House of Mirth and Movies

Criterion has announced their DVD releases, and The Small Back Room is among the releases. Major props to Criterion for continuing to release Powell and Pressburger films! Especially one as delicious as this. I can’t wait to see a better print and some special features, but in the mean time here is an old review of mine:

The darkest of their films I’ve seen, it’s about a neurotic scientist with one foot who is battling emotional, alcohol and relationship problems. The film is rather unusual as the harsh realism is contrasted by the adopted fantasy of their best known period. The film is visually stunning, something I’ve come to expect from all of the Archers’ work. It is drenched in the noir tradition. Sequences like the “whisky bottle” fantasy seem to have come under a lot of critisism, but I actually think they work quite well, although I’m not a huge fan of some of the sound devices. The film is ahead of it’s time in some regard, mirrowing a bit work of Dali in Spellbound and perhaps Lost Weekend from Wilder. I think this film has both beat though. David Farrar is brilliant in the lead role, moving in an entirely different direction than his performances in Gone to Earth and Black Narcissus. He is a commanding screen presence, and makes holds this film firmly down to earth. The suspence is also very effective, and the film generally succeeds on all levels. I only wish it were a touch longer, as it feels rushed, especially towards the end.

Juan Carlos Fresnadillo’s film, 28 Weeks Later evokes contemporary fears in a post September 11th world. The film plays heavily on imagery remiscent of the events, while also hinting at a post-war nation, not unlike Iraq, plagued by a troubled rebuilding stage. It plays with a growing distrust in figures of authority, down from fathers up to high ranking millitary officials, who cam in the form of U.S. lead NATO troops.

The first indication that England has begun to recover since the introduction of the rage virus, is the shot of a plane flying overhead. What begins as a hopeful image, descends quickly as the plane dissapears behind a tall skyscraper and the film establishes an immediate sense of doom. Further juxtaposed against imagery of a devastated London, the image takes on added meaning to anyone who watched the events of September 11th unfold on their television sets. As the film progresses the images become more overt and increasingly powerful. Doyle, a soldier who is outraged by the actions of his leaders sides with the civilians, acts as a guide to the ins and outs of military procedure. Before his death, the military in an attempt to eradicate anyone who may have survived (a Code Red was earlier signaled, which essentially is the green light to destroy the civilian populace to prevent the spread of the virus), sends out an unidentified poison gas into the streets. The gas can be best described as dust coloured, and even it’s slow movement through the streets is more like the after-effects of an explosion or collapse then any gas. It does not simply sit on the city, but rather engulfs it, invoking claustorphobia. The claustorphobia is not only physical, as the gas surrounds the car, but as it slowly cuts off all the streets the sense there is of being surrounded by an unstoppeable force with nowhere left to go.

This hopelessness is tied directly with a lack of faith, and outright fear of figures of authority. The film furthers this anxiety, by compromising the victims’ trust of all those in power, by having them betray and destroy those in positions of dependence. This idea is reinforced early in the film through the actions of the central father figure, Don (Robert Carlyle). His position as leader is established within the house of those hiding out, as he takes authority over the situation and comforts his wife as she contemplates what might of been had her children remained in England. However, once those infected with rage enter the house, he quickly retreats into a mode of self-preservation, leaving his wife and a young boy to fend for themselves. His negligence only grows in the film, as he lies to his children about what happened, and then breaches rules in order to see his wife, which causes the virus to spread once again through London. He becomes the alpha “zombie”, seemingly more evolved than the rest, as he is able to focus his attention and retains memories of his past life. Giving his character this added nuance furthers an almost conscious decision on his part to inflict destruction, while also reinforcing his children’s and wife’s fear of his abused power over them.

This idea of untrustworthy figures of authority is further reinforced by the military’s actions in lieu of the new outbreak. It is difficult to pin down the first instance where the viewer’s trust in the military is dispelled. Is it the infantile conversation of soldiers brandishing their guns while talking about jerking off? Or the condescending and reductive attitude they have towards the re-patrioted brits? Maybe it’s when they start shooting without prejudice at anyone who enters their field of view (although to be fair, this is a progressive scene, and there are several objectors to this place of action)? Regardless of the exact turning point, it is clear that once the virus has broken out that the military is no longer to be trusted. Their outright disregard for human life is somewhat dispelled by a few sympathetic characters, but overall the message is clear: when things turn for the worst, no one can be trusted. The fear that anyone, even those you trust most will turn against you, creates a uniquely paranoid atmosphere. This reflects not only a distrust of a nation in it’s leaders, but a wider fear of an unknown and invisible enemy. The film dares to associate the two, almost as members of the same kin. In a way, this equates those who are meant to be our protectors, with the very destructors of order and peace.

Using imagery strongly reminscent of the terrorist attacks on September 11th, Fresnadillo is able to tap into pervading social fears and anxieties relating to those in positions of power. Working from an inverted pyramid, the focus begins with a father who fails to protect his family, to a military turning on the very people they were charged to protect. The line between human and monster becomes increasingly blurred, as soon even some infected with the rage virus stop exihibiting symtoms. The world presented in 28 Weeks Later is one where no one can be trusted, and doom is unavoidable, if only because of the human error and lack of foresight.

I want to see it dammit! Someone out there, hear this call and get off your butt and supply me with the goods!!! PLEASE

The film noir protagonist is often jaded, morally ambiguous and obsessed. Inevitably he becomes so entranced with his goals and desires that he no longer is able to see the world from the outside in, becoming just as much a part of the noir landscape as the Venetian blinds or the sharp, cruel violence. From the beginning, Phillip Marlowe from Raymond Chandler’s novels stood apart from the pack in this respect. While jaded, he had a clear set of morals, and was detached from the dark world he investigated. Although there were always moments of loss, or brief lapses in calm, he maintained his composure until the very end. He is a unique and particular facet in noir, never tempted by greed but rather a desire to do good. In Robert Altman’s film, the Long Goodbye, this point is further emphasized as Marlowe’s familiar setting is altered beyond recognition. Manipulating the conventions of film noir, Altman further emphasizes Philip Marlowe as a sole force of good in a corrupt and indifferent society.

The Long Goodbye maintains the thematic associations of noir, while altering the physical environment. The location remains much the same, as the conventional noir, as the film is set in Los Angeles, and the urban setting plays heavily into creating mood and atmosphere. The most apparent change is no doubt the shift from black and white to colour. The added choice to expose the undeveloped film negative to additional pure light in post production, until the colours were softened and the darks faded, further differentiate the look with the genre’s original stylistic trademark. Instead of the high contrast, low key lighting that characterizes film noir, the film is almost washed away. This technique works at creating a similar atmosphere as the traditional noir model despite being so different. Life and existence lack all vibrancy, and the uniform shade of grey that seems to pervade every scene emphasizes the moral ambiguity of all those who inhabit the city. There is little difference between black and white, so everyone is living in a perpetually grey and faded environment, living between the traditional models of good and evil instead of clearly on one side or the other. Another obvious change to the noir model, is quite obviously the time update. While film noir in it’s purest form trickled out of existence towards the end of the 1950s, this film updates the setting to the early 1970s to rather drastic results. Compared to many neo-noir contemporaries, the film immediately felt less like a nostalgic journey, but rather a re-exploration of themes and characters that continued to be relevant in the modern world. In the short documentary, Rip Van Marlowe, Altman remarks that he wanted to update the setting but act as if Philip Marlowe had awaked from a twenty odd year slumber. This further ostracises the character, as he stands out not only by his unique moral conviction, but by his appearance, behaviour and also his array of nostalgic cultural allusions. The only moment he even hints he is aware he’s existing in the 1970s is when he demands to see the governor, Ronald Reagan. Even so, as Reagan was at the very least a familiar actor from the 30s and 40s, this reference is not entirely out of place for a detective from the past.

Gould’s incarnation of Marlowe however, is a far cry from the cool, nearly untouchable Marlowe of the 1940s. He allows his emotions to get the better of him, and not only pursues the case on his own volition, he cannot help letting his thoughts and emotions hang on his sleeve. Even the delivery of lines is more laconic, and far less comfortable. There is clearly a lot more disdain for his wise cracks, as characters constantly remark on their lack of cleverness or humour. Even when other characters attempt to usurp the unique stylized way of speaking they are met with disdain. While he is being interrogated by the police, this exchange goes on between two officers:

“He’s a cutie pie”
“No, he’s a real smart-ass”
“That’s what I mean”
“Why don’t you say what you mean?”

This short exchange is revisited in different forms time and time again in the film, as characters never say what they mean or are questioning the intentions of others. Most are manipulating and lying those they are speaking to, but Marlowe uses his words as shield to protect himself. Throughout the film Marlowe has a mantra that he repeats every time something happens that upsets or bothers him, often nonchalant he’ll quip “It’s okay with me”. The line works to create a dichotomy between what is said and what is done throughout the film. Marlowe says that it’s okay if his cat leaves, but spends much of the rest of the film looking for him. This happens time and time again, as he feigns disinterest to protect himself from the darkness that surrounds and inhibits him.

While efforts are made to physically distinguish Marlowe from the world around him by the way he dresses and behaves, even making him the only character to smoke during the entire length of the film, it is his unique sense of morality that truly sets him a part. Marlowe remains the measure of goodness amidst a sea of corruption and lies, but unfortunately people take advantage of his generosity and trust. The film establishes this in the film’s opening sequence as Marlowe goes out of his way to feed his cat, even trying to mask a generic cat food brand for his pet’s favourite in an effort to get him to eat. The cat, however, realising that he will not get what he wants promptly leaves never to be seen again. This pattern is repeated throughout the film, as everyone Marlowe trusts betrays him once he has exhausted his use.

This is a rather common theme in noir, the idea of using or abusing others to serve your own means. Carol Reed in particular explores this in both The Third Man and Odd Man Out, as the film’s respective protagonists are used as tools by those who surround them. In The Third Man, Holly Martin is used by Harry Lime as an alibi and essentially a patsy, who Lime believes is too stupid or trusting, that he would not even begin to question the validity of his friend’s actions or death. Odd Man Out similarly, is the story of a young Irishman who is a member of the IRA, who finds himself severely injured and alone in Dublin. As he attempts to find his way home he meets at least half a dozen people, each of whom desire to use him to serve their own agenda. Even the woman who claims to love him uses him disregarding his intentions or state of body and mind. Especially in the case of the Third Man, there is a moment of enlightenment when the protagonist becomes aware he is being used so heinously, and decides to take action. In the Long Goodbye, Marlowe takes this leap as well as he heads to Mexico where he finds Terry Lenox alive and well despite being assured of his death. He finds himself in nearly the same situation as Holly Martin, and is confronted with an incredibly moral dilemma (another staple of noir). His final decision is to kill him, and when he does the film ends rather abruptly. He is not offered time to explain, or mull over his actions so the audience is left to come to terms with the unexpected transformation of their lead character. Intentionally or not, Altman brings Marlowe to the level of the prototypical noir protagonist, plagued by moral doubt and uncertainty. By killing Lenox, he is in a way becoming all that he despises about the world, however also clearly demonstrating his attitude on how he has been treated, essentially his entire life, by all those he loved or trusted.

The Long Goodbye also features other noir staples like the femme fatale, the convoluted storyline and the criminal element. The film is focused primarily on it’s protagonist, and his experience as a character in the modern world. Philip Marlowe’s psychological journey is complex, and strays from the original model of his character. However, even with the many changes brought to the genre, the core remains the same, cementing the genre’s continued resonance in an ever changing world. The pervading darkness and nihilism continues to speak to audiences, as does the jaded central characters who are looking to make their dreams come true, or do the right thing in life, only to be met with failure or death.

In honour of my continued business due to school, but desire to keep up with a blog another screencap challenge! This time it’s all about pre-code Hollywood, in tribute to Lauren’s month dedicated to the era over at The Life Cinematic. Same rules as last time (since twice as many caps, you can ask up to 7 yes or no questions), still no prizes. Have fun and good luck! Also, congrats to Sven who guessed 4 films correctly, more than anyone else

1.

Anwer: The Sign of the Cross Respondent: AAG

2.

Anwer: Tabu: A Story of the South Seas Respondent: Mango

3.

4.

5.

Answer: A Farewell to Arms Respondent: Mango

6.

Answer: The Bitter Tea of General Yen Respondent: Mango

7.

Answer: Blonde Venus Respondent: Lauren

8.

Answer: No Man of her Own Respondent: Mango

9.

Answer: The Emperor Jones Respondent: Mango

10.

Answer: Bird of Paradise Respondent: Mango

11.

Answer: The Mask of Fu Manchu Respondent: Mango

12.

Answer: Footlight Parade Respondent: Mango

13.

Answer: Waterloo Bridge Respondent: AAG

14.

Answer: Scarface Respondent: Mango

15.

Answer: Night Nurse Respondent: Mango

16.

Answer: The Divorcee Respondent: Lauren

17.

Answer: The Song of Songs  Respondent: TGT11

18.

Answer: Christopher Strong Respondent: Lauren

19.

Answer: Morocco Respondent: AAG

20.

This potential feature would probably usually expand to include 10 films, but I have been really busy over the past month and have not been able to watch as much as I’m used to. As such, this month, I can only recommend five films. The list is composed entirely of first time viewings, and is ordered (quite obviously) alphabetically. Aside from La Ronde, I haven’t written out any posts on any of these films, and since school is out in a week, if asked I’d be happy to cook up some thoughts on any of the others.

Ballad of a Soldier (1959)

Exotica (1994)

Grey Gardens (1975)

Hiroshima, mon amour (1959)

La Ronde (1950)

I I caught the 37 minute version of the 1962 remake of my Favourite Wife, Something’s Got to Give. Production was halted when Marilyn Monroe was fired, and while she was re-hired, she died before the film could resume shooting. It’s unfair to really judge the film in it’s current form, but I personally think it had the potential of at the very least being quite entertaining. Marilyn Monroe is an incredible screen presence, and not only is she absolutely beautiful here, she emits an incredible joy. For me, the best snippet, even above the skinny dipping is easily when Monroe first enters the film, where she meets her children who she hasn’t seen for five years. As they are quite young, they don’t even recognize her as their mother, but instead of lingering on this sadness she takes advantage of her reunion to enjoy the presence of her children. It’s an incredibly joyful sequence, and is filled with warmth.

I’ve always attested that Monroe was a great actress, and I think while especially apparent in her later films, like Some Like it Hot and the Misfits, watching even her first starring role, Don’t Bother to Knock, there is a sense of not only a great screen presence, but a great talent as well. She had that rare quality that when onscreen, you can’t take your eyes off of her. I think this is less do to her beauty, but more to an incredible vulnerability, mystery and intelligence that lies behind her eyes. This is a weird tangent, but the reason why I cannot really immerse myself in these new 3-D films like Beowulf is the emptiness in the eyes. I think whoever said they were the portal to the soul were really onto something.

Even in it’s extremely shortened and incomplete form, I think there is some worth in Something’s Got to Give, and if you have a chance you should see it. It has a few laughs, and despite it’s fractured nature is not difficult to follow.

You get bragging rights, and it’s kinda open rather than having people send in their answers. In a way, it serves those who see the post first rather than the person who would reckonize the most. Since some (not all) of these are tough, I’ll allowing everyone 3 “yes or no” questions. Good luck, and have fun

1.

Answer: Love Streams Respondent: Jos

2.

Answer: The Silence of the Sea Respondent: Sven!

3.

Answer: Liliom Respondent: Sven!

4.

Answer: Magnificent Obssesion Respondent: Mango

5.

Answer: Daisies Respondent: Skritek

6.

Answer: The Heartbreak Kid Respondent: Wigwam!

7.

Answer: Viridiana  Respondent: Sven!

8.

Answer: Les Disparus de Saint-Agil Respondent: Lylah Clare

9.

Answer: Johnny Guitar Respondent: Sven!

10.

Answer: Orphans of the Storm Respondent: Mango

What are the 39 Steps? When Canadian, Richard Hannay (Robert Donat), extends his good will to a woman on the run he finds out she is a spy hiding from assassins. She briefly mentions the 39 Steps, but is murdered before there is any chance for her to elaborate. Finding out what this mean is crucial to Hannay, and the source of as many laughs as pains. Annabelle Smith (Madeleine Carroll) suggests innocently that perhaps it’s a pub, clearly underestimating their importance. When Hannay finally gets his answer, it’s brief, to the point and apparently meaningless, “The Thirty-Nine Steps is an organization of spies, collecting information on behalf of the foreign office of ….”. Simply put, the 39 Steps is the MacGuffin. The ingredient of vital importance to the characters, but otherwise meaningless to the audience. Although not likely the first instance of the device in a Hitchcock film, it’s the first time that it dares to flaunt it’s presence with such audacity. The film essentially serves as a blueprint of most of Hitchcock’s themes and ideas from here on out, especially highlighting the importance of journey and the idea of the wrong man. The film though, does not succumb to the fate of the archetype as many other films of it’s type do. It’s brash, exciting and funny, ranking not only among his best British pictures, but near the height of his very oeuvre. By my rankings, it falls only behind Notorious, and perhaps Vertigo.

Where others fail, the 39 Steps succeed. As good as North by Northwest may be, putting it up against this early Hitchcock classic it’s quickly apparent that it’s more of a vignette piece than a cohesive picture. It’s especially hurt by the fact that not all these sequences are at the same level of interest, and instead of serving as downtime from the more exciting sequences (like the crop duster) they only slow down an otherwise enjoyable and quickly paced adventure film. Despite the fact this earlier film follows nearly the same structure, travelling quite literally across England, it feels far more cohesive than the later effort. Not to mention, outclassing in every possible way Saboteur, another Hitchcock film that features the wrong man on the run. The reason why this film feels more cohesive is not easy to pin down. I think one can credit a lot of this down to tone. Whereas North by Northwest is clearly more tongue and cheek, focusing on grandeur rather than character the drama is so inflated that those smaller scenes get lost in the excess. While there is definitely a lot of humour in the 39 Steps, the film has far more urgency and sympathy for it’s protagonist. The scale of events is also far more focused, and lends itself far more to an intimate experience between the events on the screen and the characters.

I appreciate this sense of intimacy between audience and players, as the film very self-consciously makes reference to the fact it is entertainment, and a show. The film plays into the idea that “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players”… The film is book ended by scenes in a theatre. They establish the film’s tone, as well as serving as an instigator of events and premise. The act on display is Mr. Memory, who is essentially a human encyclopaedia, he asks the audience to ask him any question and he will answer correctly. Already there is a sense of audience and performer being not only crucial to each other’s existence, but evoking an act far less structured by a script, but rather the unpredictability of the real world. When a gun goes off in the theatre, someone who appears to be the manager handles the situation in an extremely peculiar manner. Instead of calling for the police, or even running himself, he demands the band plays something, in hopes that perhaps it will calm the frenzy. Instead you have diegetic score, and an initiation into the construction that is stage, or in this case cinema. The film doesn’t attempt to vilify the structure, nor does it attempt create a self-aware audience, but in a way it highlights the intimacy capable from the medium. I think that’s why I prefer this film to Hitchcock’s later efforts in this particular form, it lacks that closeness of this picture. Even the two main characters are bound into a false sense of closeness as they are bound by handcuffs. Does this barrier make it any less close, any less real? I don’t think so.