I started as soon as the new year came around and I’ve been hurrying (and taking advantage of the holidays), trying to get through all the revisits I want to do so that I have a lot of time (probably not enough though, I would wager) to go to work on the small truckload that I’ve ordered for this project. And which the Criterion Forum has gladly accepted to fund (you’ll get the bill soon).
This is my first batch (
Captain Phillips being the lone virgin watch here, caught on Netflix).
L’Histoire d’Adèle H. (Truffaut 1975). Truffaut used this material concerning Victor Hugo’s daughter to riff again on the theme of obsessional love, which is an object of fascination but not of (ambiguous) admiration as in Bunuel, given how negatively it always gets painted: the false idealization of the other, the lack of honesty with oneself that is involved, the egotism and self-absorption, and the many destructive consequences for self and others. The theme clearly speaks to the director given its recurrence in his work: Catherine in
Jules et Jim, for example; in the comic mode, many of Jean-Pierre Léaud’s moments, whether in
Baisers volés with Madame Tabard, in
La Nuit américaine when he verbalizes to the Jacqueline Bisset character about the woman who’s left him, wondering how one can be full of contempt for the person one loves, which are remarks made again here by Adèle that reveal a basic problem with this kind of “love”; and most especially of Muriel in
Les Deux Anglaises, almost a copy of Adèle in her cult of devotion to the absolute that constitutes this passion, as well as in her furious letter-writing throughout (she also experiences hurt with her eyes – as if Truffaut is saying these people are not really seeing correctly). Far from the virtuous character that others imagine her to be, Adèle here lies throughout, resorts to threats and manipulation to get what she wants from her past lover, and he himself is revealed right at the start to be an all-too-human, rather cold character, who is obviously not worthy of all this devotion.
The film has a strange beauty even though it’s only partially successful. It’s hard to share Adèle’s passion or care all that much about her given how all that we know of her is this all-consuming obsession. That is possibly the point here – even in her appearance she is a bit of a phantom who, as the film progresses, only becomes more and more insubstantial. One can see the film as being about a struggle for identity, of Adèle’s desperate, unconscious attempt to define herself outside of her monumental father, expressed in the various times and ways she disguises her identity in the film and in the film’s very title that doesn’t spell out her full name. The film is more of a psychological and thematic study than a historical drama, but at the same time there is serious attention paid to dimensions of the historical context, that are expressed at different points in the film and which frame and bracket the events in this person’s story, and that provide, for example, a partial, unexplained glimpse in a true-to-life, lesser-known detail like the Hugo family’s devotion to nascent spiritualism (communicating with spirits).
Rescue Dawn (Herzog 2006). I guess this can be filed under the survival exploits subgenre of the biographical film, but in a war context. Herzog makes an impressive enough action thriller out of the Dieter Dengler story that he had previously covered in the documentary
Little Dieter Needs to Fly. I thought this didn’t completely carry over the emotion that was in the very fine earlier doc but there’s both good drama and suspense here and Christian Bale is quite good. Nothing earth-shattering but a solid little film that I’m fond of and like revisiting.
Sergeant York (Hawks 1941). A thread ties everything together (which one could say is perhaps a fundamental challenge for any biopic) but this still feels a little disjointed and like at least two movies, with the “sergeant” part not kicking in until the last hour. It’s a fun, quality film, but uneven through all its different parts. I’m a sucker for the beautifully photographed second quarter, the part where Alvin York sets his sights on Gracie Williams and on acquiring a “piece of bottomland”, so that everything that comes after that is a bit disappointing in comparison. Great sequence at the end there where York gets those machine-gunning Heinies, though.
Spartacus (Kubrick 1960). Fairly cheese-free for a film of the genre. An extremely fine and memorable first third is dampened by some more forgettable material in the middle, but the last third is again very strong. There are some clunky elements – a scene here, some scenery there – but on the whole this is solid.
The Libertine (Dunmore 2004). Johnny Depp, in a role that seems to have been tailor-made for him, plays the Earl of Rochester, a real life literary figure but in this tableau a rewriting of
Dangerous Liaisons’ Valmont, a cynic roused briefly to life by a doomed love. Some of it seems played for shock value, but I still find something here alluring enough to warrant the occasional reatch – although part of that is simply because it does a good job of evoking Restoration London. And that atmospheric ash-green photography portrays some sort of state of the soul – I’d like to see how this would look on a Blu because the DVD is really quite poor. Definitely better than the reviews at the time made it out to be, but at the same time I will grant that it feels like the film’s potential is not quite fully realized.
El Cid (Mann 1961). The best I’ve seen so far in the sword-and-sandal genre. Family and internal governmental intrigues plague efforts to thwart North African invaders in the 11th century. A series of compelling narrative developments is executed with panache by Mann, that’s just as good as his 40s-to-50s work: mythic-sized passion (a really good Heston here in particular), great action sequences, and terrific visual compositions throughout. It’s also all beautifully designed interior sets or real exteriors (all filmed in Spain), with none of those fake Hollywood exteriors that are the occasional eyesore in films like Spartacus. Add to that a rousing Rozsa score and on top of all that an appealing Christian and Muslim brotherhood sub-theme. Definitely recommended.
Captain Phillips (Greengrass 2013). So I noticed the shaky cam right at the start of the movie but I only saw the director’s name when the credits came up at the end - and I went “Ah, ok”. I thought this was just an above-average action thriller and at the same time not one for the ages. Beyond that I just don’t see anything else here; nothing earth-shatteringly new, no great emotion evoked.
The Scarlet Empress (Sternberg 1934). It may or may not make my list depending on what I’ll wind up discovering but what a worthy film this is and what a strange beast to come out of the Hollywood studio system – although maybe not so strange when you take into account that it was made at Paramount (home, during this period, of irony, sophistication, erotic naughtiness, visual sensualism, the European-flavored, and a propensity with experimentation and the bizarre). The comedy is really dry but at the same time quite exalted, sometimes almost in Mel Brooks territory, in addition to being as risqué as any Lubitsch. The story seems almost an excuse to make a film that is just completely, unrestrainedly, about style: the darkly lit photography and décor, an excess of luminous shots of Dietrich through gauze, and the screen constantly filled with those huge, grotesque statues the tone of which parallels the film’s story and the painting of that Russian court as pure insanity. At film’s end, as Catherine comes to power, it’s as if the pretense of narrative has almost been sacrificed to an almost abstract series of visual flourishes.
Mary of Scotland (Ford 1936). Ford’s sympathies are evidently, and naturally, pro-Catholic and Stuart here. I seemed to remember something to like here, but had a hard time finding it this time around. Sets and (frequently chiaroscuro) cinematography are handsome, but the film is somewhat dull, and it’s not that smartly directed or acted (Hepburn, March).
Witchfinder General (Reeves 1968). I’d say this counts as a biopic since it purports to detail the exploits of Matthew Hopkins. I know I’m not alone in appreciating this semi-exploitation flick – very pretty exterior scenes and extremely solid direction contribute to a slightly arty more-than-B flick.
Aguirre, the Wrath of God (Hergoz 1972). Don’t have much to say here. Didn’t like it as much as last time around, but still I admire it. There are some exquisite images, and of course Kinski is something else.
I’ll Cry Tomorrow (D. Mann 1955). Hollywood artiste biopic meets woman’s film meets 50s social message film (alcoholism). Susan Hayward does the life of singer-actress Lillian Roth. It’ll probably not make my list but this is really an above-par film for the genre(s). Hayward is really terrific and her Oscar-nominated performance allows for the film to largely succeed through its roller coaster of potentially soap-opera-ish narrative developments. The film is pretty unrelenting in its realism, with Richard Conte also memorable as a shockingly sleazy husband. Also a very good-looking film.
Queen Christina (Mamoulian 1933). Wow, this film really calls out for a queer reading. Even before the start of the woman-pretending-to-be-a-man plot starts at the Garbo-Gilbert meet-up, we have the (never more than here androgynous, Bowie-lookalike) Garbo as a young queen kissing a woman on the mouth out of the blue, and not much later describing herself as “a bachelor”.
It’s a somewhat overrated film though. There’s frequently something a bit awkward about Garbo’s acting, although some would say that’s part of her usual style and charm. More significantly, though it’s a well-made Hollywood historical production of its era, the first, slightly wry, lighthearted half gives way to a somewhat dull dramatic second half which really pales by comparison.
Elizabeth (Kapur 1998). You could also probably make a list project with just all of the Tudor bio films that have been made. My fourth female monarch biopic already and there’s some more down the pipeline (and that’s three films, with
Mary of Scotland and
Queen Christina, where one of the important plot points is the strong concern with the monarch marrying a Catholic royal).
This still stands up very well and I can see little to find fault with. Maybe just a minor quibble or two with a few, slightly too-cute elements surrounding the early romance and the over-the-top Duc d’Anjou (Vincent Cassel), and a comparatively weak Joseph Fiennes as the young Queen’s lover. Those things aren’t enough to detract from a visually appealing costume-and-set movie that’s also nicely dramatic and quite suspenseful with all of the intrigue and court machinations. And Cate and Geoffrey Rush offer two very strong performances. The film builds up to a splendid finale, and that final scene carries some of the same message that was the whole point of
The Taking of Power by Louis XIV.