaries. Of course, the people in power are going to give him a harsh sentence. She should consider it lucky that they didn't take him out and shoot him. Her reaction really shows us how limited her understanding is.
The son's friends plan to help him break out of prison. The mother is suddenly one of them and brings some of the necessary items to the prison. She gives him the goods she has been concealing and says, with a smile, "From your friends." It is the warmest scene in the film.
There is trouble getting him out and he ends up escaping on ice floes in a scene which recalls the finale of Way Down East. The people of the city gather together in solidarity, the mother among them. Alas, the son's escape is not successful, he is shot and dies in his mother's arms.
And this turns her into a real revolutionary. Her private grief turns into a true revolutionary spirit. This is conveyed through the performer--in her faqce and body language. But she, too, is shot at the end.' Amidst all this action at the end is interspersed footage of frozen rivers and flowing water. It is the frozen energy of the masses which is beginning to be unleashed. The imagery reinforces the scene.
Mother doesn't seem all that hopeful to me. That's because the central character merely reacts to situations as they affect her personally. If the revolutionaries had been responsible for her son's death (and they could have been) she would have been just as willing to take up a flag and march against them. Man simply reacts to stimuli, it would seem. I don't find that very inspiring of confidence in human potential.
I think it is interesting that Mother was made (or released) the same year as Passaic Textile Strike. Both films deal with the events of a strike and the brutal attempts to bring it to a halt. But while the latter title is a simple, earnest document made without any pretense to "art," Mother was the work of a sophisticated film artist whose talents were directed to aiding the cause of proletarian struggle.
Another film that came to mind is the modern story in Griffith's Intolerance. It's the same situation. However, both Intolerance and the Passaic Textile Strike differ from Mother in one crucial respect: in both of those
films pains are taken to explain the motivations of the strikers. We are told why they are striking. In Pudovkin's film it is just assumed that the strikers are in the right and the owners or capitalists are in the wrong. The strike doesn't have to be explained or justified.I suppose the comparison is only valid in the case of Passaic Textile Strike, as Intolerance is telling a story in which the strike merely happens to figure. Intolerance actually comes to mind because of Griffith's influence on Soviet directors and here one of them is dealing with similar material.
Noteworthy about Mother is its concentration on close-ups of faces and its superimpositions. The actors who play the roles of mother and son are remarkable, intense, and Pudovkin uses those wonderful faces for maximum effect. The superimpositions show a relationship with the European "art film." I thought of Leger's Ballet Mecanique and Epstein's Coeur Fidele.
The film is about a family in revolutionary times. The son is involved with a group of revolutionaries who intend to strike. The father is recruited to stop it. In the violence he is killed. The authorities come to the home, after the son. They want him to confess, but he won't. The mother, who is terrfified, gets the leaflets and guns that he has hidden under the boards.
The mother is fantastic in her obsequiousness before the authorities. She is humble, always bowing, a perfect supplicant. But is this unwarranted? It seems like an appropriate response to people in power. And the mother doesn't show much awareness of the issues involved. The son and his friends were responsible for her husband's death. That's about all she understands.
The son is put on trial. The trial is a great set-piece. It shows "justice" in this society as a dreadful--and deadly--farce. Well-dressed women attend, regarding the whole thing as entertainment. One of the tribunal of justices is more interested in his mare than the fate of the young man which it is his duty to decide. The attitude of Pudovkin or the filmmakers is as sarcastic as that of Griffith in the modern story of Intolerance.
The son is given a harsh sentence. The mother is shocked and cries out, "Where is truth?" You have to wonder--well, what did she expect? After all, the son was concealing guns that were intended for use byrevolutionaries. Of course, the people in power are going to give him a harsh sentence. She should consider it lucky that they didn't take him out and shoot him. Her reaction really shows us how limited her understanding is.
The son's friends plan to help him break out of prison. The mother is suddenly one of them and brings some of the necessary items to the prison. She gives him the goods she has been concealing and says, with a smile, "From your friends." It is the warmest scene in the film.
There is trouble getting him out and he ends up escaping on ice floes in a scene which recalls the finale of Way Down East. The people of the city gather together in solidarity, the mother among them. Alas, the son's escape is not successful, he is shot and dies in his mother's arms.
And this turns her into a real revolutionary. Her private grief turns into a true revolutionary spirit. This is conveyed through the performer--in her faqce and body language. But she, too, is shot at the end.' Amidst all this action at the end is interspersed footage of frozen rivers and flowing water. It is the frozen energy of the masses which is beginning to be unleashed. The imagery reinforces the scene.
Mother doesn't seem all that hopeful to me. That's because the central character merely reacts to situations as they affect her personally. If the revolutionaries had been responsible for her son's death (and they could have been) she would have been just as willing to take up a flag and march against them. Man simply reacts to stimuli, it would seem. I don't find that very inspiring of confidence in human potential.
Monday, November 2, 2009
A Florida Enchantment. 1914. Directed by Sidney Drew.
(4/20/00)
It's bizarre. And fascinating. And lots of fun. It's about a wealthy young woman who comes to Florida to be with her fiance. He is a doctor who has a woman admirer who throws herself at him. The woman (Lillian) is jealous. And into her hands comes a casket containing four seed which turn women into men and vice versa.
When her fiance seemingly stands her up she takes one and the fun begins. And the fun is watching two actresses have a field day playing men who look like women. Lillian immediately starts swaggering about, pushing guys around and hugging and kissing women who don't know she's changed and think she is just being affectionate as women often are. And they seem to like it. And the fun is increased when she induces (or virtually forces) her black maid to ingest one of the seeds.
Lillian's fiance suddenly becomes a lot more interested, even as s/he loses interest in him. And actress Edith Storey plays it for everything it is worth.
Lillian and her maid/valet go to New York, change into male attire and return. This part of the film disappoints a little--it can't sustain the mood. Eventually "Lawrence Talbot" is accused of murdering Lillian whose clothes have been found. She confesses the whole thing to Dr. Cassadene (the fiance) who is understandably skeptical. But of course there is one wway to prove it; she offers him one of the seeds which he is not afraid to swallow.
And here the film rallies for a bit as we get to watch a male cavort as a female. Eventually, the whole thing is revealed to be a dream which was a dissapointment to me. I like a fantasy to really be a fantasy. Endings which explain things as a dream suggest that someone couldn't find a way to wrap it all up.
Dream or not, A Florida Enchantment is richly imaginative and performed with real gusto by the people who count. I was going to write that it was quite daring for 1914, but I don't know. (There is, after all, a tradition of transvestite comedy that goes way back.) Whatever the case it was made with true good humor.
It's bizarre. And fascinating. And lots of fun. It's about a wealthy young woman who comes to Florida to be with her fiance. He is a doctor who has a woman admirer who throws herself at him. The woman (Lillian) is jealous. And into her hands comes a casket containing four seed which turn women into men and vice versa.
When her fiance seemingly stands her up she takes one and the fun begins. And the fun is watching two actresses have a field day playing men who look like women. Lillian immediately starts swaggering about, pushing guys around and hugging and kissing women who don't know she's changed and think she is just being affectionate as women often are. And they seem to like it. And the fun is increased when she induces (or virtually forces) her black maid to ingest one of the seeds.
Lillian's fiance suddenly becomes a lot more interested, even as s/he loses interest in him. And actress Edith Storey plays it for everything it is worth.
Lillian and her maid/valet go to New York, change into male attire and return. This part of the film disappoints a little--it can't sustain the mood. Eventually "Lawrence Talbot" is accused of murdering Lillian whose clothes have been found. She confesses the whole thing to Dr. Cassadene (the fiance) who is understandably skeptical. But of course there is one wway to prove it; she offers him one of the seeds which he is not afraid to swallow.
And here the film rallies for a bit as we get to watch a male cavort as a female. Eventually, the whole thing is revealed to be a dream which was a dissapointment to me. I like a fantasy to really be a fantasy. Endings which explain things as a dream suggest that someone couldn't find a way to wrap it all up.
Dream or not, A Florida Enchantment is richly imaginative and performed with real gusto by the people who count. I was going to write that it was quite daring for 1914, but I don't know. (There is, after all, a tradition of transvestite comedy that goes way back.) Whatever the case it was made with true good humor.
Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. 1920. Directed by John S. Robertson.
(4/18/00)
It was a very bad 16mm print and I was very tired. I didn't enjoy this film very much--didn't find it very interesting.
I didn't think that much of John Barrymore. He didn't do very much except show off his profile as Jekyll and wear some grusome makeup as Hyde. None of the other performers made much of an impression on me, although there were some nice shots of Brandon Hurst in the dinner sequence.
I certainly didn't think that much of Dr. Jekyll. He supposedly wants to separate man's good and evil natures so that he can be good without being distracted by temptations. But what he actually does do is let his evil self/dark side/id run around loose without any control whatsoever. This is responsible science? The guy is an absolute jerk.
He's actually a man in denial because Jekyll really wants to be Hyde and act like that, but he doesn't want to take responsibility for it. It's quite obvious that what really pushes him into taking the serum is the fact that he wants to have an affair with the sexy dancer played by Nita Naldi. But he won't own up to that and accept the consequences, so he unleashes his shadow on the world at large.
Now, wanting to have sex with someone is not evil. It is a very natural thing to want. But society (and particularly Victorian society--at least in the popular imagination) claims that it is. So the film is also about Victorian hypocrisy and in that sense Jekyll is a victim. He has been suckered into accepting that wanting to have an affair is evil and the result is a string of horrific consequences.
Sir George Carew is the embodiment of this hypocrisy. He spouts all this stuff about how important it is to experience life, etc., yet he is so protective of his daughter that he forbids Jekyll to see her again until he gives an account of his association with this man Hyde. Sir George's words have consequences and his murder seems perfectly appropriate.
Looking at the changeover scene in the year 2000, Barrymore's thrashing about seems a little bit overdone. And his Mr. Hyde makeup struck me as too grotesque to be taken seriously. I can't imagine how he managed to attract Nita Naldi. The hallucination where he sees the giant spider was OK, but the whole film really left me cold. It's too bad.
It was a very bad 16mm print and I was very tired. I didn't enjoy this film very much--didn't find it very interesting.
I didn't think that much of John Barrymore. He didn't do very much except show off his profile as Jekyll and wear some grusome makeup as Hyde. None of the other performers made much of an impression on me, although there were some nice shots of Brandon Hurst in the dinner sequence.
I certainly didn't think that much of Dr. Jekyll. He supposedly wants to separate man's good and evil natures so that he can be good without being distracted by temptations. But what he actually does do is let his evil self/dark side/id run around loose without any control whatsoever. This is responsible science? The guy is an absolute jerk.
He's actually a man in denial because Jekyll really wants to be Hyde and act like that, but he doesn't want to take responsibility for it. It's quite obvious that what really pushes him into taking the serum is the fact that he wants to have an affair with the sexy dancer played by Nita Naldi. But he won't own up to that and accept the consequences, so he unleashes his shadow on the world at large.
Now, wanting to have sex with someone is not evil. It is a very natural thing to want. But society (and particularly Victorian society--at least in the popular imagination) claims that it is. So the film is also about Victorian hypocrisy and in that sense Jekyll is a victim. He has been suckered into accepting that wanting to have an affair is evil and the result is a string of horrific consequences.
Sir George Carew is the embodiment of this hypocrisy. He spouts all this stuff about how important it is to experience life, etc., yet he is so protective of his daughter that he forbids Jekyll to see her again until he gives an account of his association with this man Hyde. Sir George's words have consequences and his murder seems perfectly appropriate.
Looking at the changeover scene in the year 2000, Barrymore's thrashing about seems a little bit overdone. And his Mr. Hyde makeup struck me as too grotesque to be taken seriously. I can't imagine how he managed to attract Nita Naldi. The hallucination where he sees the giant spider was OK, but the whole film really left me cold. It's too bad.
Oliver Twist. 1922. Directed by Frank Lloyd.
(4/18/00)
Could there have been a better Oliver Twist than Jackie Coogan? I can't think of a candidate. Oliver Twist seems like a perfect showcase for him. He is adorable, photogenic and boy, can he act. The scene where he asks for more food is a joy, as is the image of him as an undertaker's assistant, returning from a funeral dressed in solemn black.
The rest of the cast do their jobs skillfully, but do not take attention away from Coogan. They are a fine supporting cast. I was actually disappointed in Lon Chaney's Fagin--not because it wqasn't skillful, but because it was a nasty Jewish stereotype--I kept thinking of Shylock--and also because it didn't give Chaney any scope for developing a real character. That said, the scene in which he demonstrates the art of picking pockets to Oliver is memorable.
Oliver Twist is really a good story. I have never read it and found it quite absorbing. It is interesting as a depiction of Victorian England as a kind of Hell to which the characters respond with either meanness or kindness. On the one hand you have people like the staff of the workhouse. A woman supervisor beats a woman who collapses (and later steals a locket from her as she dies), but offers a drink from her flask to a guard with whom she is friendly. On the other hand there are the kind people such as Mr. Brownlow who takes Oliver home and cares for him, and Nancy who does the right thing even though it means betraying her boyfriend--and ultimately her death. The whole sequence when she goes to Brownlow's home to tell the truth and is killed by Bill is probably the most painful in the film. Especially pathetic is Brownlow's promise to her that she will not be involved when her conversation is being eavesdropped on by one of Fagin's spies.
Monks is easily the most despicable of all the characters--a man who would stop at nothing to keep his half-brother from having his inheritance.
I had a little trouble accepting the final shot in which Oliver turns from the door seemingly happy and contented now that his problems have been solved and his future secured. It didn't quite ring true for me. It is an assertion of living in the now and a borrowing from Charlie Chaplin's persona.
Could there have been a better Oliver Twist than Jackie Coogan? I can't think of a candidate. Oliver Twist seems like a perfect showcase for him. He is adorable, photogenic and boy, can he act. The scene where he asks for more food is a joy, as is the image of him as an undertaker's assistant, returning from a funeral dressed in solemn black.
The rest of the cast do their jobs skillfully, but do not take attention away from Coogan. They are a fine supporting cast. I was actually disappointed in Lon Chaney's Fagin--not because it wqasn't skillful, but because it was a nasty Jewish stereotype--I kept thinking of Shylock--and also because it didn't give Chaney any scope for developing a real character. That said, the scene in which he demonstrates the art of picking pockets to Oliver is memorable.
Oliver Twist is really a good story. I have never read it and found it quite absorbing. It is interesting as a depiction of Victorian England as a kind of Hell to which the characters respond with either meanness or kindness. On the one hand you have people like the staff of the workhouse. A woman supervisor beats a woman who collapses (and later steals a locket from her as she dies), but offers a drink from her flask to a guard with whom she is friendly. On the other hand there are the kind people such as Mr. Brownlow who takes Oliver home and cares for him, and Nancy who does the right thing even though it means betraying her boyfriend--and ultimately her death. The whole sequence when she goes to Brownlow's home to tell the truth and is killed by Bill is probably the most painful in the film. Especially pathetic is Brownlow's promise to her that she will not be involved when her conversation is being eavesdropped on by one of Fagin's spies.
Monks is easily the most despicable of all the characters--a man who would stop at nothing to keep his half-brother from having his inheritance.
I had a little trouble accepting the final shot in which Oliver turns from the door seemingly happy and contented now that his problems have been solved and his future secured. It didn't quite ring true for me. It is an assertion of living in the now and a borrowing from Charlie Chaplin's persona.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Suspense. 1913. Directed by Phillips Smalley and Lois Weber.
(4/18/00)
Suspense has a simple story: the maid quits, leaving the wife alone. A tramp breaks into the house. She phones her husband who comes to the rescue. The story is simple, but it is the basis for a sophisticated and suspenseful little picture.
The one thing I didn't understand was that when the husband comes out of the building and is engaged in cranking up his car another man gets in and drives off with it. This thread is never resolved and I believe that the man joins with the husband and the police as they apprehend the thief. I didn't understand that part, but other than that I was impressed with this film and would like to see it again.
Suspense has a simple story: the maid quits, leaving the wife alone. A tramp breaks into the house. She phones her husband who comes to the rescue. The story is simple, but it is the basis for a sophisticated and suspenseful little picture.
The one thing I didn't understand was that when the husband comes out of the building and is engaged in cranking up his car another man gets in and drives off with it. This thread is never resolved and I believe that the man joins with the husband and the police as they apprehend the thief. I didn't understand that part, but other than that I was impressed with this film and would like to see it again.
Schneider's Anti-Noise Crusade. 1909. Directed by D. W. Griffith.
(4/18/00)
Griffith was never very good at comedy, but this film was fun. It is about a man whose wife's relations (if I remember correctly) come to visit, bringing with them a noisy bird, a trombone which the child plays, etc. The husband goes crazy and is about to take drastic action when he finds burglars in the house. He's resourceful enough to take advantage of the situation and pays them to take the stuff away.
Griffith was never very good at comedy, but this film was fun. It is about a man whose wife's relations (if I remember correctly) come to visit, bringing with them a noisy bird, a trombone which the child plays, etc. The husband goes crazy and is about to take drastic action when he finds burglars in the house. He's resourceful enough to take advantage of the situation and pays them to take the stuff away.
The Irresistible Piano. 1907.
(4/18/00)
This is a really cute early Gaumont film about a pianist who moves into a building and starts playing the piano. Everybody who hears him has to start dancing and as a result the movers drop the dishes, etc. Eventually a whole flock of people are in the pianist's room, dancing madly until they drop from exhaustion, the piano itself falling over on the pianist.
This is a really cute early Gaumont film about a pianist who moves into a building and starts playing the piano. Everybody who hears him has to start dancing and as a result the movers drop the dishes, etc. Eventually a whole flock of people are in the pianist's room, dancing madly until they drop from exhaustion, the piano itself falling over on the pianist.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Die Niebelungen. 1923-24. Directed by Fritz Lang. (Part 1: Siegfried; Part 2: Kriemhild's Revenge.)
(4/8/00-4/12/00)
This is a true epic film. It is majestic and stately. The characters are larger-than-life. It is Shakespearean in its feel and it reminds me of Ivan the Terrible as well. And it builds to a grand climax which resounds with a ring of inevitability. The two parts do form a unified whole and seeing the two of them together is remarkable.
It starts off kind of dull. It feels cold. It doesn't involve--or it didn't involve me, and I was left admiring the set design and the pagentry. I didn't find Siegfried very interesting as a character--he seemed vapid and, like the film, dull. But that all changed when Brunhild came on the scene.
The Nibelungen is about a crime and the consequences of that crime and the people who are trapped in the wake of that crime. And the crime is fraud. Gunther wants Brunhild as a bride, but Brunhild will only wed a man who can defeat her in physical combat. Siegfried comes to Gunther's court in hopes of wedding his sister, Kriemhild. Gunther offers Siegfried his sister if Siegfried will help him win Brunhild. And Siegfried does this. He does it by performing the physical feats while wearing a cloak (or some sort of garment or cloth) which makes him invisible.
This is a sleazy thing to do. It is a crime of fraud perpetrated on Brunhild. What I find interesting is that Gunther's court at Worms is shown as so elegant and pure. It has a lightness about it and it appears to be situated ata high altitude. But beneath this rarefied surface there lurks a shabbiness.
It is sad that Siegfried would consent to something like this and it is also sad that he would consent to become a blood-brother to such a shady character. Siegfried and Gunther swear an oath to protect each other. It is an oath that Gunther does not live up to. As I said, Siegfried doesn't seem like the sharpest guy in the world.
So Brunhild comes to Worms. She is not happy about the situation and it is evident to her that her husband is not the hero who could conquer her (and to whom I suspect she would be happy to surrender). And eventually the truth comes out. Gunther has Siegfried impersonate himself and remove from Brunhild the bracelet that gives her strength. Kriemhild finds it and Siegfried confesses the truth to her. And when Brunhild persists in referring to Siegfried as Gunther's vassal she can't help but spill the beans. The scene when the two argue on the steps of the cathedral is probably the best scene in Siegfried. By that time I was totally involved.
Brunhild demands Siegfried's death and Gunther reluctantly goes along with it. He appears to be breaking his "blood-brother" oath, but Brunhild has deceived him by telling him that Siegfried took her virginity while impersonating him. Does this justify having him killed? It might, given their code of honor, but he shouldn't have just taken her word for it. I would think that being someone's blood-brother implies an obligation to trust.
Hagen is appointed to kill Siegfried and Kriemhild is easily tricked into telling him about Siegfried's vulnerable spot. Once again, she isn't smart enough to keep her mouth shut, but then you have to wonder how anybody knows that Siegfried has a vulnerable spot in the first place. They are all clucks. Gunther starts to be sympathetic at this point in that he is very reluctant to let the deed take place. And later Brunhild boasts about how she tricked him. Brunhild has manipulated him into avenging her honor. Now it is Kriemhild's turn to demand justice and demand she does.
But her kinsmen will not take her part in this. They all claim to have a commitment to Hagen and Siegfried ends with Kriemhild stewing for revenge.
Kriemhild doesn't have much presence in the first part, but as her bitterness obsesses her she takes center stage. She seems justified at first, as was Brunhild, but her desire for revenge becomes a madness, willing to destroy anything that gets in her way.
In Kriemhild's Revenge, King Etzel asks to marry Kriemhild. His emissary, Rudiger, mentions that as Etzel's wife no insult to Kriemhild would go unpunished. She asks him to swear to that and later asks Etzel to swear the same. This vow by honorable men entraps them is the key to Kriemhild's revenge.
When Kriemhild leaves to be taken to Etzel she refuses to say goodbye to her brother Gunther. Her mother and a priest ask herto reconsider, but she refuses them both.
Etzel turns out to be the leader of a group of nomads who live in tents. His kingdom is of the earth, about as far away as you can get from the rarefied atmosphere of the court at Worms. Etzel himself is a sort of lovable wild man. Kriemhild bears him a son and when he offers her anything she desires as a reward she asks him to invite her brothers.
Etzel is happy to do so, but he is not happy to be drawn into Kriemhild's plot of revenge. He tells her that as long as Hagen does not disturb his peace he will not disturb Hagen's.
Here I have to wonder why Kriemhild's brothers were so dumb as to bring Hagen with them onto Kriemhild's turf. It is the feast of the solstice and she has her people ambush the soldiers that her brothers brought with them. Hagen then kills her infant son and forgoes the protection of the rules of hospitality.
The Nibelungen then turns into a full-fledged action picture with Kriemhild's brothers and Hagen holed up in a building, fending the assaults of Etzel's troops (if you can call them that). Rudiger arrives and Kriemhild forces him to go and fight the Nibelungen. He doesn't want to because one of Kriemhild's brothers is married to his daughter, but she holds him to his oath. When her brothers plead for mercy Kriemhild replies that if they will just hand over Hagen they are free. But they refuse.
Hagen offers to give himself up, but Gunther will not let him. A code of honor has now turned into a destructive force, pulling down just about everyone. Kriemhild finally has them set the building on fire. They are smoked out and Hagen is killed by Kriemhild herself.
Gunther is wonderful in the second part of the film. So much of this was his fault and he suffers for it. And Hagen does try to do right at the end himself after participating in a heinous act. Kriemhild, I think, violates the spirit of the code that she holds others to. Her plot to destroy Hagen violates the spirit of hospitality and her abuse of Rudiger is totally without honor. She asked him to swear an oath to defend her when she was already planning toinvolve him in a personal vendetta. That was shameful. Her cause was just but not her methods.
I felt sorry for Etzel who loses his troops or his people in great numbers, just to satisfy the agenda of this woman who was merely using him. He even loses his child. Etzel and Rudiger were the true victims in all this.
It is a harrowing tale in which everything fits together. It is a grand drama of powerful people in high places and was made in a style which suited its subject matter. It is stately but not stodgy and when viewed in a print preserved by the Munich Film Museum and shown at the correct speed with the intertitles translated I think I liked it even more than Metropolis. A real surprise.
This is a true epic film. It is majestic and stately. The characters are larger-than-life. It is Shakespearean in its feel and it reminds me of Ivan the Terrible as well. And it builds to a grand climax which resounds with a ring of inevitability. The two parts do form a unified whole and seeing the two of them together is remarkable.
It starts off kind of dull. It feels cold. It doesn't involve--or it didn't involve me, and I was left admiring the set design and the pagentry. I didn't find Siegfried very interesting as a character--he seemed vapid and, like the film, dull. But that all changed when Brunhild came on the scene.
The Nibelungen is about a crime and the consequences of that crime and the people who are trapped in the wake of that crime. And the crime is fraud. Gunther wants Brunhild as a bride, but Brunhild will only wed a man who can defeat her in physical combat. Siegfried comes to Gunther's court in hopes of wedding his sister, Kriemhild. Gunther offers Siegfried his sister if Siegfried will help him win Brunhild. And Siegfried does this. He does it by performing the physical feats while wearing a cloak (or some sort of garment or cloth) which makes him invisible.
This is a sleazy thing to do. It is a crime of fraud perpetrated on Brunhild. What I find interesting is that Gunther's court at Worms is shown as so elegant and pure. It has a lightness about it and it appears to be situated ata high altitude. But beneath this rarefied surface there lurks a shabbiness.
It is sad that Siegfried would consent to something like this and it is also sad that he would consent to become a blood-brother to such a shady character. Siegfried and Gunther swear an oath to protect each other. It is an oath that Gunther does not live up to. As I said, Siegfried doesn't seem like the sharpest guy in the world.
So Brunhild comes to Worms. She is not happy about the situation and it is evident to her that her husband is not the hero who could conquer her (and to whom I suspect she would be happy to surrender). And eventually the truth comes out. Gunther has Siegfried impersonate himself and remove from Brunhild the bracelet that gives her strength. Kriemhild finds it and Siegfried confesses the truth to her. And when Brunhild persists in referring to Siegfried as Gunther's vassal she can't help but spill the beans. The scene when the two argue on the steps of the cathedral is probably the best scene in Siegfried. By that time I was totally involved.
Brunhild demands Siegfried's death and Gunther reluctantly goes along with it. He appears to be breaking his "blood-brother" oath, but Brunhild has deceived him by telling him that Siegfried took her virginity while impersonating him. Does this justify having him killed? It might, given their code of honor, but he shouldn't have just taken her word for it. I would think that being someone's blood-brother implies an obligation to trust.
Hagen is appointed to kill Siegfried and Kriemhild is easily tricked into telling him about Siegfried's vulnerable spot. Once again, she isn't smart enough to keep her mouth shut, but then you have to wonder how anybody knows that Siegfried has a vulnerable spot in the first place. They are all clucks. Gunther starts to be sympathetic at this point in that he is very reluctant to let the deed take place. And later Brunhild boasts about how she tricked him. Brunhild has manipulated him into avenging her honor. Now it is Kriemhild's turn to demand justice and demand she does.
But her kinsmen will not take her part in this. They all claim to have a commitment to Hagen and Siegfried ends with Kriemhild stewing for revenge.
Kriemhild doesn't have much presence in the first part, but as her bitterness obsesses her she takes center stage. She seems justified at first, as was Brunhild, but her desire for revenge becomes a madness, willing to destroy anything that gets in her way.
In Kriemhild's Revenge, King Etzel asks to marry Kriemhild. His emissary, Rudiger, mentions that as Etzel's wife no insult to Kriemhild would go unpunished. She asks him to swear to that and later asks Etzel to swear the same. This vow by honorable men entraps them is the key to Kriemhild's revenge.
When Kriemhild leaves to be taken to Etzel she refuses to say goodbye to her brother Gunther. Her mother and a priest ask herto reconsider, but she refuses them both.
Etzel turns out to be the leader of a group of nomads who live in tents. His kingdom is of the earth, about as far away as you can get from the rarefied atmosphere of the court at Worms. Etzel himself is a sort of lovable wild man. Kriemhild bears him a son and when he offers her anything she desires as a reward she asks him to invite her brothers.
Etzel is happy to do so, but he is not happy to be drawn into Kriemhild's plot of revenge. He tells her that as long as Hagen does not disturb his peace he will not disturb Hagen's.
Here I have to wonder why Kriemhild's brothers were so dumb as to bring Hagen with them onto Kriemhild's turf. It is the feast of the solstice and she has her people ambush the soldiers that her brothers brought with them. Hagen then kills her infant son and forgoes the protection of the rules of hospitality.
The Nibelungen then turns into a full-fledged action picture with Kriemhild's brothers and Hagen holed up in a building, fending the assaults of Etzel's troops (if you can call them that). Rudiger arrives and Kriemhild forces him to go and fight the Nibelungen. He doesn't want to because one of Kriemhild's brothers is married to his daughter, but she holds him to his oath. When her brothers plead for mercy Kriemhild replies that if they will just hand over Hagen they are free. But they refuse.
Hagen offers to give himself up, but Gunther will not let him. A code of honor has now turned into a destructive force, pulling down just about everyone. Kriemhild finally has them set the building on fire. They are smoked out and Hagen is killed by Kriemhild herself.
Gunther is wonderful in the second part of the film. So much of this was his fault and he suffers for it. And Hagen does try to do right at the end himself after participating in a heinous act. Kriemhild, I think, violates the spirit of the code that she holds others to. Her plot to destroy Hagen violates the spirit of hospitality and her abuse of Rudiger is totally without honor. She asked him to swear an oath to defend her when she was already planning toinvolve him in a personal vendetta. That was shameful. Her cause was just but not her methods.
I felt sorry for Etzel who loses his troops or his people in great numbers, just to satisfy the agenda of this woman who was merely using him. He even loses his child. Etzel and Rudiger were the true victims in all this.
It is a harrowing tale in which everything fits together. It is a grand drama of powerful people in high places and was made in a style which suited its subject matter. It is stately but not stodgy and when viewed in a print preserved by the Munich Film Museum and shown at the correct speed with the intertitles translated I think I liked it even more than Metropolis. A real surprise.
Yankee Doodle in Berlin. 1919. Directed by F. Richard Jones.
(3/30/00)
It may have been that I was in a depressed mood, and my eyes were really hurting, but I was disappointed in this one. It's about an American officer who infiltrates German headquarters as a female impersonator and has the Kaiser and two of his sons falling all over him.
It was interesting to see Ben Turpin, though there really wasn't too much of him, but I was disappointed in Ford Sterling as the Kaiser. Knowing about Sterling as the chief of the Keystone Kops, I was very interested in seeing him, but he just wasn't funny.
The film did have its moments, though. There is a cute scene towards the beginning with an Irish POW who doesn't have a bit offear of his German captives. When he blows his nose he thinks nothing of wiping it on the German flag and he cuts the Kaiser's face out of a portrait. He drapes the picture with the flag and when the flag is removed there is a monkey peering through the empty space. "Who made a monkey outof the Kaiser?" ask the astonished officers. "The Allies," quips the prisoner as he exits.
My favorite thing in the whole movie was the Empress who did not take kindly to her husband's interest in the "woman." She is huge and powerful. She threatens to "knock his [the Kaiser's] block off." When we first see her I think she has a great stein of beer, but I'm not sure. The rivalry of the two princes over the female impersonator is fun, but I've seen better.
I liked itwhen Mrs. Kaiser pushes her husband into the bathtub just as a bomb drops into that same bathtub. And I liked it when the Kaiser runs from the Allied bombing with a missle or bomb following him, aimed right at his posterior. But overall the picture was a letdown.
I do wish that the film had built. I think it would have worked so much better if the tempo had accelerated to a mad, grand finale of action. I thought that that was what happened in Mack Sennett comedies, but it seems that my expectations were too high.
It may have been that I was in a depressed mood, and my eyes were really hurting, but I was disappointed in this one. It's about an American officer who infiltrates German headquarters as a female impersonator and has the Kaiser and two of his sons falling all over him.
It was interesting to see Ben Turpin, though there really wasn't too much of him, but I was disappointed in Ford Sterling as the Kaiser. Knowing about Sterling as the chief of the Keystone Kops, I was very interested in seeing him, but he just wasn't funny.
The film did have its moments, though. There is a cute scene towards the beginning with an Irish POW who doesn't have a bit offear of his German captives. When he blows his nose he thinks nothing of wiping it on the German flag and he cuts the Kaiser's face out of a portrait. He drapes the picture with the flag and when the flag is removed there is a monkey peering through the empty space. "Who made a monkey outof the Kaiser?" ask the astonished officers. "The Allies," quips the prisoner as he exits.
My favorite thing in the whole movie was the Empress who did not take kindly to her husband's interest in the "woman." She is huge and powerful. She threatens to "knock his [the Kaiser's] block off." When we first see her I think she has a great stein of beer, but I'm not sure. The rivalry of the two princes over the female impersonator is fun, but I've seen better.
I liked itwhen Mrs. Kaiser pushes her husband into the bathtub just as a bomb drops into that same bathtub. And I liked it when the Kaiser runs from the Allied bombing with a missle or bomb following him, aimed right at his posterior. But overall the picture was a letdown.
I do wish that the film had built. I think it would have worked so much better if the tempo had accelerated to a mad, grand finale of action. I thought that that was what happened in Mack Sennett comedies, but it seems that my expectations were too high.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Intolerance. 1916. Directed by D. W. Griffith.
(3/28/00-3/30/00))
The world is full of nasty people. That's really the message of Griffith's Intolerance. And he brings together an avalanche of evidence to prove that this has basically been the way of the world from the beginning of time.
Griffith refers, in his opening remarks, to people who require a moral even with their entertainment. This is funny because Griffith takes a pretty preachy tone and those opening remarks go on for a considerable length, giving Intolerance the feel of a sermon or lecture rather than entertainment.
Griffith intercuts between four stories showing intolerance and bigotry in different time periods; three, actually, because one of the four "stories" is really a series of tableaus from the life of Christ which are sort of used as punctuation. It is not a connected story. I think that Griffith felt that his audience was familiar enough with the life of Christ that he could simply refer to it from time to time.
I felt that the presentation of Christ was pompous, but that could be my own prejudice. I didn't like the actorwho played Him and while the film didn't seem to undertake to develop the character of Christ, It wasn't even fleshed out.
There is a story built around the St. Barthlomew's Day massacre of the Hugenots in France. There is so little of this story that it is difficult to get involved with it. However, the reconstruction's use of still images suggests that there was a lot more to this story originally and that it suffered most heavily when the film was re-edited. I suspect that if we could see Intolerance in its original form this story would take its place as a major thread of the film, possibly equal or nearly so to the Babylonian story and the modern story.
I think it is the Babylonian story that first comes to mind when one thinks of Intolerance. It's the still of the set of Babylon that one tends to associate with the title--or at least I do. The Babylonian story is the great spectacle and that is why it is there. But I don't think it really probes that deeply into the nature of intolerance. The priest doesn't like the ruler Belshazzar whose worship of the goddess Ishtar is undermining his power. So he sells out to Cyrus the Persian. It's a story of political intrigue and it doesn't even have anything as pointed as the moment in the Hugenot story where two figures of power each comment that the other would be a great man if only "he thought as we do." That's the whole problem.
What the Babylonian story does have is the wonderful mountain girl, played by Constance Talmadge, who becomes forever loyal to her ruler Belshazzar after he gives her her freedom when she is up for sale in the marriage market. Loyalty returned--it's the other side of the double-dealing and ugliness of spirit which pervade so much of this film.
Talmadge is so full of life. I kept wishing that her admirer, "the Rhapsode," would actually win her heart. But he doesn't--her heart is given to Balshazzar who has a love of his own. But she loves him to the very end--unto death.
And then there is the modern story which to my mind is easily the best part of the film. And I think that it is the only part of the film that can live up to the intellectual claims that Griffith made for it. It is a whole analysis of the effects of intolerance. We see some very frustrated women ("biddies," we might call them) who get their jollies by pushing people around and a frustrated rich woman who bankrolls them. In order to fund the enterprise her brother cuts the pay of his employees, there is a strike, people are killed, some have to leave and go to the city where the boy, unable to find work, drifts into a life of crime, and so on. It is a very elaborate linking of cause and effect.
And it is mixed with savage commentary. "When women fail to attract men, they often turn to Reform as a second choice," reads a title or words very close to it. When Bobby Harron's father is killed in the strike, the film cuts to an image of Jenkins sitting alone in his gigantic office, one of the causes of all the trouble. Griffith has a lot to say in this story and he speaks in a clear, direct voice.
The modern story is particularly effective because it tells a damn good story with a thrilling last-minute rescue of Bobby Harron from being executed for a murder he did not commit. It is the most exciting part of the picture. And it is the modern story which features Mae Marsh whose portrayal of "The Dear One" is the most gripping performance in the whole film. Miss Marsh is totally lovable and vivacious from the beginning, though I find her less attractive as the story unfolds, but that is only because her character matures. The final moment when she throws her arms about Bobby Harron and starts madly kissing him is one of the most powerful and beautiful moments I have ever seen in a Griffith film. All the spectacle of the Babylonian story can't even come close to it.
I found myself thinking that the character of "The Friendless One" in the modern story--the woman who actually does commit the murder and is tormented by her conscience--would have been a great part for Asta Nielsen. I probably thought of that because Nielsen played a very similar part to great effect in Pabst's The Joyless Street.
I did think that all the shots of Lillian Gish as the woman rocking the cradle as the film drove to its climaxes was a little too much. Griffith just didn't know when to stop. The final scenes of angels hanging in the sky and people throwing down their weapons (or something like that) to embrace a world free of intolerance were also "too much"--but of course that's looking at it from a perspective of 84 years later.
It is sad to watch those final shots and realize that the world really hasn't freed itself from the bonds of intolerance. At least, it didn't happen in the twentieth century. We can still hope, I suppose, but it is sad to walk away from a film with such high hopes, made so long ago.
The world is full of nasty people. That's really the message of Griffith's Intolerance. And he brings together an avalanche of evidence to prove that this has basically been the way of the world from the beginning of time.
Griffith refers, in his opening remarks, to people who require a moral even with their entertainment. This is funny because Griffith takes a pretty preachy tone and those opening remarks go on for a considerable length, giving Intolerance the feel of a sermon or lecture rather than entertainment.
Griffith intercuts between four stories showing intolerance and bigotry in different time periods; three, actually, because one of the four "stories" is really a series of tableaus from the life of Christ which are sort of used as punctuation. It is not a connected story. I think that Griffith felt that his audience was familiar enough with the life of Christ that he could simply refer to it from time to time.
I felt that the presentation of Christ was pompous, but that could be my own prejudice. I didn't like the actorwho played Him and while the film didn't seem to undertake to develop the character of Christ, It wasn't even fleshed out.
There is a story built around the St. Barthlomew's Day massacre of the Hugenots in France. There is so little of this story that it is difficult to get involved with it. However, the reconstruction's use of still images suggests that there was a lot more to this story originally and that it suffered most heavily when the film was re-edited. I suspect that if we could see Intolerance in its original form this story would take its place as a major thread of the film, possibly equal or nearly so to the Babylonian story and the modern story.
I think it is the Babylonian story that first comes to mind when one thinks of Intolerance. It's the still of the set of Babylon that one tends to associate with the title--or at least I do. The Babylonian story is the great spectacle and that is why it is there. But I don't think it really probes that deeply into the nature of intolerance. The priest doesn't like the ruler Belshazzar whose worship of the goddess Ishtar is undermining his power. So he sells out to Cyrus the Persian. It's a story of political intrigue and it doesn't even have anything as pointed as the moment in the Hugenot story where two figures of power each comment that the other would be a great man if only "he thought as we do." That's the whole problem.
What the Babylonian story does have is the wonderful mountain girl, played by Constance Talmadge, who becomes forever loyal to her ruler Belshazzar after he gives her her freedom when she is up for sale in the marriage market. Loyalty returned--it's the other side of the double-dealing and ugliness of spirit which pervade so much of this film.
Talmadge is so full of life. I kept wishing that her admirer, "the Rhapsode," would actually win her heart. But he doesn't--her heart is given to Balshazzar who has a love of his own. But she loves him to the very end--unto death.
And then there is the modern story which to my mind is easily the best part of the film. And I think that it is the only part of the film that can live up to the intellectual claims that Griffith made for it. It is a whole analysis of the effects of intolerance. We see some very frustrated women ("biddies," we might call them) who get their jollies by pushing people around and a frustrated rich woman who bankrolls them. In order to fund the enterprise her brother cuts the pay of his employees, there is a strike, people are killed, some have to leave and go to the city where the boy, unable to find work, drifts into a life of crime, and so on. It is a very elaborate linking of cause and effect.
And it is mixed with savage commentary. "When women fail to attract men, they often turn to Reform as a second choice," reads a title or words very close to it. When Bobby Harron's father is killed in the strike, the film cuts to an image of Jenkins sitting alone in his gigantic office, one of the causes of all the trouble. Griffith has a lot to say in this story and he speaks in a clear, direct voice.
The modern story is particularly effective because it tells a damn good story with a thrilling last-minute rescue of Bobby Harron from being executed for a murder he did not commit. It is the most exciting part of the picture. And it is the modern story which features Mae Marsh whose portrayal of "The Dear One" is the most gripping performance in the whole film. Miss Marsh is totally lovable and vivacious from the beginning, though I find her less attractive as the story unfolds, but that is only because her character matures. The final moment when she throws her arms about Bobby Harron and starts madly kissing him is one of the most powerful and beautiful moments I have ever seen in a Griffith film. All the spectacle of the Babylonian story can't even come close to it.
I found myself thinking that the character of "The Friendless One" in the modern story--the woman who actually does commit the murder and is tormented by her conscience--would have been a great part for Asta Nielsen. I probably thought of that because Nielsen played a very similar part to great effect in Pabst's The Joyless Street.
I did think that all the shots of Lillian Gish as the woman rocking the cradle as the film drove to its climaxes was a little too much. Griffith just didn't know when to stop. The final scenes of angels hanging in the sky and people throwing down their weapons (or something like that) to embrace a world free of intolerance were also "too much"--but of course that's looking at it from a perspective of 84 years later.
It is sad to watch those final shots and realize that the world really hasn't freed itself from the bonds of intolerance. At least, it didn't happen in the twentieth century. We can still hope, I suppose, but it is sad to walk away from a film with such high hopes, made so long ago.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Don Juan. 1926. Directed by Alan Crosland.
(3/26/00)
This film is a very handsome production, set in Spain and Rome of the renaissance. It is an exciting show, full of intrigue and swordplay, climaxed with a great rescue on horseback and capped by a bravura performance by John Barrymore. It is larger-than-lifce, the stuff of grand opera.
It begins with a prologue. Don Juan's father is alerted to his wife's adultery by a mean-spirited dwarf. He bricks the lover up in a wall, casts out his wife and admonishes his small son to never give his love to a woman. He then revels in debauchery until a jealous woman stabs him. He takes a very long time to die. Don Juan's father, by the way, is also played by the great Barrymore.
Growing up, Don Juan comes to Rome where the Borgias hold sway. We enjoy watching him get away with it when several of his lovers appear at his house at the same time and when he goies right after a maid at the Borgia palace. Then he saves the Duke Della Varnese from being poisoned--a feat which is admirable in addition to being clever. Adrianna, Donati's daughter, expresses her indebtedness which Juan takes as a sexual offer.
He comes to her bedroom to collect her anticipated reward, which shocks her. He first thinks she is just being coy, but later believes her and leaves. She restores his faith in woman primarily because she isn't interested in having sex. Not a very good reason as far as I am concerned, but it's a standard convention in this kind of film.
That I can accept, but there is something else that I couldn't. Later on, one of Juan's mistresses shows up at his house, worried that her husband suspects their affair. She hides, he comes and we discover that she has meanwhile killed herself. (I did say that it was all larger-than-life.) The husband is overcome with grief and curses Don Juan (effectively, if not actually--I forget the details). The two later meet in the prison of San Angelo where the husband has been imprisoned for murdering his wife. His anguish is repeated as well as a demand for justice. When Juan escapes he calls for him to go to a living hell.
Now, in an operatic, larger-than-life drama curses are taken seriously. And in a popular film we expect a basic moral law to operate in which one pays for the harm one has done to others. Don Juan ruined this man's life through his irresponsibility. (It could be argued that it was really his wife's action which was her own choice which was the problem, but the film doesn't argue that.) So, even though he reforms and turns into a "good guy," he should pay for that--not ride off scot-free with the heroine into the promise of a new dawn. I was shocked at how the film ended with no punishment at all befalling Don Juan.
Moreover, the poor, grieving husband is left rotting away in San Angelo for a murder he didn't commit. That was horrible, all the more so because his grief convinced me that he really loved his wife and most likely would have forgiven her. She was just a vulnerable human being who had fallen into the hands of a master seducer.
It's a popular film that shouldn't be scrutinized too closely, but the ending seemed so wrong to me--or perhaps it is more accurate to say that the business with the wronged husband undermined the ending for me--really soured it.
The duel between John Barrymore and Montagu Love is a real standout, one of the best duels I've seen on film. I think it is marred by the sound effects which seem phoney in what is basically a silent film. The musical score grated on me early in the picture, but I found myself enjoying it very much during the final chase. Neither a true silent film nor a talkie, Don Juan unfortunately seems somewhat unnatural as far as the soundtrack is concerned.
As far is Barrymore is concerned, I was most struck by his grace. His movements were so elegant. And he certainly had presence. And he is wonderful when he impersonates Neri, the torturer. But I do think that his famous profile was over-used; it became a cliche.
Warners' Don Juan was a lavish and popular entertainment. It was a good show and well-played by all. But I was bothered by the ending which I don't think was resolved well.
This film is a very handsome production, set in Spain and Rome of the renaissance. It is an exciting show, full of intrigue and swordplay, climaxed with a great rescue on horseback and capped by a bravura performance by John Barrymore. It is larger-than-lifce, the stuff of grand opera.
It begins with a prologue. Don Juan's father is alerted to his wife's adultery by a mean-spirited dwarf. He bricks the lover up in a wall, casts out his wife and admonishes his small son to never give his love to a woman. He then revels in debauchery until a jealous woman stabs him. He takes a very long time to die. Don Juan's father, by the way, is also played by the great Barrymore.
Growing up, Don Juan comes to Rome where the Borgias hold sway. We enjoy watching him get away with it when several of his lovers appear at his house at the same time and when he goies right after a maid at the Borgia palace. Then he saves the Duke Della Varnese from being poisoned--a feat which is admirable in addition to being clever. Adrianna, Donati's daughter, expresses her indebtedness which Juan takes as a sexual offer.
He comes to her bedroom to collect her anticipated reward, which shocks her. He first thinks she is just being coy, but later believes her and leaves. She restores his faith in woman primarily because she isn't interested in having sex. Not a very good reason as far as I am concerned, but it's a standard convention in this kind of film.
That I can accept, but there is something else that I couldn't. Later on, one of Juan's mistresses shows up at his house, worried that her husband suspects their affair. She hides, he comes and we discover that she has meanwhile killed herself. (I did say that it was all larger-than-life.) The husband is overcome with grief and curses Don Juan (effectively, if not actually--I forget the details). The two later meet in the prison of San Angelo where the husband has been imprisoned for murdering his wife. His anguish is repeated as well as a demand for justice. When Juan escapes he calls for him to go to a living hell.
Now, in an operatic, larger-than-life drama curses are taken seriously. And in a popular film we expect a basic moral law to operate in which one pays for the harm one has done to others. Don Juan ruined this man's life through his irresponsibility. (It could be argued that it was really his wife's action which was her own choice which was the problem, but the film doesn't argue that.) So, even though he reforms and turns into a "good guy," he should pay for that--not ride off scot-free with the heroine into the promise of a new dawn. I was shocked at how the film ended with no punishment at all befalling Don Juan.
Moreover, the poor, grieving husband is left rotting away in San Angelo for a murder he didn't commit. That was horrible, all the more so because his grief convinced me that he really loved his wife and most likely would have forgiven her. She was just a vulnerable human being who had fallen into the hands of a master seducer.
It's a popular film that shouldn't be scrutinized too closely, but the ending seemed so wrong to me--or perhaps it is more accurate to say that the business with the wronged husband undermined the ending for me--really soured it.
The duel between John Barrymore and Montagu Love is a real standout, one of the best duels I've seen on film. I think it is marred by the sound effects which seem phoney in what is basically a silent film. The musical score grated on me early in the picture, but I found myself enjoying it very much during the final chase. Neither a true silent film nor a talkie, Don Juan unfortunately seems somewhat unnatural as far as the soundtrack is concerned.
As far is Barrymore is concerned, I was most struck by his grace. His movements were so elegant. And he certainly had presence. And he is wonderful when he impersonates Neri, the torturer. But I do think that his famous profile was over-used; it became a cliche.
Warners' Don Juan was a lavish and popular entertainment. It was a good show and well-played by all. But I was bothered by the ending which I don't think was resolved well.
Friday, October 23, 2009
Ella Cinders. 1926. Directed by Alfred E. Green.
(3/19/00)
What a delight this movie is! It is witty, entertaining and has heart to spare. It is a modern riff on the Cinderella story with Colleen Moore as a put-upon stepdaughter who wins a contest and gets to go to Hollywood.
I don't find Miss Moore particularly attractive, but she is thoroughly likable. You reallywant her to succeed. And she is a damn good comedienne to boot. She reminds me of Charlie Chaplin, but that could be because she's doing similar material. When she babysits she does a routine that is kind of remisiscent of Chaplin's "Dance of the Rolls" from The Gold Rush (released only the year before). And the scene where she sits for a photographer while a fly crawls on her nose is pretty Chaplin-like, too. But she does it so well.
Moore's Ella Cinders is plucky and resourceful. She never quits trying and her success is deserved. Even when she learns that the contest she won was a fraud and the perpetrators arrested she doesn't give up and go home. She persists in trying to get into the movies--and dammit, she does!
One great comic scene that I can't pass over is when Moore sleeps on the train in a deserted car--deserted, that is, until a tribe of Indians come on board. She wakes up and looks at them in disbelief. They are all smoking cigars and one is rather aggressively pressed upon her. She is afraid to turn it down even though it is making her obviously sick. It's a cruel scene, really--but funny!
Like Chaplin's films, this one has its share of pathos. Itisn't pathetic at first when Ella is being treated like a slave. That is played too broadly to be taken seriously. But when Ella is sitting alone at the curb, not being allowed to go to the ball; when the stepmother says "But I have no other daughter" when the judges come to give Ella the prize; when she goes to say goodbye to her stepmother and stepsisters before leaving for Hollywood and they just ignore her; and especially when she finds out that the contest she won wasn't genuine there is real pain.
If there is one thing I didn't like about this picture, it was that the ending seemed too abrupt. Her boyfriend arrives on a train and scoops her away from her work, not even really asking her to choose between him and a career. It just came out of nowhere and didn't work for me. But that's about the only thing I didn't like in this otherwise splendid movie. It's a gem.
(3/26/00)
I'd like to make note of a few more things about Ella Cinders that I found interesting. When she decides to enter the local contest in hopes of going to Hollywood, Ella surreptitiously borrows a book to learn the craft of acting for the pictures. In order to get the money to have her photos taken she babysits for three nights. These are just examples of the effort she puts out. She's really trying.
As she studies the book she tries to learn hopw to use her eyes and there is a hilarious and technically amazing scene of her making her eyes go in different directions. It is quite an advanced use of special effects.
And when determined Ella tries to crash into a movie studio, one of the things she tries is holding a mannequin's head above her own and draping herself in some very tall clothing and just casually walking through the studio gates. And it might have worked except for an overly aggressive dog that pulls that elongated dress right off.
What a delight this movie is! It is witty, entertaining and has heart to spare. It is a modern riff on the Cinderella story with Colleen Moore as a put-upon stepdaughter who wins a contest and gets to go to Hollywood.
I don't find Miss Moore particularly attractive, but she is thoroughly likable. You reallywant her to succeed. And she is a damn good comedienne to boot. She reminds me of Charlie Chaplin, but that could be because she's doing similar material. When she babysits she does a routine that is kind of remisiscent of Chaplin's "Dance of the Rolls" from The Gold Rush (released only the year before). And the scene where she sits for a photographer while a fly crawls on her nose is pretty Chaplin-like, too. But she does it so well.
Moore's Ella Cinders is plucky and resourceful. She never quits trying and her success is deserved. Even when she learns that the contest she won was a fraud and the perpetrators arrested she doesn't give up and go home. She persists in trying to get into the movies--and dammit, she does!
One great comic scene that I can't pass over is when Moore sleeps on the train in a deserted car--deserted, that is, until a tribe of Indians come on board. She wakes up and looks at them in disbelief. They are all smoking cigars and one is rather aggressively pressed upon her. She is afraid to turn it down even though it is making her obviously sick. It's a cruel scene, really--but funny!
Like Chaplin's films, this one has its share of pathos. Itisn't pathetic at first when Ella is being treated like a slave. That is played too broadly to be taken seriously. But when Ella is sitting alone at the curb, not being allowed to go to the ball; when the stepmother says "But I have no other daughter" when the judges come to give Ella the prize; when she goes to say goodbye to her stepmother and stepsisters before leaving for Hollywood and they just ignore her; and especially when she finds out that the contest she won wasn't genuine there is real pain.
If there is one thing I didn't like about this picture, it was that the ending seemed too abrupt. Her boyfriend arrives on a train and scoops her away from her work, not even really asking her to choose between him and a career. It just came out of nowhere and didn't work for me. But that's about the only thing I didn't like in this otherwise splendid movie. It's a gem.
(3/26/00)
I'd like to make note of a few more things about Ella Cinders that I found interesting. When she decides to enter the local contest in hopes of going to Hollywood, Ella surreptitiously borrows a book to learn the craft of acting for the pictures. In order to get the money to have her photos taken she babysits for three nights. These are just examples of the effort she puts out. She's really trying.
As she studies the book she tries to learn hopw to use her eyes and there is a hilarious and technically amazing scene of her making her eyes go in different directions. It is quite an advanced use of special effects.
And when determined Ella tries to crash into a movie studio, one of the things she tries is holding a mannequin's head above her own and draping herself in some very tall clothing and just casually walking through the studio gates. And it might have worked except for an overly aggressive dog that pulls that elongated dress right off.
Variety (Variete). 1925. Directed by E. A. Dupont.
(3/19/00)
This is a very powerful film which held my attention thoroughly throughout a first viewing. It is a dramatic story of infidelity and jealousy with superb camerawork by Karl Freund and a great performance by Emil Jannings.
Jannings is a trapeze artist who loves his wife very much. They are recruited into the act of another artist who has lost his partner, an affair oocurs, Jannings kills his rival and is sent to prison.
There are fascinating moments, such as when Jannings, playing cards, boasts that he is lucky at both cards and love and the film cuts to a shot of his wife kissing his rival. The rival, hoping to intercept the wife in the hallway, plants his shoes outside the door. As she approaches there is a closeup of his ear. I was also impressed by shots of the aerialists reflected in multiple mirrors and other images inspired by the avant-garde.
Jannings is lovable as the doting husband. When he comes in and his wife is not in her bed and he later wakes and sees her sleeping we see a savagery come into his face. Later, when he sees the drawing on the tablecloth which proclaims him to be a cuckold he changes again into a truly frightening figure. When he later murders his rival he appears like a somnambulist.
The murder scene is another fascinating moment. Jannings tells his rival that he is going to meet an old friend and to make sure his wife gets home. Of course, the lovers seize this chance to go out together. Artello, the rival, comes into his room drunk to face a solemn, unmoving Jannings (who sort of resembles the Golem in this scene). He tries at rfirst to be nonchalant and eventually becomes terrified at his rival's demeanor. He either attacks Jannings or falls (I forget) and his death occurs out of frame. All we see is a hand clutching a knife, which falls. Later as Jannings washes the blood off of his hands he seems to be waking, as if from a trance.
The film is told in flashback from prison. In the opening scene we only see Jannings frm the back, but at the end we see his weet, vulnerable face after ten years in prison. It is genuinely affecting.
Not quite convincing is what happens in that prison. At first the warden asks Jannings to tell his story, noting that he has refused for ten years to make a statement. Jannings refuses. He then shows Jannings a letter or telegram saying that parole has been recommended for Jannings, but the authorities want to hear the warden's recommendation. Then Jannings talks. Why this turnabout? I don't find it convincing.
Then, at the end, Jannings is presumably given his freedom. Just what accounts for this eary release, this show of mercy? He has, after all, killed a man. I found this unconvincing as well. I also didn't like the suggestion that Jannings was in a trance and didn't know what he was doing when he killed. That seems to trivialize the story for me although I would be happy to accept that he couldn't help himself.
These are, however, minor quibbles with what otherwise holds up as a thoroughly absorbing film.
This is a very powerful film which held my attention thoroughly throughout a first viewing. It is a dramatic story of infidelity and jealousy with superb camerawork by Karl Freund and a great performance by Emil Jannings.
Jannings is a trapeze artist who loves his wife very much. They are recruited into the act of another artist who has lost his partner, an affair oocurs, Jannings kills his rival and is sent to prison.
There are fascinating moments, such as when Jannings, playing cards, boasts that he is lucky at both cards and love and the film cuts to a shot of his wife kissing his rival. The rival, hoping to intercept the wife in the hallway, plants his shoes outside the door. As she approaches there is a closeup of his ear. I was also impressed by shots of the aerialists reflected in multiple mirrors and other images inspired by the avant-garde.
Jannings is lovable as the doting husband. When he comes in and his wife is not in her bed and he later wakes and sees her sleeping we see a savagery come into his face. Later, when he sees the drawing on the tablecloth which proclaims him to be a cuckold he changes again into a truly frightening figure. When he later murders his rival he appears like a somnambulist.
The murder scene is another fascinating moment. Jannings tells his rival that he is going to meet an old friend and to make sure his wife gets home. Of course, the lovers seize this chance to go out together. Artello, the rival, comes into his room drunk to face a solemn, unmoving Jannings (who sort of resembles the Golem in this scene). He tries at rfirst to be nonchalant and eventually becomes terrified at his rival's demeanor. He either attacks Jannings or falls (I forget) and his death occurs out of frame. All we see is a hand clutching a knife, which falls. Later as Jannings washes the blood off of his hands he seems to be waking, as if from a trance.
The film is told in flashback from prison. In the opening scene we only see Jannings frm the back, but at the end we see his weet, vulnerable face after ten years in prison. It is genuinely affecting.
Not quite convincing is what happens in that prison. At first the warden asks Jannings to tell his story, noting that he has refused for ten years to make a statement. Jannings refuses. He then shows Jannings a letter or telegram saying that parole has been recommended for Jannings, but the authorities want to hear the warden's recommendation. Then Jannings talks. Why this turnabout? I don't find it convincing.
Then, at the end, Jannings is presumably given his freedom. Just what accounts for this eary release, this show of mercy? He has, after all, killed a man. I found this unconvincing as well. I also didn't like the suggestion that Jannings was in a trance and didn't know what he was doing when he killed. That seems to trivialize the story for me although I would be happy to accept that he couldn't help himself.
These are, however, minor quibbles with what otherwise holds up as a thoroughly absorbing film.
Monday, October 19, 2009
Tokyo Chorus (Tokyo no gassho). 1931. Directed by Yasujiro Ozu.
(3/19/00)
I still can't really appreciate Ozu, bu that's mostly because my eyes hurt and I just don't feel so good in general. It's hard for me to settle down and relax enough to take in Ozu. (And this was shown in a pretty bad 16mm print.) But I certainly can recognize the film's quality.
It is about a man who loses his job. (This is a subject with which I can identify at present.) This is a pretty serious subject, but it is lightened with touches of genial humor. A man goes to work on the day the employees are given a bonus. They are all anxious to see what is in their envelopes, but don't want to open them when others are around. The mens' room becomes suddenly popular. One man's bonus falls into the urinal and he has to pick the bills out (eeeeew!) and dry them at his desk.
One man is not very happy. It is his last day at work. Even though he has worked there a long time he has been let go, supposedly because he has sold some insurance policies to clients who died shortly thereafter. He is a very sad-looking figure.
The father, as I shall call him, and protagonist who has promised to buy his son a bicycle out of his bonus confronts the boss about this. This scene is so universally human; it is one with which so many of us can identify, either because we have done it or wish we could do it. The problem is that he does not know how to handle such a situation (and how many of us do?), it becomes a confrontation--and he is fired himself.
This outcome rings so true, even while I think it didn't have to end that way. He could have asked to talk to the boss (who doesn't seem to be a bastard or anything) and talked to him in a respectful way, and then accepted the outcome. This did not have to happen.
The other thing that I kept thinking throughout this film is that he should have gone back to the boss, apologized, and asked for his job back. A very simple alternative which was at least worth a try. But he never even thinks of it.
He goes home and only has a skateboard for the son who throws a tantrum and calls his father a liar. Of course, the son has no way of knowing what has just happened and it is difficult for the father to just sit him down and explain the situation. It is a very painful scene--but boy, does it ring true.
Another really vividly true scene occurs when the daughter gets sick and has to be taken to the hospital. There is not enough money to pay for it and we learn that the father raises it by selling some of his wife's clothes. The way we learn about it is when she opens the drawers of her bureau and they are empty. The father says something like, "Because we sold your kimono, MacKiyo is alive."
This takes place at the dinner table and the mother's reaction as she struggles with the pain of losing her good clothes and the awareness that it was the right thing to do is perfect.
I was less impressed with the second half of the film. The father meets his former instructor from school who asks him to help with his restaurant, promising to help him get a good job later on. (The former instructor looks kind of silly; he has a large, ungainly moustache that doesn't seem to go well around food.) The father agrees and is made to wear the equivalent of a sandwhich sign and give out handbills. His wife sees him and is angry about this, but comes to accept it and offers to join him in helping at the restaurant.
There is a scene where there is a reunion of the former classmates at the restaurant. And then the resolution: the father is offered a position teaching English at a girls' school in a provincial town. It is obvious that the mother is not overjoyed at the move, but she asks if they'll eventually be able to come back. Tokyo Chorus ends on a reasonably realistic note with the problem being resolved, even if not as happily as one would have liked.
I still can't really appreciate Ozu, bu that's mostly because my eyes hurt and I just don't feel so good in general. It's hard for me to settle down and relax enough to take in Ozu. (And this was shown in a pretty bad 16mm print.) But I certainly can recognize the film's quality.
It is about a man who loses his job. (This is a subject with which I can identify at present.) This is a pretty serious subject, but it is lightened with touches of genial humor. A man goes to work on the day the employees are given a bonus. They are all anxious to see what is in their envelopes, but don't want to open them when others are around. The mens' room becomes suddenly popular. One man's bonus falls into the urinal and he has to pick the bills out (eeeeew!) and dry them at his desk.
One man is not very happy. It is his last day at work. Even though he has worked there a long time he has been let go, supposedly because he has sold some insurance policies to clients who died shortly thereafter. He is a very sad-looking figure.
The father, as I shall call him, and protagonist who has promised to buy his son a bicycle out of his bonus confronts the boss about this. This scene is so universally human; it is one with which so many of us can identify, either because we have done it or wish we could do it. The problem is that he does not know how to handle such a situation (and how many of us do?), it becomes a confrontation--and he is fired himself.
This outcome rings so true, even while I think it didn't have to end that way. He could have asked to talk to the boss (who doesn't seem to be a bastard or anything) and talked to him in a respectful way, and then accepted the outcome. This did not have to happen.
The other thing that I kept thinking throughout this film is that he should have gone back to the boss, apologized, and asked for his job back. A very simple alternative which was at least worth a try. But he never even thinks of it.
He goes home and only has a skateboard for the son who throws a tantrum and calls his father a liar. Of course, the son has no way of knowing what has just happened and it is difficult for the father to just sit him down and explain the situation. It is a very painful scene--but boy, does it ring true.
Another really vividly true scene occurs when the daughter gets sick and has to be taken to the hospital. There is not enough money to pay for it and we learn that the father raises it by selling some of his wife's clothes. The way we learn about it is when she opens the drawers of her bureau and they are empty. The father says something like, "Because we sold your kimono, MacKiyo is alive."
This takes place at the dinner table and the mother's reaction as she struggles with the pain of losing her good clothes and the awareness that it was the right thing to do is perfect.
I was less impressed with the second half of the film. The father meets his former instructor from school who asks him to help with his restaurant, promising to help him get a good job later on. (The former instructor looks kind of silly; he has a large, ungainly moustache that doesn't seem to go well around food.) The father agrees and is made to wear the equivalent of a sandwhich sign and give out handbills. His wife sees him and is angry about this, but comes to accept it and offers to join him in helping at the restaurant.
There is a scene where there is a reunion of the former classmates at the restaurant. And then the resolution: the father is offered a position teaching English at a girls' school in a provincial town. It is obvious that the mother is not overjoyed at the move, but she asks if they'll eventually be able to come back. Tokyo Chorus ends on a reasonably realistic note with the problem being resolved, even if not as happily as one would have liked.
Zvenigora. 1928. Directed by Alexander Dovzhenko.
(3/16/00)
This film was shown with Russian intertitles and I was unable to follow it. Moreover, it was re-photographed to accomodate a soundtrack and looked strange. I found the added musical score distracting.
When the film started there were images of men on horses. They appeared to be in slow motion, but it may have been the rephotography necessary for the soundtrack. It is a pity that I was unable to follow this film because it looked quite interesting.
Men open a trap door in the ground and an elderly man emerges. He later disappears into thin air. There is a scene with what look like ghosts of warriors. At the end an old man seems to be trying to blow up a train which seems to collide with him. He shakes hands with some of the men on the train, suggesting to me that he has decided to join their cause.
Sitting through this film without English intertitles was an acutely frustrating experience.
This film was shown with Russian intertitles and I was unable to follow it. Moreover, it was re-photographed to accomodate a soundtrack and looked strange. I found the added musical score distracting.
When the film started there were images of men on horses. They appeared to be in slow motion, but it may have been the rephotography necessary for the soundtrack. It is a pity that I was unable to follow this film because it looked quite interesting.
Men open a trap door in the ground and an elderly man emerges. He later disappears into thin air. There is a scene with what look like ghosts of warriors. At the end an old man seems to be trying to blow up a train which seems to collide with him. He shakes hands with some of the men on the train, suggesting to me that he has decided to join their cause.
Sitting through this film without English intertitles was an acutely frustrating experience.
Earth (Zemlya). 1930. Directed by Alexander Dovzhenko.
(3/12/00)
This film was shown with Russian intertitles and no translation.
It was quite frustrating to watch this film without translation because I am sure I would have enjoyed it far more if I could have understood what was going on.
The opening section is truly beautiful with its shots of the land, of sunflowers, of faces. Dovzhenko could just put faces up there on the screen and let us scrutinize them without needing to have them do anything. We see people of different ages and we see death. An old man eats a piece of fruit and then quietly dies. It is so natural, so peaceful.
The scene changes to one of agitation and arguing. From then on the film is hard to follow. The faces become less interesting.
The film seems a celebration of the earth and ancient ways, but there are influences of modernism, of the avant-garde. There is a rapid montage of scenes of a plow ortractor and then there is a segment which has crosscutting amongst four or five different threads.
There is one scene of the sky where the horizon line is not visible. A man runs around in a circle and then disappears, leaving a totally blank frame. Towards the end we return to something like the opening with scenes of the land, of earth, of fruit, only this time there is a beautiful rainstorm.
This film was shown with Russian intertitles and no translation.
It was quite frustrating to watch this film without translation because I am sure I would have enjoyed it far more if I could have understood what was going on.
The opening section is truly beautiful with its shots of the land, of sunflowers, of faces. Dovzhenko could just put faces up there on the screen and let us scrutinize them without needing to have them do anything. We see people of different ages and we see death. An old man eats a piece of fruit and then quietly dies. It is so natural, so peaceful.
The scene changes to one of agitation and arguing. From then on the film is hard to follow. The faces become less interesting.
The film seems a celebration of the earth and ancient ways, but there are influences of modernism, of the avant-garde. There is a rapid montage of scenes of a plow ortractor and then there is a segment which has crosscutting amongst four or five different threads.
There is one scene of the sky where the horizon line is not visible. A man runs around in a circle and then disappears, leaving a totally blank frame. Towards the end we return to something like the opening with scenes of the land, of earth, of fruit, only this time there is a beautiful rainstorm.
Dancing Silhouettes. 1983.
(3/12/00)
This is a documentary on the work of Lotte Reininger. I didn't find it very interesting, but that could be because Reininger's silhouette films themselves don't interest me that much. The information could have been conveyed just as easily in a few paragraphs of print; I would have preferred spending the time watching some of Reininger's films.
Reininger herself appears on camera. She speaks with a thick accent which makes it difficult to hear everything she says. The film would have benefited from color. (I believe that enough of Reininger's work was in color to justify it.)
One touch I did like: after the credits there is a very nice shot of Lotte Reininger, smiling.
This is a documentary on the work of Lotte Reininger. I didn't find it very interesting, but that could be because Reininger's silhouette films themselves don't interest me that much. The information could have been conveyed just as easily in a few paragraphs of print; I would have preferred spending the time watching some of Reininger's films.
Reininger herself appears on camera. She speaks with a thick accent which makes it difficult to hear everything she says. The film would have benefited from color. (I believe that enough of Reininger's work was in color to justify it.)
One touch I did like: after the credits there is a very nice shot of Lotte Reininger, smiling.
D. G. Phalke, the First Indian Film Director. 1970. Produced by the National Film Archive of India.
(3/12/00)
This is a documentary/compilation film about an early Indian filmmaker. It is silent and has commentary which is presented via written titles which have a very amateurish look to them. We see footage of Phalke at work which gives it a home-movielike quality.
The best part of the film is a section of clips of highlights from Phalke's films. It is a rare glimpse into a body of work which I doubt I will ever get to see. Phalke's films are full of imaginative special effects. My favorite is an image of a man whose head comes off and is lifted by a column of smoke. It eventually returns. Phalke's films were based on Indian mythology and present a fantastic world full of gods and demons.
Far too much of this film is devoted to an excerpt from Phalke's first feature. I probably would have found it more interesting if I were familiar with the story, but I wasn't and I didn't.
This is a documentary/compilation film about an early Indian filmmaker. It is silent and has commentary which is presented via written titles which have a very amateurish look to them. We see footage of Phalke at work which gives it a home-movielike quality.
The best part of the film is a section of clips of highlights from Phalke's films. It is a rare glimpse into a body of work which I doubt I will ever get to see. Phalke's films are full of imaginative special effects. My favorite is an image of a man whose head comes off and is lifted by a column of smoke. It eventually returns. Phalke's films were based on Indian mythology and present a fantastic world full of gods and demons.
Far too much of this film is devoted to an excerpt from Phalke's first feature. I probably would have found it more interesting if I were familiar with the story, but I wasn't and I didn't.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
The Scar of Shame. 1926. Directed by Frank Perugini.
(3/12/00)
I like Scar of Shame a lot. It is a vivid depiction of negro life in the 1920s. I really feel that--the melodrama aside--I am seeing black life the way it really was. So the film is definitely convincing.
I really liked the outdoor scenes in this film which convey a nice sense of place. They unfortunately don't have the same texture as the interior scenes and that is a little jarring, but that is a very minor complaint. (It's really a little much to expect in a low-budget film.)
I really like the acting as well. They are all good performers and they work harmoniously together. And my appreciation for them has grown over several viewings. Harry Henderson is good as are Lucia Lynn Moses and Lawrence Chenault.
It's a melodramatic story about a girl who is abused by her father. A musician intervenes and later marries her, but doesn't tell her mother who is concerned about "caste." There is another fight and she is shot by the villain, but blames her husband who goes to jail. He escapes and starts a new life, but his wife finds out and wants him back. Failing, she poisons herself after writing a letter in which she admits the truth.
The ending is trite, but Lucia Lynn Moses goes a long way towards bringing it off. We really don't get to know her too well during most of the film: at first she is just a victim and then she is angry at her husband because he won't tell his mother of his marriage. She seems like a bitch who would senjd her husband to prison for a crime he didn't commit, but then we see that she really loved this man. It is really quite touching.
The real problem I see with the ending is that she leaves her associate Eddie a note asking him to clear the husband's name. It says something like, "If you want to make peace with your maker..." Eddie tears up the note and I don't see any reason to believe that hye is going to do anything. The woman's letter to Henderson's future father-in-law could be taken as something which will clear him, but it is so vague that I wouldn't depend on that.
There are some nice touches in this picture. Early on, Moses imagines herself living a life of luxury. Later, when she is mistress of the Club Lido things resemble her fantasy pretty clearly. She has a cute little doll and when she and Henderson are arguing about whether she should go with him to see his mother he accidentally steps on the doll. Maybe it isn't subtle, but it somehow works in this film.
One thing I particularly like is when Henderson proposes marriage. There are a few closeups of his hand on her shoulder--skin against skin--which clearly communicates (to me, at least) that he wants her. He doesn't marry her out of pity or to protect her from her step-father, as she thinks, but for sex. That's one touch that actually is subtle.
I also like the scene in which Eddie tempts the girl's step-father with whiskey, holding the flask under his nose. That is a cruel moment and it is played well.
The backgrounds of the intertitles are quite handsome. Speaking of the intertitles, there are two which amount to a kind of sermonizing. Henderson makes a speech about the indignities that women of his race ares subjected to and Chenault makes a speech later on about environment and how people should be subjected to higher aims, etc. These speeches sound a little bit cloying to me, but I imagine that they weren't to the original (and intended) audience.
I like Scar of Shame a lot. It is a vivid depiction of negro life in the 1920s. I really feel that--the melodrama aside--I am seeing black life the way it really was. So the film is definitely convincing.
I really liked the outdoor scenes in this film which convey a nice sense of place. They unfortunately don't have the same texture as the interior scenes and that is a little jarring, but that is a very minor complaint. (It's really a little much to expect in a low-budget film.)
I really like the acting as well. They are all good performers and they work harmoniously together. And my appreciation for them has grown over several viewings. Harry Henderson is good as are Lucia Lynn Moses and Lawrence Chenault.
It's a melodramatic story about a girl who is abused by her father. A musician intervenes and later marries her, but doesn't tell her mother who is concerned about "caste." There is another fight and she is shot by the villain, but blames her husband who goes to jail. He escapes and starts a new life, but his wife finds out and wants him back. Failing, she poisons herself after writing a letter in which she admits the truth.
The ending is trite, but Lucia Lynn Moses goes a long way towards bringing it off. We really don't get to know her too well during most of the film: at first she is just a victim and then she is angry at her husband because he won't tell his mother of his marriage. She seems like a bitch who would senjd her husband to prison for a crime he didn't commit, but then we see that she really loved this man. It is really quite touching.
The real problem I see with the ending is that she leaves her associate Eddie a note asking him to clear the husband's name. It says something like, "If you want to make peace with your maker..." Eddie tears up the note and I don't see any reason to believe that hye is going to do anything. The woman's letter to Henderson's future father-in-law could be taken as something which will clear him, but it is so vague that I wouldn't depend on that.
There are some nice touches in this picture. Early on, Moses imagines herself living a life of luxury. Later, when she is mistress of the Club Lido things resemble her fantasy pretty clearly. She has a cute little doll and when she and Henderson are arguing about whether she should go with him to see his mother he accidentally steps on the doll. Maybe it isn't subtle, but it somehow works in this film.
One thing I particularly like is when Henderson proposes marriage. There are a few closeups of his hand on her shoulder--skin against skin--which clearly communicates (to me, at least) that he wants her. He doesn't marry her out of pity or to protect her from her step-father, as she thinks, but for sex. That's one touch that actually is subtle.
I also like the scene in which Eddie tempts the girl's step-father with whiskey, holding the flask under his nose. That is a cruel moment and it is played well.
The backgrounds of the intertitles are quite handsome. Speaking of the intertitles, there are two which amount to a kind of sermonizing. Henderson makes a speech about the indignities that women of his race ares subjected to and Chenault makes a speech later on about environment and how people should be subjected to higher aims, etc. These speeches sound a little bit cloying to me, but I imagine that they weren't to the original (and intended) audience.
Metropolis. 1926. Directed by Fritz Lang.
(3/10/00)
Metropolis is always enjoyable. It grabs the attention by its visual conception of a futuristic city and holds it by good storytelling. There are so many fascinating moments: the mysterious plans found on the bodies of the workers, Rotwang's abduction of Maria in which he trains his flashlight's (or some kind of light's) beam on her, the creation of the robot, the flooding of the city, the fight with Rotwang on the roof of the cathedral. It's continually inventive, continually interesting.
There is a really beautiful sense of design in the early parts of the film. I'm thinking of the masses of workers going towards the elevators, the giant machines. And it is exhilarating. But then we come to Rotwang's home and we're in a totally different world. Rotwang's house is like something out of The Golem. It is old, hinting of ancient knowledge and ancient secrets--which is puzzling because Rotwang is an inventor working on modern technological marvels.
I have a problem with Metropolis. There is something spatially wrong with it. By that I mean that I find it difficult to relate things to each other. There are these vast views of the great city, but then we see Rotwang's house and it is hard to locate it, in my mind, in relation to such things as Fredersen's office. The same thing with the cathesral--is it in the worker's city or above the ground? We only see workers in at at first and Maria tells Fredersen's son to meet her there, so it could be in the former, but at the end when the crowds approach it seems clear that it is above ground. Rotwang has a tunnel down to the catacombs which are below the workers' city which is below the machine rooms which are below ground. It is difficult to think of the tunnel going down that far. There is one scene in which we see cars on the ground and it just looks out of place. And the workers' city looks as if it has regular buildings which would be out of place under ground. The film is confusing in a spatial sense.
Metropolis is a film about men and machines. The workers are de-humanized, turned into machines. Fredersen plans to replace them with robots. The robot is made to imitate a human--Maria. One fascinating touch is that Rotwang has one mechanical hand; he is the perfect image of man and machine merging.
Brigitte Helm has a tour de force, playing both the real Maria and the false Maria. The look alike, yet they are about as opposite as they can be. One is totally good and the other is evil incarnate. Helm plays what seems like a female version of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.
John Fredersen, master of Metropolis, seems to me to be the most interesting character in the film. He is dynamic and has presence. His son, supposedly the hero, seems something of a simp. Maybe it's because we first see him at play in a garden of the idle rich, but even though he obviously means well he doesn't seem very forceful. He even passes out when he sees the false Maria with his father.
It's interesting that at the meetings in the catacombs all the workers that we see are male. The only female is Maria who wields a hell of a lot of influence over all these men. It appears that the workers' city is completely populated by men, although later on when they tear up the place we see women too. But the image I remember is Maria acting as priestess to a crowd of men and nothing but men.
When they revolt the workers become a great natural force, something like a tidal wave. The film certainly doesn't speak well for the proletariat in that they are so easily influenced. When Maria urges peace they are patient; when the false Maria tells them to riot, they riot. The masses are presented here as so irrational as to destroy their own city, completely forgetting about their children.
The end when Fredersen and the foreman shake hands is well-acted. They actually give some poignancy to the scene. After the cdrisis has passed both men want to make up, but they are tentative about it. The son manages to help them surmount their hesitancy.
Metropolis is always enjoyable. It grabs the attention by its visual conception of a futuristic city and holds it by good storytelling. There are so many fascinating moments: the mysterious plans found on the bodies of the workers, Rotwang's abduction of Maria in which he trains his flashlight's (or some kind of light's) beam on her, the creation of the robot, the flooding of the city, the fight with Rotwang on the roof of the cathedral. It's continually inventive, continually interesting.
There is a really beautiful sense of design in the early parts of the film. I'm thinking of the masses of workers going towards the elevators, the giant machines. And it is exhilarating. But then we come to Rotwang's home and we're in a totally different world. Rotwang's house is like something out of The Golem. It is old, hinting of ancient knowledge and ancient secrets--which is puzzling because Rotwang is an inventor working on modern technological marvels.
I have a problem with Metropolis. There is something spatially wrong with it. By that I mean that I find it difficult to relate things to each other. There are these vast views of the great city, but then we see Rotwang's house and it is hard to locate it, in my mind, in relation to such things as Fredersen's office. The same thing with the cathesral--is it in the worker's city or above the ground? We only see workers in at at first and Maria tells Fredersen's son to meet her there, so it could be in the former, but at the end when the crowds approach it seems clear that it is above ground. Rotwang has a tunnel down to the catacombs which are below the workers' city which is below the machine rooms which are below ground. It is difficult to think of the tunnel going down that far. There is one scene in which we see cars on the ground and it just looks out of place. And the workers' city looks as if it has regular buildings which would be out of place under ground. The film is confusing in a spatial sense.
Metropolis is a film about men and machines. The workers are de-humanized, turned into machines. Fredersen plans to replace them with robots. The robot is made to imitate a human--Maria. One fascinating touch is that Rotwang has one mechanical hand; he is the perfect image of man and machine merging.
Brigitte Helm has a tour de force, playing both the real Maria and the false Maria. The look alike, yet they are about as opposite as they can be. One is totally good and the other is evil incarnate. Helm plays what seems like a female version of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.
John Fredersen, master of Metropolis, seems to me to be the most interesting character in the film. He is dynamic and has presence. His son, supposedly the hero, seems something of a simp. Maybe it's because we first see him at play in a garden of the idle rich, but even though he obviously means well he doesn't seem very forceful. He even passes out when he sees the false Maria with his father.
It's interesting that at the meetings in the catacombs all the workers that we see are male. The only female is Maria who wields a hell of a lot of influence over all these men. It appears that the workers' city is completely populated by men, although later on when they tear up the place we see women too. But the image I remember is Maria acting as priestess to a crowd of men and nothing but men.
When they revolt the workers become a great natural force, something like a tidal wave. The film certainly doesn't speak well for the proletariat in that they are so easily influenced. When Maria urges peace they are patient; when the false Maria tells them to riot, they riot. The masses are presented here as so irrational as to destroy their own city, completely forgetting about their children.
The end when Fredersen and the foreman shake hands is well-acted. They actually give some poignancy to the scene. After the cdrisis has passed both men want to make up, but they are tentative about it. The son manages to help them surmount their hesitancy.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)