The Red Shoes (1948) dir. Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger
Starring: Moira Shearer, Marius Goring, Anton Walbrook, Irene Brown

****

What does it take to be a great artist? More than just talent and skill, but complete dedication to one’s art. This question is the driving force behind one of the great films of the Powell/Pressburger oeuvre, ‘The Red Shoes”. An unconventional picture for 1948, compared with the traditional Hollywood musical, Powell/Pressburger’s film feels like an experiment in storytelling, less a song and dance routine than it is about the artists make who the art.

Julian Crastner (Marius Goring), an aspiring composer, and Vicky Page (Moira Shearer), a young dancer desperately want to break into the renowned Lementov Ballet. Crasnter manages to finagle his way into a meeting with the legendary Boris Lementov and eek out a small gig with the orchestra. Vicky uses her family influence to get some face time with Lementov and secure an audition. Both impress the man so much they quickly rise through the ranks of the company to be the stars of the ballet.

Crastner's musical masterpiece comes in the form of a ballet based on Hans Christian Andersen's fable The Red Shoes - the story of a desperate ballerina who sells her soul to buy a pair of red shoes which cause her to dance morning, noon and night causing her demise. With procedural detail we see the birth of the play from the idea to its premiere with all the creative steps in between, however grueling. And over the course of this time Crasnter and Page fall in love, which goes against Lementov's unbreakable rule that the dancers never ever fall in love. With Crastner and Page split from the company Lementov is forced to reconcile his uncompromising professional convictions with his most talented artist's personal lives. But for Page, she finds reconciling professional and personal priorities even more difficult, soon driving her to madness like her character in the Red Shoes.

Coming from Powell/Pressburger, two filmmakers working in Britain, outside of the studio system, there's a freshness to their approach to this story. At heart 'The Red Shoe" is a tragedy, executed with genuine love and appreciation for the process of making art. For two thirds, the film charts the upward path of its three main characters Lementov, Page and Crastner, with an almost procedural level of detail behind the scenes of the stage. There's very little music or dance until the filmmakers take a 25mins time out to show us the Red Shoes being performed. The scene is marvelous, with Powell/Pressburger starting the ballet on the stage, and freely moving the audience through cinematic interpretations of the work. This is the only musical sequence in the film, but its so glorious it lingers through the rest of the picture.

The key point of conflict only occurs at the 1:40 mark when Page's romance with Crastner is revealed. It would seem an arbitrary beat - a romance which emerges quickly and never on screen, only told to us by one of the other characters. But we're brought back to the opening of the picture when the stubborn Lementov fires his prima ballerina for becoming engaged, thus defying Lementov's strict policy that his dancers must never fall in love. It's a seemingly arbitrary rule to create conflict, but it informs the key flaw of Lementov’s character. His ego and power over everyone around him is how he gets the best out of his artists.

The moment also reveals the dark side of the life of an artist - the soul that both Page and Crastner have sold to achieve their success. This sacrifice is also hinted at in Lementov’s first meeting with the ambitious and naive Vicky. Lementov asks Vicky ‘why do you dance’. Vicky responds, “why do you live?” This is the answer he wanted to hear, complete dedication to the art, and under Lementov’s direction and his own ambition.

And so the rest of the picture plays out like a great Shakespearean tragedy, paralleling the same path toward self-destruction as the poor ballerina in the Red Shoes.

Powell and Pressburger’s direction and visual design is delicious – a fast paced visual delight in every scene. Of course Jack Cardiff’s Technicolor cinematography is glorious, using colour magnificently as an expression of the vibrancy of the theatre and the lives of Page and Crastner.

It's easy to see why Martin Scorsese has famously been a longtime supporter of Powell/Pressburger and this film in particular. There's a distinct Italian operatic sensibility - a heightened realism and dark obsession which subverts the traditional formula of a Hollywood musical.

A Matter of Life and Death (1946) dir. Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger
Starring: David Niven, Kim Hunter, Roger Livesay, Raymond Massey

****

Guest Review By Greg Klymkiw

With an opening as staggering as the one on display in this extraordinary Powell/Pressburger production, one is almost distracted by the thought that no picture could ever truly recover from such a dazzling romantic entry point.

How do you go up from up?

Peter Carter (David Niven), a doomed wartime pilot in a flaming airplane spirals to his death and participates in a final conversation with June (Kim Hunter), a honey-voiced dispatcher. As their conversation over the radio waves proceeds, these two souls remain stoic in the face of certain doom, even as they realize what a match made in Heaven they might have been had things been different. He is touched by her spark of life and compassion, and she for his gentle bravery. But as the conversation over the radio waves proceeds and death for Peter is more inevitable than ever before, the time comes for this couple to say their final goodbyes.

How in God’s name can a picture get better than this?

It does, and then some, for “A Matter of Life and Death”, a picture rendered by the immortal Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger – a team of filmmakers who, under the corporate moniker of The Archers, hit bull’s-eye after bull’s-eye. Almost every one of their movies (“Black Narcissus” “The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp”, “The Red Shoes”, etc.) pushes the boundaries of traditional cinematic storytelling with the kind of ingenuity that has seldom been matched (but is certainly emulated and outright copied).

From a storytelling standpoint, “A Matter of Life and Death” constantly keeps our eyeballs glued to the screen. One moment, we are plunged into a situation wherein we have absolutely no idea where the story can go and the next, we are convinced it’s going one way and our expectations are pleasantly dashed. This happens so often, that when we are actually treated to a moment in the story that we’re convinced is going to go in a particular direction and it actually DOES go there, we’re delighted that it goes into a comfortable, familiar place – not only because it is emotionally the right thing for the movie to do at that point, but because it gives us WHAT we crave at just the right moment.

This is great writing – no doubt about it. The abovementioned opening features our two romantic leads who, as characters, have not even met face to face, but WE see them and WE want them to meet face to face. And hell, they want to meet face to face too, but this is the first few minutes of the movie and our leading man is in a burning plane and he decides to make a suicide jump rather than go down in a crisp. The leading lady, while clearly distraught, has suffered enough and/or witnessed enough suffering during this world war to know that death will almost always be the clear inevitability.

Unfortunately, the original and rather unimaginative American title, “Stairway To Heaven” was enough of a silly tip-off to let us know that the story would occasionally veer into the spiritual/fantastical realm, but even within that context, Powell and Pressburger’s command of the proceedings is so taut that we’re still on the edge of our seats wondering where this could possibly go.

The direction the narrative takes is that our leading man does survive the plunge and does meet the voice on the other end of the radio and, of course, they do fall in love. Alas, the bureaucracy that runs the spirit world on the other side of death has made a dreadful mistake. Peter WAS supposed to die, but someone slipped up. When Death comes a collecting, Peter balks and demands a hearing. His life and the lives of those around him have irrevocably been changed because of this mistake and it seems extremely unfair that he is to be plucked from the physical world after having been given a chance to live longer than he was supposed to.

A trial is needed. However, the trial that proceeds has less to do with a matter of life and death and veers into the political arena of American vs. British superiority. This, of course, is yet another staggering plot element as this captures, quite resolutely, the animosity between the British and American sides during the war on Hitler.

In addition to the magnificent plotting, elegant dialogue and complex characters, “A Matter of Life and Death” is also replete with the Powell and Pressburger visual genius. Not only are images used in thrilling and engaging ways to propel the story forward, but some of the most staggering images and special effects are designed in order to tell the story as well as it is. With a combination of outstanding production design and both optical and compositional genius, this is a picture that not only holds up in a modern context in terms of the effects but also renders many contemporary digital effects to utter shame in comparison.

Last, but certainly not least and what makes this picture one of the greatest of all time is that Powell and Pressburger are not afraid to wear their hearts on their respective creative sleeves. The film is wildly romantic, sentimental and emotionally stunning.

It has heart, and that, if anything is something to be cherished.

Innovation AND heart. It’s an unbeatable combination.

“A Matter of Life and Death” (AKA “Stairway to Heaven”) is available on DVD in a package titled “Michael Powell, The Collector’s Choice” and double-billed with Powell’s “Age of Consent”.

Age of Consent (1969) dir. Michael Powell
Starring: James Mason, Helen Mirren, Jack MacGowran, Neva Carr-Glynn, Andonia Katsaros

**1/2

Guest Review By Greg Klymkiw

Okay, I don’t mean to reduce this movie to the following, but how can one not? The very thought of Helen Mirren NAKED in anything is always a cause for rejoicing, but the fact that Mirren is 23 years old in this film AND nude, semi-nude or in skimpy, skin-tight attire for pretty much the entire running time means that even if one doesn’t like the picture, there is plenty – and I mean PLENTY – to admire! Luckily, there IS more to admire than the sight of Miss Mirren’s milky flesh, her supple breasts and her perfect, pillowy rump. In addition to the aforementioned assets of her gossamer soft tissue, the picture is endowed with such bonus features as a starring performance from a taught, tanned and terrific James Mason, a lovely supporting bit from the magnificent Jack MacGowran and last, but certainly not least, it is the final feature to be directed by one of cinema’s greatest auteurs, Michael Powell.

Set against the stunning topography of the Great Barrier Reef, “Age of Consent” tells the slight, but entertaining story of a middle aged artist who, while financially successful, is at a crossroads in his creative life and feels he has yet to generate work that has any value beyond the purely monetary. Seeking solace, he decides to pack it all in and settle on what he believes to be a deserted island on the reef in order to get both relaxation and, perhaps, a spark of inspiration.

The island, however, is not bereft of a population – a ragtag group of hermit-like inhabitants soon rear their heads. Some of them are ugly. There’s a kooky middle-aged Miss Haversham type (Andonia Katsaros), starved for sex and a drunken old hag (Neva Carr-Glynn) who spends much of her time sucking back cheap booze and abusing her beautiful, young granddaughter. This is where Mirren raises her head of perfection. As the granddaughter Cora, Mirren eventually catches the eye of the artist and before you can say “James Mason”, she’s dropping her clothes and providing him the muse-like services he so desperately requires. Inevitably, Cora provides services of the sexual kind, but Mason’s character is so self absorbed that he’s blinded by his genius and doesn’t realize just how much Cora begins to love him.

Powell always had a soft spot for odd, obsessive characters living in either the outer reaches of the planet (“I Know Where I’m Going”) or in worlds far removed from the daily life most of us know (“The Red Shoes”). One can see how he was attracted to the material “Age of Consent” provided him. Based on the semi-autobiographical novel by Norman Lindsay, it allows Powell the opportunity to train his lens on the stunning natural beauty of the Great Barrier Reef while at the same time, focusing almost microscopically on those who inhabit it – dwarfed as they are like just so many insects. Mason, who doubled as the producer always longed to work with Powell so when he brought the project to him, it was a match made in Heaven.

The supporting cast is also not without considerable merit. Appearing as Mason’s drunken, gambling-addicted old pal, Jack MacGowaran comes close to stealing every scene he is in. There are also two cameos that add considerable texture to the picture. One is the great Australian character actor Frank Thring as Mason’s haughty agent and Mason’s real-life wife Clarissa Kaye who plays his sultry, raven-haired beauty on the mainland. She’s so wonderful in her brief appearance that one wishes she’d had a career well beyond her devotion to Mason.

Sadly, this was Powell’s final feature. He lived for another quarter of a century after it was released and tried in vain to get other projects off the ground. Married to ace editor Thelma Schoonmaker, being the recipient of accolades, retrospectives, restorations and in particular, the adoration of numerous filmmakers including the great Martin Scorsese (who continues to cite Powell as his primary inspiration), Powell was only able to raise financing for two short works after “Age of Consent”. As Scorsese movingly notes in an accompanying interview in the recent DVD release of Powell’s preferred cut (as opposed to the heavily butchered version that floated around for too many years), Powell never ceased to face a day without planning films he wanted to make. He was the ultimate filmmaker in that sense. As the world passed him by on some levels, he never gave up.

If the film falters slightly, it’s only in comparison to the considerable emotional and intellectual depth of Powell’s previous work. That said - Mirren’s Cora is a delicate, exquisite creature. There is both a passion and understanding beneath her supple youth and radiating from her soulful eyes that we are drawn to her as Mason’s character also is – with both yearning and passion.

It’s a lovely little film.

And did I mention Mirren is naked in it? A lot!

“Age of Consent” is available on DVD in a package titled “Michael Powell, The Collector’s Choice” from Sony Pictures Home Entertainment and double-billed with a restored version of Powell’s truly brilliant “A Matter of Life and Death” (AKA “Stairway to Heaven”)