Cinema Talk

Well, let’s just say Lang has done a hell of a lot better. There isn’t anything about this film that doesn’t fit into Lang’s universe of shadowy cinematography occupied by equally shadowy character. The problem, instead, is that things feel a bit too Lang-ian, almost to the point that this feels like something of a parody, or at least the imitation of a less confident and less competent director. On the other hand, the simplicity of the characters and the melodrama of their interactions does lend the film something of a “campy” charm.

I would never argue in favor of Lang being a humanist, but I do find that, in his very best films, he does have something resembling sympathy for his characters. This is not the case here, though. Pretty much every person that shows up is a pawn for manipulating and advancing the already shrill and over-the-top narrative. It only takes a few minutes of the film to realize that very little character development or even character depiction will be going on. To call these people thinly characterized implies a oblique tone, which couldn’t be further from the truth. The drama here comes almost entirely from the advancement of the narrative.

As he often does with B-level material, Lang lifts the film from the depths of MST3K fodder to a genuine art film. The cinematography, courtesy of Edward Cronjager – who also shot Lubitsch’s colorful Heaven Can Wait, is as excellent as I anticipated. The opening “pillow shots” are actually quite brilliant, but fortunately bring the film down by building up the tension for something more complicated, and/or not so silly. Overall, this is probably a bit more entertaining than The Woman in the Window but I think that’s a result of the previously mentioned “camp” appeal. It might be a bit better visually as well, but overall, not nearly as rewarding as a whole.

A slight step down from the greatness of Quatorze Juillet and A nous la liberte, but still a very impressive film overall. All the things I’ve come to love from Clair – his craftsmanship and his relentless romanticism – are certainly present here. In a few particular scenes, there are beautiful examples of what makes his work so touching, not to mention so woefully overlooked. Quite honestly, there were more than a few instances in which I was on the verge of tears. I suppose this should make it Clair’s masterpiece, at least on paper, but for all the powerful sequences (of which there are many) there is just as much time in which Clair’s magic is idle.

Once again, the center of Clair’s attention is a love story. This time, however, it is between three people. There’s no way to describe the central romantic relationship without making it sound like a conventional “love triangle” narrative and considering the tenderness with which Clair handles his content, I certainly don’t want to give such an impression. The story concerns a young street performer, Albert, who meets and simultaneously falls in love with Pola. There is a big problem, though, and it is getting in the way of Albert and his love of Pola. The singer’s performances are a goldmine for pickpockets, whose “work” makes Albert himself look suspicious.

The sincerity here is overwhelming, as it is in almost all of the films I’ve seen from Clair, and as I already mentioned, said sincerity has its moments. Some sequences are, at the risk of sounding hyperbolic, some of the saddest and most beautiful things I’ve seen in all of cinema. Why, then, is the film not a definite favorite of mine? Well, I have a feeling that some day it may become exactly that, but for now, I find it a good deal of Clair’s execution of some more conventional narrative elements to be tedious. Like he threw in something more audience-friendly to keep them happy while he was busy working on a deeply personal expression. It’s a very difficult film to get my head around, and surely, rewatches will be in order. But for now, I can admire Clair’s technical accomplishments and be moved by his best and most heartbreaking sequences.

Another nice, solid noir from Fritz Lang’s American period. Unlike most of his films from the 50s, this one is loaded with his trademark (shadow-filled) visual sensibility. This is, at least from a cinematography standpoint, quintessential film noir. The cast is ideal too, Edward G. Robinson, Joan Bennett, Dan Duryea all deliver riveting performance. This is essential to as the story itself is rather unremarkable, not to mention hard to believe in the first place. Once one gets past the melodramatic turns, it’s pretty smooth sailing.

Edward G. Robinson plays Professor Richard Wanley, a teacher of criminology studies at Gotham College. For reasons left unknown, he lives away from his family, who he sends off back “home” in the very beginning. His life is filled with fascinating conversations with his colleagues, and well, nothing much else. Leaving his apartment, he passes by a painting of a woman. He finds it fascinating, and his interest only becomes deeper when a woman (Joan Bennet) who bears a striking resemblance to the woman in the painting, approaches him. The woman is Alice Reed and, despite the implied age difference, they hit it off. They wind up back at Alice’s apartment, but their good time is ruined when one of Alice’s recent flings come crashing into her apartment. He attacks Wanley, who stabs the man with a pair of scissors in self-defense.

At this point, the audience is required to use their imagination a little bit. Being a criminology expert, Wanley should call the police and admit to murdering in self-defense. Curiously, he doesn’t and decides to dump the body in a nearby forest. The film’s finale (which I’ll try not to give away) does offer something of an explanation to Wanley’s poor judgment, but it doesn’t make his decision any easier to accept. Despite his profession, Wanley makes a couple of key areas when disposing of the body, as well as when he returns to the crime scene as a guest to one of his colleagues.

The not so logical narrative does not overwhelm the rest of the film’s strength. As expected, the cinematography is stunning, and as I already mentioned, the performances are all pretty decent. There’s nothing particularly unique about this picture, especially since Lang would collaborate with a majority of the same cast two years later with Scarlet Street, which is better remembered. It’s a nice stylistic exercise for Lang, but it isn’t entirely remarkable on its own. Not a bad film from any stretch of the imagination, but not really a great one either.

Another fine effort from Marco Bellocchio, but in all honesty, I think there’s a very good reason why this film isn’t as famous as Fists in the Pockets: it’s not nearly as good. Sure, Bellocchio’s previous effort walks a rather sketchy line between goofy horror and “art film” but there’s nothing exactly irritating about his attempts to scare the audience. Here, his intentions are to preach to the audience and boy does he ever preach! I can see how some of this stuff is suppose to be funny, but it ultimately comes up as being silly near-slapstick humor placed in a political context rather than actual political humor.

One could argue that this Bellocchio’s own Before the Revolution but doing so would, in my opinion, be selling Bertolucci’s masterpiece short. His film has plenty of political and philosophical exercises as well, but they are all done within the background of a interesting and complicated relationship. The opposite is being done here, a tumultuous relationship is providing the background for a “serious” political statement. While I guess it is good that Bellocchio doesn’t try to take himself too seriously with his convictions, I also wish I wouldn’t have to sit through his blabbering on the state of modern politics. This is more of a personal preference, in all actuality this isn’t an overwhelmingly political film, but it still is a political film.

Don’t get me wrong, though, there are plenty of good things here. The cinematography, courtesy of the prolific Tonino Delli Colli (who collaborated with everyone from Leone to Pasolini) is absolutely stunning. It certainly doesn’t hurt that Bellocchio filled his movie with plenty of beautiful women. On that note, the careers of the entire cast (save maybe Glauco Mauri who would go to star in Argento’s Deep Red) would be almost exclusively downhill from this point on. Considering the wordiness of the script (another fault in Bellocchio’s corner) all of the performances are handled rather well with a very naturalistic tone. I certainly wouldn’t advise anyone against seeing this picture, but maybe that’s because I have a soft spot for black-and-white Italian films from the 1960s. Approach with caution, I suppose.

Not quite as innovative as Á nous la liberté (which actually came two years earlier) but it certainly is just as funny. Also, instead of a rather heavy-handed rant against industrialism and everything it entails, this is a very sweet and tender ode to a young romance. In its own cutesy (not a fault in this case) and very French way, it reminds me of a Frank Borzage film. It is perhaps one-dimensional and unrealistic in its depiction of love, but it feels right and looks wonderful.

Jean, a taxi cab driver and Anna, a flower girl, are very much in love during the celebration of Bastille Day in Paris, France. They quarrel, but they fail back into eachothers’ arms before the night is over. Jean returns back to his apartment with a not so pleasant surprise, his ex-lover Paula. It only takes a few minutes to realize that she is a manipulator, the antithesis of Anna, and she talks Jean into letting her spend the night. With her arrival comes the departure of Jean and Anna’s relationship. She pushes Jean into the shady lifestyle of gangster, a life where his closest friends are missing. More importantly, Anna is nowhere to be seen as well.

Taking the Borzage comparison into account, it is pretty easy to see where the narrative turns from here. Needless to say, the conclusion is not just touching, it is life-affirming, assuming the viewer is in the right state of mind and isn’t a completely hopeless cynic. The depiction of love here (and in a majority of Borzage’s pictures) is naive, almost fairytale-esque, but there’s a grain of truth to it all, and this tiny truthful fragment is what makes Clair’s picture work.

Clair’s formal experimentation from his previous films is pretty much absent here, but instead his aesthetic represents a well-formed, albeit more conventional cinematic presentation. The sound here is natural, not ambient abstraction, which kind of helps the comedic relief flow much better, but I suppose it calls less attention to itself. Depending on your outlook, this is either a good thing or a bad thing. Watching Clair’s work for its technical accomplishments is a just thing to do, he was (or is) a master, but his art goes beyond its form. There’s something profoundly moving about this love story, no matter how predictable and old-fashioned it seems.