At which time Ben and I bask in the glow of F.W. Murnau's Sunrise (USA, 1927)
So Ben sez:
When it turns out that, no, he hasn't drowned after giving her the bullrushes, and no, she hasn't drowned after he and almost all of the village have given up, because yes, the bullrushes kept her alive - I turned to Monica and said: "They're doing something right because I am SO into it!"
A Christian morality tale with semiotics a seven year old could decode - what a great film! There are, of course, some wonderful photographic techniques and a lot of cool production values. Plus some fine hammy performances and something for everyone. Monica figured out before I did that trouble would return on the voyage home. But well before this, back in the big city, we were scratching our heads for a while, in a good way, wondering what the story could possibly be now that they had reconciled and were groovin' on the town. It was at this point that I remembered that hack phrase to describe a movie with something in it for everyone: "You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll kiss five bucks (in 1927, how many cents?) goodbye." But there really is something for everyone in Sunrise. Melodramatic terror, automobile action in the street, schitck humour with booze and a fast pig, and of course, romance, redemption and the happiest of endings.
I am fascinated by the sactimonious and cliche dualism in the film between the upstanding rural community and sin city. Naturally, the film allows us to have our cake and eat it too. We get to got to town to party but only on a day pass - forget about the (late) night life - and if not for the urban vixen who corrupted the idyllic country to begin with, our couple would never have gone to town at all. This sort of reactionary claptrap about the righteous heartland takes up an entire wing of the library in the 1950s and by the time of Reagan it will have a library unto itself, today Bush is ready to burn all but such books. But in the 1920s, the Jazz Age and Cole Porter talking about not getting kicks from cocaine, it surprised me somewhat. Another point of interest for me, the geographic manifestation of this morality as depicted in the film. Where exactly is their little hamlet? At the beginning of the film I thought we were in Europe. Talk about quaint. Then, to be told that they live a mere row-boat ride away from the big city, poetic licence or just New Jersey? Fascinating captain.
Everything is on the sleeve but damn if I didn't tear up. A great film really. And yes, how wonderful it is to be shown the story, to have a genuinely visual narrative. But I am confused. I have a little non-book book I picked up 20 years ago for 69 cents listing the Academy winners and for 1927 it lists Wings. I went to the Academy site but found it unclear for that year. Speaking of confusion, what is 5 Minutes to Live video and why in hell do they put that wacko picture on the cover?
And then there's Dan:
As usual, your review has revved up my engine. I must see the film again. It has been quite awhile, but the coalescing memory for me is the film's almost gothic mood, which was quite striking, and achieved largely by cinematographic techniques that must have been quite startling at the time. The story is corny, and having it turn on the melodramatic discovery (or non-discovery? It has been awhile) of a dead body is pushing things. But, like you said, it is pretty damned irresistable regardless of these concessions to cliche. Murnau's nearly unrivaled ability to tell the story through pictures, not banal intertitles, is what won me over. I don't care if the whole thing is essentially a reactionary tract, because it's such a gorgeous one, so clearly ahead of its time techniques-wise, that I can live with that.
As for the Oscar, my bad: The film was MADE in 1927, but it didn't win the Oscar until 1929, which is the first year Oscars were awarded. And it won for "Unique and Artistic Production" (as far as I can tell, the only time this award was given out) as opposed to "Best Picture" which did indeed to to Wings. The film also won for best cinematography; they sure got that one right.
And I have no idea what's happening with that cover. I bought it at the Tillicum Plic a Flic sell off. Five Minutes to Live was the subtitle of a trashy crime flick (called Door-to-Door Maniac) starring Johnny Cash, who plays a bankrobbing hood, back in the 60s Trippy shit, from the looks of it, but I can't say I've ever seen it. Hell, even though I bought it about five years ago I haven't even seen this particular video of Sunrise; my memory of it is more distant. I believe I borrowed a video from the library many moons ago.
Then Ben;
You are right about the almost gothic mood of the film - hey Murnau made a vampire flic right? - though not in the city when they are enjoying the sights and sounds. There is a slight undertow during this section, to be sure, something carnival-sinister, especially considering what came before, we are suspicious, but the gothic quality is really in the rural community. I was groping for this when I mentioned that at first I thought it was set in Europe and I referred to it as a "hamlet." One thing is definite, the way the potential murder is portrayed does not belong to the noir, detective, essentially urban genre. On the contrary, it has much more of a German expressionist feeling, much more of a horror genre sensibility, set in the no-pistol-no-clean-killing country sphere. To reiterate, the dualism of the town and the country is at the moral center of the film and this is paralleled aesthetically between the bright lights and feeding the chickens. This is way I am so keen to know where exactly the story is set. There is a wonderful transition between the two worlds when they hop on a suburban trolly car - which seems to appear Narnia-like out of the Black Forest! And yes, they were right to give it the award for cinematography. I was too casual about this before. There are some wild tracking shots, montage, double and triple exposures, long perspective shots through multiple depths of field, and outstanding use of shadows and light. For what it is worth, a couple of times during the city scenes, I thought of Ikiru. I'm not sure why. Something about being confronted by the comotion of it all, so much sound and fury signifying nothing in the context of people searching inward for redemption. Of course, Ikiru is existentially sublime whereas Sunrise is, well, more in keeping with the Ned Flanders paradign, what my uncle used to call, Our Lady of Perpetual Heartburn.
Wherein bon vivant Ben Livant and I (Dan Jardine) speak our minds about movies, mostly.
Saturday, May 06, 2006
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
United 93 (USA, 2006, Greengrass) AKA Flight into Obliviousness
The events of 9/11 were paradigm-shifting for many folks, an opportunity to take a closer look at the reasons that the world hates Americans and all they stand for. It seems such an opportunity has been lost on most folks, who choose instead to bury their collective heads in the sand and wait for the Powers That Be to re-shape the world back into that delicious, easily-digestable and nutritiously-empty Krispy Kreme donut of their dreams. So, what better to allow us all to continue to live in mindless reverie than a film that purports to be about the heroic deeds of men and women aboard 9/11's United flight 93. How better to salve the psychic wounds of a nation than to present as docudrama a seemingly "objective" view of the events of this fatal flight, one that is so lacking in insight and analysis that it masquerades as a cinematic Mobius strip, purporting to allow viewers to apply their own emotional and intellectual constructs, meanwhile abrogating all responsibility to make some sort of sense out of these world-changing events.
And just how disengenuous and irresponsible can these filmmakers be?
The events of this day were not merely isolated tragic events, but were rather signals to the rest of the world that we were about to bear witness to a sea change in the way we conduct global relationships. However, Greengrass and crew choose to ignore the larger socio-political context and focus instead upon the lives and more accurately the deaths of the people aboard the plane. Yet for all the apparent intimacy, there is no attempt to get to know these people as human beings; they are all cogs in the film's machinery. Similarly, we in the audience play our parts as passive observers caught up in the inevitable events on the screen, but with no way to understand their meaning or comprehend their importance. So, in the end, if there is no larger context provided, and no depth to the characterizations, you have to ask yourself, what is the point? The audience's isolation from understanding and human value reduces the film to a fear-mongering exercise at best, and a prolongued and agonizing snuff film at worst.
For more, there's an interesting conversation going on about this movie here:
http://www.cinemarati.org/index.php/archives/healing-through-confrontation/
Score: 48/100
The events of 9/11 were paradigm-shifting for many folks, an opportunity to take a closer look at the reasons that the world hates Americans and all they stand for. It seems such an opportunity has been lost on most folks, who choose instead to bury their collective heads in the sand and wait for the Powers That Be to re-shape the world back into that delicious, easily-digestable and nutritiously-empty Krispy Kreme donut of their dreams. So, what better to allow us all to continue to live in mindless reverie than a film that purports to be about the heroic deeds of men and women aboard 9/11's United flight 93. How better to salve the psychic wounds of a nation than to present as docudrama a seemingly "objective" view of the events of this fatal flight, one that is so lacking in insight and analysis that it masquerades as a cinematic Mobius strip, purporting to allow viewers to apply their own emotional and intellectual constructs, meanwhile abrogating all responsibility to make some sort of sense out of these world-changing events.
And just how disengenuous and irresponsible can these filmmakers be?
The events of this day were not merely isolated tragic events, but were rather signals to the rest of the world that we were about to bear witness to a sea change in the way we conduct global relationships. However, Greengrass and crew choose to ignore the larger socio-political context and focus instead upon the lives and more accurately the deaths of the people aboard the plane. Yet for all the apparent intimacy, there is no attempt to get to know these people as human beings; they are all cogs in the film's machinery. Similarly, we in the audience play our parts as passive observers caught up in the inevitable events on the screen, but with no way to understand their meaning or comprehend their importance. So, in the end, if there is no larger context provided, and no depth to the characterizations, you have to ask yourself, what is the point? The audience's isolation from understanding and human value reduces the film to a fear-mongering exercise at best, and a prolongued and agonizing snuff film at worst.
For more, there's an interesting conversation going on about this movie here:
http://www.cinemarati.org/index.php/archives/healing-through-confrontation/
Score: 48/100
Monday, May 01, 2006
And so there is little question that Ben and I, having wallowed in the delights of Ernst Lubitch's Trouble in Paradise, give outselves a dose of To Be or Not to Be (USA, 1942)
Ben sed:
I am pround to report that going into this I was smart enough to refrain from expectation. More precisely, I just knew that 2Bor-2B could never be as wonderful as TinP and with this knowledge I was not disappointed.
You know I always watch a film before I consult whatever accompanying materials there may be. Fine. So, we are a mere five, ten minutes into the picture when I feel compelled to announce to all - the whole family watched this one - "Mel Brooks is a footnote to this movie." Then, halfway through, Monica points out that Brooks, in fact, did a remake of the darn thing. Ding! Of course he did, Ben you schmuck, you saw it! I remember being not too impressed at the time. My feeling was that Brooks was treading water with the Nazi schtick - who knew the man would eventually turn this bit into the toast of broadway? - and I also had the feeling that he was out to provide his wife with a vehicle. Would I have liked it better or worse had I known it was a cover version of and tribute to Lubitsch's schtick? I suppose I'll have to rent it and see how I feel about it now. Meanwhile, that Lubitsch went for this schtick in 1942 is pretty heavy, second I suppose only to Chaplin doing The Great Dictator.
I don't think this is such a great movie but it's pretty damn good. A few times it threatens to fall off of its comedic rails. Interestingly enough, this is not due to the setting, which is retrospectively for us in 2006 actually much more sinister than it initially was in 1942, at least before the full court propaganda press in the culture industries. No, the problem is that sometimes the thriller-suspense features of the plot dominate and the laughs drop by the wayside. This is hardly chronic, however, just occasional, but significant enough to mention. As for the seriousness of the situation intruding on things, I found that this was handled with great tact and I found the repeated reference to The Merchant of Venice acceptably poignant.
The other weakness of the film - and this did surprise me - Jack Benny. The box mentions that his performance is "understated.'' Yes, it's too understated. And I would like to take a second look at Brooks in this regard because he is broad broad broad and I think Benny should have exaggerated his performance. In some scenes, he functions as the straight man, especially against the Nazis and the other hammy actors in his troup, and this works. But up against Lombard - who is stellar; sexy, sarcastic and sincere at the same time - Benny should have been a bigger clown.
These two considerably significant reservations aside, the film is bloody clever on a bunch of levels, throughly engaging and serves up a bunch of hilarious bits from the supporting players. Definitely a good dose of big laughs. Lubitsch lampoons the Nazis, the theatre and - one more time folks - romantic relationships all at once. And with pretty much a perfect balance. I guess this is part of what they call "the Lubitsch touch.''
And Dan sez:
Like you, I saw this film after Trouble in Paradise (in fact, despite being familiar with the film's stellar reputation, I only sought it out after TIP pretty much insisted that I get off my ass and SEE THIS SUCKER), but unlike you I have not seen Mel Brook's remake thereof. Regardless, I share your sense that TBONTB suffers by comparison. These things are relative of course, in that Godfather II also suffers by comparison to Godfather I, and yet it's still one helluva film.
And so I come not to bury this film (through false compare), but to praise it for what it does well. As with TIP, Lubitsch is a master of witty banter and double entendre, and he has plenty of oportunities, given the scenario of the beautiful, philandering wife (Lombard is a marvel) and ineffectual hubby (I like Benny more than you, but this is tempered perhaps by the knowledge that until I saw this film, I was never much of a fan), to ply his trade. I was also impressed that Lubitsch was able to find a way to use both the theatre and the Nazis to ramp up the humour (this must have inspired Brooks to go the distance in The Producers. I hope that royalties from Springtime for Hitler in Germany were sent to Lubitsch's family); this struck me as simultaneously the film's greatest risk, and its greatest coup. I can see your point, though, that the film is only really working when it is funny, and it is not as consistently funny as it might have been, had it stayed the course and muted the thriller elements, perhaps just enough to remind us of the menace around these characters without taking us too long away from the cracker jack dialogue and zany hijinks of our married couple.
Loves my Lubitsch. Gotsta get me some more.
Ben sed:
I am pround to report that going into this I was smart enough to refrain from expectation. More precisely, I just knew that 2Bor-2B could never be as wonderful as TinP and with this knowledge I was not disappointed.
You know I always watch a film before I consult whatever accompanying materials there may be. Fine. So, we are a mere five, ten minutes into the picture when I feel compelled to announce to all - the whole family watched this one - "Mel Brooks is a footnote to this movie." Then, halfway through, Monica points out that Brooks, in fact, did a remake of the darn thing. Ding! Of course he did, Ben you schmuck, you saw it! I remember being not too impressed at the time. My feeling was that Brooks was treading water with the Nazi schtick - who knew the man would eventually turn this bit into the toast of broadway? - and I also had the feeling that he was out to provide his wife with a vehicle. Would I have liked it better or worse had I known it was a cover version of and tribute to Lubitsch's schtick? I suppose I'll have to rent it and see how I feel about it now. Meanwhile, that Lubitsch went for this schtick in 1942 is pretty heavy, second I suppose only to Chaplin doing The Great Dictator.
I don't think this is such a great movie but it's pretty damn good. A few times it threatens to fall off of its comedic rails. Interestingly enough, this is not due to the setting, which is retrospectively for us in 2006 actually much more sinister than it initially was in 1942, at least before the full court propaganda press in the culture industries. No, the problem is that sometimes the thriller-suspense features of the plot dominate and the laughs drop by the wayside. This is hardly chronic, however, just occasional, but significant enough to mention. As for the seriousness of the situation intruding on things, I found that this was handled with great tact and I found the repeated reference to The Merchant of Venice acceptably poignant.
The other weakness of the film - and this did surprise me - Jack Benny. The box mentions that his performance is "understated.'' Yes, it's too understated. And I would like to take a second look at Brooks in this regard because he is broad broad broad and I think Benny should have exaggerated his performance. In some scenes, he functions as the straight man, especially against the Nazis and the other hammy actors in his troup, and this works. But up against Lombard - who is stellar; sexy, sarcastic and sincere at the same time - Benny should have been a bigger clown.
These two considerably significant reservations aside, the film is bloody clever on a bunch of levels, throughly engaging and serves up a bunch of hilarious bits from the supporting players. Definitely a good dose of big laughs. Lubitsch lampoons the Nazis, the theatre and - one more time folks - romantic relationships all at once. And with pretty much a perfect balance. I guess this is part of what they call "the Lubitsch touch.''
And Dan sez:
Like you, I saw this film after Trouble in Paradise (in fact, despite being familiar with the film's stellar reputation, I only sought it out after TIP pretty much insisted that I get off my ass and SEE THIS SUCKER), but unlike you I have not seen Mel Brook's remake thereof. Regardless, I share your sense that TBONTB suffers by comparison. These things are relative of course, in that Godfather II also suffers by comparison to Godfather I, and yet it's still one helluva film.
And so I come not to bury this film (through false compare), but to praise it for what it does well. As with TIP, Lubitsch is a master of witty banter and double entendre, and he has plenty of oportunities, given the scenario of the beautiful, philandering wife (Lombard is a marvel) and ineffectual hubby (I like Benny more than you, but this is tempered perhaps by the knowledge that until I saw this film, I was never much of a fan), to ply his trade. I was also impressed that Lubitsch was able to find a way to use both the theatre and the Nazis to ramp up the humour (this must have inspired Brooks to go the distance in The Producers. I hope that royalties from Springtime for Hitler in Germany were sent to Lubitsch's family); this struck me as simultaneously the film's greatest risk, and its greatest coup. I can see your point, though, that the film is only really working when it is funny, and it is not as consistently funny as it might have been, had it stayed the course and muted the thriller elements, perhaps just enough to remind us of the menace around these characters without taking us too long away from the cracker jack dialogue and zany hijinks of our married couple.
Loves my Lubitsch. Gotsta get me some more.
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