Thursday, 21 January 2021

CINEMA REBORN 29 APRIL - 2 MAY AT THE RANDWICK RITZ - First news.


Sydney’s annual festival devoted to screening classic restorations and films from the world’s film archives is returning to the Randwick Ritz Cinemas from 29 April to 2 May. Ten films will be screened over four days and the Organising Committee is pleased to announced the first three titles.

Thursday 29 April at 6.30 pm

DESTRY RIDES AGAIN (George Marshall, USA, 1939) 

1939 was Hollywood’s greatest year and also the occasion for Marlene Dietrich’s triumphant comeback after her career sputtered out at Paramount. Dietrich had the luck to appear, with James Stewart, in Destry Rides Again, the pre-eminent comedy western of the day, indeed of the era. Universal’s new 4K digital restoration brings back one of the great movies of an amazingly fruitful year.


Saturday 1 May at 5.45 pm

THE LEOPARD/IL GATTOPARDO (Luchino Visconti, Italy, 1963)

Winner of the Palme d’Or at Cannes in 1963, Luchino Visconti’s revered film has gone through many tribulations at the hands of distributors and exhibitors keen to cut it down to size and remove its Italian-language soundtrack. It was not until Scorsese’s Film Foundation restored the film in 2010, thanks to a grant of $900,000 from the Gucci Foundation, that many first saw the complete film – a majestic tale of a Sicilian prince passively resisting the 1848 revolution.

Cinema Reborn is grateful for the support of the Instituto Italiano Di Cultura in the presentation of The Leopard (Il Gattopardo).


 

Sunday 2 May at 6.30 pm

CRISS CROSS (Robert Siodmak, USA, 

1940s noir icons Burt Lancaster and Dan Duryea battle it out for the affection of the stunning Yvonne De Carlo, their actions perpetuating patterns of desire, dismay and unrequited love as they plot an armoured car robbery. Superbly restored by Universal-International, Criss Cross will be screening at Cinema Reborn in a brand new 4K digital copy that accentuates every element of the bleak post-war world in which doomed characters meet their inevitable destiny.

Ritz Royalty

Are you planning to see a good swag of the ten films in Cinema Reborn's 2021 season.? The best value way to do this may be to join the Ritz's Club membership called Ritz Royalty. Details of Club membership can be found IF YOU CLICK HERE

Bookings

More info, links to trailers and bookings FOR INDIVIDUAL FILMS can be found if you click on the Cinema Reborn page at the Ritz website

 


Cinema Reborn relies on the work of many volunteers and many generous supportrs. If you would like to make a donation to assist our work you can do so and receive a tax deduction if you direct your support through the Australia Cultural Fund. CLICK ON THIS LINK FOR DETAILS 

Donors to Cinema Reborn are acknowledged in our printed catalogue and on the Cinema Reborn website. 

Tuesday, 19 January 2021

Streaming (in France) and on Foxtel on Demand - John Baxter admires MRS AMERICA (Created by Dahvi Waller, USA, 2020)

Cate Blanchett (and bureaucrats), Mrs America

SEPARATE – BUT EQUAL?

            Among the more gratifying films of recent years have been Margin Call, Moneyball  and The Big Short, all of which educated one, without recourse either to romance or gunplay, in such unpromising topics as banking and baseball.  Even so, it took an effort of will to start watching Mrs. America, about the fight to pass an Equal Rights Amendment to the American constitution, particularly as French Canal +, in a departure from custom, chose to run all nine episodes consecutively, without even the occasional ad break to accommodate a cup of tea or bathroom visit. 

            But the moment Cate Blanchett as right-wing campaigner Phyllis Schlafly raised her meticulously coifed head amid an assembly of blue-suited bureaucrats, I was hooked.  No herd of herbivores ever received more calculating attention from a peckish raptor. She kept me absorbed until her last scene, alone in her spotless but deserted family home in – no joke – Normal, Illinois. Denied a cabinet post by Ronald Reagan, she wastes no time on regrets. A concluding title notes that her last book, published posthumously, urged support for Donald Trump.

            Heroines abounded on both sides among the women who, during the sixties and seventies, fought over equality. Mrs. America anatomises them and their struggles with a vitality not seen since the provocative first series of The L Word.  Questioning why a woman’s life should begin and end with monogamous matrimony were such firebrands as Bella Abzug, Gloria Steinem, Shirley Chisholm and Betty Friedan, to each of whom the series devotes an episode. Margo Martindale as the ursine Abzug, a glamorous but loiteringly melancholy Steinem in the person of Rose Byrne, Uzo Udaba’s defiant Chisholm, the first African-American candidate to seek the presidency for a major party, and Tracy Ullman in a fiercely comic performance as Betty Friedan emerge as personalities no less engrossing than the putative central character. 


"...fiercely comic..."
Tracy Ullman as Betty Friedan, Mrs America

            Directors Anna Boden, Ryan Fleck, Amma Asante, Laure de Clermont-Tonnerre and Janicza Bravo, with chief writer Dahvi Waller, a veteran of Mad Men, are even-handed in showing the strengths and weaknesses of those on both sides of the fight. Except for John Slattery as Schlafly’s long-suffering lawyer husband Fred, men in key roles are conspicuously absent . Those who appear are mostly preening poseurs (eg, John Palladino’s Gary Hart) or lick-spittles played by actors chosen for the insincerity of their sneer. 

            The series spends little time arguing the virtues or otherwise of the ERA but concentrates on the politics of persuasion, and the manner in which beliefs, tested in conflict, may become more deeply held but are sometimes amended, even destroyed. In a demonstration of the latter, Sarah Paulson gives a revelatory performance as Alice Macray,  a composite of Schlafly’s most loyal lieutenants. In the episode entitled Houston, she undergoes a Pauline conversion during the rough and tumble of the 1977 National Women’s Conference. 


"...a revelatory performance..."
Sarah Paulson as Alice Macray, Mrs America

            She and her friends have barely arrived before they’re ambushed by canny in-fighter Abzug, who rubs their noses in the unpalatable fact that their experience  as campaigners and publicists has transformed them into members of a group they claim to detest -working women. 

            That night, a shaken Alice, drunk and stoned, wanders bemused among the lesbians, anarchists and religious radicals assembled for the conference, startled but often delighted at her first encounters with experiences denied her by a life of kirke, kuche und kinder.  Her moment of truth comes in a phone call back home when, having chosen to neglect her domestic duties during the Thanksgiving holiday, she’s asked to dictate her recipe for turkey stuffing.  Waller and Paulson turn the scene into a reductio ad absurdum of all the values Alice once revered. With the listing of each ingredient she sees more clearly the irrelevance of that cozy world to the whirlpool in which she’s let herself be captured. 

            Episode Five, Phyllis & Fred & Brenda & Marc,  wittily examines similar changes taking place in the opposing camp.  As attorney Brenda Feigen (Ari Graynor) and her impeccably liberated husband Marc Fasteau grapple with her bisexuality and the desirability of a working life vs. motherhood,  Phyllis and Fred quarrel over the way her activism leads her to neglect their family. When the two couples are invited to appear on a TV show as exemplars of the pro- and anti- groups, the confused host belatedly realises that even husbands and wives can’t agree.  

            In playing Schlafly, Blanchett mostly avoids caricature, the instrument of Gillian Anderson’s downfall as Margaret Thatcher in The Crown.  Phyllis has none of Thatcher’s certainty. In her decision to take a law degree, we side with her need to realise her potential rather than with Fred’s reminder that their marriage vows pledge her to be “submissive” . We also feel her anguish in discovering her son’s homosexuality, Catholic dogma clashing with a mother’s wish for his happiness (though when she breaks down during confession to wail of her boy being “a pervert”, one wonders if her confessor shares her dismay.)

            Schlafly’s most testing moment comes when a quest for new members forces her to consider a coalition with religious fundamentalist and anti-abortion fanatic Lottie Beth Hobbs (a creepily credible Cindy Drummond.) At their awkward first meeting, Hobbs invites Phyllis to quote her favourite passage of the Bible. As she temporises – “There are somany....” – one of her aides volunteers a selection, hinting that the movement is not as remote as she imagines from these self-righteous bigots. Phyllis briefly contemplates the devil’s bargain thus revealed and, closing her eyes, acquiesces.

            Some would argue that, since the ERA was never ratified, Schlafly succeeded in her opposition. The series suggests, more persuasively, that the amendment, even if passed, would never have brought the equality for which its supporters hoped. Rather it was a “work in progress” to test the worth of its ideas and the willingness of society to accept them. Blanchett makes Schlafly less a maker of history than its victim.  The last shot of the series shows her left behind by events, working alone in her kitchen, mistress of an empty nest, preparing the classic family meal for a society that would just as soon eat MacDonalds.

Sunday, 17 January 2021

The Current Cinema - Barrie Pattison delves into the mega hits SHOCK WAVE (Herman Yau, China, 2017) and SHOCK WAVE 2 ( Herman Yau, China 2020)


In  2017 Chak daan juen ga/Shock Wave was a substantial hit for the Chinese film industry. Better than Speed, pushing Hurt Locker and Soy Nero  - maybe not as good as the Spanish  Plana de Fuga, this planted the Chinese flag in the bomb disposal cycle. Lead Andy Lau (Mou gaandou/InfernalAffairs, 2002 and Tsui Hark’s Detective Dee) has been a star since the early eighties and director Herman Yau showed up a little later with a few serviceable efforts like Fei foo jing ying: Yan gaan yau ching/Best of the Best (1992) or Di shipanguan/Taxi Hunter (1993) which circulated in Australian Chinatown cinemas without drawing any special attention. His Ip Man series put him into another league.

 

Shock Wave kicks off with Wu (Tian zhu ding/Touch of Sin) Jiang’s nasties off on the robbery for which they’ve filled three Hong Kong cabs with explosives to blast cops in pursuit. Jiang’s younger sibling Wang Ziyi resents henchman Andy Lau (“The man my brother trusts”) without knowing he is an undercover cop who only reveals himself by trying stop the explosions, knocking the cellphone trigger out of the hand of the henchman in their car.

 

Escaping Wu takes a dim view of the cops running in his brother and Andy returns to the company of his fellow officers, training new recruits (and the audience) on bomb squad procedures.

 

Out partying, he encounters drunk divorcée Song Jia in her red dress, throwing up and creating a disturbance in the club. He has her put up in the cells, sparing her from public humiliation which would compromise her spot as an infant school teacher. They become an item.

 

Andy defuses a buried WW2 bomb (nice animation of the camera going inside the trigger mechanism) and is given an award for his heroism but, as he leaves, a car booby trap takes out Andy’s mentor Huang Rihua.

 

Wu has made a bundle in the Thai-Burma border drug market and is out to get Andy and retrieve his brother. With fifty multi-racial mercenaries, he sets a bomb in the Glouchester Road Court House square overlooked by high rises whose glass would shatter and shower down injuring those below. Andy’s co-worker Jiang Haowen sees there is still three minutes on the timer and grabs it for Andy to hold (C4 is very stable) while they dash to the bay and fling it into the water - after a selfie.

 

This is just a run up for Wu’s big operation where he jams the Eastern Cross Harbour tunnel with trucks at both ends, taking the travelers inside hostage, including Zhang Jicong’s tour bus and a car with three of Andy’s police colleagues. The heavy demands Andy handle the negotiations giving him a kick in the face and a cellphone. Wu wants his brother to be brought from prison. The brother however has got religion in the meantime and protests.

 

A couple of workers bolting from the service tunnel are shot down and the gathered press dive for cover as the police perimeter is pulled back, further ratcheting up the tension with the discovery that our heroine has been bundled into the boot of a cab holding a hand grenade without the pin. Andy  has to deal with that one.

 

Best scene however is the discovery of  young cop  Cai Hanyi/BabyJohn Choi whose Police ID accidentally drops out of the car (!) in an explosives vest, having to stand fixed rather than bolt and endanger bystanders.

 

Enough is enough and Andy goes into the final negotiation wearing his own explosives vest which un-nerves the mercenaries and leads to the big shoot out  - the first movie drone shots I recall seeing with impressive downwards views of the camera racing along the tunnel as passengers flee and cops advance blazing away at the bad hats from behind suspiciously effective bullet proof shields. The stretcher bound victim skids about among the cross fire.

 

Besides we’ve got the two explosives trucks counting down to the blast which would destroy the tunnel and befoul the bay for years. Does Andy cut the yellow wire or the red wire on his, talking on his mobile ‘phone to the fellow disposal man at the other site.

 

Made with apparently enormous resources and played with great, straight-faced conviction, this one doesn’t divert into back stories or motivations. It just gets on with the superior action set pieces.

 


Its success guaranteed the arrival of the current Chai dan zhuan jia 2/Shock Wave 2 which proves a disappointment.

Overconfident, the makers have brought back Andy Lau as Poon Shing Fung their Bomb Squad hero from the earlier film in a plot cobbled together from seventies disaster movies along the lines of  Nippon Chinbotsu/The Submersion of Japan or Meteor, the Swarzeneger Total Recall and childhood antagonism flash backs from Oldeuboi/OldBoy, with a few quotes from“The Water Margin” thrown in.

 

We get a lively enough opening with terrorists ramming a subway train into Hong Kong Rail Central and a bank robbery where the low life repeats the first film’s business of taping the grenade with the pin removed into the hands of a girl hostage. Explosives expert Andy wraps his his bomb protection suit round her and takes the device to fling into sand bags where the impact still knocks him down.

 

Andy emerges like David Farrar in The Small Back Room with a prosthetic leg. (Yau himself has a damaged foot) Modeled on the handling of Gary Sinise in Forrest Gump, the effects work is remarkable here. The department refuses to put Andy back on active duty so when he’s getting his medal, he unfurls a protest banner and is recruited by the heavies (another suitable team of white guy thugs) as someone with a score to settle - but is he?

 

Victim of “Post Traumatic Amnesia” when he’s found disoriented after being injured in a string of Terrorist Bomb Outrages, Andy becomes a fugitive with everyone including himself unsure of his loyalties. Only his uniformed old flame Ni Ni can be relied upon and the bad hats have recruited Andy to participate in the spectacular destruction of Hong Kong International Airport complete with blowing up multiple terminals using trains packed with reliable C4. We’ve moved out of psychological drama into special effects spectacle with material that is loud but unconvincing.

 

Andy Lau, who also produced, has acquired gravitas over his now extensive career, as has co-star Ching Wan Lau (the Daniel Lee-Tsui Hark 1996 Hak hap/Black Mask or the Johnnie To 1999 Joi gin a long/Where A Good Man Goes). Individual moments get attention - subway trains piling into load bearing pillars, Andy improvising an explosion out of convenience store groceries, sky diving - but there’s no consistent structure to leave the viewer satisfied that what he’s seen reflects any reality or a well-crafted action movie universe.

 

This one proves a cash in quick follow-up, a considerable disappointment after its superior predecessor. Without a product starved environment it might have been expected to get less attention.

Thursday, 14 January 2021

Hitchcock's VERTIGO: Its cinema sources - Scholar Ken Mogg tracks down the movies that may have influenced the 1958 masterpiece


Author’s Foreword. 
 These notes were basically written some years ago, in my most unselective film-buff days.  It is doubtless best seen as a tour de force.  Nonetheless, I believe that it throws light on a little-mentioned aspect of Hitchcock, his eclectic film tastes and his incredible readiness to research his films. Bill Krohn (Cahiers du CinĂ©ma) told me that Hitch and Alma regularly attended a repertory cinema not far from where they lived in California.  Another friend, the late Richard Franklin (director of Psycho II), once remarked to me that, while a student at USC, he had visited Hitchcock’s bungalow during the making of The Birds.  On the desk in the outer office were stacked numerous books on aspects of ornithology, waiting to be returned to Universal’s research library.]

For convenience, the following films can be listed as German, British, French, or American - though the distinction isn’t clear-cut, as we’ll see.

************

1. THE INFLUENCE OF GERMAN Expressionism on Vertigo has often been remarked, and is anticipated in the Boileau & Narcejac novel when it refers to a German film seen in the ’twenties (although, as far as I know, ‘Jacob Boehme’ is purely an invented film-title). Similarly, Lotte Eisner’s book about such German films, L’Ecran DĂ©moniaque/The Haunted Screen, first published in France in 1952, contains several entries on a kind of psychological vertigo. As for the actual ‘vertigo’ effect in Hitchcock’s film, it’s basically just a more elaborate subjective effect than the one used by E.A. Dupont in Variety(1925) and then re-worked by Hitchcock in the circus climax of Murder!(1930). And German Expressionism’s emphasis on mother-figures, remarked by Siegfried Kracauer in his book From Caligari to Hitler (1947), is echoed in Hitchcock’s film in some scenes with Midge (Barbara Bel Geddes). Specifically, Kracauer mentions the films The Street (1923) and New Year’s Eve (1923), in both of which a man breaks down and rests his head on a woman’s bosom, a gesture signifying ‘desire to return to the maternal womb’. An only slightly modified version of it (no doubt for censorship reasons) is seen in Vertigo (below) when Scottie (James Stewart) collapses off the kitchen-stool into Midge’s arms.



2. WHEN MADELEINE (Kim Novak) describes her dream of ‘walking down a long corridor that once was mirrored’, she is echoing imagery and indeed the title of a little-known British film, Corridor of Mirrors  (Terence Young, 1948). But it’s likely that Hitchcock had seen the film: for a start, it contains several Hitchcockian elements, among them a jealous housekeeper (like those of Rebecca and Under Capricorn) and a suitably macabre climax set in Madame Tussaud’s (like the one in Mrs Belloc Lowndes’s novel The Lodger, filmed by Hitchcock in the ‘twenties). The very plot shows more than a passing resemblance to Vertigo’s, being about an artist obsessed with a Venetian woman in a 400-years-old portrait, whose living double he encounters in present-day London and makes his mistress. In Under Capricorn, which Hitchcock filmed in England after Young’s film came out, Lady Henrietta (Ingrid Bergman) is described by Adare (Michael Wilding) as both a ‘work of art’ and a ‘reincarnation’.  [I’m also reminded of the bas-relief of Gradiva and the novella about it by Wilhelm Jensen, Gradiva, A Pompeian Fantasy(1903), which I’ve discussed in my essay "Vertigo Considerations." Gradiva will be mentioned again below.]    

Edana Romney, Corridor of Mirrors

Moreover, the corridor and mirror imagery of Young’s film has a distinctly Cocteau-esque look, which is literally underscored by Georges Auric’s music, and reminds you of Hitchcock’s admiration for Cocteau’s Le Sang d’un Poète/The Blood of a Poet(1932). Such imagery in Vertigo is ubiquitous - even the famous shot down the bell-tower is a corridor image. It’s evoked, too, in the smallest details, such as Madeleine’s memory of having once fallen into a river, ‘trying to leap from one stone to the next’. That image conflates Cocteau’s/Young’s idea of a fraught corridor with the memorable image of the stepping-stones in Gradiva. But underlying it is Madeleine’s fear, which she tells Scottie about, of the darkness beyond the corridor and her knowledge ‘that when I [finally] walk into the darkness that I’ll die’.

British director Noel Langley effectively helped ‘licence’ Hitchcock to make Vertigo when in 1956 he went to Hollywood and filmed a ‘true’ story of reincarnation, The Search for Bridey Murphy, starring Teresa Wright, which caught the public’s imagination. But of course Hitchcock’s own fascination with such material had begun long ago - as far back as 1920 - when he attended the original London stage production of James Barrie’s mystical Mary Rose whose title-character lives in and out of time and whose mother has cause to wonder, ‘where is my child?’ ...


Louis Hayward, Teresa Wright,
The Search for Bridey Murphy

3. IN AN ARTICLE ON THE BELGIAN director Jacques Feyder, author and critic Peter Cowie refers to an influential film made by Feyder for Films de France, Le Grand Jeu/The Great Game (1933). The Foreign Legion story is set mainly in Morocco, and the actress Marie Bell plays two different women. Here’s Cowie:

The film’s device of having a man haunted by the vision of a blonde woman he loved, and seeing her materialize in subtly changed guise as a brunette, would be used subsequently by Pierre Boileau and Thomas Narcejac for the novel that became the basis of Hitchcock’s Vertigo.

 

But Cowie doesn’t indicate how the alleged influence on the novel occurred. It may have been indirectly. In 1953, Le Grand Jeu was remade as a Franco-Italian co-production directed by Robert Siodmak (who had once shared a producer, namely, Joan Harrison, with Hitchcock). The new film starred Gina Lollobrigida (with first red hair, then black), and was in colour. More than likely, it was the remake that Boileau and Narcejac saw just before they wrote their novel. Another film they may have seen at that time was Henri Verneuil’s Le Fruit DĂ©fendu/Forbidden Fruit (1952), adapted from Simenon’s novel Lettre Ă  mon juge (1946) and starring Fernandel in a non-comedy role.  [I’m unsure today why I have mentioned the Simenon work and its film adaptation.  It may simply be that the novel contains a near-identical line to Vertigo’s evocative ‘Sister Teresa would scold us’.]

In the 1933 Le Grand Jeu, actor Charles Vanel had a supporting role. Over 20 years later,  Vanel would later play Bertani in To Catch a Thief. In 1938 he was seen in the French film Carrefour, directed by Curtis Bernhardt. Like Siodmak (and Hitchcock), Bernhardt had earlier worked in Germany. He and Vanel now co-operated to make one of the touchstone ‘big lie’ films (Vertigo is surely a ‘big lie’ film) which may well have influenced Boileau & Narcejac’s D’Entre les Morts and Vertigo. Briefly, the plot of Carrefour concerns amnesia. The film’s evil mastermind (Vanel) learns of a diplomat who has lost part of his memory, and sees in this an opportunity for blackmail. He employs an elderly actress to impersonate the diplomat’s mother who will convince him that he has committed a crime. When Hollywood remade the film in 1942, as Crossroads, it had William Powell as victim, and Basil Rathbone as villain. Parallels with Vertigoinclude the mastermind figure (whose origins lie in melodrama and, according to Eric Bentley, its mutation, German Expressionism), and the attempt to take advantage of a man’s infirmity by means of an elaborate hoax, the ‘big lie’. In Vertigo, Judy imitates the real Madeleine, whose husband Gavin Elster has murdered her; and an elderly lady, presumably a paid actress, compounds the subterfuge by playing the ‘innocent’ landlady of the McKittrick Hotel.

Charles Vanel, Jules Berry, Carrefour

4. IF THERE IS ONE AMERICAN film that is the progenitor of Vertigo, that film is   Portrait of Jennie (1948) adapted from the Robert Nathan novella by German expatriate director William Dieterle. It was made at the Selznick studio at about the time Hitchcock was filming The Paradine Case there. Hitchcock already admired Dieterle’s work to the point of imitation (the umbrellas scene in Foreign Correspondent seems indebted to Dieterle’s 1937 The Life of Emile Zola). On seeing Portrait of Jennie, he would have noticed how Jennie resembles J.M. Barrie’s character Mary Rose, a girl who lives in and out of time: As already noted Hitchcock had long admired Barrie’s play. But Dieterle’s haunting 1948 film and Vertigo have other correspondences. For instance, both move towards a tragic climax involving a tower. And both are memorable for their sea-imagery. Further, the films’ similarity is underlined by the fact that composer Bernard Herrmann worked on both. (For Dieterle, though, Herrmann composed just ‘Jennie’s Song’ - while Dimitri Tiomkin, the film’s official composer, adapted various themes of Debussy, including passages from ‘La Mer’.)

Portrait of Jennie

Another fine American film of the ’40s, showing indebtedness to Hitchcock’s Rebecca (1940), is Lewis Allen’s ghost tale, The Uninvited (1944). Set on the coast of Cornwall and Devon, it anticipates Vertigo by referring to a Spanish ancestor (Carmel, instead of Carlotta), to the Liebestod from Tristan und Isolde (a rather sardonic touch here), and to the sea as a place ‘of life and death and eternity, too’. But what is certainly the most direct link to Vertigo is seen when the haunted heroine, played by Gail Russell, breaks away from her would-be protector (Ray Milland) and runs toward the nearby cliff-edge, clearly intending to commit suicide at the very place where she had been told her mother threw herself over. The spot is marked by a single, gnarled tree - a tree identical to the one we see in Hitchcock’s film when Madeleine breaks away from Scottie and runs towards the cliff-edge ... 

There are many such ‘quotes’ in Vertigo, and here are some more. When Scottie throws down several cushions before his fire and invites Madeleine to make herself comfortable, the moment recalls a famous scene early in A Bill of Divorcement (1932), the first film of Katherine Hepburn. The film’s producer, David Selznick, afterwards described the scene as having given him ‘one of the greatest experiences I’ve ever had’. (The film was directed by George Cukor from the play by ‘Clemence Dane’/Winifred Ashton, who co-wrote the novel on which Hitchcock’s Murder!was based.)

In 1940 Hitchcock directed a few scenes in the San Francisco movie The House Across the Bay when regular director Archie Mayo fell ill. As one of its characters is an aircraft engineer, perhaps a memory of that film occurred to Hitchcock apropos the moment in Vertigo when Midge mentions a new type of brassière designed by ‘an aircraft engineer down the peninsula’. But there’s another possibility: as is well known, aircraft magnate and movie tycoon Howard Hughes once attempted to design a seamless bra for Jane Russell ...

Undoubtedly, Hitchcock and scriptwriter Samuel Taylor looked specifically at various San Francisco movies before making their own. One that certainly impressed them was George Stevens’s I Remember Mama (1948) in which Barbara Bel Geddes plays Katrin, the film’s narrator, who is first seen in the attic of her immigrant-family’s house, where she has just finished typing her first novel. Her window looks out upon the city. In other words, this artistically-inclined spinster is a prototype for Midge. Indeed, it looks as if Hitchcock and Taylor noted and deliberately re-used some of Bel Geddes’s mannerisms, such as when in the earlier film Katrin ventures to criticise a patrician doctor (a bearded Rudy Vallee) and then blushes in confusion at her temerity. The corresponding moment in Vertigo comes, of course, when Midge suggests to Scottie’s doctor in the sanatorium that the use of Mozart as therapy ‘isn’t going to help at all’.

Underlining the connection between the two films, actress Ellen Corby, the landlady of Vertigo’s McKittrick Hotel, appears in I Remember Mama as, even then, a wiry old maid - who aspires to marry an undertaker. Leslie Halliwell’s ‘Filmgoer’s Companion’ says that Corby specialised ‘in nosey neighbours and prim spinsters’.

Anatole Litvak’s vehicle for Bette Davis and Errol Flynn,  The Sisters  (1938), features the San Francisco earthquake at its climax and has an earlier scene in which actress Lee Patrick plays Davis’s empty-headed neighbour whom we hear incessantly chattering - until the soundtrack fades her voice and we see that Davis has just received a note from her husband (Flynn) saying he has left her. Similar use of the soundtrack occurs in Vertigo, and for an identical reason: to silence Lee Patrick, this time playing the woman at the Brocklebank Apartments whom Scottie asks about her car. Donald Spoto’s book The Art of Alfred Hitchcock describes Patrick as ‘the archetypal flibbertijibbet’.

Bette Davis, Errol Flynn, The Sisters

Director Vincent Sherman’s All Through the Night (1942) may have inspired the auction-gallery episode in North by Northwest.  Sherman’s Nora Prentiss (1947) is basically set in San Francisco though it’s said to be part-based on two British murder cases (presumably the Rouse and Crippen cases). Several moments anticipate Vertigo, including the one when the lovers (Ann Sheridan and Kent Smith) head out of town. Feeling suddenly happy, the Smith character announces their destination as ‘anywhere you like’ - the same fate-sealing line the Vertigoscript gives Scottie just before Judy dons her earrings and the couple drive away for the last time. (Jewellery serving as a giveaway is itself a detail taken from the Crippen case.)

Finally, I want to say something more about the work of directors Robert Siodmak and Curtis Bernhardt. In 1946 they both made films in Hollywood about twin sisters, i.e., look-alike women, respectively  The Dark Mirror (with Olivia de Havilland) and A Stolen Life (with Bette Davis). The latter film, especially, anticipates Vertigo by having a scene set in an apartment store where Glenn Ford asks the ‘good’ sister - who secretly loves him - to try on a dress which he is thinking of giving to his wife, the ‘bad’ sister. The audience is acutely aware of the woman’s discomfort and the man’s insensitivity, a situation that obviously prefigures the Vertigo scenes where Judy is made over by Scottie.

Given these two directors’ similarity of background (earlier work in Germany and France) and apparent shared predilection for certain themes and subjects (including crime dramas), their eventual co-operation on a project is hardly surprising: for a start, Bernhardt’s Conflict(1945)was based on a story co-written by Siodmak (with Alfred Neumann). This is the film where Bogart, who has murdered his wife, is tricked by psychiatrist Sydney Greenstreet into a confession. It’s a good example of the ‘big lie’ story, likeCarrefourwhich Bernhardt had made in France before the War. It, too, anticipates a scene in North by Northwest; let’s see how it anticipates a scene in Vertigo.

The basis of the psychiatrist’s scheme is that Bogart must be made to think that his wife has come back from the dead or, at any rate, never died. In the street one day, Bogart thinks he sees his wife walk by, wearing her customary green outfit, and he follows her into a building where she enters an upstairs flat. At this point a landlady blocks Bogart’s way, saying how that particular flat is vacant and is always kept locked. Bogart protests, so she leads him upstairs - where the flat indeed proves to be empty. Thus the scene anticipates the McKittrick Hotel episode in Vertigo, where Ellen Corby plays the seemingly guileless landlady, just as it harks back to Carrefour, where an elderly actress impersonates the amnesiac diplomat’s mother.


Humphrey Bogart, Peter Lorre,
All Through the Night

Presumably, in the case of the Vertigo episode, it represents a trick engineered by wily villain Gavin Elster to make Scottie become even more obsessed with the mysterious Madeleine. Such a playing on a character’s infirmity (amnesia, acrophobia) is itself a characteristic of these films. To end on, then, here’s a more general example of a film anticipating Vertigo. Robert Siodmak’s The Great Sinner (1949) is loosely based on an aspect of Dostoyevsky – read on - and stars Gregory Peck as a man effectively held captive in the Wiesbaden casino by his new-found mania for gambling. With beginner’s luck he wins a fortune, but, as the casino’s wily proprietor had foreseen, soon loses it again. Later he is visited in the casino grounds by the apparition of another victim who says, in effect, ‘I told you so’. In all of this I see not so much a set of direct parallels with Vertigoas a significant general ambience common to several such films. For instance, gambling or infatuation or vertigo itself are recurrent expressionist or noir motifs. When Peck finds out his weakness for gambling, it’s like the moment when Scottie, clinging to a San Francisco rooftop, suddenly finds out he suffers from acrophobia. And when Peck wins a fortune only to lose it, this isn’t very different from how Scottie ‘wins’ Madeleine from death and then loses her. As for the wily proprietor, he of course may be found in German films of the ’twenties (and Hitchcock’s Spellbound), as well as making common cause with all the other mastermind figures in such films. Above all, as the ghostly apparition in the casino grounds could testify, what these films most share is perhaps ‘entrapment’ - by an alluring deception or weakness.

Ken Mogg's email address is muffin@labyrinth.net.au.


Monday, 11 January 2021

Defending Cinephilia 2020 - Over, out and onwards to the new normal - Links to the ten entries by cinephiles, scholars and enthusiasts, dedicated cinephiles all.


Folks

Time to put an end to the ruminations on the plague year of 2020. The posts were heavily blokey with one shining exception from Janice Tong.

Thanks to all those who as usual put in a lot of time and thought to bring you their highlights in a year of great trouble. Click on the names below to go through to each contribution.

In order of appearance:


Rod Bishop

  

John Baxter

 

Geoff Gardner

 

Peter Hourigan

 

Adrian Danks

 

Janice Tong

 

Adrian Martin

 

Simon Killen

 

David Hare

 

Michael Campi

Sunday, 10 January 2021

The Current Cinema - Two new Australian films - THE DRY (Robert Connolly, 2020) and HIGH GROUND (Stephen Maxwell Johnson, 2020)


For the tens of thousands of readers of Jane Harper’s The Dry who head off for the movie there will be a moment early on when, sighting one character, memory should kick in and you remember just who the villain of the piece is. Readers will have a far different experience of the movie than those who come to it ignorant of the novel’s mystery. For readers the pleasure can only reside in watching the mechanics of the story being worked out in a quite meticulous way and soaking up the atmosphere of another of those country towns slowly dying. 

Robert Connolly’s movie is as faithful an adaptation as you can get. Even the misleads of the book are on show in great detail. It goes to lengths to preserve the structure and the way the story is resolved. We are a very long way from Big Sleep  adventurism here whereby neither Hawks, nor Faulkner nor indeed Raymond Chandler had any idea of just who had done what to whom and the whole thing pivoted to play and fun, set pieces taking over from the narrative.

 

I assume that that the film-makers of The Dry wanted that fidelity and high seriousness, expecting that Jane Harper’s tens of thousands of readers would be expanded into hundreds of thousands attending a movie version. 

 

So yes all that meticulous representation works – the atmosphere of the town in a drought; the collection of characters ranging all the way from smart intelligent women, the very tentative sexual encounters, male outback hicks who start fights in pubs at the drop of a hat. And everyone has  a secret…


 

Stephen Maxwell Johnson’s High Country  runs through tropes we’ve seen before in Rolf De Heer’s The Tracker, Jennifer Kent’s The Nightingale and Warwick Thornton’s Sweet Country. Its variations are OK I guess but the key feature that intrigues is the increase in violence to Sam Peckinpah levels of brutality and extent, lots of casual gunplay that is not for the squeamish. 

 

High Country  does have one element of great interest. It charts another variation on the early role of the Christian church in seeking to tame the savages and bring them to a docile civilisation. The fact that revenge is taken and the pathetic structure erected by the overwrought priest and his sister missionary goes up in flames might give a sense of feel good satisfaction but hardly represents a blip in the malign and continuing influence of the church over two hundred years. You can get a shorter version of the idea if you listen to Kev Carmody.




Saturday, 9 January 2021

Streaming on the BBC (in the UK) and elsewhere - John Baxter grapples with the remake of the Powell & Pressburger classic BLACK NARCISSUS (Charlotte Bruus Christensen, UK, 2020)

Gemma Arterton, Alessandro Nivola, Black Narcissus

         Not much hope of a fair hearing for the BBC 3/FX/Hulu three-part adaptation of Rumer Godden’s 1939 novel Black Narcissus. The 1947 film by Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger is among British cinema’s incontestable masterpieces. As well remake The Third Man or The Red Shoes.

          Britons traditionally saw Indians as comic-opera figures who wore turbans, carried umbrellas, and spoke goodness-gracious-me English  But by 1939, Gandhi, a British-educated attorney who mobilised all India in bare feet and a loincloth, had them stumped. Who knew what to expect next?

         Godden’s novel gave a hint. Set in 1934, it describes how five British nuns attempt to start a school at Mopu, an old palace on a Nepalese mountain-top, only to succumb to their own weaknesses and that of their culture. No longer rulers of empire, they confront a cultural precipice, signified by Mopu’s exposed cliff-edge location.

         As in India, nothing in the book is what it seems, beginning with the title, which doesn’t refer to a flower but to a perfume imported from London by Dilip Rai (Chaneil Kular), the young Anglicised heir to the local grandee, the Old General.It clashes with India’s true odours, an olfactory assault Godden evoked as "urine and sewage and the lovely flowers of the thorn trees." 

         The draughty old building is a former harem, the unsavoury reputation of which it’s hoped the nuns’ presence will redeem. Instead it has the opposite effect. Dilip Rai is caught with his hands up the sari of Kanchi (Dipika Kunwar), a doe-eyed discard from the bed of Dean (Alessandro Nivola), who manages the General’s tea plantations. The sister charged with growing vegetables surrenders to religious ecstasy and plants flowers. Clodagh, the young sister superior (Gemma Arterton), spends most of her time reacting in exasperation to the errors of her subordinates, and trying to fix the plumbing before summoning the omnicompetent Dean with his wrench. 


Gemma Arterton

         Clodagh is tormented by memories of the lover who drove her to enter the order. As her control of the community weakens, she takes refuge in erotic memories, for which she punishes herself with flagellation. One by one, the veils of her belief fall away. As she leaves with the surviving sisters, she drops the last, revealing to Dean, now her only friend, the name she gave up for God. 

         Before then Sister Ruth (Aisling Franciosi), a paranoid schizophrenic, has gone on a murderous rampage and almost killed her. Godden knew from experience the violence that lay just beneath the surface of Indian life. She and her children barely survived a homicidal cook who put opium, marijuana and ground glass into their food. 


Aisling Franciosi

         Unable to shoot in the Himalayas, Powell and Pressburger relied on miniatures and back-painting. Godden detested the result. "I saw it only once, but never again,” she said. “It is an absolute travesty of the book, I cannot bear it. Micky Powell said he saw it as a fairy tale, whereas for me it was true. The whole thing was an abomination." 

         The role of Clodagh made Deborah Kerr a star, and gave Kathleen Byron, an actress of modest gifts, her career-best performance as Sister Ruth, the embodiment of malice and sexual jealousy. Jack Cardiff and Alfred Junge also won Oscars for cinematography and design. The need to match their achievement probably influenced the choice of Danish cinematographer Charlotte Bruus Christensen to both shoot and direct this, her first feature. A second unit also filmed in Nepal, giving a useful sense of the distances and terrain to be negotiated and the remoteness of Mopu.  

         With an additional hour of screen time to fill, scenarist Amanda Coe slightly enlarges the role of the mother superior (Diana Rigg, in her last performance) and gives Jim Broadbent some scenes as a priest. More significantly, she introduces the backstory of a maharanee who threw herself off the cliff. The locals believe her ghost haunts the building, and a few glimpses of a distraught Indian face in a mirror next to Ruth’s suggest she has made herself at home among her delusions. 

          Francoisi’s Ruth dominates the final episode, taunting Clodagh almost at will. It’s not the most subtle of performances but it doesn’t have to be. The momentum of the story carries her. As in Rebecca,where the heroine undergoes a similar ordeal, the effect is to make the malefactor more interesting. Rebecca’s  heroine is nameless - but who can forget Mrs. Danvers? 

         Ruth comes to a flamboyant end, discarding her habit for some glad rags and lipstick before throwing herself at Dean, then trying to push Clodagh to her death. Powell and Pressburger never explained where Ruth got the red dress Byron wears for her grand finale – surely British Post didn’t deliver to the Himalayas – but the maharanee of the new version has conveniently left behind a well-stocked wardrobe. 

         In the United States, the first Black Narcissus ran foul of the Catholic-dominated Breen office, which insisted the nuns be clearly identified as Protestant, and Clodagh’s sexy past downplayed. The 2020 version redresses the balance, sometimes to excess. We get more  of Clodagh’s reveries but only a muttered and fragmentary description of the events behind them. A similar backstory devoted to Ruth would also have helped.

         In contrast to David Farrar’s pipe-sucking joviality in the first film, Alessandro Nivola’s Dean is a convincingly embittered spokesman for rationality, as well as a believable object of fantasy for the emotionally deprived sisters. One wonders, however, why Coe didn’t use one of Farrar’s best lines. Asked to adjudicate on a moral question, he silences everyone by enquiring innocently “What would Jesus do?” Stay out of India for a start.