Cinema Talk

Definitely one of Naruse’s most mature and technically impressive early films. While Ginza Gesho is still largely considered the launching point for the style and tone of Naruse’s most famous work, this little film (which clocks in at only 65 minutes) shows more than a few glimpses of the director’s brilliant work of the 1950s and 60s. Unlike all the other Naruse films I’ve seen from the 30s, this is easy to recognize as one of his. On the other hand, it is only 65 minutes long and I think the amount of characters Naruse is trying to juggle (about eleven in total) is just too much. An early blueprint for some of his refined works.

The story revolves around a jobless father, Ishimura, who depends on his nine children for financial support. The mindset of all the children begins to shift as the Sino-Japanese war rages on in the background. His oldest son slowly comes to realization that it’s preposterous for him and his siblings to support their parents, as opposed to the other way around. As it so often does in Naruse’s world, plenty of tension slowly begins to surface causing a rift in what is initially seen as a close family.

Of all the Naruse films I’ve seen, this one boasts one of the least star-studded casts. It might not be that accessible considering the fact that it is devoid of familiar faces, but the performances are still pretty impressive. I was particularly impressed by Takeshi Hirata who plays Eisaku, the scholarly middle child who wants to continue his education following graduation, but is pressured to take a job at a local factory. The parents here aren’t the most likable characters I’ve seen from a Naruse film, but they do avoid the pitfalls of coming off as “evil” parents. Not a masterpiece by any stretch, but still a nice early gem.

As of right now, this is definitely my favorite Luchino Visconti film and I don’t think it is a coincidence that it is also his most outright “comedic” effort. Although I’m very fond of everything I’ve seen from him, I have to admit that I get a strong “humorless” feeling from films like Rocco and His Brothers or White Nights. This is almost always a negative attribute for any director to have so it was quite reassuring to see that he was able to make something that didn’t take itself too seriously, but, at the same time, not lose any of his personal touches. This definitely fits that description.

The story is centered around Anna Magnani’s character, Maddalena Cecconi, an overprotective mother that sees a tremendous opportunity for her daughter when legendary director Alessandro Blasetti announces that he is looking for a young girl for his latest film. Magnani’s performance is likely one of the biggest selling points here. She’s not my favorite actress ever, but she is absolutely perfect here. She carries over the tragic tone of her character from Rome, Open City, which could be awkward since the consequences here aren’t nearly as great. But in a way, this tragic acting style works perfectly for a dedicated, gossipy mother who doesn’t have the most worldly of perspectives.

Cecconi is a very naive person, and while Visconti pokes plenty of fun at her delusional viewpoint, he never comes off as condescending. While the comedy here is fairly cynical, it is also nowhere close to being snark. As I already mentioned, it seems like there is no emotional difference between the Magnani in Rome, Open City to the one here. In other words, her performance is completely genuine here. This definitely supports the notion that the film is poking fun at its character, but it is not “above” them.

Visconti’s previous two films, La terra trema and Ossessione, are two of the darkest in the director’s oeuvre, which makes the tone here contrast even more. In a way, this could be marked as something of a turning point is Visconti’s career. Although he would continue making more “serious” films, he began to abandon that exclusively “tragic” arc. It still shows up, especially in Rocco and His Brothers but in that case, the melodrama is personal and not at all social. In a way, he became a more natural filmmaker once he began to break away from the restraints of neo-realism.

The same goes for Rossellini, whose Flowers of St. Francis marked a similar personal turning point a year earlier. Like Rossellini, Visconti has kept the strongest elements of the faux-movement and has expounded upon them. This is one of the most naturalistic films ever made, which only enhances the humor of the situations and the poignancy of the images.

After a couple viewings of some less than stellar Rossellini efforts (most of which came from his later didactic TV productions) it was nice to finally see something that reminded me why I was so fascinated by him in the first place. On one hand, this is closer to those TV productions than it is to his earlier, more kinetic efforts. Like those films, this is a sometimes theatrical studio-bound work, with very little formal signs of Rossellini’s origins, but the tone and the content is definitely closer to the Rossellini I love (the one of the 40s and early 50s) than the Rossellini I tolerate, i.e all of those TV productions.

I’d never guess that the problem I have with Rossellini’s later films is the acting, but there seems to be strong evidence for such a case. If this shares the form of a work like Blaise Pascal (which by the way, is one of the toughest cinematic chores I’ve had to endure) then the difference lies within the performances. Vittoria De Sica isn’t exactly my kind of actor. Personally, I think he comes off a little theatrical at times and according to Tag Gallagher, Rossellini thought so too. On the other hand, his character is about a hundred times more interesting than the ones in any of the Rossellini films that came afterwords.

De Sica’s Grimaldi is so fascinating because we’re given so little information about him to begin with, while, on the other hand, Blaise Pascal is a non-fictional figure that I’d like to think I know plenty about. Of course, another difference between this and Rossellini’s later films is the director’s own intent. He even admits that his desire in creating those television films was to educate those unaware of significant historical figures. Here, on the other hand, he still seems interested in showing the struggles (internally and externally) of a human being, which obviously leads to a narrative that is far less complicated to “get.”

Another difference, if only a small one, is the cinematography. Again, I still enjoy the energetic camera work in Rossellini’s earlier films, but I think the black and white visuals here underscore the unassuming tone better than the rather blandly color visuals of the television productions. At times, the camera moves with such a unforced pace that, upon capture these small moments of sadness, Rossellini begins to seem like a predecessor to Bela Tarr. The similarity is quite obvious on a visual standpoint, but a bit more difficult in terms of content. One sequence particularly sticks out for me, though: the one in which De Sica’s character first arrives at the Wehrmacht headquarters. The camera manages to rack De Sica with precision, yet also is able to catch these fleeting sideline sequences that immediately inevoke images of Tarr’s strange cinematic universe. That said, this is still very much a Rossellini film and one of his very best at that.

Almost, almost a masterpiece. For whatever reason, this is only the third film I’ve seen from Raoul Walsh, and it is probably the best. For a good hour or so, he manages to capture this beautiful low-key gritty realism and incorporate it beautifully into a very “genre film” narrative. Once Ida Lupino and Alan Hale’s plot shifts into focus, things get a little messy. The performances begin to skirt the line of over the top, the characters are drawn a bit more broadly, and the tone turns to absurd from realism. Whatever the case, I can still appreciate the first half, which is pretty much about as perfect as a film can be.

Humphrey Bogart and George Raft are brothers and co-workers. They eek out an existence as truck drivers. Up to their heads in debts, they begin to feel the pressure of ahem, “the man” which encourages them to take their services elsewhere. The chemistry between Bogart and Raft is overwhelmingly brilliant, and a result of a casting genius. It’s a very small thing, but the fact that have very similar voices seems to perfectly underscore their (believable) relationship as brothers. There’s little nuances in each of their performances, though definitely unintentional, that contribute a great deal to the realism of their brotherhood.

This may or may not play a significant role in the brother’s relationship, but I’d like to think the gorgeous photography, courtesy of Arthur Edeson – who shot everything from All Quiet on the Western Front to The Maltese Falcon – perfectly accompanies not only the tone of the film, but Bogart and Raft’s performances as well. More often than not, I have a big problem with “snappy” over-written classic Hollywood dialogue, but its delivered here in a very downbeat and deadpan manner and done so perfectly by Bogart, Raft, and Ann Sheridan.

About fifty minutes in, the brothers have a near-fatal accident, which results in Bogart’s character losing an arm. The relationship of the two brothers begins to collect dust, while Ida Lupino’s character, Lana Carlsen, becomes a focus. Her character may have had a romantic affair with Raft (who is now keen on Sheridan) and she is eager to renew it. He politely brushes off her advances, which makes her go completely insane. I haven’t seen enough of Lupino’s performances to classify her as “good” or “bad” but her performance here, especially in the final fifteen minutes or so, is completely ridiclous. Considering all the talent involved with the production, I’d like to think the absurdity is intentional. Never the less, it rubs me the wrong way and puts a damper on one of the greatest films of its kind.

Fairly enjoyable intentionally light Hollywood mush. Great performances all around, including a nice supporting role from Randolph Scott, who is nothing at all like the man he would be in Boetticher’s pictures, let alone the man in Allan Dwan’s wonderful Frontier Marshal. Henry Fonda gives a pretty atypical performance as well; The only case I can think of in which his presence doesn’t demand the complete attention of the audience. This is mostly because he’s playing alongside the film’s “real star” Tyrone Power who seems somewhat lost amidst the rest of talent on display here.

Power’s performance isn’t given any help from the rather predictable script. Here, Jesse James is a innocent Robin Hood-esque hero to the local farmers. He only begins robbing trains once railroad agents inadvertently kill his mother. Eventually, he descends into the madness that I’m sure more people are familiar with. Towards the end, he receives a chance at redemption and a promising small town family life, but he loses it in the final act when he is assassinated. It’s a pretty unremarkable and straight-forward narrative, but I’d argue that it shouldn’t be anything else. It’s well-executed escapist entertainment, nothing more and certainly nothing less.