Monday, January 30, 2017
030 - Sweet Smell of Success, 1957, United States. Dir. Alexander Mackendrick.
Ah, the sweet smell of success.
Fecal. Squalid. Begrimed.
Those gangsters sure do know how to break people.
Not because you have crossed them. Not because you are competing with them.
But just because you, my sister, are dating someone I do not want you to date.
Or because you, my minion, were supposed to break up my sister's relationship and you did not do it.
How dare you.
I will now destroy you.
Wait.
What did you say?
Gangsters?
These are not gangsters. No, they are not gangsters. He is not a gangster.
He is a writer. A newspaper columnist.
A newspaper columnist?
A newspaper columnist.
The character of J. J. Hunsecker, played by Burt Lancaster, loves his sister, a little too much maybe. So he does not want her to be dating jazz musician Steve Dallas.
Sidney Falco is a press agent. He needs Hunsecker to print items that support Falco's clients and help their careers. So Hunsecker uses this need as leverage to maintain power over Falco.
He demands that Falco break up his sister Susan Hunsecker's relationship to Dallas.
But so far Falco has been unable to do it. In fact, Dallas has now proposed to Susan, and they intend to inform J. J. tomorrow morning at breakfast.
So tonight Falco will run around New York City, from club to club, trying to work things out to save his career.
And he will go without an overcoat to keep from having to tip coat-check girls.
My how times have changed.
He will insinuate himself upon Hunsecker to try to get him to understand Falco's situation.
He will go to another newspaper columnist and try to bribe him with his wife to try to get him to print the items that Hunsecker will not print. That man will call his bluff and tell his own wife the dirt in order to remove the leverage.
He will go to yet a third newspaper columnist to see what that will do.
Falco is desperate.
As the evening progresses, Falco will play everyone to set Dallas up in front of Hunsecker so that Susan herself will leave him. He does a great job of it.
But then Susan will set Falco up so that Hunsecker will think ill of him and crush him.
Everyone depends on each other. Everyone is trying to destroy one another.
The stakes seem so low to us--who is dating whom--but to them the stakes are life and death. It is the politics of high school gossip in the hands of New York social climbers--who aspire to be power brokers.
This is starting to sound like an F. Scott Fitzgerald short story about life in the Jazz Age.
But it is a Clifford Odets screenplay about life in the 1950s.
Some things just seem to come back around.
This film is shot by the great cinematographer James Wong Howe. The lights are light and the darks are dark, and the edges are as sharp as a paper cut.
Howe worked from the 1910s to the 1970s, beating out even Alfred Hitchcock for longevity. He was born in 1899 in Canton (Guangzhou), China, and he grew up in Pasco, Washington. At around 12 he bought a Kodak Brownie camera, and by the time he was 18 he was working for Cecil B. DeMille. He solved the problem of getting blue eyes to register on film, so he became the photographer that all blue-eyed stars would flock to. He would go on to shoot more than 130 movies and win two Oscars. He was the embodiment of the Great American Dream.
Meanwhile, the film was directed by Alexander Mackendrick, whom you know for practically nothing else, except perhaps for The Ladykillers and The Man in the White Suit. In all he directed maybe eight pictures. He is now considered a great director with a sure hand, but Sweet Smell of Success was such a financial disaster that his career faded and he moved into teaching.
What makes this picture sing is the acting and chemistry of Tony Curtis and Burt Lancaster. Tony plays the high-strung, fast-talking, nervous-energy, pretty boy for which we already know him, but Burt Lancaster plays against type, restraining all the virile strength of his large athletic body into a bespectacled, buttoned-up time-bomb, slowly ticking and destined to blow.
Odets has given them delicious lines to say, long lines filled with the wit and cunning of a top playwright, which they speak quickly and effortlessly as if seated at the Algonquin.
The film moves at a fast pace and is driven by the look of the city lights and the sound of a hot jazz score.
When you see the name Hunsecker, you may think of the Coen Brothers' 1994 comedy The Hudsucker Proxy. You can look up what influence this film may have had on their film.
This film was produced by Burt Lancaster with Harold Hecht (not Ben) and James Hill, with the unfortunate name Hecht-Hill-Lancaster Productions. The goal seems to have been to do for newspaper columnist Walter Winchell what Orson Welles did for newspaper magnate William Randolph Hearst and others.
In an age without newspapers, it all now seems so historical to us.
My how times have changed.
Showing posts with label romantic. Show all posts
Showing posts with label romantic. Show all posts
Monday, January 30, 2017
Sunday, January 29, 2017
029 - Bigger Than Life, 1956, United States. Dir. Nicholas Ray.
Sunday, January 29, 2017
029 - Bigger Than Life, 1956, United States. Dir. Nicholas Ray.
Filmed in CINEMASCOPE!
Aspect ratio 2:55:1. That means really WIDE. Almost twice as wide as the standard Academy Ratio.
In glorious Color by De Luxe.
These are the specs for BIG PICTURES.
Epics!
The Bridge on the River Kwai. A Farewell to Arms. The Robe. The Egyptian. The Virgin Queen. The Gladiators. 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea.
Westerns!
River of No Return. Ride Lonesome. Broken Lance. The Burning Hills. Jubal. The Man from Laramie.
Big Studio Romantic Comedies and Dramas!
Love is a Many-Splendored Thing. Pillow Talk. How to Marry a Millionaire.
Grand Musicals!
Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. It's Always Fair Weather. Brigadoon. Oklahoma! Silk Stockings. April Love. Carmen Jones. There's No Business Like Show Business.
Action Films and Thrillers!
House of Bamboo. King of the Khyber Rifles. Battle Cry. World Without End. Bad Day at Black Rock.
Intimate Family Dramas About Mental Illness!
Wait.
What?
Intimate family dramas about mental illness. Or more specifically, a small family drama that takes place only inside the schoolroom, the hospital room, and the home, where most of the acting is internal and where the drama focuses on the father's steady decline into psychosis.
You could perform this story as a quiet play on a small stage in a black-box theatre with only 30 seats.
The setting and action are small.
The film is Bigger Than Life.
What a great idea, actually.
Would that more films were made to be presented in such a large format.
After all, this is not television.
This is the movies!
Imagine the emotional impact of a subtle expression in extreme close-up.
Bigger Than Life stars James Mason. You may know him as the bad guy Philip Vandamm, the one who kidnaps Cary Grant in Alfred Hitchcock's North By Northwest, or in a similar kind of role opposite Paul Newman in The Verdict, or as the co-star with Judy Garland in A Star is Born. He also played Captain Nemo in that other CinemaScope picture listed above, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea.
James Mason is one of those actors whom, once you hear his voice, you want to keep hearing it for a very long time. His voice is made out of maple syrup spiked with bourbon. He does not merely speak. He taps the sap at the sugar shack and drips a slow flow of sweet aromatic maple with a toasted oak aroma, a cereal malt grain, and a brown cinnamon spice.
Thick. Rich. Sweet. And slow.
And what does he say with this rich voice?
He plays schoolteacher Ed Avery, and he begins the film by talking shop, the ordinary daily routine with his colleagues. When he leaves for the day, he goes to his moonlighting job at the cab company. He tells his wife he has a school board meeting. He is ashamed to tell her he works two jobs. He has a spending problem.
The first sign of disease occurs when they have some friends over. He spends time in the kitchen leaning over the refrigerator. He does not feel well. When the evening is over, he complains to his wife that they are dull, all of them, and that they never do anything interesting. Then he falls across the bed.
After being tested at the hospital, he is told that he has a terminal type of inflammation of the arteries and has only months to live. He is prescribed cortisone and suddenly feels great again. He indulges his manic feelings and takes the family out to dinner and on an excessive shopping spree. His own son whispers to his mother that Dad is acting foolishly.
Avery grows dependent on the pills. He begins taking them more frequently than his prescription allows. He reasons that a teacher is a doctor, so he convinces a pharmacist that he is a doctor and begins prescribing more pills for himself.
He grows excessively moodier. He speaks bluntly at the PTA meeting, insulting some of those present and causing them to walk out, while becoming a hero to one parent, who thinks he is the first teacher he has heard to describe things the way they really are.
He begins to push his son, yelling at him, forcing him to practice football during baseball season, and throwing the ball so hard and far that the boy falls and hurts himself in his efforts to catch it, only to be reprimanded all the more.
Avery starts to grow mad, reading the Genesis account of Abraham's willingness to sacrifice Isaac as some kind of assignment for himself. He goes so far as to raise a pair of scissors above his son in his son's room before the boy escapes.
The film will end either badly or well.
It is an effort to educate the public on the challenges of mental illness and addiction to prescription drugs. And it is sympathetic. It portrays the family and friends as loving and patient.
Jerry Mathers has a great moment in it. He plays one of the school kids. His character Freddie has painted something that looks angry. Avery asks if it is a thunderstorm. He responds defiantly, "This is a man. He's just mad at his mother!" One year later he was starring on television in Leave It to Beaver.
James Mason wanted very much to make this movie, so when the studios balked he produced it himself. Nicholas Ray directed it, just one year after making Rebel Without a Cause.
029 - Bigger Than Life, 1956, United States. Dir. Nicholas Ray.
Filmed in CINEMASCOPE!
Aspect ratio 2:55:1. That means really WIDE. Almost twice as wide as the standard Academy Ratio.
In glorious Color by De Luxe.
These are the specs for BIG PICTURES.
Epics!
The Bridge on the River Kwai. A Farewell to Arms. The Robe. The Egyptian. The Virgin Queen. The Gladiators. 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea.
Westerns!
River of No Return. Ride Lonesome. Broken Lance. The Burning Hills. Jubal. The Man from Laramie.
Big Studio Romantic Comedies and Dramas!
Love is a Many-Splendored Thing. Pillow Talk. How to Marry a Millionaire.
Grand Musicals!
Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. It's Always Fair Weather. Brigadoon. Oklahoma! Silk Stockings. April Love. Carmen Jones. There's No Business Like Show Business.
Action Films and Thrillers!
House of Bamboo. King of the Khyber Rifles. Battle Cry. World Without End. Bad Day at Black Rock.
Intimate Family Dramas About Mental Illness!
Wait.
What?
Intimate family dramas about mental illness. Or more specifically, a small family drama that takes place only inside the schoolroom, the hospital room, and the home, where most of the acting is internal and where the drama focuses on the father's steady decline into psychosis.
You could perform this story as a quiet play on a small stage in a black-box theatre with only 30 seats.
The setting and action are small.
The film is Bigger Than Life.
What a great idea, actually.
Would that more films were made to be presented in such a large format.
After all, this is not television.
This is the movies!
Imagine the emotional impact of a subtle expression in extreme close-up.
Bigger Than Life stars James Mason. You may know him as the bad guy Philip Vandamm, the one who kidnaps Cary Grant in Alfred Hitchcock's North By Northwest, or in a similar kind of role opposite Paul Newman in The Verdict, or as the co-star with Judy Garland in A Star is Born. He also played Captain Nemo in that other CinemaScope picture listed above, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea.
James Mason is one of those actors whom, once you hear his voice, you want to keep hearing it for a very long time. His voice is made out of maple syrup spiked with bourbon. He does not merely speak. He taps the sap at the sugar shack and drips a slow flow of sweet aromatic maple with a toasted oak aroma, a cereal malt grain, and a brown cinnamon spice.
Thick. Rich. Sweet. And slow.
And what does he say with this rich voice?
He plays schoolteacher Ed Avery, and he begins the film by talking shop, the ordinary daily routine with his colleagues. When he leaves for the day, he goes to his moonlighting job at the cab company. He tells his wife he has a school board meeting. He is ashamed to tell her he works two jobs. He has a spending problem.
The first sign of disease occurs when they have some friends over. He spends time in the kitchen leaning over the refrigerator. He does not feel well. When the evening is over, he complains to his wife that they are dull, all of them, and that they never do anything interesting. Then he falls across the bed.
After being tested at the hospital, he is told that he has a terminal type of inflammation of the arteries and has only months to live. He is prescribed cortisone and suddenly feels great again. He indulges his manic feelings and takes the family out to dinner and on an excessive shopping spree. His own son whispers to his mother that Dad is acting foolishly.
Avery grows dependent on the pills. He begins taking them more frequently than his prescription allows. He reasons that a teacher is a doctor, so he convinces a pharmacist that he is a doctor and begins prescribing more pills for himself.
He grows excessively moodier. He speaks bluntly at the PTA meeting, insulting some of those present and causing them to walk out, while becoming a hero to one parent, who thinks he is the first teacher he has heard to describe things the way they really are.
He begins to push his son, yelling at him, forcing him to practice football during baseball season, and throwing the ball so hard and far that the boy falls and hurts himself in his efforts to catch it, only to be reprimanded all the more.
Avery starts to grow mad, reading the Genesis account of Abraham's willingness to sacrifice Isaac as some kind of assignment for himself. He goes so far as to raise a pair of scissors above his son in his son's room before the boy escapes.
The film will end either badly or well.
It is an effort to educate the public on the challenges of mental illness and addiction to prescription drugs. And it is sympathetic. It portrays the family and friends as loving and patient.
Jerry Mathers has a great moment in it. He plays one of the school kids. His character Freddie has painted something that looks angry. Avery asks if it is a thunderstorm. He responds defiantly, "This is a man. He's just mad at his mother!" One year later he was starring on television in Leave It to Beaver.
James Mason wanted very much to make this movie, so when the studios balked he produced it himself. Nicholas Ray directed it, just one year after making Rebel Without a Cause.
Saturday, January 28, 2017
028 - Kiss Me Deadly, 1955, United States; Dir. Robert Aldrich.
Saturday, January 28, 2017
028 - Kiss Me Deadly, 1955, United States. Dir. Robert Aldrich.
A young woman walks down the middle of the highway in the middle of the night.
She is barefoot and wearing only a trenchcoat.
She appears to be in great distress.
A man speeds down the highway in his speedster in the middle of the night.
He is in a hurry and does not wish to be detained.
The woman stands in front of him.
He sees her in his headlights.
She will not budge.
At the last moment, he must swerve to avoid her.
He stops violently on the side of the road in the brush.
She approaches the car.
He is agitated. He does not wish to pick up a strange woman, even one naked under her trenchcoat. He wishes to be left alone.
But he lets her in. And they drive.
Down the long, dark, two-lane highway in the middle of the night.
The credits begin to scroll. From top to bottom. Reversed. Widening as they come down the screen.
Like white signs painted on the road. Growing larger as they approach.
This is film noir.
Dark. Violent. Hard-boiled. Hard-bitten. Cold.
In 1955 two French film critics (Raymond Borde and Etienne Chaumeton) wrote an essay entitled "Towards a Definition of Film Noir." It is one of the few pieces written about film noir, and calling it film noir, while film noir was still being made. Most commentary came afterwards, looking back. So having anything written about it contemporaneously is important.
In their essay they describe the impact of American films that came to France in the summer of 1946. During World War 2 France did not have access to American films, so when the war was over and they received them, it was like a revelation.
Before the war, they knew American films in the vein of William Wyler, John Ford, and Frank Capra. After the war, they saw "a strange and violent tone, tinged with a unique kind of eroticism." It was as if everything had changed overnight.
The critics list the following films that came to them in a 6-week period:
John Huston's The Maltese Falcon
Otto Preminger's Laura
Edward Dmytryk's Murder My Sweet
Billy Wilder's Double Indemnity
Fritz Lang's The Woman in the Window
A few months' later, the following films came to them:
Frank Tuttle's This Gun for Hire
Robert Siodmak's The Killer's
Robert Montgomery's The Lady in the Lake
Charles Vidor's Gilda
Howard Hawk's The Big Sleep
"A new 'series' had emerged in the history of film."
Notice that every film they list is by a different director. The films also represent all the studios.
This new phenomenon was so new, so sudden, and so wide-sweeping, that it caught the world by surprise.
And it is still being talked about.
The film noir period lasted for about twenty years, essentially during the 1940s and 1950s, and then it went away.
Every once in awhile someone will make one again, and it will be referred to as neo noir, but as a movement it is contained in this particular time in history. People are still trying to understand it. And people are still watching these movies.
The films in this canon are some of the most exciting, thrilling, tension-filled movies ever made. They deal with the dark side of human nature, but also with nobility, and they are visually, sometimes breathtakingly, beautiful to behold.
This film, Kiss Me Deadly, was directed by Robert Aldrich. Robert Aldrich is known for films such as The Big Knife (1955), Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? (1962), Hush . . . Hush, Sweet Charlotte (1964), The Dirty Dozen (1967), The Longest Yard (1974), and The Frisco Kid (1979). In 1956, Aldrich was photographed on set holding a copy of a book in his hands entitled Panorama du Film Noir. That early. He was onto something.
The driver of our car is Mike Hammer, the hero of a series of books written by Mickey Spillane.
Spillane worked in a genre of novels we call hard-boiled detective fiction. Others include the characters Philip Marlowe by Raymond Chandler and Sam Spade by Dashiell Hammett,
These men were tough, no-nonsense, men of action. Women wanted them. Men wanted to be them.
They took the law into their own hands. They operated by their own code. Sometimes they were modern-day knights. Sometimes they were as lost as the criminals they were fighting.
As Mike Hammer drives our mysterious woman, played by a young Cloris Leachman, she tells him that they are after her. Who? They. And they are after something. What? Something. Later we will call it the Whatsit.
She tells him, "If I happen to make it alive, forget me. But if I don't make it, remember me."
What does that mean?
Maybe our poet Christina Roessetti can help us. Remember?
She does not make it.
Someone pulls out in front of them and causes them to crash.
He wakes up tied up somewhere and witnesses them torturing her.
He passes out again. They push the car over a cliff with the two of them in it.
He wakes up in the hospital room.
What happened?
Who are they?
What is the Whatsit?
He thinks it must be something big. He cannot leave it alone. He must get involved.
His police lieutenant friend takes away his detective license and his gun permit. He is not allowed to get involved.
Do you think that will stop him?
Mike sticks his nose where it does not belong.
And he gets into trouble.
And he goes throughout our city to do it.
Our city.
El Pueblo de Nuestra Señora la Reina de los Ángeles del Río Porciúncula.
Los Angeles.
The home of hardboiled detective fiction. The home of crime dramas. The home of the movies. The home of film noir.
If you know the city, then you will have a feast watching this film. It is a practical tour of the town.
Malibu Canyon, Kaiser Hospital, Olive Street, Flower Street, 10401 Wilshire Boulevard, Rampart, Bunker Hill, Doheny, Cahuenga, Angel's Flight (operating!), Figueroa, the Hollywood Athletic Club, Sunset Blvd.
Yes, Sunset Blvd.
Some things just keep coming back.
Again.
And again.
How many girls will he kiss? How many girls will die? How many men will die? Will he himself die?
The plots in these films are often complicated. The characters are often complex. And there are often lots of characters.
They are puzzles to solve. Sometimes they end unsolved.
These are intelligent films for intelligent people. Disguised as B pictures. Cheap thrillers. Pulp fiction.
They tell the truth about the human condition.
Depravity. Evil. Original sin.
There is no one good. No, not one.
And in the end . . .
They entertain.
This one is explosive.
Keep away from the windows.
Someone might blow you a kiss.
028 - Kiss Me Deadly, 1955, United States. Dir. Robert Aldrich.
A young woman walks down the middle of the highway in the middle of the night.
She is barefoot and wearing only a trenchcoat.
She appears to be in great distress.
A man speeds down the highway in his speedster in the middle of the night.
He is in a hurry and does not wish to be detained.
The woman stands in front of him.
He sees her in his headlights.
She will not budge.
At the last moment, he must swerve to avoid her.
He stops violently on the side of the road in the brush.
She approaches the car.
He is agitated. He does not wish to pick up a strange woman, even one naked under her trenchcoat. He wishes to be left alone.
But he lets her in. And they drive.
Down the long, dark, two-lane highway in the middle of the night.
The credits begin to scroll. From top to bottom. Reversed. Widening as they come down the screen.
Like white signs painted on the road. Growing larger as they approach.
This is film noir.
Dark. Violent. Hard-boiled. Hard-bitten. Cold.
In 1955 two French film critics (Raymond Borde and Etienne Chaumeton) wrote an essay entitled "Towards a Definition of Film Noir." It is one of the few pieces written about film noir, and calling it film noir, while film noir was still being made. Most commentary came afterwards, looking back. So having anything written about it contemporaneously is important.
In their essay they describe the impact of American films that came to France in the summer of 1946. During World War 2 France did not have access to American films, so when the war was over and they received them, it was like a revelation.
Before the war, they knew American films in the vein of William Wyler, John Ford, and Frank Capra. After the war, they saw "a strange and violent tone, tinged with a unique kind of eroticism." It was as if everything had changed overnight.
The critics list the following films that came to them in a 6-week period:
John Huston's The Maltese Falcon
Otto Preminger's Laura
Edward Dmytryk's Murder My Sweet
Billy Wilder's Double Indemnity
Fritz Lang's The Woman in the Window
A few months' later, the following films came to them:
Frank Tuttle's This Gun for Hire
Robert Siodmak's The Killer's
Robert Montgomery's The Lady in the Lake
Charles Vidor's Gilda
Howard Hawk's The Big Sleep
"A new 'series' had emerged in the history of film."
Notice that every film they list is by a different director. The films also represent all the studios.
This new phenomenon was so new, so sudden, and so wide-sweeping, that it caught the world by surprise.
And it is still being talked about.
The film noir period lasted for about twenty years, essentially during the 1940s and 1950s, and then it went away.
Every once in awhile someone will make one again, and it will be referred to as neo noir, but as a movement it is contained in this particular time in history. People are still trying to understand it. And people are still watching these movies.
The films in this canon are some of the most exciting, thrilling, tension-filled movies ever made. They deal with the dark side of human nature, but also with nobility, and they are visually, sometimes breathtakingly, beautiful to behold.
This film, Kiss Me Deadly, was directed by Robert Aldrich. Robert Aldrich is known for films such as The Big Knife (1955), Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? (1962), Hush . . . Hush, Sweet Charlotte (1964), The Dirty Dozen (1967), The Longest Yard (1974), and The Frisco Kid (1979). In 1956, Aldrich was photographed on set holding a copy of a book in his hands entitled Panorama du Film Noir. That early. He was onto something.
The driver of our car is Mike Hammer, the hero of a series of books written by Mickey Spillane.
Spillane worked in a genre of novels we call hard-boiled detective fiction. Others include the characters Philip Marlowe by Raymond Chandler and Sam Spade by Dashiell Hammett,
These men were tough, no-nonsense, men of action. Women wanted them. Men wanted to be them.
They took the law into their own hands. They operated by their own code. Sometimes they were modern-day knights. Sometimes they were as lost as the criminals they were fighting.
As Mike Hammer drives our mysterious woman, played by a young Cloris Leachman, she tells him that they are after her. Who? They. And they are after something. What? Something. Later we will call it the Whatsit.
She tells him, "If I happen to make it alive, forget me. But if I don't make it, remember me."
What does that mean?
Maybe our poet Christina Roessetti can help us. Remember?
She does not make it.
Someone pulls out in front of them and causes them to crash.
He wakes up tied up somewhere and witnesses them torturing her.
He passes out again. They push the car over a cliff with the two of them in it.
He wakes up in the hospital room.
What happened?
Who are they?
What is the Whatsit?
He thinks it must be something big. He cannot leave it alone. He must get involved.
His police lieutenant friend takes away his detective license and his gun permit. He is not allowed to get involved.
Do you think that will stop him?
Mike sticks his nose where it does not belong.
And he gets into trouble.
And he goes throughout our city to do it.
Our city.
El Pueblo de Nuestra Señora la Reina de los Ángeles del Río Porciúncula.
Los Angeles.
The home of hardboiled detective fiction. The home of crime dramas. The home of the movies. The home of film noir.
If you know the city, then you will have a feast watching this film. It is a practical tour of the town.
Malibu Canyon, Kaiser Hospital, Olive Street, Flower Street, 10401 Wilshire Boulevard, Rampart, Bunker Hill, Doheny, Cahuenga, Angel's Flight (operating!), Figueroa, the Hollywood Athletic Club, Sunset Blvd.
Yes, Sunset Blvd.
Some things just keep coming back.
Again.
And again.
How many girls will he kiss? How many girls will die? How many men will die? Will he himself die?
The plots in these films are often complicated. The characters are often complex. And there are often lots of characters.
They are puzzles to solve. Sometimes they end unsolved.
These are intelligent films for intelligent people. Disguised as B pictures. Cheap thrillers. Pulp fiction.
They tell the truth about the human condition.
Depravity. Evil. Original sin.
There is no one good. No, not one.
And in the end . . .
They entertain.
This one is explosive.
Keep away from the windows.
Someone might blow you a kiss.
Monday, January 23, 2017
023 - The Red Shoes, 1948, United Kingdom; Dir. Michael Powell, Emeric Pressburger.
Monday, January 23, 2017
023 - The Red Shoes, 1948, United Kingdom. Dir. Michael Powell, Emeric Pressburger.
The ballet is about to begin.
A restless throng pounds on the balcony door.
"They're going mad, Sir. It's the students."
Someone behind the door shouts, "Down with tyrants!" The doorkeeper says to let them in. They rush up the stairs and out on to the balcony. They look like they are in their 40s, as college students back then did. They are well-dressed for the evening, and they are feisty.
One group has come to see the ballet. Another has come to hear the orchestra. They argue.
The first group shows snobbish favoritism for the lead dancer, Irina Boronskaja. They are incredulous that anyone would come to the ballet without coming specifically for her.
The second group shows patriotic enthusiasm for the composer, Prof. Palmer. He has written the music, Heart of Fire, for tonight's ballet. He is their professor, and they cheer for him.
As the orchestra begins one of the students, Julian Craster, recognizes the music. So do his friends, Ike and Terry, sitting on either side of him. It is his own composition! At first he gives him the benefit of the doubt, but as it continues he realizes that his own professor has stolen and published his work. He gets up and leaves. Terry follows. So does Ike.
This happens.
Lady Neston sits in a theatre box with her niece Victoria Page. She sends a card to Lermontov, in his box, inviting him to an after party. He does not wish to go but is persuaded by Professor Palmer, in the box with him, to attend, as she is a patron of the arts.
After the ballet, Palmer and Lermontov arrive at the party. Lady Neston welcomes them, congratulating Palmer for his composition and showing enthusiasm for Lermontov for his having come. Some men wheel in a piano. Lermontov is bothered. This is a set-up.
Sure enough, Lady Neston explains to him that her niece Vicky will be dancing. He calls it a shock. He asks her, "How would you define ballet?" She begins to answer, "One might call it the poetry of motion. . . . " He interrupts, "One might, but for me it is a great deal more. For me it is a religion. One does not care to see one's religion practiced in an atmosphere like this." He leaves the room.
As the pianist begins playing, Vicky passes through to the other room and approaches the bar, where Lermontov is now ordering a champagne cocktail. She affects an attitude of disdain and also orders a champagne cocktail. He notices her and speaks to her, thinking they will share in their disdain for the party. She has baited him. He tells her that it very nearly was a great deal worse. They were about to witness a horror.
She reveals, "I was that horror."
He is caught. It is too late to apologize but he does anyway. She confronts him and asks why he is not sorry she did not dance. He explains.
"If I accept an invitation to a party, I do not expect to find myself at an audition."
Touché.
But then he asks, "Why do you want to dance?"
She responds, "Why do you want to breathe?"
And with that, she now has his attention.
He says, "Come with me."
Meanwhile, Julian Craster has written a letter to Lermontov introducing himself, explaining that the music of Heart of Fire was his composition. He arrives the next morning at Lermontov's asking for it back. He is embarrassed and does not want Lermontov to read it. Too late. Lermontov has already read it.
Lermontov has him sit at the piano and play. The actor, Julian Goring, is really playing.
Lermontov hires him on the spot to be the new coach for the orchestra. He tells him to destroy the letter and forget about it, stating that "These things mostly happen unintentionally."
Then he observes--
"It is much more disheartening to have to steal than to be stolen from."
That is quite an observation. Read it again. What does it say about talent?
And with that we have set up the film. In the first twenty minutes of a two-and-a-quarter hour story, we have the young dancer and the young composer having met the great impresario and been invited to the next rehearsal.
What we are about to see is a meditation on the price of art.
Martin Scorsese has championed The Red Shoes as one of the great films in cinema history and one of the greatest color films ever made.
Gene Kelly used it to bring ballet into An American in Paris.
It has gone on to influence many artists and filmmakers.
Are you an artist?
Do you want to be one of the great ones?
How badly to you want it?
What price are you willing to pay?
Are there limits?
Are some prices too high?
023 - The Red Shoes, 1948, United Kingdom. Dir. Michael Powell, Emeric Pressburger.
The ballet is about to begin.
A restless throng pounds on the balcony door.
"They're going mad, Sir. It's the students."
Someone behind the door shouts, "Down with tyrants!" The doorkeeper says to let them in. They rush up the stairs and out on to the balcony. They look like they are in their 40s, as college students back then did. They are well-dressed for the evening, and they are feisty.
One group has come to see the ballet. Another has come to hear the orchestra. They argue.
The first group shows snobbish favoritism for the lead dancer, Irina Boronskaja. They are incredulous that anyone would come to the ballet without coming specifically for her.
The second group shows patriotic enthusiasm for the composer, Prof. Palmer. He has written the music, Heart of Fire, for tonight's ballet. He is their professor, and they cheer for him.
As the orchestra begins one of the students, Julian Craster, recognizes the music. So do his friends, Ike and Terry, sitting on either side of him. It is his own composition! At first he gives him the benefit of the doubt, but as it continues he realizes that his own professor has stolen and published his work. He gets up and leaves. Terry follows. So does Ike.
This happens.
Lady Neston sits in a theatre box with her niece Victoria Page. She sends a card to Lermontov, in his box, inviting him to an after party. He does not wish to go but is persuaded by Professor Palmer, in the box with him, to attend, as she is a patron of the arts.
After the ballet, Palmer and Lermontov arrive at the party. Lady Neston welcomes them, congratulating Palmer for his composition and showing enthusiasm for Lermontov for his having come. Some men wheel in a piano. Lermontov is bothered. This is a set-up.
Sure enough, Lady Neston explains to him that her niece Vicky will be dancing. He calls it a shock. He asks her, "How would you define ballet?" She begins to answer, "One might call it the poetry of motion. . . . " He interrupts, "One might, but for me it is a great deal more. For me it is a religion. One does not care to see one's religion practiced in an atmosphere like this." He leaves the room.
As the pianist begins playing, Vicky passes through to the other room and approaches the bar, where Lermontov is now ordering a champagne cocktail. She affects an attitude of disdain and also orders a champagne cocktail. He notices her and speaks to her, thinking they will share in their disdain for the party. She has baited him. He tells her that it very nearly was a great deal worse. They were about to witness a horror.
She reveals, "I was that horror."
He is caught. It is too late to apologize but he does anyway. She confronts him and asks why he is not sorry she did not dance. He explains.
"If I accept an invitation to a party, I do not expect to find myself at an audition."
Touché.
But then he asks, "Why do you want to dance?"
She responds, "Why do you want to breathe?"
And with that, she now has his attention.
He says, "Come with me."
Meanwhile, Julian Craster has written a letter to Lermontov introducing himself, explaining that the music of Heart of Fire was his composition. He arrives the next morning at Lermontov's asking for it back. He is embarrassed and does not want Lermontov to read it. Too late. Lermontov has already read it.
Lermontov has him sit at the piano and play. The actor, Julian Goring, is really playing.
Lermontov hires him on the spot to be the new coach for the orchestra. He tells him to destroy the letter and forget about it, stating that "These things mostly happen unintentionally."
Then he observes--
"It is much more disheartening to have to steal than to be stolen from."
That is quite an observation. Read it again. What does it say about talent?
And with that we have set up the film. In the first twenty minutes of a two-and-a-quarter hour story, we have the young dancer and the young composer having met the great impresario and been invited to the next rehearsal.
What we are about to see is a meditation on the price of art.
Martin Scorsese has championed The Red Shoes as one of the great films in cinema history and one of the greatest color films ever made.
Gene Kelly used it to bring ballet into An American in Paris.
It has gone on to influence many artists and filmmakers.
Are you an artist?
Do you want to be one of the great ones?
How badly to you want it?
What price are you willing to pay?
Are there limits?
Are some prices too high?
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