Showing posts with label John Ford. Show all posts
Showing posts with label John Ford. Show all posts

Thursday, 24 April 2025

On Blu-Ray - David Hare waxes lyrical about UGETSU (Kenji Mizoguchi, Japan, 1953) and DONOVAN'S REEF (John Ford, USA, 1962)


This week’s haul after a week of delays.

Well, Ford and Mizo were contemporaries. And among the greatest masters. But their commonality probably ends there.
Picking up again on Ford’s madcap reverie after decades of shit video incarnations is to join in this most sublime meditation of paradise on earth. If there’s any closeness in mood with Mizo generally, it’s perhaps the last few seconds’ throwaway giggle from Tanaka’s prostitute, Oharu as she recalls her great beloved and her entire life and everything else in Mizo’s incomparable filmography as she giggles and totters down the street, beyond focus and forever into eternity, as Sarris used to say.
These two discs are beyond catnip for the dedicated collector. The source for Criterion’s Ugetsu is the 2017 Film/Foundation et al 4K scan from two prime 35 elements (but no existing o-neg.) Criterion’s Blu from that year is still good but the makeover for 4K and limited HDR gives the image a nudge further into the sublime, like Oharu’s giggle.
The Ford was previously around in very blah PAL discs taken seemingly from dog-eared faded exhibition prints. The new Kino which unusually includes a Blu disc as well as the UHD is a brand new scan of the o-neg and what can only be described as a totally flawless new encode following a prime Technicolor IB for colour reference, down to the superbly rendered grain field. There are shades of green in this vision of Fordian madcap paradise that defy description. IIn saying this I agree with my colleague Mark Gross this is one the five or six greatest colour films ever made.
What more can I say about a Ford movie in which old hands from his long career turn up and parody themselves to the balcony - Dorothy Lamour, John Wayne, Cesar Romero and Mike Mazurki ( who three short years later will play off his “Tunga Khan” against the hard drinking Ann Bancroft/“Doctor Cartwright” in Ford's farewell picture, Seven Women.
Go out and buy, earthlings and engage yourselves with two visions of Paradise and Paradise apprehended.

Friday, 3 June 2022

Sixty Years of International Art Cinema: 1960-2020 - Part Three of Bruce Hodsdon's new series on the history of art cinema

Editor’s Note: This is the third part of a series by Bruce Hodsdon in which he analyses the history and impact of Art Cinema. Part One appeared on March 10 and can be found IF YOU CLICK HEREPart Two appeared on 16 May and can be found IF YOU CLICK HERE

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Howard Hawks

 

Part 3: From Classicism to Modernism

 

Although Howard Hawks (1896-1977) was active through the decade directing two of his best and most representative dramas, Rio Bravo (1959) and El Dorado (1966), Hawks was never recognised as a director of the year by IFG's selection panel on a par with their selection of four other great directors from the studio system: Cukor, Hitchcock, Minnelli and Huston. Neither was John Ford ever selected by the IFG panel despite directing two major 'testaments' in the 60s : The Man Who Shot LibertyValance (1962) and Seven Women (1966)The editors provided little clarity as to what the 'Five Directors of the Year' selections were intended to represent other than their personal choices and that the format was modelled on the Wisden Cricketers' Alamanac's '5 Cricketers of the Year', IFG's editor, Peter Cowie, being a cricket tragic.

John Wayne, Ricky Nelson, Walter Brennan, Rio Bravo

In Sight & Sound's 2012 decennial World Poll Hawks is not voted with Hitchcock, Ford and Fritz Lang, amongst the top 25 directors of all time; Rio Bravo is voted equal 63rd with 24 votes in the “100 top films.” As to be expected, the minds of the great majority of 1200 critics and filmmakers “were variously and more dutifully most often opting for rating the milestone movies and turning points in the art of film.”  

Hawks is reinforced as a paradigm of the Hollywood professional by his most committed defenders when they claim that he directed the 'timeless' best film in every major classic Hollywood genre. The doubters are held to account by David Thomson in his  'Biographical Dictionary' for their dismissal of Hawks's work as being “subject to the limitations of the entertainment film, prone to a romantic view of men in action; in short, a moviemaker for boys who have never quite grown up.” Thomson goes on to add that “because he is so unassuming as an innovator, so natural as an entertainer, his work has not been surpassed.”  In comparison with John Ford, Thomson argues “that while Hawks's West is equally romantic in Red River and Rio Bravo it is only a background for character studies that are profound, humane and touched by sadness.” In comparison, in a judgement that most would consider excessively harsh, for Thomson, “Ford was so often bigoted, grandiloquent and maudlin.”

Thomson proceeds to argue his case in his 'Biographical Dictionary'. Like Hawks, Ford's work, as voted for in the World Poll, has only one film in the top 100 but it is ranked seventh.  Thomson concedes that The Searchers,for him a film apart in Ford's oeuvre, is “very moving and mysterious...it does not cheat on a serious subject, and beautifully relates the landscape to its theme.” Ford would have directed more great scenes than any other classical American director and, as Thomson concedes, “he had an eye,” more so than ever after Ford lost the sight in one when he was wounded while filming a documentary of the Battle of Midway. Ford's indulgences do provide plenty of material for the unsympathetic critic in his extensive oeuvre of Irish-Americana which stands in contrast to Hawks's understated consistency in the playing of the dramas against the comedies, placing in relief the high points that seem to emerge organically in his best films.


John Ford

Sam Rohdie in his exploratory book 'Film Modernism' devotes his entry on 'Classicism' exclusively to Hawks. Referring to the dramas, Rohdie locates the secret of Hawksian laconicism in his self-acknowledged interest in “characters rather than actors,” choosing actors with 'character' (e.g.     Bogart, Bacall, Wayne, Clift, Walter Brennan, Angie Dickinson, Jean Arthur, Cary Grant, John Ireland), a  journey or itinerary providing a simple and straightforward structure with readymade continuity in   which the characters resolve their differences. “Hawks is the perfect classicist. It is as if his films objectively imitate nature and invent nothing, going along with what occurs and what is met on the way exactly as his characters do” (ibid). The comedies often made almost systematically in relation to the dramas, reveal a darker Hawksian reversal – coarseness of humour involving slapstick and gender role reversals successfully replacing the subtlety of the dramas by Hawks' genius in retaining full control in the pacing and timing of the comedy. As John Belton points out, the action films and the comedies complement each other: while the male characters in the former resist change, those in the comedies learn to adapt to it as the female characters oversee the 'feminisation' of their man.

"gender role reversals"
Cary Grant, Ann Sheridan, I Was A Male War Bride
(Howard Hawks, 1949)

What Rohdie outlines is how the work of a classical American director was assimilated into the modernism of 'la nouvelle vague' [in a way that Ford's wide ranging traditionalism was not]. He notes how the New Wave had enthusiastic appreciation of Hawks's qualities and classicism. “By naming and revealing its self effacement (objectivity, power and grace), Hawks's style was made evident.  As a consequence his images (means) were recognised as both integrated with, but separate from, their original narrative ends.”  By rupturing Hawks's continuity “they rescued American cinema by highlighting its classicism giving it new life by making it part of the forms of the New Wave's modernism” while also undermining its classicism by making it visible, that it was no longer merely serving the narrative. This left what was learned from Hawks's skills, and their potential for use, “as primarily formal and cinematic.” When cited in a Godard film they were as fragments excised from classical cinema “given a home in the new forms and awareness of modernism” (ibid). In other words they had their your cake while eating it too.

Barrett Hodsdon quotes Hawks's biographer Todd McCarthy's conclusion “that his oeuvre did not represent an autobiography; rather it constitutes a massive self-projection, a portrait of his fantasy of himself”  (The Grey Fox p.6) Hodsdon adds that “as with Ford, Hawks's career was still a remarkable projection for a hard-nosed mainstream filmmaker who believed in and worked under a commercial rubric. However, unlike Ford, Hawks never deconstructed himself [and his  'world view'] but retreated into his personal mythos in his last films.”  (The Elusive Auteur 129-30)

Hawks's last 6 films were released 1959-70: Rio Bravo, Hatari!, Man's Favorite Sport, Red Line 7000, El Dorado, and Rio Lobo.  Ford's last six,1961-66, were : Sergeant Rutledge,Two Rode Together, The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance, Donovan's Reef, Cheyenne Autumn, and Seven Women.

Transformation of Film Style                                                                                                                                             “There is little doubt that a classical aesthetics looks for and favours films that can be constructed as organic, coherent, meaningful controlled art” (Adrian Martin 22).

 

                       For classical cinema, rooted in the popular novel, short story and

                       well-made drama of the nineteenth century, “reality” is assumed

                       to be a tacit coherence among events, a consistency and clarity

                       of individual identity. Realistic motivation corroborates the com-

                       positional motivation achieved through cause and effect. Art-cin-

                       ema narration, taking its cue from literary modernism, questions

                       this notion of the real rooted in the nineteenth century popular

                       novel and well-made drama: the world's laws may not be know-

                       able, personal psychology may be indeterminate.

                                                                                  (Bordwell 'Narration' 206)

 

Bordwell acknowledges Marcel Martin's summing up of new aesthetic conventions which recognise these new 'other realities'. Neorealism sought to depict the vagaries of life as lived to “de-dramatise”the narrative by showing both climaxes and trivial moments. “Specific sorts of realism motivate a loosening of cause and effect, an episodic construction of the syuzhet (plot), and an enhancement of the film's symbolic dimension through an emphasis on the fluctuations of character psychology”  Bordwell goes on to illustrate how art film's reality is multifaceted in dealing with “real” subject matter such as contemporary alienation and non-communication (ibid).

  

Jerzy Skolimowski in his film Walkover
                                                                    

The sixties became the decade of transformation in the history of film style in which classical mise en scène could be “rejected wholesale but also referenced, cited, and thereby bracketed, problematised and merrily interfered with.” Godard in Le Mèpris (1963), as Adrian Martin further describes, “both mi-micks the classical system for expressive purposes while poking holes in its surface in a myriad of in-scene distances” (Mise en Scène 80).  Jerzy Skolimowski, not long out of film school, in the midst of the Polish new wave, made a critical experiment in the way he deployed the extended long take in his second feature, Walkover(1965), one of the first films to do so, remarkably as Martin describes it in the opening single shot of 11 mins and throughout the film of only 29 shots in 72 mins. Skolimowski, inventively places traditional mise-en-scène (with its deference to montage) within potentially subjective scenes 'in crisis', as Martin recognises, by maintaining distance through total objectivity in lateral movement, fresco-like across sudden shifts of viewpoint.  Although Skolimowski claimed not to have seen any of Godard's films before making Walkover,Martin notes his work on cinematic style “as having evident, transnational affinities with what Godard and others were doing in this period and throughout the remainder of the decade.” (ibid 75-6)

 

“The competing claims of realism and modernism was one of the sustaining debates through the last century from the late fifties to seventies that “produced many of the conceptual models of the cine- matic image, from André Bazin's realism to Screenjournal's modernist Marxism,” as G&S note (15). Historical and ahistorical impulses, being integral to their flexible appeal “are held in creative tension by art cinema, it is further suggested (G&S 14-15). Its flexibility lies in this combination of the ahistorical (its refusal of traditional historicism potentially avoiding ethnocentrism) and the historical (e.g. in the importance for it of movements and national film waves). In the end, any defining of international art cinema returns simply to a nostrum that potentially it encompasses narrative film that is “not Hollywood.”

 

As already referred in part 2, the local has played a key role in the evolution of “art” in international art cinema. In outlining its history Geoffrey Nowell-Smith emphases its heterogeneity across national cinemas through the sixties in western and eastern European cinemas. He is dismissive of the attempts that were made to give definition in art cinema to distinct generic properties analogous to Hollywood cinema and other mainstream film genres. While Nowell-Smith acknowledged an identifiable sharing of structural and stylistic breaking of the rules of classical construction and characterisation in many of the art films of this period, he saw this as continuing to move in many directions.

 

 The apparent diversity of key New Wave directors from common ground, contributed to their international film festival and art house notoriety accompanied by the engagement of critics and a growing public interested in the variety offered by art cinema. Its opposition to Hollywood rests on the international variety of its films from austerity to spectacle, neo-realism to Felliniesque fantasy, radical narrative experimentation to relatively conventional storytelling, and Marxist inflected narrative to romantic humanism. As the scope for divergences between individual filmmakers outside the mainstream increased so also did the dependence on the commitment of producers prepared to back originality. The 60s also saw the increase in new forms of state aid in France in the 60s, and from television in Italy (RAI) and Germany (ZDF) in the 70s. 

 

Against institutionalisation

The radical events of May 68 generated an international climate for new cinemas as well as sharp differences in formal strategies for dealing with overt political content independent of the mainstream, in Europe, Africa, India, Japan, and North and South America (1).

 

"...overt political content independent of the mainstream"
Nagisa Oshima


In 1981 Steve Neale referred to the containment of the variety of art cinema by its economic infrastructure with “its basis in commodity-dominated modes of production, distribution and exhibition [within] a general institutional framework of discourses on high art and culture, and by the repetitions that tend to mark such discourses (15)” (2)In the new millennium the uneasy relationship between  high art and low (cult) art was highlighted by David Andrew's polemic for new ground. He argues against what he sees as the outmoded containment of art film in the distinct generic terms identified by Neale as an institutional practice closely associating with designation and stratification of films according to the 'quality and artfulness' of modernism. Against this actual, or at least potentially reactionary institutionalisation as 'high art' cinema, Andrew proposes an “egalitarian,value-neutral path” which would admit disenfranchised areas such as 'soft-core porn'. Soft core art film emerged with the progressive relaxation of censorship in the late sixties to the mid seventies (3). What Andrew is specifically referring to in this context is a 'feminised' soft core genre first established as a cultural industry in America in the 1980s which remained unacknowledged for serious study. His main goal has been to develop a framework whereby untraditional scholars could “justify their exploration of cinema's most disenfranchised areas” using an art cinema approach (4).      


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Notes

(1)The emergence of the concept of a Third Cinema in the late 60s initially in Latin America, did not simply refer to so-called Third World countries but to any films confronting political and social issues that challenged entrenched modes of  mainstream action genres or individually expressive narrative: the First Cinema being the mainstream Hollywood model , the Second Cinema being the auteur-based Art Cinema centred in Europe. This will be further discussed in Latin American cinemas in part 4.

 

(2) It may be that art cinema is best defined not through a certain historical period, nor a directorial canon, or a set of distinctive subjects and styles but as an institution in whichcertain films are 'assigned' a position within the general film culture and are defined in terms of a particular mode of consumption. Film festivals are a key component of this institution. The institutional context is critical to the stabilisation of the 'genre' and the films' separate status as cultural objects. This circulatory network may be the key unifying aspect serving to distinguish its minority audience from the mass audience of the commercial mainstream cinema. ( from Tom Ryall  “Art House, smart house  Movie no. 90 1981 quoted Cook & Bernink  eds. 108)

                                                                                                                                                                                             

(3) Steve Neale notes (33) that the gradual postwar opening of anglophone film exhibition to European films increasingly provided commercial stability for 'adult art' on the screen beginning with films like La Ronde(1950), One Summer of Happiness(1954), And God Created Woman(1956), Les Amants(1958), La Dolce Vita(1960), Antonioni's 'trilogy' beginning with L'avventura(1959-62), The Silence (1963), Une Femme Mariée(1964), and Belle de Jour (1967) to art films with a reputation for explicit representation of sexuality such as I Am Curious Yellow(1967), Pasolini's 'trilogy of life' beginning with The Decameron(1970-4), Robbe-Grillet's Eden and After(1970) et al, Last Tango in Paris(1972), The Night Porter (1973), and Jancsó's Private Vices, Public Virtues (1976).  

                                                                                                                                                                                       

(4) David Andrews is a specialist in American literature, and art film including soft core porn. In 2006 Ohio State University Press published his book, 'Soft in the Middle', described as a nuanced study of the devalued soft core film and TV industry which occupies an ambiguous “female friendly” middle ground between hard core porn and Hollywood

 

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Geoffrey Nowell-Smith  “Art Cinema” Oxford History of World Cinema 1996                                                                                           

John Belton “Howard Hawks”  in Nowell-Smith op cit  

Steve Neale “Art Cinema as Institution” Screen v.22/1 1981                                                                                        

Rosalind Galt & Karl Schoonover “Introduction: The Impurity of Art Cinema” Global Art Cinema 2010                                      

Stephen Crofts “Concepts of National Cinema”  Oxford Guide to Film studies Hill & Gibson eds.                                                 

Murray Smith  “Modernism and the avant gardes”  Oxford Guide ibid                                                                                                       

David AndrewsTowards an Inclusive, Exclusive Approach to Art Cinema”  Global Art Cinema ibid                                                                                                                                                    

Sam Rohdie  Film Modernism 2015                                                                                                                                       

Adrian Martin Mise en Scène and Film Style  2014                                                                                                                

Julian Petley “Art Cinema” The Cinema Book 2nded. Pam Cook& Mieke Bernink eds. BFI 1999 p.106                  

 David Bordwell  Narration in the Fiction Film 1985                                                                                     

David Bordwell ”The Art Cinema as a Mode of Film Practice” reprinted with afterword in Poetics of Cinema  2008                                                                                                            

Sunday, 7 February 2021

Lee Marvin talks- “He spoke very good English, except on the set.” – Part three of Tom Ryan’s 1980 3RRR interview with with the actor discussing Edward Dymytryk, the Blacklist, Michael Curtiz, John Wayne and John Ford

On the set of Eight Iron Men
Marvin 4th from Right.
Edward Dmytryk seated right

TR:
 You worked with Edward Dmytryk quite a lot?

 

LM: Yeah, Eddie did Eight Iron Men, with Stanley Kramer. And The Caine MutinyRaintree County

 

He’s under a lot of pressure in the ’50s in Hollywood because of the inquisition. What was the relationship between him and people on the set as a consequence of this?

 

I wouldn’t have known anything about that. I was away in the war. I didn’t know anything about Hollywood writers and communism or anything like that. I was one of the few actors in New York during the live TV days that wouldn’t sign that pledge. I said, ‘You wanna find out about me, just look it up.’ And I worked. Every actor was supposed to sign these things for CBS and the others saying that you weren’t and never had been a communist. Because, you know, the purge was on. But I said, ‘Forget that. I ain’t signin’ nothin’, pal.’

 

Was there a real hostility to that amongst the people working in the business?

 

In Hollywood, there was, yeah. But I wasn’t aware of it because the purge was over by the time I got there. I was still in New York when all that was going on.

 

People usually identify The Comancheros as your first really big role, the role that identifies the Lee Marvin to come: the comic heavy opposite John Wayne, something repeated on a number of occasions. Is that the way you see it?

 

Oh, I thought I’d done it earlier than that, but the thing was I had Michael Curtiz. There was the magic for you. The Hungarian strongman. It was his last film. He was very ill, but still you could see the old spark there. I just love the screamers and he was a screamer. Oh, boy. And so was Hathaway and so was Ford. All my dearest memories about some of the great old-time guys are to do with their screaming ability. 

 

Marvin, John Wayne, The Comancheros

You know, Raoul Walsh would never look at an actor when he was saying a line. He’d roll a cigarette and he’d turn to the script girl and say, ‘Did he get it all?’ She’d say, ‘Yeah,’ and he’d say, ‘Alright, print it.’ 

 

Anybody who uses the word ‘hack’ to describe them misses how dynamic they are.

 

Right. With The Comancheros, they had the kitchen sink in it, boilers, anything. But it did move and it did have a lot of butt-kickin’ and guys gettin’ scalped, and fist fights and ladies of ill-repute bein’ thrown through mirrors, all the old ‘Let’s live, boys.’ A lot of that action.

 

From what I hear, Curtiz hardly spoke a word of English.

 

He spoke very good English, except on the set. Smart man.

 

So how did he relate to the actors then?

 

Well, he’d call ’em all dumb and scream at ’em. He was just sensational. Go crazy, rip up the set. He didn’t like the way something was done so he’d go off on a tangent with some actor and the actor would be shakin’ for three days, but that’s what he wanted in the scene anyway. He’d do something different and sidetrack him. It’s like a code.

 

Michael Curtiz

I can’t imagine you and John Wayne shaking on a set with Michael Curtiz shouting at you.

 

Duke was Duke. And he could take over quite easily because he was a pretty famous guy… So Duke says, ‘Mike, what are we gonna do here?’ Mike would go, ‘Dunno,’ although he did. So Duke goes, ‘For God’s sake!’ So he took over, laid down the tracks and it took ’em over an hour and a half to light the scene the way Duke wanted it. And so they finally said, ‘Ready, Mr. Curtiz,’ and Mike was asleep looking at the script, you know, pretending to read it. He says, ‘Xybnretchipo owshchwetomna, OK, let’s get zis stuff outta ze way and get on vit it.’ And I said to myself, ‘That’s the way to do it. Let him direct when nobody’s rollin’ the camera, right?’ Then we’d go to work. Good stuff.

 

Have you ever wanted to direct yourself?

 

No.

 

You didn’t direct any of the TV work that you did?

 

Oh, no, no, no.

 

Why’s that?

 

I live in front of the camera, not behind it. And I always thought that it was better havin’ a man who knew more about it than you goin’ in. I can’t wear two hats at once. I refer to myself as monosyllabic: one thought at a time. Gimme two thoughts and I start gettin’ confused. That’s why I give so much attention to that one thought. Also, I’m sure I’d lose my perspective if I was looking through the lens. I’ve never looked through a lens in my life.

 

Somebody who looked through the lens a lot was John Ford… Looking back at your films like The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance, how do you feel about them?

 

Oh, I love ’em. I don’t know how they all turned out; the memories are all that I have. I don’t save film. I don’t have a library at home of the films that I made. Or any prints, or anything like that. Oh, I have a few stills, but mostly offstage, with the crew, or Jack, or something like that. I’m just human: I like to remember the good things. I’m sure there were some bad days, but I can’t remember them.

 

Lee Van Cleef, Marvin, Strother Martin
The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance

Was Ford difficult to work with?

 

I thought he was as smooth as silk. I mean, I understood what he was saying. A lotta guys don’t. And therein lay the problem. If you didn’t get his message, you were in trouble.

 

His films seem to be inundated by the great strongmen of American films: you obviously, and also John Wayne, James Stewart and Henry Fonda.

 

Ward Bond, Harry Carey…

 

Was there something about Ford that attracted him to this kind of character?

 

American, yeah. He came from an Irish family just out of Boston, in Portland, Maine. His father was a publican. His brother went out first… he was the star, Frank Ford. Jack changed his name when he got to Hollywood. He started out as Sean Aloysius Feeney. 

 

John Ford

You can’t go far wrong with the name Ford in America.

 

Yeah, it’s kind of a classic. And, yeah, I’m wandering… Sorry.

 

So you found him an easy man to work with?

 

I understood him perfectly… Not perfectly, but as much as anybody did. But I never had to do the leads, like the Henry Fonda role in The Grapes of Wrath.

 

But you do in Donovan’s Reef. I mean, you share the lead with John Wayne.

 

Yeah, but I’m playing Gil Hooley. What does that tell ya?

 

I have an image of you in my head from it. A cut to a close-up of you sitting there with a toy train in front of you…

 

Yeah, yeah. That was an ad-libbed scene that he put in there. That was the honeymoon. Wasn’t that great? You know, I get married to…. um, um… Dorothy Lamour. And he didn’t let her finish the song in the film. He kept cutting to the Chinese applauding. It was brutal stuff. So we get married and the next thing I know I got a choo-choo train, and that’s it. That tells you the sex life of this marriage. Good backhand delivery stuff. I love it, I love it.

 

Marvin, John Wayne
Donovan's Reef

There’s something about his work where one always gets the sense that he’s undercutting the stature of his characters. Like Dorothy Lamour in that scene, but also you, the tough guy who’s reduced to playing with a toy train. Where’s the virility in that?

 

Sergeant Ryker is made in the same year, a weird film because it started as episodes of a TV series….

 

Did it?

 

Called Crisis.

 

Really? I didn’t know that.

 

That’s disappointing. I was hoping to get the inside story on that. Buzz Kulik made it, didn’t he?

 

Yeah. I just thought it was an anthology.


Sergeant Ryker
Editor’s note: This is the third instalment of a four part series devoted to a lengthy interview by Melbourne critic and scholar Tom Ryan with Lee Marvin. The interview was conducted on Melbourne Radio3RRR in 1980.  Part One can be accessed if you click here – Part two if you click here