TCM presented a beautiful print of Ernst Lubitsch's Egyptian epic THE LOVES OF PHAROAH (1922). Released by Paramount in the US, the film was Lubitsch's last feature in his home country of Germany before setting up camp in Hollywood. (That's another story all together.) The "Lubitsch Touch" in his historically-based epics, such as CARMEN, MADAME DUBARRY, SUMURUN, or ANNA BOLEYN, is the director's ability to present us with the overwhelming sight of the plight of the crowd and then gradually direct our attention to a personal drama taking place within the epic sweep of time and destiny. (He does so more genuinely than DeMille, who seemed to have imitated this approach.) Then, of course,there are the sexual situations, the uncontrollable attractions, and the inevitable rejections that determine the fates of the characters, a theme continued into the director's sophisticated comedies and, later, witty musicals that followed this film. LOVES OF PHAROAH has stunning visual moments both large and small: the crowds working, revolting, being manipulated by rulers to the turning of Emil Jannings to a wall and dropping an outstretched hand, showing his reluctant realization of the futility of his affections. The film is deliberately paced but never draggy. Though there are moments of regret (the depiction of the Ethiopians is particularly stereotyped and inconsistent), this foray into Arabian exotica is a dramatic improvement over the stilted presentations seen in SUMURUN from a couple of years before. With THE LOVES OF PHAROAH, Lubitsch reaches the apex of his epic years (though THE PATRIOT may have reached greater heights, though we'll never know until a print is found).
Reviews
12 Reviews
Bully for Whitmore
19 May 2006
Teddy Roosevelt was, and still is, my favorite president. As a freshman in college, this was the first film I was assigned to review for my college paper. But that was 1978. I haven't seen it since. I do recall being enlightened about Roosevelt and entertained by the film. Whitmore, who had received an Oscar nomination for Best Actor in 1975 for a similar turn as Harry Truman in GIVE 'EM HELL HARRY, if I remember correctly, goes beyond the familiar and well-essayed mannerisms (the toothy smile, the confident stride) and gets to the heart of Teddy. His mourning the loss of his son still remains vivid in my memory. I think, however, it would be difficult to find this film. For that matter, no one will probably ever read this review.
Spring Is Here
(1930)
Breezy Musical, Standout Fazenda
8 May 2006
SPRING IS HERE is a breezy, yet undistinguished early sound musical. A hit on Broadway, it suffers from the overproduction of musicals at the time (meaning it received no special consideration during its making) and from a director who brings no visual flair to the medium. What we're left with are pleasant performers and pleasant, if not memorable, tunes. The standout performance here is given by Louise Fazenda, a ubiquitous figure in these early sound musicals made at Warners. Her portrayal of a character who is simultaneously embarrassed and titillated at the innuendo surrounding her is delightful and captures the necessarily frivolous tone needed in such a piece. Incidentally, Fazenda was the first in the sound era to portray the dumb blonde, an archetype that still pleases to this day.
Sins of the Fathers
(1928)
Another Lost One - Or So We Thought
22 April 2006
Silentera.com now reports that a print exists of this film. It does not, however, provide any information about where such a print can be found, as it does for other extent films of the silent era.
Of course, I haven't seen this film since it's lost. But I do find it interesting that of the six films that Emil Jannings made in the US for Paramount between 1927 and 1929, only one of them still exists: THE LAST COMMAND (1928), for which he won the first Best Actor Oscar. That award was shared with THE WAY OF ALL FLESH (1927), another lost film. STREET OF SIN (1928), THE PATRIOT (1928), and BETRAYAL (1929) are all lost or presumed lost. My question would be why didn't Paramount take better care of Jannings's films? Not only was he a prestige item for them but his films meant box office. They even distributed his early German talkie THE BLUE ANGEL (1930). But Paramount also lost films starring Clara Bow, Ruth Chatterton, and others, so it probably wasn't anything personal. Still, it's a shame. SINS is also Ruth Chatterton's film debut. Who wouldn't want to see her in her only silent film, starting a successful run as the most prestigious female star at Paramount for the next three years?
Of course, I haven't seen this film since it's lost. But I do find it interesting that of the six films that Emil Jannings made in the US for Paramount between 1927 and 1929, only one of them still exists: THE LAST COMMAND (1928), for which he won the first Best Actor Oscar. That award was shared with THE WAY OF ALL FLESH (1927), another lost film. STREET OF SIN (1928), THE PATRIOT (1928), and BETRAYAL (1929) are all lost or presumed lost. My question would be why didn't Paramount take better care of Jannings's films? Not only was he a prestige item for them but his films meant box office. They even distributed his early German talkie THE BLUE ANGEL (1930). But Paramount also lost films starring Clara Bow, Ruth Chatterton, and others, so it probably wasn't anything personal. Still, it's a shame. SINS is also Ruth Chatterton's film debut. Who wouldn't want to see her in her only silent film, starting a successful run as the most prestigious female star at Paramount for the next three years?
Valiant is the Word for Gladys George (SPOILERS)
5 December 2004
Warning: Spoilers
After about 25 years to see this movie, especially because of its being George's only Best Actress nomination, I had expected some kind of imitation of MADAME X. (George, in fact, played that part at MGM the following year and gave the best performance of the role captured on film.) But, it's something a little different. The only similarity is in genre - mother-love and sacrifice - and melodramatic tone. An unabashed soaper to be sure, here, Carrie adopts two orphans and devotes the rest of her life to them. Carrie's "mysterious" past and reputation as a "bad woman," also connect it directly to the Madame X brand of women's films of the thirties, of which it is typical. Two key elements keep the film from transcending its genre. First, the contrived, overly melodramatic plot and sometimes forced bathos of Claude Binyon's screenplay, adapted from a novel by Barry Benefield, lacks dramatic logic and contains too much ambiguity; Binyon's screenplays were known for their tendency to be sensational yet mundane and derivative, and this film proves no exception. The end of the film is especially illogical in light of all that has come before: it's melodramatic grand-standing, yet it leaves you flat with its contrivances. Second, Wesley Ruggles's direction lacks pace and rhythm. The film drags when it should be crackling. Still, it has a moment or two of spark. And the production values are top-notch, the best that Paramount Pictures, where it was produced by Wesley Ruggles and Adolphe Zukor as head of production, had to offer.
Even though Gladys George was then under contract with MGM, Paramount certainly intended for this film to make her a big star. The ad-line for the movie went "You'll fall in love with Carrie!" I suppose they created all of this as a consolation for giving George's star-making Broadway role in GO WEST, YOUNG MAN (based on PERSONAL APPEARANCE) to their resident queen of the lot - Mae West. They certainly put some of their best talent behind her: Leo Tover photographed it with some early scenes verging on a noir look that he would later use in some of his forties' Paramount films; Ernst Fegte did the set design, and Hans Dreier, the man almost singularly responsible for the distinctive Paramount look during the studio's heyday, was responsible for the atmospheric art direction (with excellent interior design by A. E. Freudeman); and Travis Banton, the premiere designer for every Paramount diva, designed the costumes. This was definitely an "A" production. But its weaknesses kept it from becoming the hoped-for success.
Gladys George, however, rises above the film's weaknesses, but she isn't able to bring anything with her. She did, indeed, deserve her Oscar nomination. Here, she's defiant and strong, self-sufficient and self-reliant, fearless, and brave, a woman who knows her own mind and lives by her own values and morals. At the beginning of the film, it is only implied that Carrie Snyder is a prostitute: she lives by herself on the fringe of society, children are forbidden to enter her yard, she places a tall picket fence around her place, and her digs are pretty snazzy for the time. So, she must have been a darn good prostitute because she looks pretty successful. Oh, and the "good people" of the town despise this "bad" woman." They would like nothing better than to see her "run out of town on a rail!" - yes, that is actually said in the film. (See what I mean about the lame screenplay?) But Carrie could care less. She only decides to leave town finally because her reputation may harm the young boy she loves so much. After she does leave town, moreover, she becomes an even greater success in business (hints of TO EACH HIS OWN to come in 1946) and is able to adopt the boy (and a young girl who gets thrown into the mix) "spiritually," if not legally and raise them. Actually, VALIANT isn't the word for Carrie; rather, it should have been DEFIANT/SELF-RELIANT/INDEPENDENT/STRONG IS THE WORD FOR CARRIE. As the film progresses, George gets even better. The film indicates her maturity, her transition to wisdom based on hard, tough living (always relayed in her gruff voice) by changing her hair color from a brassy platinum blonde to a softer, more peaceful brown. George, however, implies all of these qualities through her face and eyes and the way she carries herself. She didn't need makeup. Her performance is naturalistic, realistic, and at moments, full of energy and dramatic electricity.
George doesn't always get the cooperation of her co-stars though. Ruggles is no help either: he doesn't seem to be able to inspire such mediocre talents as Arlene Judge and John Howard (so dull in THE PHILADELPHIA STORY [1940]). During one scene in which George tries to make Howard see the truth, which she does often throughout the movie, Tover had the good sense to film the entire scene over Howard's shoulder, focusing directly on George's face. I say Tover because I don't think that Ruggles saw the dramatic limitations in his younger actors. Therefore, George brings all of the dramatic importance and energy to the scene. Others in the film include Harry Carey, Isabel Jewell, and Hattie McDaniel (billed here as McDaniels), and they do well for themselves.
Despite the flaws of this film, it is a rewarding experience to see George in such a large role. (This would make a great double bill with her MADAME X.) And SHE never disappoints.
Even though Gladys George was then under contract with MGM, Paramount certainly intended for this film to make her a big star. The ad-line for the movie went "You'll fall in love with Carrie!" I suppose they created all of this as a consolation for giving George's star-making Broadway role in GO WEST, YOUNG MAN (based on PERSONAL APPEARANCE) to their resident queen of the lot - Mae West. They certainly put some of their best talent behind her: Leo Tover photographed it with some early scenes verging on a noir look that he would later use in some of his forties' Paramount films; Ernst Fegte did the set design, and Hans Dreier, the man almost singularly responsible for the distinctive Paramount look during the studio's heyday, was responsible for the atmospheric art direction (with excellent interior design by A. E. Freudeman); and Travis Banton, the premiere designer for every Paramount diva, designed the costumes. This was definitely an "A" production. But its weaknesses kept it from becoming the hoped-for success.
Gladys George, however, rises above the film's weaknesses, but she isn't able to bring anything with her. She did, indeed, deserve her Oscar nomination. Here, she's defiant and strong, self-sufficient and self-reliant, fearless, and brave, a woman who knows her own mind and lives by her own values and morals. At the beginning of the film, it is only implied that Carrie Snyder is a prostitute: she lives by herself on the fringe of society, children are forbidden to enter her yard, she places a tall picket fence around her place, and her digs are pretty snazzy for the time. So, she must have been a darn good prostitute because she looks pretty successful. Oh, and the "good people" of the town despise this "bad" woman." They would like nothing better than to see her "run out of town on a rail!" - yes, that is actually said in the film. (See what I mean about the lame screenplay?) But Carrie could care less. She only decides to leave town finally because her reputation may harm the young boy she loves so much. After she does leave town, moreover, she becomes an even greater success in business (hints of TO EACH HIS OWN to come in 1946) and is able to adopt the boy (and a young girl who gets thrown into the mix) "spiritually," if not legally and raise them. Actually, VALIANT isn't the word for Carrie; rather, it should have been DEFIANT/SELF-RELIANT/INDEPENDENT/STRONG IS THE WORD FOR CARRIE. As the film progresses, George gets even better. The film indicates her maturity, her transition to wisdom based on hard, tough living (always relayed in her gruff voice) by changing her hair color from a brassy platinum blonde to a softer, more peaceful brown. George, however, implies all of these qualities through her face and eyes and the way she carries herself. She didn't need makeup. Her performance is naturalistic, realistic, and at moments, full of energy and dramatic electricity.
George doesn't always get the cooperation of her co-stars though. Ruggles is no help either: he doesn't seem to be able to inspire such mediocre talents as Arlene Judge and John Howard (so dull in THE PHILADELPHIA STORY [1940]). During one scene in which George tries to make Howard see the truth, which she does often throughout the movie, Tover had the good sense to film the entire scene over Howard's shoulder, focusing directly on George's face. I say Tover because I don't think that Ruggles saw the dramatic limitations in his younger actors. Therefore, George brings all of the dramatic importance and energy to the scene. Others in the film include Harry Carey, Isabel Jewell, and Hattie McDaniel (billed here as McDaniels), and they do well for themselves.
Despite the flaws of this film, it is a rewarding experience to see George in such a large role. (This would make a great double bill with her MADAME X.) And SHE never disappoints.
Doughnuts and Society
(1936)
Louise Fazenda is always worth a look
10 October 2004
This "B" filmed by Mascot and released by Republic is no better and no worse than some of the "A" comedies and most of the programmers made at the major studios at the time. This is not to say, however, that it is any kind of lost gem. On the contrary, it's routine and the filming is mundane. But the plot - streamlined, slightly complicated, and satirical - sometimes rises to the level of better films, and the screenplay contains an occasional sharp line ("Everyone will be here. The very cream of society." "The cream of today becomes the cheese of tomorrow."). Still, it also contains too poorly paced bits and broad humor. Some of this, however, is the fault of the inadequate direction by Lewis D. Collins.
The delight of the film is Louise Fazenda. A veteran from the earliest silent comedies - her career dates from 1913 - and a solid supporting player in musicals and comedies, Fazenda plays her part with an interesting range: adept physical comedy to poignant moments of pure drama. Her pairing with Maude Eburne is uneven: occasionally, the two hit a rhythm that's fun to watch; yet, as often, they totally miss the mark. Eburne seems at fault here, occasionally playing her character with the wrong tone and inadequate line-readings.
Other positive points of the film include the casting of a young Ann Rutherford and the always-reliable Franklin Pangborne. Still, it's worth a look for Fazenda.
The delight of the film is Louise Fazenda. A veteran from the earliest silent comedies - her career dates from 1913 - and a solid supporting player in musicals and comedies, Fazenda plays her part with an interesting range: adept physical comedy to poignant moments of pure drama. Her pairing with Maude Eburne is uneven: occasionally, the two hit a rhythm that's fun to watch; yet, as often, they totally miss the mark. Eburne seems at fault here, occasionally playing her character with the wrong tone and inadequate line-readings.
Other positive points of the film include the casting of a young Ann Rutherford and the always-reliable Franklin Pangborne. Still, it's worth a look for Fazenda.
Opening Night
(1977)
Cassavettes's overlooked masterpiece
10 October 2004
Yesterday, I went to the monthly Antique Flea Market that comes to town. I really have no interest in such things, but I went for the fellowship of friends who do have such an interest. Looking over the hundreds of vendor, passing many of them quickly, I spotted someone selling VHS tapes and DVDs. Most of the films he had on DVD were rather recent; the oldest one I noticed was the 1940 Cary Grant-Irene Dunne co-starrer MY FAVORITE WIFE. But the VHS tapes, by their nature, were mostly older films. I couldn't resist buying SOMETHING since they were being sold at 3 tapes for $10.00. What a bargain, as Eddie Murphy used to say. I came across one film that I had heard about for years but had never seen: John Cassavettes's OPENING NIGHT (1977). Well, I certainly wanted that being a fan of Gena Rowlands, and I had heard that this film contained one of her finest performances. He also had FACES (1968). I had seen this about 20 years ago, a time when I probably had not had enough life experience to appreciate it thoroughly. And I wanted to take advantage of the bargain, so I grabbed that one too. My other choice was CLAIRE'S KNEE (1970).
When I got home, I decided to put aside the work I had planned to do so that I could watch OPENING NIGHT. I was totally enthralled by this film. It focuses on Myrtle Gordon (Gena Rowlands), a famous actress of stage and screen, who, during out-of-town previews, is having personal and professional problems coming to terms with both her character and the play's theme of facing aging. After one rehearsal, an avid fan and autograph hound accosts her with cries (and tears) of "I love you! I love you!" A few minutes later, this fan is hit by a car and killed. This begins Myrtle's descent into herself where she must face her own fears of aging, the future of her career as a mature actress, and the inadequacies she finds in the play itself (written by a much older female dramatist, played by Joan Blondell). Throughout the film, she sees the dead girl, an obvious symbol of her past; drinks almost constantly; and receives insincere support from her director (Ben Gazzara), the producer (Paul Stewart), her costar (John Cassavettes himself), and the dramatist. Actually, they're more concerned about how her behavior will affect them and their careers: flubbing lines on stage, improvising new lines, generally cracking up on stage, and arriving for the Broadway opening totally drunk.
This story functions not only to address the issues of aging but also to promote Cassavettes's displeasure with mainstream movie-making. As I watched the film, I was at times surprised, confused, amused, disparaging, but ultimately involved, entertained, and satisfied. Cassavettes really had a great sense of humor, cared very much that his audience understood what he was implying, and wanted them to be emotionally involved in the story. He makes allusions to ALL ABOUT EVE with the use of the avid theater fan, even dressing the young girl in a slicker and hat similar to the one worn by Anne Baxter at the beginning of that film. This allusion functions most obviously to support his aging theme, the contrast of the older and younger woman. He also obviously uses the contrast as a symbol for Myrtle's confronting her own lost youth. At first, I felt the symbolism was TOO obvious, but then I realized that that was Cassavettes's intention. He doesn't want his audience misunderstanding what he's getting at; if they did, it would interfere with their emotional involvement. This spectre of youth haunts Myrtle, attacks her, and wants to destroy her. Myrtle eventually "kills" her, but before she can really come to terms with herself and the play, she must reach bottom (another figurative death?). So Cassavettes has her get so drunk that she can't walk and must crawl to her dressing room the night the play opens on Broadway. She resurrects herself (helping yourself out of such situations is also important to the film's theme) and makes the play a success by giving a great performance and changing the direction of play for the better by improvising so that it contains some ray of hope for the aging character she's playing. These scenes are funny and interesting. Cassavettes and Rowlands actually did the play in front of live audiences, who did and did not know they were going to be part of a movie. The play they're doing also acts as contrast: it's mainstream and self-serious about the issues it addresses, that is, until Myrtle changes its denouement. In doing so, she also improves the work of her co-stars. The natural evolution of interaction (achieved through improvisation)between and among human beings, subjective realism, and universal truth - these were Cassavettes's concerns in making films.
Gena Rowlands is amazing throughout. Of course, she has that great face, and Cassavettes (notoriously in love with her throughout their marriage) treats us to numerous closeups of it so that we too can feel her emotions and that we know what's going on inside of her. She makes you care so much about this character that you want to see her work her way out of this crisis of the soul. And this is what holds your attention for the 2 hours and 30 minutes running time. The film is deliberately paced at times and requires constant attention, but anyone with interest in good film-making and great acting will be rewarded. Someone else said that this is a movie for people who love movies. All others be forewarned.
Seek out OPENING NIGHT if you've never seen it. Everyone in it is excellent, and it's one of Cassavettes's best films.
When I got home, I decided to put aside the work I had planned to do so that I could watch OPENING NIGHT. I was totally enthralled by this film. It focuses on Myrtle Gordon (Gena Rowlands), a famous actress of stage and screen, who, during out-of-town previews, is having personal and professional problems coming to terms with both her character and the play's theme of facing aging. After one rehearsal, an avid fan and autograph hound accosts her with cries (and tears) of "I love you! I love you!" A few minutes later, this fan is hit by a car and killed. This begins Myrtle's descent into herself where she must face her own fears of aging, the future of her career as a mature actress, and the inadequacies she finds in the play itself (written by a much older female dramatist, played by Joan Blondell). Throughout the film, she sees the dead girl, an obvious symbol of her past; drinks almost constantly; and receives insincere support from her director (Ben Gazzara), the producer (Paul Stewart), her costar (John Cassavettes himself), and the dramatist. Actually, they're more concerned about how her behavior will affect them and their careers: flubbing lines on stage, improvising new lines, generally cracking up on stage, and arriving for the Broadway opening totally drunk.
This story functions not only to address the issues of aging but also to promote Cassavettes's displeasure with mainstream movie-making. As I watched the film, I was at times surprised, confused, amused, disparaging, but ultimately involved, entertained, and satisfied. Cassavettes really had a great sense of humor, cared very much that his audience understood what he was implying, and wanted them to be emotionally involved in the story. He makes allusions to ALL ABOUT EVE with the use of the avid theater fan, even dressing the young girl in a slicker and hat similar to the one worn by Anne Baxter at the beginning of that film. This allusion functions most obviously to support his aging theme, the contrast of the older and younger woman. He also obviously uses the contrast as a symbol for Myrtle's confronting her own lost youth. At first, I felt the symbolism was TOO obvious, but then I realized that that was Cassavettes's intention. He doesn't want his audience misunderstanding what he's getting at; if they did, it would interfere with their emotional involvement. This spectre of youth haunts Myrtle, attacks her, and wants to destroy her. Myrtle eventually "kills" her, but before she can really come to terms with herself and the play, she must reach bottom (another figurative death?). So Cassavettes has her get so drunk that she can't walk and must crawl to her dressing room the night the play opens on Broadway. She resurrects herself (helping yourself out of such situations is also important to the film's theme) and makes the play a success by giving a great performance and changing the direction of play for the better by improvising so that it contains some ray of hope for the aging character she's playing. These scenes are funny and interesting. Cassavettes and Rowlands actually did the play in front of live audiences, who did and did not know they were going to be part of a movie. The play they're doing also acts as contrast: it's mainstream and self-serious about the issues it addresses, that is, until Myrtle changes its denouement. In doing so, she also improves the work of her co-stars. The natural evolution of interaction (achieved through improvisation)between and among human beings, subjective realism, and universal truth - these were Cassavettes's concerns in making films.
Gena Rowlands is amazing throughout. Of course, she has that great face, and Cassavettes (notoriously in love with her throughout their marriage) treats us to numerous closeups of it so that we too can feel her emotions and that we know what's going on inside of her. She makes you care so much about this character that you want to see her work her way out of this crisis of the soul. And this is what holds your attention for the 2 hours and 30 minutes running time. The film is deliberately paced at times and requires constant attention, but anyone with interest in good film-making and great acting will be rewarded. Someone else said that this is a movie for people who love movies. All others be forewarned.
Seek out OPENING NIGHT if you've never seen it. Everyone in it is excellent, and it's one of Cassavettes's best films.
When My Baby Smiles at Me
(1948)
Contains a good Dan Dailey performance
9 October 2004
I saw this movie several times on television back in the 1970s, so my comments come from a rather distant memory. This film was typical of 20th Century Fox's output of Betty Grable films during the mid to late 1940s. A remake of Paramount's and Hal Skelly's DANCE OF LIFE (1929) and a further remake by Paramount in 1937 called SWING HIGH, SWING LOW starring Carole Lombard, the story is all about an alcoholic burlesque performer, played by Dan Dailey, who brings down not only himself but also his wife, played by Grable. Jack Oakie, June Haver, James Gleason, and Richard Arlen (!) are also in it. The most vivid memory I have of the film is Dan Dailey's Oscar nominated performance. I remember being impressed by him and finding him both believable and sympathetic. His performance lifts the film above the average Betty Grable nostalgia vehicle. The two stars were always good together, even though the material was usually recycled and mundane, sometimes wallowing in nostalgia and overproduction. Most feel Dailey's nomination for the Oscar a travesty: he took the place that many feel belonged to Humphrey Bogart in TREASURE OF THE SIERRA MADRE. Bogart certainly deserved recognition for his work in that film, but Dailey's work here also warrants mention.
Directed by Walter Lang (of course), it's based on the play BURLESQUE.
Directed by Walter Lang (of course), it's based on the play BURLESQUE.
The Night Club
(1925)
A disappointing film
5 September 2004
The print I saw contained inappropriate music. This fact became an irritation almost immediately and did interfere with my attempt to enjoy the film. The comedy is rather simplistic slapstick, although the wild car ride at the end is both humorous and exciting. The best comic performance is given by Louise Fazenda, in a brief appearance. Indeed, she was the reason I sought this film out to watch. Wallace Beery also acts up to effect in the scene involving Fazenda. Although Raymond Griffith was a popular comedian of the era, this film doesn't give much evidence as to why. There's little that's memorable about his performing, except maybe his dapper look. His art is probably better seen in some other work.
The Cheat
(1915)
An entertaining antique
24 May 2004
I think modern audiences tend to be too harsh on some of our earliest films.
We tend to forget that directors, actors, and others were in the process of creating a new art form. As a result, we should look at these films within their own parameters. And as an example of what directors were just learning to do, "The Cheat" is one of the best films of its year. People who rent or view films from this time period should realize that, almost without exception, dramas are going to be Victorian in their plots. They should also expect that the acting will be "acting" (couldn't italicize this word), broad pantomime, and histrionic.
Yes, "The Cheat" is melodramatically Victorian and most of the acting is broad, but it distinguishes itself with some innovation and some subtlety. (I'm assuming that DeMille's use of expressionistic lighting was innovative; he did, indeed, receive flak from the money-men for such techniques.) Here, we see DeMille uses silhouettes and low-key lighting not only to create mood but also to relay certain plot points. The subtlety comes to us from Sessue Hayakawa. His technique contrasts greatly with the other actors and as a result, he stands out. You can't take your eyes off of him. He's still most of the time and his acting could be called zen-acting, much like "the method," which became popular in the 50s. He exudes charisma as the villain, and you certainly see why he was the first Asian star of American films, or one of its first big stars of any background for that matter. (Have there been other Asian box office draws besides Jackie Chan?) I certainly became a fan after seeing this movie on TCM. I immediately ordered the DVD, which contains a fine print, and searched for other silent films he was in. The only one I've been able to find so far is "The Secret Game" from 1917. "The Tong Man" (1919) is supposed to be available, but I've yet to find anyone with it in stock.
In summary, this film is worth catching for Sessue Hayakawa.
We tend to forget that directors, actors, and others were in the process of creating a new art form. As a result, we should look at these films within their own parameters. And as an example of what directors were just learning to do, "The Cheat" is one of the best films of its year. People who rent or view films from this time period should realize that, almost without exception, dramas are going to be Victorian in their plots. They should also expect that the acting will be "acting" (couldn't italicize this word), broad pantomime, and histrionic.
Yes, "The Cheat" is melodramatically Victorian and most of the acting is broad, but it distinguishes itself with some innovation and some subtlety. (I'm assuming that DeMille's use of expressionistic lighting was innovative; he did, indeed, receive flak from the money-men for such techniques.) Here, we see DeMille uses silhouettes and low-key lighting not only to create mood but also to relay certain plot points. The subtlety comes to us from Sessue Hayakawa. His technique contrasts greatly with the other actors and as a result, he stands out. You can't take your eyes off of him. He's still most of the time and his acting could be called zen-acting, much like "the method," which became popular in the 50s. He exudes charisma as the villain, and you certainly see why he was the first Asian star of American films, or one of its first big stars of any background for that matter. (Have there been other Asian box office draws besides Jackie Chan?) I certainly became a fan after seeing this movie on TCM. I immediately ordered the DVD, which contains a fine print, and searched for other silent films he was in. The only one I've been able to find so far is "The Secret Game" from 1917. "The Tong Man" (1919) is supposed to be available, but I've yet to find anyone with it in stock.
In summary, this film is worth catching for Sessue Hayakawa.
Troy
(2004)
A conventional, tedious film
19 May 2004
As soon as the Warner Brothers logo had disappeared, the lines of words appeared. I knew immediately we were in trouble: any epic film that begins that way (and amazingly followed by oral narration) in this day is lacking in any kind of imagination. (Didn't Orson Welles show others a less conventional way to begin way back in 1941?) The next scene promised much: two armies lined up and ready to face off. But it delivered little: Achilles jumping into the air and stabbing some beefcake twice his size. And the rest of the film continues along these lines: unfulfilled promises and tedium.
The biggest mistake the filmmakers made (other than paying Brad Pitt too much money for very little talent) was to exorcise the gods and goddesses from the story. To do so meant that the poetry had to be exorcised too (and there is no poetry, either verbal or visual, in this film). And since there is no poetry, there is no emotion, or at least none of any sincerity and certainly none that the audience can be moved by. All we're getting is the story without the emotional resonance and intellectual depth. Stripping the story of the gods and goddesses also makes the mortals look much more foolish than they would normally seem.
Another poor choice was to simplify the women and to have them played by "former models." The myths and plays make a point to show the emotional devastation visited on the women of Troy by this stupid war (which seems to last maybe a month in the film; I think a philosophical point was being made by having the war last ten years in the text). Of course, the filmmakers took out two of the most important female characters: Cassandra and Hecuba. They are the most emotionally effected. But, we still have Helen and Andromache, both looking gorgeous, even as Troy burns down around them. (The chemists who created makeup back then must have known something ours don't: how to keep makeup from running.)
Both Brad Pitt and Eric Bana are failures in their roles. Neither registers much sincere emotion. (Pitts reaction to his "cousin's" death verges on the comical.) Pitt cannot see beyond his own self-love and self-adoration, while Bana seems totally lost about how to react to anything. He's stupefied. And they both slur their words. If these Hollywood pretty boys (unfortunately, Orlando Bloom - the most effeminate of today's actors - complete the triumvirate) are the best we can do in the way of heroes, we need to stop trying to make such movies. Peter O'Toole? I just felt embarrassed for him.
So, why did I give this as much as a vote of 3? The sets do, indeed, give us some idea of what Troy (if it actually existed as seen in the myths) would have looked like. The costumes are pretty good too.
The biggest mistake the filmmakers made (other than paying Brad Pitt too much money for very little talent) was to exorcise the gods and goddesses from the story. To do so meant that the poetry had to be exorcised too (and there is no poetry, either verbal or visual, in this film). And since there is no poetry, there is no emotion, or at least none of any sincerity and certainly none that the audience can be moved by. All we're getting is the story without the emotional resonance and intellectual depth. Stripping the story of the gods and goddesses also makes the mortals look much more foolish than they would normally seem.
Another poor choice was to simplify the women and to have them played by "former models." The myths and plays make a point to show the emotional devastation visited on the women of Troy by this stupid war (which seems to last maybe a month in the film; I think a philosophical point was being made by having the war last ten years in the text). Of course, the filmmakers took out two of the most important female characters: Cassandra and Hecuba. They are the most emotionally effected. But, we still have Helen and Andromache, both looking gorgeous, even as Troy burns down around them. (The chemists who created makeup back then must have known something ours don't: how to keep makeup from running.)
Both Brad Pitt and Eric Bana are failures in their roles. Neither registers much sincere emotion. (Pitts reaction to his "cousin's" death verges on the comical.) Pitt cannot see beyond his own self-love and self-adoration, while Bana seems totally lost about how to react to anything. He's stupefied. And they both slur their words. If these Hollywood pretty boys (unfortunately, Orlando Bloom - the most effeminate of today's actors - complete the triumvirate) are the best we can do in the way of heroes, we need to stop trying to make such movies. Peter O'Toole? I just felt embarrassed for him.
So, why did I give this as much as a vote of 3? The sets do, indeed, give us some idea of what Troy (if it actually existed as seen in the myths) would have looked like. The costumes are pretty good too.
Henry V
(1989)
One of the very best films of a Shakespearean play
12 May 2004
This is one of my favorite films. After the St. Crispian's Day speech, I would have followed Kenneth Branagh anywhere. His charisma and charm are palpable. The Battle of Agincourt relays the filth, struggle, and lack of glory of war. Branagh, as director, understands Shakespeare's use of contrasting scenes to comment on characters and their motivations, especially Henry's; as a result, he too uses editing to relate similar ideas. Although many film experts prefer the 1945 Olivier version of the play (released in the US in 1946), I find it too much a piece of propaganda, too pretty, and a bit dated in its acting. Certainly, Branagh's version has an innate visceral effect missing from Olivier's.
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