Cinema Talk

Another very impressive effort from the Archers, although this one is a lot less dark and complicated than The Small Back Room. The cinematography, on the other hand, is just as excellent, if not better. If The Small Back Room excelled in presenting a claustrophobic arena pushing down on its protagonist, I Know Where I’m Going! excels in placing a overly organized character in an environment that is both literally and emotionally, too open for her. While the nearly fantastical depiction of a romance does show some similarities with Frank Borzage’s work, I found that this had more in common with the cinema of Hiroshi Shimizu.

Like Shimizu, the story here isn’t all remarkable. The characters aren’t observed, or developed in a extensive or attentive manner. Instead, the story here plays out like a poem, which perfectly underscores the poetry of the Archers’ images. The characters of Joan Webster (Wendy Hiller) and Torquil MacNeil (Roger Livesey) are full and complex characters, but this isn’t an Ozu film, we aren’t going to get complete portraits of them or anybody else in the film. Like Shimizu’s work, the audience is often left to fill in some of the details, as the main intention is depicting the far from objective event of falling in love.

Actually, there’s more than a few similarities between this and Gremillon’s Maldone. The Archers aren’t trying to make a straight-forward, or even realistic picture, because the fact remains that their content isn’t exactly ordinary. This, however, does not cheapen their sentiments or observations in the least. If anything, it makes them slightly more accessible. On the other hand, this does mean the film is a little far from being the “truth” (if that makes sense) but again, the intentions of the filmmakers does not lie in finding the profound in the simple, but perhaps in finding the simplistic in the profound.

If you can follow me then you can agree that the latter approach is very common in conventional, modern filmmaking. This doesn’t mean the Archers or even Shimizu are forerunners to Joe Wright, or whoever else makes “romance” films these days. Shimizu and the Archers are operating on a level that acknowledges the limits of their dramatized scenarios, and by turn, then transcends such limits. I Know Where I’m Going! doesn’t overwhelmingly move me lik Shimizu’s best work does, but it tries awfully hard to do so in a similar way. I think my words have sold the Archers (and even Shimizu) short as merely variations of conventional depictions of love stories, but there is something in the work of all three directors that elevates itself beyond simple wish fulfillment or a way to kill time. I can’t put my finger on it, but that is exactly why one should see their films.

This, on the other hand, is purely escapist entertainment, but it’s so hard to criticize it when it unfolds in such a fascinating way. It’s not going to move anybody beyond the simplicity of their manipulated reflexes, but it is a nearly perfect, twisting narrative wrapped up in some gorgeous high-contrast visuals. To make things simple, it is a blast to watch.

It is much of a surprise to learn that the film’s director and screenwriter, Sidney Gilliat, worked on more than a few scripts with Hitchcock. Like many of Hitchcock’s earlier British efforts, Gilliat’s film manages to effortlessly thrown in elements of any genre he chooses to explore. There’s comedy in the form of Alastair Sim’s wonderful performance as Inspector Cockrill. There’s romance in the form of Mr. Eden and Nurse Linley. There’s dysfunctional relationships in the form of, well, everyone, but Dr. Barnes and Nurse Linley specifically. The script, which is based on a Christianna Brand novel, unfolds like a “how-to” in pulling the audience into a situation that is not the least bit likely to cause personal reflection.

When I say stuff like this about Gilliat’s film, or even some of Hitchcock’s, I am, by no means, trying to downplay the accomplishment of entertaining, nay, engrossing a mass audience. I’ve mentioned before that Gilliat’s screenplay throws in so many genre elements, and he makes it look easy. At the same time, however, if one reflects back on all the progression of the story, not to mention the clues that subtly come afloat in the beginning, it becomes apparent how extremely difficult it is to write a story that is so concerned with the behavior of every character as well as every little action they perform. It’s a remarkable achievement, albeit one in a field that has been completely exhausted by modern filmmaking.

I’ve only seen a few films from Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger and coincidentally, each has been in black and white. This isn’t the smartest plan on my part, as it seems the Archers became famous for lavish technicolor epics like Black Narcissus and The Red Shoes, but I have some (perhaps bizarre?) aversion to early Technicolor. So far I’ve managed to dodge all of their bright and vibrantly photographed pictures for ones that are, perhaps only on the surface, gritty and more realistic. The Small Back Room, made right after one of their most of colorful pictures, is a perfect example of this.

While I still believe this is a very realistic picture, I have to confess that it is undeniably melodramatic and well, not very realistic. While I usually see the heightening of dramatic events as a negative, they’re not much of a problem here. The Archers never really depend on physical events to carry their narrative. Instead, a majority of development comes from the psychological strain on the film’s protagonist, Sammy Rice, an alcoholic bomb expert is called in to diagnose a new German weapon. Sammy’s fall from sanity is depicted in a rather silly manner. In one of the few call backs to the Archers’ previous fantasy endeavors, Sammy’s whiskey bottle physically towers over him.

There’s a few other dubious and awkward instances of symbolic imagery, but it never really derails the tone from its main track. Its not exactly an downbeat or downplayed drama, but it manages to maintain a simplistic and believable atmosphere. The problems between Sammy and his girlfriend / secretary, Susan, aren’t exactly explored to the point of making this a “complicated relationship” film, but there’s enough tension between the two to add to Sammy’s ever-growing stress level.

In this sense, the story plays out not unlike a western from Anthony Mann. It’s definitely a work of “genre” and/or “populist” cinema but there’s enough care and attention devoted to the character(s) that it manages to come off just as much as a true work of art. It probably helps a good deal that the film is astonishingly beautiful, probably even more so than A Canterbury Tale, which gets a lot more praise. Sure, this isn’t exactly a bank-busting, career sacrifice work of personal expression, but it is probably more effective (to the public, at least) as an escapist film that has bursts of personal emotions.