The Kid Brother
*****/5
with Harold Lloyd
It is a testament to the intelligence of my film history teacher that this was the first film he showed us. Knowing that many of his students had either not seen silent films before or did not think they liked them, he chose one of the most accessible silent films he could think of.
I think now would be a good time to point out that my school recently came into possession of an actual movie theater. So all of my film history screenings will be taking place on a 40 ft wide screen with stadium seating and the best quality print available. This being said, it was nearly overwhelming to sit in the dark theater, the projector turning on, and red velvet curtains drawing open to reveal a pristine print of this 1927 film (actually the DVD version). It was nostalgia for something I've never experienced. I think the curtains did it.
The Kid Brother is totally hilarious. It was the first Harold Lloyd film I'd seen. It had a great sensibility and a lot of impressive visuals, although I wasn't nearly as surprised by its quality as many of my classmates. One of the first comments from the class was that although it was harder to focus on at first, by the end of the movie, he was totally absorbed and into the film. So far, most of the students in my year seem to be a lot less pretentious than the ones in Stu's year. He was surprised when I told him that student's comment, saying that no one in his film history class would ever admitted to not having a full comprehensive knowledge and appreciation of silent films.
But this class greatly enjoyed the picture, and its final frames were met with compulsive applause from everyone.
The teacher, Gene Stavis, says that the entire first semester of the class will be devoted to silent films, and by using this one to warm the class up, I think it might go easier.
As far as The Kid Brother goes, it was a great comedy with inventive jokes (although by the end, some of the sight gags were a little predictable) and a compelling story. One of my favorite things about it is how basic the story was. In fact, it was almost a hackneyed idea, but it served the comedy very well. I was pretty amused after the film when another student described the plot as "substantive" because it was a very very typical plot. But all of the characters were carefully developed, so it seemed complex. The film also is a great "first" film for students of film history because it contradicts so many of the things that people assume about silent film, as Stavis said. The acting is subtle, the slapstick is believable, the plot is compelling and easy to follow.
Recommendations:
The Harold Lloyd Comedy Collection
Friday, September 11, 2009
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Le Samouraï
Le Samouraï
*****/5
Jean-Pierre Melville
*******SPOILERS********
This is certainly one of my favorite films that I have seen this year. Meticulously crafted by Melville to exemplify his concept of the gangster, this film has an amazing sense of depth. The camera work is beyond compare. Watch for the camera as Jef's eyes in the first nightclub scene. Also watch for the continuity of the workman's light in the garage reflecting off Jef's car.
Alain Delon is very powerful in this role, conveying emotions with the slightest flinch of his face (see the 2nd car stealing scene - the disappointment on his face when the first key doesn't work.) He is the very model of Melville's gangster - cool, controlled, wearing a pale raincoat, and having a sixth sense for danger and plots. Beyond this facade, we get a view into Jef's personal life. He has nothing except for a bird, a place to sleep, and the materials to dress a wound. His kitchen is in his bathroom, his drawers are empty. In order to become a staunch contract killer, one must relinquish everything. This is an idea reflected in Melville's Army of Shadows, which I had the pleasure of seeing during its 2006 first American theatrical release. In that film, Mathilde is warned that her connection to her family will be her downfall, and it is. That is another film for review, although, considering how emotional I'm getting just thinking about it, I might not be up to the challenge.
One problem I have with this film is not with the film itself, but how people will describe it. "A hitman, Jef Costello..." "A contract killer..."
The fact that Jef is a contract killer is not something the audience knows for about 30 minutes. He gets out of bed. He puts on his hat. He steals a car. He sets up his alibi. He kills a man. He is seen. He is questioned, questioned, questioned. He is released. He evades the police tail. He goes to an elevated train station. Only at this point do we find out why he even did it. It's part of the genius of the film. Taking tips from Hitchcock (as Melville often did), the film gives us our murderer as our sympathetic character. We know he did it, but we don't know why. Once we find out, it seems so natural - we've seen him try to avoid capture the entire movie. So people don't even remember there was a point at which the audience did not know Jef's nature. It spoils the surprise.
My production teacher, Zoran, gave a talk about Melville's films last year. He made an interesting observation. In Melville, the relationship between the criminal and police is always stronger than the relationships shared with women. It is a much different approach than American pictures. Even in a noir crime film, the man takes the case for the girl.
Another thing that makes this film incredible is its tightness. Every location is revisited, allowing the audience to comfortably observe and be drawn in by the characters, instead of trying to figure out how close this place is to another, etc. The metro chase scene was another revisitation, this time from a film I can't remember the name of. But a man is taking various buses along the countryside, the signposts visible behind him in every shot. The flaw with this is you have to already be familiar with France's geography to understand. Melville learned from this, and in Le Samourai, provides a map. Even the cars that Jef steals are echoed, only the second one is black, indicating that he is without hope. With Melville, nothing is accidental. Zoran points out that Melville often includes a "mark of death" in his films - the point at which the audience can be certain the character will not succeed. After stealing the black car, Jef agrees that he will not come back to the garage anymore. He knows and we know that his time is up. This is precision that one does not find in many other filmmakers' work.
The last thing I will say about Le Samourai (besides WATCH IT) is a comment and theory on the opening shot. The camera is still, distant, and objective as the credits roll over the shot. It is a bedroom. Not until the man in the bed takes a drag on his cigarette do you even notice he was there. You wonder how you could have missed him. The credits end. Suddenly, the camera starts rocking back and forth in a dolly zoom (commonly called the "Psycho Shot", even though it actually was invented for Vertigo). The frame appears to widen and deepen all at once. Then it stops, leaving you with an optical illusion of a stretched room. Then, the man gets off the bed.
Now this is the strangest shot in the film. It doesn't seem to have a clear motivation or explanation. I was thinking about the nature of the dolly zoom. Typically it is employed to be the cinematic equivalent of a sinking feeling in your stomach. In Vertigo, it is used when Scottie looks down the staircase, and becomes terrified at the height. In Jaws, it is used when Chief Brody realizes the entire beach is in immediate danger. Perhaps, in Le Samourai, this shot is the same, although its purpose is obscured by the distant, objective camera. As Jef lays on the bed, he gets a sinking in his stomach. It is his criminal's sixth sense telling him that today something will go wrong.
Just my thoughts on that opening shot.
Although it does pose the question of turning objective and subjective shots into each other. I would say going from subjective to objective is much easier. In Lost, it happens all the time. A character turns his head to see something, cut to a shot that pans to match his head movement and show what he sees, character enters the frame at the end of the pan. It's interesting. It is also done in Shadows of Our Forgotten Ancestors, which is one of my favorite movies ever. I also saw that in the theater, with a nice new film print.
But how do you go from objective to subjective? I suppose you could move the camera like it's someone walking, but that's awfully corny. Perhaps the realization of subjectivity can come in the following shot, but I feel it would be easy to miss that. (Example: Wide shot down a narrow hallway. Cut to a man looking around the corner of the hallway. Wouldn't it just seem like the shot of the man was a shot of the man? This is an interesting question about film grammar.)
Perhaps I will experiment with this idea a little and see where it takes me.
Recommendations:
Army of Shadows
Le Circe Rouge
*****/5
Jean-Pierre Melville
*******SPOILERS********
This is certainly one of my favorite films that I have seen this year. Meticulously crafted by Melville to exemplify his concept of the gangster, this film has an amazing sense of depth. The camera work is beyond compare. Watch for the camera as Jef's eyes in the first nightclub scene. Also watch for the continuity of the workman's light in the garage reflecting off Jef's car.
Alain Delon is very powerful in this role, conveying emotions with the slightest flinch of his face (see the 2nd car stealing scene - the disappointment on his face when the first key doesn't work.) He is the very model of Melville's gangster - cool, controlled, wearing a pale raincoat, and having a sixth sense for danger and plots. Beyond this facade, we get a view into Jef's personal life. He has nothing except for a bird, a place to sleep, and the materials to dress a wound. His kitchen is in his bathroom, his drawers are empty. In order to become a staunch contract killer, one must relinquish everything. This is an idea reflected in Melville's Army of Shadows, which I had the pleasure of seeing during its 2006 first American theatrical release. In that film, Mathilde is warned that her connection to her family will be her downfall, and it is. That is another film for review, although, considering how emotional I'm getting just thinking about it, I might not be up to the challenge.
One problem I have with this film is not with the film itself, but how people will describe it. "A hitman, Jef Costello..." "A contract killer..."
The fact that Jef is a contract killer is not something the audience knows for about 30 minutes. He gets out of bed. He puts on his hat. He steals a car. He sets up his alibi. He kills a man. He is seen. He is questioned, questioned, questioned. He is released. He evades the police tail. He goes to an elevated train station. Only at this point do we find out why he even did it. It's part of the genius of the film. Taking tips from Hitchcock (as Melville often did), the film gives us our murderer as our sympathetic character. We know he did it, but we don't know why. Once we find out, it seems so natural - we've seen him try to avoid capture the entire movie. So people don't even remember there was a point at which the audience did not know Jef's nature. It spoils the surprise.
My production teacher, Zoran, gave a talk about Melville's films last year. He made an interesting observation. In Melville, the relationship between the criminal and police is always stronger than the relationships shared with women. It is a much different approach than American pictures. Even in a noir crime film, the man takes the case for the girl.
Another thing that makes this film incredible is its tightness. Every location is revisited, allowing the audience to comfortably observe and be drawn in by the characters, instead of trying to figure out how close this place is to another, etc. The metro chase scene was another revisitation, this time from a film I can't remember the name of. But a man is taking various buses along the countryside, the signposts visible behind him in every shot. The flaw with this is you have to already be familiar with France's geography to understand. Melville learned from this, and in Le Samourai, provides a map. Even the cars that Jef steals are echoed, only the second one is black, indicating that he is without hope. With Melville, nothing is accidental. Zoran points out that Melville often includes a "mark of death" in his films - the point at which the audience can be certain the character will not succeed. After stealing the black car, Jef agrees that he will not come back to the garage anymore. He knows and we know that his time is up. This is precision that one does not find in many other filmmakers' work.
The last thing I will say about Le Samourai (besides WATCH IT) is a comment and theory on the opening shot. The camera is still, distant, and objective as the credits roll over the shot. It is a bedroom. Not until the man in the bed takes a drag on his cigarette do you even notice he was there. You wonder how you could have missed him. The credits end. Suddenly, the camera starts rocking back and forth in a dolly zoom (commonly called the "Psycho Shot", even though it actually was invented for Vertigo). The frame appears to widen and deepen all at once. Then it stops, leaving you with an optical illusion of a stretched room. Then, the man gets off the bed.
Now this is the strangest shot in the film. It doesn't seem to have a clear motivation or explanation. I was thinking about the nature of the dolly zoom. Typically it is employed to be the cinematic equivalent of a sinking feeling in your stomach. In Vertigo, it is used when Scottie looks down the staircase, and becomes terrified at the height. In Jaws, it is used when Chief Brody realizes the entire beach is in immediate danger. Perhaps, in Le Samourai, this shot is the same, although its purpose is obscured by the distant, objective camera. As Jef lays on the bed, he gets a sinking in his stomach. It is his criminal's sixth sense telling him that today something will go wrong.
Just my thoughts on that opening shot.
Although it does pose the question of turning objective and subjective shots into each other. I would say going from subjective to objective is much easier. In Lost, it happens all the time. A character turns his head to see something, cut to a shot that pans to match his head movement and show what he sees, character enters the frame at the end of the pan. It's interesting. It is also done in Shadows of Our Forgotten Ancestors, which is one of my favorite movies ever. I also saw that in the theater, with a nice new film print.
But how do you go from objective to subjective? I suppose you could move the camera like it's someone walking, but that's awfully corny. Perhaps the realization of subjectivity can come in the following shot, but I feel it would be easy to miss that. (Example: Wide shot down a narrow hallway. Cut to a man looking around the corner of the hallway. Wouldn't it just seem like the shot of the man was a shot of the man? This is an interesting question about film grammar.)
Perhaps I will experiment with this idea a little and see where it takes me.
Recommendations:
Army of Shadows
Le Circe Rouge
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Hiroshima Mon Amour
Hiroshima Mon Amour
*****/5
Alain Resnais
Clearly this film influenced Breathless in the editing and other aspects, although they are two vastly different movies. As Stu put it, the French "get away with murder" when it comes to dialogue. This film amounted to a conversation that was circular and poetic, splashed with images that support or contrast the statements. It gave me such a strange feeling, and I think that was intended. The filmmaker bombards you with opinion and at the same time says nothing to prove one reality over another. At the end, you feel a crushing realization that works as deeply whether you take it metaphorically or not.
I was speaking with Maher this afternoon and was laying out some of my feelings towards films, what I appreciate in contrast to what turns me off. I came to some sort of point about the difference between films that affect your mind, your heart, and your gut. I think I tend to put the mind last when prioritizing these things for myself. Perhaps words affect the mind, images affect the heart, and connotations affect the gut.
Of course this made me think of Werner Herzog, who is probably one of the best filmmakers ever, and certainly one of the best working today. Herzog's films affect your gut first with situations and deep, deep emotions. Even if you watched his films on mute, you feel them in your gut. From your gut they work up and grab your heart. And from there they move to your brain, which tries to make sense of your feelings.
Hiroshima Mon Amour works along these lines as well. Even as dialogue heavy as it is, the story is told through images. The dialogue is almost like a soundtrack for connotations. Less than leaning on for story purposes, the French use voiceover as sort of a mood setter, to capture your attention by insisting on too much information or statements that are vague and poetic. But they never distract, which American voiceovers do. Perhaps French voiceovers are less expository than they seem.
All in all, I think I prefer Hiroshima Mon Amour's ambitions to that of Breathless, but perhaps this will change with time.
Recommendations:
Breathless
*****/5
Alain Resnais
Clearly this film influenced Breathless in the editing and other aspects, although they are two vastly different movies. As Stu put it, the French "get away with murder" when it comes to dialogue. This film amounted to a conversation that was circular and poetic, splashed with images that support or contrast the statements. It gave me such a strange feeling, and I think that was intended. The filmmaker bombards you with opinion and at the same time says nothing to prove one reality over another. At the end, you feel a crushing realization that works as deeply whether you take it metaphorically or not.
I was speaking with Maher this afternoon and was laying out some of my feelings towards films, what I appreciate in contrast to what turns me off. I came to some sort of point about the difference between films that affect your mind, your heart, and your gut. I think I tend to put the mind last when prioritizing these things for myself. Perhaps words affect the mind, images affect the heart, and connotations affect the gut.
Of course this made me think of Werner Herzog, who is probably one of the best filmmakers ever, and certainly one of the best working today. Herzog's films affect your gut first with situations and deep, deep emotions. Even if you watched his films on mute, you feel them in your gut. From your gut they work up and grab your heart. And from there they move to your brain, which tries to make sense of your feelings.
Hiroshima Mon Amour works along these lines as well. Even as dialogue heavy as it is, the story is told through images. The dialogue is almost like a soundtrack for connotations. Less than leaning on for story purposes, the French use voiceover as sort of a mood setter, to capture your attention by insisting on too much information or statements that are vague and poetic. But they never distract, which American voiceovers do. Perhaps French voiceovers are less expository than they seem.
All in all, I think I prefer Hiroshima Mon Amour's ambitions to that of Breathless, but perhaps this will change with time.
Recommendations:
Breathless
Serpico
Serpico
*****/5
Sidney Lumet
On reports that my new editing teacher loves this movie so much he shows about 5 random minutes of it every class, I decided to see it before Wednesday (my first class - editing).
I'm not even sure where to start. It was intense. It went on for a long time, but did not seem lengthy. By the time he got anywhere with his struggles, you didn't feel like it was a victory, you were just exhausted with a hint of relief. Anyone wanting to know what people mean by "realism" should view this film. The realism is so strong, you can't help but feel everything the characters feel. When Serpico does something you don't think yourself capable of, it's surprising. You're with him every step of the way. The best example of this is when he jumps across the gap between rooftops. I know I would not be confident to make it, but when he does, I had to stop and remind myself that he is in the prime physical condition to make a jump like that, that this person on screen is not the same as me.
Also, the direction is very good. Lumet manages to not be heavy handed even when every character save Serpico himself delivers lines of such obvious moral degeneration. It's the kind of blatant statement you are supposed to disagree with, but the ease (and realism) it is presented in makes it not so much like everyone is a bad guy. Excellent.
Perhaps I'll revisit this review in a couple weeks with input from Pepperman, my editing teacher.
*****/5
Sidney Lumet
On reports that my new editing teacher loves this movie so much he shows about 5 random minutes of it every class, I decided to see it before Wednesday (my first class - editing).
I'm not even sure where to start. It was intense. It went on for a long time, but did not seem lengthy. By the time he got anywhere with his struggles, you didn't feel like it was a victory, you were just exhausted with a hint of relief. Anyone wanting to know what people mean by "realism" should view this film. The realism is so strong, you can't help but feel everything the characters feel. When Serpico does something you don't think yourself capable of, it's surprising. You're with him every step of the way. The best example of this is when he jumps across the gap between rooftops. I know I would not be confident to make it, but when he does, I had to stop and remind myself that he is in the prime physical condition to make a jump like that, that this person on screen is not the same as me.
Also, the direction is very good. Lumet manages to not be heavy handed even when every character save Serpico himself delivers lines of such obvious moral degeneration. It's the kind of blatant statement you are supposed to disagree with, but the ease (and realism) it is presented in makes it not so much like everyone is a bad guy. Excellent.
Perhaps I'll revisit this review in a couple weeks with input from Pepperman, my editing teacher.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Public Enemies
Public Enemies
*/5
Michael Mann
This was, to say the least, not so great. I had been excited by the posters featuring Johnny Depp looking just like a 30s gangster. I was drawn in by Depp's ability to blend into a character even when there is not 10 layers of makeup on him.
Unfortunately, thanks to HD technology, it was plain to see that Johnny Depp was under makeup in this role, too. Could the filmmakers have made corrections for this? Probably not. They were too worried about the fact that their sound was unusable and their lead actress switched accents every day. Oh wait, they didn't seem worried about that, either.
This movie was a complete failure. I was actually shocked to learn that Michael Mann had even made a movie before (remember my ignorance of anything after 1959). This one was so poorly slopped together I left the theater thinking, "Maybe Johnny Depp will be in my student film." If Michael Mann is so Oscar-worthy than how come this movie looked worse than stuff at dinky film festivals?
The sound was a horrible problem, peaking all the time, and characters often "spoke" while turned from the camera. Thanks to editing, you can pretend you know what you're doing! Gunshots were painfully loud and the intermingling of Billie Holiday and electric guitar soundtrack was so preposterous I laughed out loud.
HD was the wrong choice, especially when your actor is notoriously covered in tattoos. If you're going to still use HD, please try not to use extreme closeups on parts of his body that have cover-ups. It confuses the audience as to whether they're supposed to notice it or not.
The acting was bewildering and pathetic from everyone buy Johnny Depp, and even he struggled with the unreasonable dialogue he had been given.
Aside from technical concerns, the movie just didn't make any gosh darn sense. In trying to create an artistic spin on a film noir type story, the writers/director just stole the sex scene from Breathless. I just scanned 20 pages of threads for this film on IMDb, and no one seems to have noticed.
I have never seen a movie in a theater that shows such incompetence.
Recommendations:
White Heat
Public Enemy
*/5
Michael Mann
This was, to say the least, not so great. I had been excited by the posters featuring Johnny Depp looking just like a 30s gangster. I was drawn in by Depp's ability to blend into a character even when there is not 10 layers of makeup on him.
Unfortunately, thanks to HD technology, it was plain to see that Johnny Depp was under makeup in this role, too. Could the filmmakers have made corrections for this? Probably not. They were too worried about the fact that their sound was unusable and their lead actress switched accents every day. Oh wait, they didn't seem worried about that, either.
This movie was a complete failure. I was actually shocked to learn that Michael Mann had even made a movie before (remember my ignorance of anything after 1959). This one was so poorly slopped together I left the theater thinking, "Maybe Johnny Depp will be in my student film." If Michael Mann is so Oscar-worthy than how come this movie looked worse than stuff at dinky film festivals?
The sound was a horrible problem, peaking all the time, and characters often "spoke" while turned from the camera. Thanks to editing, you can pretend you know what you're doing! Gunshots were painfully loud and the intermingling of Billie Holiday and electric guitar soundtrack was so preposterous I laughed out loud.
HD was the wrong choice, especially when your actor is notoriously covered in tattoos. If you're going to still use HD, please try not to use extreme closeups on parts of his body that have cover-ups. It confuses the audience as to whether they're supposed to notice it or not.
The acting was bewildering and pathetic from everyone buy Johnny Depp, and even he struggled with the unreasonable dialogue he had been given.
Aside from technical concerns, the movie just didn't make any gosh darn sense. In trying to create an artistic spin on a film noir type story, the writers/director just stole the sex scene from Breathless. I just scanned 20 pages of threads for this film on IMDb, and no one seems to have noticed.
I have never seen a movie in a theater that shows such incompetence.
Recommendations:
White Heat
Public Enemy
La Bête Humaine
La Bête Humaine
*****/5
Jean Renoir
*****SPOILERS*****
Update: I apologize for my total blabbering about how good this movie is. I was rendered completely inarticulate and sound like a total moron.
Amazing amazing. There is a lot to be loved in this film. Starting with the writing which is so good. The wad of cash is established so early, but returns so many times. The murder is preceded by a failed attempt, forcing the audience to feel the buildup and tension twice for the same thing. Actions and motivations are established so, so clearly that you only need to see them once to understand your character at every turn. The beginning is a little rushed and a lot of characters are named before they are introduced, but not enough to be played as a reveal when they show up. But once it is all there, it builds into something so intense and beautiful that anything awkward in the beginning is likely to be deepened upon a second or third viewing.
Also of note are the visual juxtapositions. A photograph of Severine's godfather is used in contrast to his presence several times, his arm around her implying more and more each occurrence. The scene near the end which features the singer performing a song about a wily, fickle temptress with no attachments is an interesting predecessor to Kenneth Anger's use of pop music.
Being familiar with Hitchcock's oeuvre, it amazes me how much it seems ideas were being passed back and forth between him and those involved in (and before) the French New Wave. They loved him as a shining example of both their auteur theory and what was wrong with films. This film features a murder in the first act (on a moving train, no less!), scenes in a crowded ballroom, a femme fatale, shots along train tracks, stylized sound, expressionistic lighting, and extreme tension, both visually and plot-wise. Some of these ideas were not present in Hitchcock's work until after this film was made. Others were present earlier with greater execution. Others were present earlier and much weaker. Others were present earlier, made stronger in France, and returned to Hitchcock's control later.
Recommendations:
Young and Innocent
Blackmail
Scorpio Rising
*****/5
Jean Renoir
*****SPOILERS*****
Update: I apologize for my total blabbering about how good this movie is. I was rendered completely inarticulate and sound like a total moron.
Amazing amazing. There is a lot to be loved in this film. Starting with the writing which is so good. The wad of cash is established so early, but returns so many times. The murder is preceded by a failed attempt, forcing the audience to feel the buildup and tension twice for the same thing. Actions and motivations are established so, so clearly that you only need to see them once to understand your character at every turn. The beginning is a little rushed and a lot of characters are named before they are introduced, but not enough to be played as a reveal when they show up. But once it is all there, it builds into something so intense and beautiful that anything awkward in the beginning is likely to be deepened upon a second or third viewing.
Also of note are the visual juxtapositions. A photograph of Severine's godfather is used in contrast to his presence several times, his arm around her implying more and more each occurrence. The scene near the end which features the singer performing a song about a wily, fickle temptress with no attachments is an interesting predecessor to Kenneth Anger's use of pop music.
Being familiar with Hitchcock's oeuvre, it amazes me how much it seems ideas were being passed back and forth between him and those involved in (and before) the French New Wave. They loved him as a shining example of both their auteur theory and what was wrong with films. This film features a murder in the first act (on a moving train, no less!), scenes in a crowded ballroom, a femme fatale, shots along train tracks, stylized sound, expressionistic lighting, and extreme tension, both visually and plot-wise. Some of these ideas were not present in Hitchcock's work until after this film was made. Others were present earlier with greater execution. Others were present earlier and much weaker. Others were present earlier, made stronger in France, and returned to Hitchcock's control later.
Recommendations:
Young and Innocent
Blackmail
Scorpio Rising
Port of Shadows
Port of Shadows
****/5
Marcel Carne
The handling of multiple characters is astoundingly accomplished. Each character with dialogue is somehow tenderly developed within minutes, and as a result, no characters blend together. They can even leave the screen for large chunks of time and drop back in easily. Important events are all preceded by a small setup that allows you to recognize the action, no matter how small, at the point it is important (eg: Lucien picking off the hats of others in the bumper car ride). Even with this skilled storytelling, the writing is what falls short the most (apart from the acting from Pierre Brasseur), with characters announcing things the audience has already figured out. Zabel declares his motivations long after they were implied; the painter explains his entire character to people who already know him. The dialogue is often corny and sometimes I wonder if I would like certain foreign films as much if they were in English.
****/5
Marcel Carne
The handling of multiple characters is astoundingly accomplished. Each character with dialogue is somehow tenderly developed within minutes, and as a result, no characters blend together. They can even leave the screen for large chunks of time and drop back in easily. Important events are all preceded by a small setup that allows you to recognize the action, no matter how small, at the point it is important (eg: Lucien picking off the hats of others in the bumper car ride). Even with this skilled storytelling, the writing is what falls short the most (apart from the acting from Pierre Brasseur), with characters announcing things the audience has already figured out. Zabel declares his motivations long after they were implied; the painter explains his entire character to people who already know him. The dialogue is often corny and sometimes I wonder if I would like certain foreign films as much if they were in English.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
