The Red Shoes (Powell and Pressburger, 1948)

Seeing a lot of great films is nothing new to me. I attempt to watch as many good films as possible, which tends to make my choices about what films to see quite picky. I don’t mind spending time watching an average film, but I always prefer to watch something good that will give me more knowledge of cinema. But every once in a while, I see a film that is beyond great, a film that truly captures my senses and creates vivid images that convey meaning in a simple yet intricate way. The more you see film the less impressed you will get by watching new films, because you will come to a point where most films you see you can say “I’ve seen this before”, even though the film might be quite good. This is one of the things that make watching cinema worthwhile, discovering films that blow you away, that stand as a fantastic piece of art on the screen.

So is the case with The Red Shoes, the second film I’ve seen by Powell and Pressburger. I was quite impressed with the imaginative A Matter of Life and Death (Powell and Pressburger, 1946), but this film just takes their craft to a whole other level. The story is that of a ballet company, most importantly the director of that company, Boris Lermontov, excellently played by Anton Walbrook. Usually it isn’t such a good idea for a film to lean too much on a character, but here it works wonders. In fact, it is even hard to call Lermontov the protagonist of the film, it is more of an ensemble piece, but his character is so vital to the film and puts it in a certain direction that you cannot underestimate the importance of this character. That’s one of the things I loved the most, Walbrook’s character. He believes in suffering and sacrificing oneself to ones art, and obviously he comes into conflict with the other characters. But it is the devotion and crushing belief he puts into his faith that makes it all the more powerful, and avoids making him an antagonist, which could easily have happened. There is almost a paradox in the film, you will be brought almost to despise the character for his coldness towards others, at the same time you cannot stop admiring him. I think that most artists would like to be just like him, but few are wilful or strong enough. He is probably one of the most fascinating characters I’ve ever seen on the screen, and makes the film extremely memorable for me. I know it is subjective, and a lot of audiences will feel that he is nothing but a cold hearted brute, but for me he remains one of the most interesting and melancholic characters of cinema.

Now, the film would have been great with just this character, but there is so much more. What I cannot forget to mention is the fantastic 15 minutes long ballet sequence, which is also some of the most impressive I’ve seen in cinema, and reminds me quite a bit of A Matter of Life and Death. It starts off as a straight theatre scene shot with a camera, but slowly starts to become much more cinematic and stunning. This sequence captures some of the most indefinable and beautiful moments in cinema, and works extremely well in the context of the themes. The rest of the film is also very well shot, particularly when it moves around in different locations. This DVD is from the same Powell & Pressburger collection from which I saw A Matter of Life and Death, and in contrast to that version, this looks quite good, fairly sharp images, and the sound is good, which it better be considering how important music is to the film. Indeed, the music is another critical point which makes this film so good. It is relevant to the narrative, and has several thematic ideas. Most films just use it for simple emotional purposes, but here it is put to use the right way, much like La Pianiste (Michael Haneke, 2001). While the film aesthetically centres on ballet, the film is in its core about all art. What does it mean to be an artist and what one has to sacrifice? The film is not afraid to ask any of these questions, but keeps the answer ambiguous to the end credits, and leaves the audience to contemplate what they have just seen.

There are so many memorable scenes, so many great aspects about this film, but in the end what I will remember it the most for is the character Lermontov and the fantastic performance by Anton Walbrook. I have never heard of him or seen him in anything else, but through this film he will probably haunt my thoughts as one of the most problematic and fascinating characters in cinema history. The rest of the film? Just fantastic.

Ossessione (Luchino Visconti, 1943)

Ossessione was given this release by the BFI (British Film Institute). I live right outside London, and I would like to go in there, visit the BFI and slap someone to stop them releasing DVDs. On the back of every BFI DVD there says: “The British Film Institute offers you the opportunities to experience, enjoy and discover more about the world of film and television.” Now alright, that’s great. However, every BFI release I own is very bad. Including Ossessione I also own La Terra Trema (Luchino Visconti, 1948) and La Règle du jeu (Jean Renoir, 1939). La Règle du Jeu had a lot of the same problems as Ossessione, very bad picture transfer, and maybe more importantly, horrible sound transfer. The sound isn’t given any depth or clarity, and often comes across as dull, when it shouldn’t be. Seriously, BFI, it’s great that you want people to discover unknown cinema, but unless you start making some decent releases please leave it to the professionals such as Masters of Cinema.

Now, despite its horrible release, Ossessione stands as one of the most impressive pieces of cinema that I have ever seen. It is made even more impressive by the fact that this was Visconti’s first feature film. I have always been partial to the whole notion of the Italian neo-realism, but more than any Italian director than I can think of Visconti encapsulates these ideals to their fullest. Visconti manages to give even the simplest of shots several layers of meanings, he captures here better than few places I’ve seen the intangible sadness of human existence. I will say now, Ossessione is a masterpiece, and stands as one of the finest examples of Italian neo-realism. His acute sense of directing and pacing, the wonderful framing and composing of his images, it all works extremely well here, and if I were to show aspiring filmmakers a debut film by a famous director to show how it’s done, I would show Ossessione. I did like the films of De Sica a lot, but Ossessione goes beyond them. I am wondering exactly why De Sica is more famous than Visconti. He is a fine director and made his own masterpieces, and true, I haven’t seen many of Visconti’s films, but this really stands the test of time. It shows how excellent directing can transcend its time and become immortal, this film puts most contemporary films to shame. One of the things that impressed me was how much information Visconti could place within a shot, how he could foreshadow and give us vital information about the characters in just a simple shot or a sequence of shots. This is the kind of filmmaking I am always looking for in films, managing to convey themes and information in simple shots. To illustrate a bad example, let’s take the film I last watched, Sabrina (Billy Wilder, 1954). There is a shot of Sabrina in a tree, watching a wonderful party in the house, where the love of her life is dancing with another woman. We then see that she is upset. Now this is fine, and conveys all the information we need to know in a sequence of simple shots. Good directing. However, soon her dad comes along, tells her to get down from the tree, and tells her to forget all about that guy. Now this is bad, because it simplifies too much. He didn’t need to say this to give us information, and the film lowers the standard of the audience. Ossessione avoids these things by leaving what needs to be said to the camera, and not the dialogue.

Not since watching the Apu trilogy by Satyajit Ray have I been so excited over the idea of neo-realism. Visconti captures the ordinary in a fundamental way, and creates meaning through his images. He keeps the aspect of the real alive, while yet utilizing the craft of the camera, a thing a lot of directors, Italian then and contemporary now, needs to learn. The film is based on the book The Postman only Rings Twice, but I am not familiar with this story, although I know it was also made into an American film. Anyway, the story is fairly simple and straightforward, but Visconti manages to evoke some powerful ideas and themes through his directing. A lonely woman lives with her unattractive and old husband, and one day a vagabond comes along who she is immediately attracted to, and he to her. The film from here on is about their relationship, which is far from perfect and takes many twists and turns. It’s the core of the film, and the characters state of mind is constantly under pressure and they have to contemplate guilt and how they relate to each other. There is a marvellous shot in the beginning of the film where the protagonist enters the kitchen where the lonely wife is. He is framed by the doorway, but is blocking most of what we see of the wife. The only part of her we see is her legs (she is sitting on a table). This very simple shot conveys so much about the current situation, what is going to happen, and the immediate relationship between the characters. It is an impressive shot, not because of its technicality, but how it simply conveys so much in just a few seconds. This is the brilliance of Visconti, and one of the key things that makes Ossessione such a great film. I really wish I had a better version of this, maybe Criterion or Masters of Cinema will do Visconti’s early films at one point. It’s something to hope for anyway, I’ve got the Criterion version of Le Notti Bianche (Luchino Visconti, 1957), and that is very good. Masters of Cinema also released Rocco e i suoi fratelli (Luchino Visconti, 1960), and I am looking forward to seeing that. Despite all the problems though, Visconti’s direction managed to shine through, which further impresses me.

Ossessione is a masterpiece, simple as that. It is probably one of the best films I’ve seen of the Italian neo-realism movement. The shots that build the film up are fantastic, the drama feels true and resonates, the actors manage to convey with simple acting methods. Early Visconti is not that famous, but I hope more and more will see this early film, because it is simply just as good as or better than Ladri di biciclette (Vittorio De Sica, 1948). People talk a lot about Visconti, but I’ve heard few references to this film, with De Sica a lot of people talk about him and at the same time there is a lot of reference to his most famous films. But I like De Sica a lot as well, though, but Visconti seems to be pushing the envelope even more.

Sabrina (Billy Wilder, 1954)

Billy Wilder is one of my favorite directors of the classic Hollywood era, and Humphrey Bogart is one of my favorite actors. I thought; how can a film featuring Humphrey Bogart, Audrey Hepburn, William Holden and Billy Wilder as the director not be anything else but great. Well, you might be surprised that it wasn’t that great, or maybe you are not surprised at all. Maybe when a film fills itself up too much with star power it is crushed under its own weight, or maybe the many egos just became too much for the production. Who knows?

The plot sort of relates to the Cinderella tale. The young Sabrina played by Hepburn lives in a huge mansion with her father who is the chauffer. She is in love with one of the family members who live there, the playboy type played by William Holden. His older brother, played by Bogart, is a cynical businessman. However, Sabrina cannot get the attention of the young playboy and is sent away by her father to become a Jedi knight, no wait; she is sent away by her father to become a cook in Paris. Two years go by at an alarming rate and she returns, now a proper gentleman of stature, sorry again; a proper lady. But all the narrative is for naught because I could tell how the film would end already in the first five minutes. This is one of the faults of watching too many movies, they can quickly become predictable, and this was indeed. Now that doesn’t mean all the while it wasn’t enjoying, because it quite was. There is a lot of humour in here, and that is quite good. I love Roman Holliday (William Wyler, 1953) and it was similar to this in many ways, however Sabrina falls a bit short. The chemistry between the three leads is also not too perfect; it works at times, but falls a bit flat. While Hepburn was great, the best actor was indeed John Williams, who played Sabrina’s father. He had an own sense of humour, and played greatly upon that. Bogey is also good, and takes a very different type of role than he usually does. Here he is not tough talking, but is quite weak, and not to good with the ladies, which lead to some funny scenes. William Holden, who I haven’t seen in too much, felt like he was a bit gone, and didn’t make a noticeable appearance.

What this film lacks compared to Roman Holiday or Billy Wilder’s other comedy masterpieces such as Some Like it Hot (1959) and The Apartment (1960) is that it isn’t particularly inventive. The jokes are good, some of the interaction between the actors is good, but on the whole the film feels slightly flat, particularly towards the end. Roman Holiday revoked much more in me and at the same time was funnier and sharper. Sabrina lacks an overall goal; it fumbles quite a bit at times. The film feels like it was hurried, not just in production but within itself as well. In my last review I complained about the film but still though Huston’s directing was great. Here though, I cannot say much about Billy Wilder’s directing. It’s okay, but lacks a bit subtlety that I usually find in his films. He also doesn’t feel as comfortable directing comedy here as he does later, and the film is far from as cynical as say Sunset Blvd. Although not being cynical is not a bad thing, it might have made this film more interesting, but as it stands it is a fairly straight forward comedy from classic Hollywood. The film lacks depth is what I feel is the main problem, and remains quite superficial.

I can understand why this was a hit in its day. It works on several levels, but looses its sight and falls flat a couple of times. I did enjoy it a bit, but the film didn’t leave me anything significant, and in the end I felt a bit down. A mediocre effort from Wilder, but Bogart and Hepburn do a good job.

The African Queen (John Huston, 1951)

I’ve always been fascinated with Africa and travelling into unknown wilderness. Films such as Apocalypse Now (Francis Ford Coppola, 1979) and Aguirre, der Zorn Gottes (Werner Herzog, 1972) really gave me this great feeling of being lost in nowhere. The unknown is indeed fascinating; this is one of the reasons why psychological horror can work so well. So when a film decides to take its characters to the edge of civilization you might expect it to push through these elements of the unknown. Well, not always.

The African Queen takes Humphrey Bogart and Katherine Hepburn through the dense African jungle on a river. The African Queen is the boat, and Bogart is the alcoholic captain. There is a plot that creates the circumstances in which the two travel together, but I won’t bother with that here. Suffice to say, they have to get through some tough areas on the river to reach their goal, and this is what creates the core of the film. Now most of the film takes place on the little boat, and for that the film is to be commended. John Huston’s simple but yet elaborate style really works here, and the script makes sure that there is always something interesting going on screen. However, one of the issues I have with this film is that it never really reaches any high marks. It all works very well, and has a lot of subtle touches, but overall the film really never gives me anything significant back. It’s a fun adventure with humour, romance and thriller moments, all in a neat little package. But as a movie viewer who usually looks for something more, be it themes, atmosphere or something intangible the film never delivers. There is a lot of potential in this piece of work, but I felt it somehow slipped away. Although I often talk about how I don’t care about a film being dark and depressing, I feel in this case it could have worked quite to its advantage. Indeed, several moments are quite dark, and these are the best. However, there is too much fooling around and the film looses a bit of its aim. A more serious tone and claustrophobia the film might have evoked much more emotions and ideas. Instead it stands as a solid but fairly uninteresting adventure film.

Bogart is great in this however, and encapsulates everything about his character. It is always fun to see Bogey in a different type of role, and here he does it marvellously. The chemistry between him and Hepburn is very good, which is essential considering they are the only two characters for the majority of the film. The location shooting is nice and gives it that extra touch of atmosphere, and the cinematography captures the landscape quite beautifully. The two lead characters have quite contrasting personalities which creates a lot of conflict, and continues to drive the film forward. One thing that struck me was how much comedy there is in this. A lot of the dialogue and situations are comical, and this adds to the variation of the film. However, there is a bit too much of everything. One could say this is a film that has everything, but sadly it is master of none. I don’t blame Huston’s directing, because for what it is it is impeccable for most of the time. However the script is too ambitious, and stretches in all directions at once. I don’t really like it when movies try to reach too far and miss the point in stead. A film can be better if it is concise and focused, although this is in no way a criterion. There are good films that have stretched far, but here it just isn’t executed as well as it might have been. It is different from many of the classic Hollywood films I’ve seen, but not always for the better.

An okay film that will entertain most. However I found there was too little to pick up here, the film remained too anonymous and hid behind a constant façade. It does a lot of things right, Bogey is good, Huston as always directs well, but the overall scope of the film looses sight and capsizes.

The Big Sleep (Howard Hawks, 1946)

Though talking gangsters, beautiful women, a lot of cigarettes and alcohol, twists and turns. The noir genre of the classical Hollywood period created some of the best films around. While noir has many common denominators, there is a surprising amount of variety in the genre. It is hard to specifically pin down what makes a noir film, but when you see one, you know it is a noir. There hasn’t been many good noirs since the fall of the Golden era of Hollywood, but a couple, such as Chinatown (Roman Polanski, 1974) and the interesting mix of noir and sci-fi Blade Runner (Ridley Scott, 1982). One of the things that signified the noir genre for me was the moody and atmospheric black and white cinematography. I love black and white cinematography, and much of this in Hollywood reached its peak in the noir genre.

When watching these old Humphrey Bogart films I get more and more sympathetic to the character in A Bout de Souffle (Jean-Luc Godard, 1959). He mimics and idealizes the old screen legend, but ends up very differently to his hero. There is always a great presence when Bogart is on screen. He was fantastic in In a Lonely Place (Nicholas Ray, 1950), where he manages to create some indefinable menace behind his eyes. While many today think that Bogart for the most part was typecast and didn’t have much width in his work, they are wrong. But it is easy to see why he often was cast as a tough talking detective, because he does it so incredibly well. At the same time, he captures something truthful and weaker behind his character, which almost always gives the films he play in extra depth. Before I got to know Bogart’s acting well, when I had just seen Casablanca, he was this sort of caricature character who was somehow not relatable and unreachable. However, with the years and the more films I’ve seen with him, it becomes more apparent why he holds the status as one of the greatest actors in Hollywood. But again, In a Lonely Place was the film that made me realize what a great actor he was. It is actually quite an underrated and fairly unknown film, but it is fantastic, and I absolutely recommend it to anyone who likes Bogart or classic Hollywood films.

The Big Sleep plays on mood, like a lot of other noir films. It is quite gritty, often shot at night. The cinematography isn’t conventionally beautiful, but works superbly, enhancing the feeling of decadence in the society that it portrays. Bogart is a private detective who gets a job to find out a blackmailer. However, from the first 10 minutes of the film the plot becomes almost hazardously complicated. It is okay though, because if you can to some moderate degree follow the plot then you will probably enjoy it. The power of the film is rather in the craft, the wonderful dialogue, and great chemistry between Bogart and Bacall. Much to my own surprise, I’ve never seen a Howard Hawks film before, but this was a great introduction. I was sure that I had seen a film by him, but as it turned out I haven’t. The film is properly dark and contains a lot of sexual sub-text, which make it all the more interesting. I do believe also that this probably was quite racy for its time, although by today’s standards it is not. But the darkness and grittiness still remains. Bogart is also not some superman, and does get beaten up quite a lot. But he uses mostly his intelligence instead of a gun. The dialogue is one of the best elements of the film though. It is witty but manages to put a lot of sub-text in there. It is proper stylized Hollywood type of dialogue, but I love it. It is much better crafted than screenplays which pretend to emulate “reality”. What’s the point of replicating reality when it is right out your window?

I loved The Big Sleep. It’s well executed on many different levels, Bogart is fantastic, the plot is way too crazy but it all fits in, and although you at the end might have some unanswered questions, you won’t really care anyway, because it doesn’t matter. Howard Hawk’s directing is precise and to the point. He doesn’t dwell and leaves little to be desired. I think I’ll watch the original Scarface sometime.

Nosferatu (F.W. Murnau, 1922)

Silent movies don’t always stay well with me. Sure, there was lots of admirable stuff in Sunrise (F.W. Murnau, 1927), but at the end I didn’t feel as satisfied as I thought I would. While I love the old silent films of Charlie Chaplin, the only other silent film I really loved was Körkarlen (Victor, Sjöström, 1921), which was quite fantastic. Then again, I haven’t seen that many silent films, so I am probably still missing out on a lot. I wanted to see this long ago, and bought it, but it turned out to be Nosferatu: Phantom der Nacht (Werner Herzog, 1979), which I thought was quite good.

Nosferatu reminded me a bit about Körkarlen, in that it dealt with a similar fantastical force and used atmospheric techniques. And in this Nosferatu really shines. The shadows on the walls, dark and sinister cinematography, wretched architecture and the vampire itself all add to the creepiness. The film is careful with using its techniques, but uses them always when appropriately. This is not a shocker; this is a film that builds its tension up slowly with mood, pacing and atmosphere. F.W. Murnau really shows off his talents as a visual storyteller here, he uses very interesting camera-angles and play with the landscapes to create tension. There is also a scene where a “werewolf” scares off a flock of horses, a scene that quite elegantly captures the fear of the people in the inn. There is also a scene on a dock when a couple of sailors open a box and a swarm of rats come pouring out. These scenes don’t always necessarily serve plot purposes or to further the narrative, but builds up the wonderful tension and creepiness. The different tints of colour that change with the scenes also add a lot to the atmosphere, and are used to great effect in each scene. Some of the best scenes are of people being carried away in coffins in the city, due to the “plague”. It shows just how menacing the vampire is and how much damage he causes.

Speaking about the vampire, he is probably the most effective element of the whole film. Max Schreck has the perfect face for a vampire, but a lot of the credit should be given to the make-up, which still even then managed to make the vampire look convincing. The ears, the teeth, the long fingers all gives the vampire a mystical and frightening look, which again is strengthened with the eerie aura of the film. Particularly a scene where the vampire enters the protagonist’s room is quite unnerving, building up the tension slowly. Most horror films of today tend to lean on shock effects, but don’t leave any particular lasting effect. There is a good reason why people still cite Nosferatu as one of the great examples of a horror. It uses mood and pacing to create the horror and psychological fear. Most old silent films often tend to have poor quality, which is to be expected to some degree. I bought the excellent Masters of Cinema release of Nosferatu, and they really did a great job with it. While some scene still remains a bit dodgy, most of the print is clear and sharp, which I feel is so important to such visual films. I would always recommend the Masters of Cinema films; they always do a great job and are the Region 2 equivalent of Criterion. The extras are also great, containing a booklet and a second disk with material.

I’m usually slightly ambivalent when watching silent films, but I though this was a great film. It leans on the wonderful mood and tension created through the visuals, dwells on images, and the vampire is truly frightening. Still, I know a lot of the modern audiences will not appreciate this, and you can tell the film was made for its time, and is not in any way compatible with contemporary cinema. Still, a great German classic by a director I really need to experience more of.

Roman Holiday (William Wyler, 1953)

I have to admit, these kinds of films have a big sentimental value for me. The old black and white classics of the Hollywood era when made right are always great. Sure, they don’t have a complex form or boast as big an artistic ambitiousness as say Tarkovsky or Bergman. What they do have though, is an impeccable craft, charismatic actors and wonderful narratives. I remember falling in love with such films as The Third Man (Carol Reed, 1949), Letter From an Unknown Woman (Max Ophüls, 1948), Casablanca (Michael Curtiz, 1942) and many, many others. Classic Hollywood has a lot of treasure in store, although I feel sometimes that my peers neglect these because of their commercial nature and sometimes lacking a complex narrative. But I don’t agree with this, these old films are great, and put most similar Hollywood movies made since the 70’s and today fall in shame.

I’m not too familiar with the old comedy genre of Hollywood. Certainly I am familiar with contemporary comedy, but it is quite different from the old Hollywood. One of my very favourite films though is a comedy of this era, The Apartment (Billy Wilder, 1960). I also loved It Happened One Night (Frank Capra, 1934). Roman Holiday is a very similar story to that of It Happened One Night, almost to the point of plagiarism I would say. However, the film manages to distinguish itself through some interesting and original twists, great dialogue and humour, the fantastic setting, and maybe most importantly the great chemistry and acting between Gregory Peck, Audrey Hepburn and Eddie Albert. The simple plot is that of a young heiress to the throne of a country that goes unnamed, although she and everyone around here has a sophisticated English accent, who decides she is tired of the life as a princess on official duty and runs away. This is while she is on tour in Rome. She meets Gregory Peck on the street, who is a reporter looking for the story of a lifetime. This is what is similar to It Happened One Night, where a young heiress to a rich family escapes to meet her lover, and is helped on the way by Clark Gable, who is a reporter looking for the story of a lifetime. Lo and behold, in both films the reporter and girl end up falling in love. However, Roman Holiday does distinguish itself quite clearly through the intricate details and humour, which is a bit different from It Happened One Night. And in the end, I didn’t feel bad towards the movie because of the many ways it reminded me of It Happened One Night, but for the great craft, charm and comedy.

The comedy in this film is very good. It is at times understated, but rarely becomes over the top. It does go to quite high places, but it doesn’t retract from the film because it has only few such moments and they are usually crucial to the narrative and very funny. A lot of this is due to the terrific performances, and although Audrey Hepburn takes a lot of the attention through her natural charm, I do feel this is quite a group effort. Gregory Peck always gets a bad deal from me when I watch him in films, because the first film I saw with him was To Kill a Mockingbird (Robert Mulligan, 1962) and to be honest, I don’t think he has ever done anything as good as that role, where he was fantastic. But he does hold his own in this film, and is always a presence, and has a wonderful comedy bit with Eddie Albert, who also adds a lot to the quality of the comedy in the film. One of the interesting elements of the film is how much of the narrative is about the spectacle of the ordinary. While people from ordinary lives in film escape to experience epic adventures, in this a woman from a very high position run escape to experience the ordinary. The director William Wyler does a great job creating spectacle out of the mundane and ordinary, and although a lot of this comes from the script, there is something about his directing which heighten the moment, and really captures the beauty of Rome in black and white. Roman Holiday was also one of the very early Hollywood films to go to such location shooting, and while I’ve never thought location shooting important or adding to the “realism” of a film, it really does create a wonderful atmosphere, which I feel is the most important part of location shooting.

Roman Holiday is a wonderful example of the classic Hollywood. It has got a strong script, great directing, wonderful cast and a fantastic location. This was also Audrey Hepburn’s first staring role, and she does a fantastic job with it, and won an academy award with it. As I’ve said, I have a sentimental feeling towards these old films, but if I look more objectively at them I can still tell that they are marvellously crafted. They really knew how to make films in those days…