DAILY FILM DOSE: A Daily Film Appreciation and Review Blog: Stanley Kubrick

Showing posts with label Stanley Kubrick. Show all posts

Tuesday, 23 October 2012

The Killing

Like most of Kubrick’s films, 'The Killing' is absolutely impervious to time. While the film is one of his most ‘conventional’ films, it is remarkable for his forward-thinking narrative structure, showing the mechanics of a crime from multiple points of view in different spaces of time. Jim Thompson’s hard-boiled dialogue and Kubrick’s youthful cinematic flare with the camera still pulsate with a different kind of energy than the more formal and stolid works he’s most known for.

The Killing (1956) dir. Stanley Kubrick
Starring: Sterling Hayden, Coleen Gray, Elisha Cook Jr., Marie Windsor, Jay C. Flippen, Timothy Carey

By Alan Bacchus

There’s a strong sense of aggression in this picture. Starting with the score by George Fried, a loud and almost angry music cue opens the picture and helps to create momentum for the film as it snowballs throughout. There’s also the supremely imposing figure of Johnny Clay (Hayden), the ring leader of the racetrack heist who speaks with a larger-than-life deep voice, oozing confidence. Clay’s barely even a movie character, but more a caricature of someone like James Cagney, Humphrey Bogart and the Hollywood crimesters of the past.

We don’t care that Clay exhibits no other emotions other than his devotion to the job and supporting his dutiful wife. We may just be meant to identify with the affable George Petty (Cook Jr.), who is manipulated by his overbearing wife, Sherry (Windsor). But even then, his characterization as the ‘patsy’ is written to the extreme, an indulgence of Kubrick’s which doesn't really fit into his body of work, but within the rules of the crime/noir genre it is completely acceptable.

While most of the visual hallmarks we associate with Stanley Kubrick were birthed in his next film, Paths of Glory, we can see some stylish commonalities incorporated here. The omniscient voiceover, which tells us exactly what we see going on in front of us, is featured again in Dr. Strangelove, A Clockwork Orange and Barry Lyndon. And while the information presented seems unnecessary to help us understand the story, Kubrick uses the narration to convey a distinctly documentary-like realism to the film. Kubrick’s staunch adherence to real location flavour and almost consciously un-cinematic newsreel-like imagery of the racetrack adds to the unique procedural qualities.

There’s also the mask used by Clay during the heist, a recurring visual motif used so dramatically in Alex Delarge’s home invasion in A Clockwork Orange, as well as during the costume party flashback in The Shining and the infamous sex party in Eyes Wide Shut.

Rashomon was Kubrick’s cited influence in this regard, but as applied to the stone cold film noir/American heist genre it resembles little of Kurosawa’s rigorous technique. While the idea of showing a heist from the different perspectives of the participants often doubling back on each other was clearly in Lionel White’s original source novel (titled Clean Break), it was Kubrick’s confidence as a filmmaker which made it work for cinema, thus influencing later filmmakers such as Quentin Tarantino, Steven Soderbergh and Atom Egoyan, who regularly use this approach.

Kubrick may have also looked to Europe for this influence in tone. We can’t help but see the connection to the cool, emotionless fetish for details in the great crime films of Jules Dassin (Rififi), Robert Bresson (Pickpocket) and Jacques Becker (Le Trou). It’s no surprise because these three films are some of the best heist/escape pictures of all time, with The Killing lining up proudly beside or arguably even above them.

****

The Killing is available on Blu-ray from The Criterion Collection.

Sunday, 16 September 2012

TIFF 2012 - Room 237

Perhaps the ultimate cinephile's playground, 'Room 237' is a fun look into the detailed obsessions of devoted fans of Stanley Kubrick's 'The Shining', the now legendary, much discussed and debated horror film, which at a glance appears to be a simple story about the breakdown of a psychologically damaged writer from the effects of isolation. Yet, with microscopic frame-by-frame analysis there emerges some equally deranged but sometimes irrefutable dramatic subtext that deepens this already beguiling film.

Room 237 (2012) dir. Rodney Asher
Documentary

By Alan Bacchus

There are some great documentary films made about obsession. The entire body of work of Errol Morris is an examination, to some degree, of obsession. More specifically, there are also a number of great films made about conspiracy theories, most recently the masterful Resurrect Dead: The Mystery of the Toynbee Tiles. Room 237 plays in this arena but with an even more savant-like fastidiousness.

Director Rodney Asher respects the audience and wastes no time with establishing the background to the film. He jumps right into the first analysis, which is the repeated use of Native imagery and references to this imagery in the background of many of the frames. But it's really meant to introduce and establish the characters and style.

As each interviewee gives their own personal theories we never see their faces. As such, the entire film consists of stock footage, often much of it from Kubrick's other films. But there are also memorable and non-memorable films which delightfully lampoon the notion of dramatic recreations.

The theories posited range from a very deep subtext of the American Indian genocide, allegories to the Holocaust and Kubrick's involvement in shooting the Apollo 11 fake moon landing. While many of these theories are ludicrous, what is indisputable is the number of continuity errors, which, considering the attention to detail Kubrick devotes to composing his frames, can only be purposeful.

Asher also recounts the substantiated story that Kubrick consulted advertising agencies to discuss how subliminal imagery could be used to affect an audience's perception of a film. Whether any of this is true or not is beyond the matter, as one of the interviewees adroitly reminds us of a common axiom of art criticism - the authorial intent is irrelevant to understanding the work of an artist.

Room 237 works on the level as a brilliant post-modern comedy, but more importantly it furthers the reputation of Stanley Kubrick as a master of cinema. He was so far ahead of the curve, all these years later we're only starting to break the surface of this mind-bending film.

***½

Friday, 17 June 2011

Lolita

Lolita (1962) dir. Stanley Kubrick
Starring: James Mason, Sue Lyon, Shelley Winters, Peter Sellers

***

By Alan Bacchus

Lolita sits as a turning point in Stanley Kubrick’s career. It came after Spartacus, a director-for-hire gig, and thus a film in which he didn’t have his usual meticulous creative control or the stamp of authorship. That said, Spartacus is still a fantastic action epic, one of the best Hollywood has ever produced and a huge success. With Lolita, we see Kubrick working with James B. Harris (Paths of Glory, The Killing) again and outside of Hollywood in England, with the dark comedic and salacious subject matter we would see in his later films.

For most of Lolita Kubrick directs the film with the same invisible style as Spartacus, invisible to the immediately recognizable Kubrick hallmarks. There are few wide-angle tracking shots, no brooding classical music cues and no Kubrick ‘look.’ As such, Kubrick remains, as best he could, faithful to Nabakov’s incendiary material.

And incendiary it is. The relationship of a 14-year-old girl and a grossly perverted middle-aged man is played for serious. Humbert Humbert is never really taken to task for his sick and twisted fascination with Lolita, in what really amounts to statutory rape. That said, Humbert is no innocent man. The trajectory of the narrative leads to his psychological demise, a victim of his own obsessions.

Lolita is not a complete masterpiece, as we usually expect from the great director. It suffers from a fault inherent in the story’s architecture. Lolita has the distinction of featuring the most complex and interesting female character Kubrick has ever directed. Charlotte Haze (Shelley Winters) is arguably the star of the film, and (spoiler alert) when she dies halfway into the picture the film becomes considerably less funny and less interesting.

Going back to the beginning though. James Mason plays a British professor from New Hampshire who is spending the summer at Beardsley College. While looking for a sublet from a recent widow, Charlotte Haze, he catches a glimpse of her gorgeous and teasing jail-bait daughter Lolita sunbathing in the backyard. What reservations he had about Charlotte are tempered by the intoxicating allure of her young daughter.

And so begins Humbert’s sly and devilish courtship of the young girl. With the male hormones in full control, the dirty old man marries Charlotte in order to get to Lolita. After Charlotte’s suicide, the last hurdle toward full sexual bliss with Lolita is complete. Little does he know another equally devilish pervert, Clare Quilty (Peter Sellers), a local bohemian playwright, has his eyes on Lolita as well. The battle of the sexes was never more competitive and dangerous.

Shelley Winters is mesmerizing as the elder nymphet who lusts after Humbert. Her courtship of him, which runs counter to Humbert’s tactics toward Lolita, helps anchor the delicious sexual provocativeness that has made this film as controversial as it is. The key to the complexity of this three-way relationship is the Britishness of Humbert, as the old world gentlemanliness he exudes disarms Charlotte, Lolita and the audience to his sick and twisted motives. And of course it was 1962, and with hardcore censorship in place, like all great directors, Kubrick puts all of these complex sexual layers beneath the surface and between the lines.

The opening half of the film is filled with uproarious banter between Charlotte and Humbert. But as mentioned, when Charlotte leaves the film much of this comic energy leaves with her. Even the great Peter Sellers is unmemorable. As Clare Quilty, his performance is mostly elusive and annoying. Ironically, Sellers' best scene is Quilty playing German guidance counsellor Dr. Zempf, who uses an elaborate disguise to convince Humbert to allow Lolita into the school play. With a running time of two-and-a-half hours, the second half of the film also drags, especially during the road trip journey back from Lolita’s summer camp and their extended stay in New Hampshire.

But this is Stanley Kubrick, and even lower tier Stanley is the stuff of great cinema. Despite its faults Lolita is still essential viewing.

Lolita is available on Blu-ray from Warner Home Entertainment.

Wednesday, 15 June 2011

Harlan: In the Shadow of Jew Süss

Harlan: In the Shadow of Jew Süss (2008) dir. Felix Moeller
Starring: Thomas Harlan, Christiane Kubrick (nee Harlan), Jan Harlan, and Stefan Drosler

**1/2

By Greg Klymkiw

Veit Harlan was the director of a dreadful picture called Jew Süss.

His movie is dreadful on two counts.

Firstly, it’s no good – awful, in fact. It creaks and groans with storytelling techniques from another age and renders melodrama in ways that allow detractors of the genre to level their knee-jerk criticism at even the genre’s best work because movies like Jew Süss are, simply and purely, BAD MELODRAMA.

Secondly, the picture is the vilest, most hateful, prejudicial anti-Jewish Nazi propaganda ever made. The picture was such a huge hit upon its first release that Jew Süss is credited with inspiring pogroms, became required viewing for the S.S. and took its rightful place in the Final Solution as the film equivalent of a murder weapon. The movie was commissioned by Josef Goebbels, the Minister for Propaganda under the Nazi regime. Released in 1940, this disgusting and poorly made piece of trash told the story of a Jew who rises to power, rapes a Gentile woman (instigating her suicide) until his actions eventually result in all the Jews of the region being run out on a rail - "triumphantly" , no less - by all the non-Jews. And I reiterate, the picture was a HUGE success at the box office in Germany.

And yet, perhaps because of the movie's success, one is shocked at how utterly execrable the picture is as a movie. If you could, for only a moment (God forbid) look past its anti-Semitism and try to assess it as a film, you'll find it works neither as fiction, nor does it APPEAR to even be good propaganda. Sure, bad movies have often been hits in all countries all over the world, but Jew Süss is not just bad, it's a total clunker of a movie. In spite of this, and sadly, even the most cursory analysis of the historical events surrounding the time this picture was made yields complete and total understanding of the picture’s power.

So many examples of propaganda, especially of the dramatic variety (not just in Nazi Germany), are inevitably replete with all the hallmarks of moronic incompetence. [It is, I think, worth mentioning that an earlier draft of this review bore a weird Spell-check-generated typographical error and produced the word “incontinence” rather than “incompetence”.] In essence, effective propaganda is, more often than not, the artistry of the obvious and aimed at the lowest common denominator. That said, Jew Süss, as cinema is in complete contrast to the work of another filmmaker who was working under the same regime, Leni Riefenstahl.

Jew Süss is clearly without the style, artistry and slow burn intensity of Riefenstahl’s great work, The Triumph Of The Will, which, no doubt, brought more than a few Germans on board Hitler’s bandwagon of evil as Der Fuhrer descended from the Heavens to deliver his evil plan to the masses at the Nuremberg rally.

Even now, though, unlike Jew Süss, Triumph has the power to GENUINELY stun, shock, thrill and even (dare I say it?) enchant – simply and almost profoundly on the basis of its sheer cinematic virtuosity. Riefenstahl, the Adolph Mädchenname des Kinos of Nazi Germany was not simply a blonde, beautiful dancer and actress, she was one of the 20th century’s most dazzling filmmakers.

Under the mentorship of Dr. Arnold Fanck, the mad master of German mountaineering melodramas, Riefenstahl was, I’d say, a born filmmaker and a great one at that who, in spite of making Triumph should have been allowed to keep making movies with the same level of support Veit Harlan received – not just during the war, but AFTER, as well.

Riefenstahl’s pariah status after the war was truly lamentable – shameful, in fact.

Not so lamentable in Veit Harlan’s case. Jew Süss might well have been made by Ed Wood (if he’d been an inbred totalitarian nincompoop) as a sort of period Plan 9 From Outer Space, or if you will, Plan Jew From the Middle East.

Pariah? Yes. Working filmmaker? Veit Harlan? Absolutely yes! This is what's even more extraordinary. Harlan kept making movies. Then again, call me a Bleeding Heart Liberal if you will, but I must admit I've always been against the notion of blacklisting any artists for anything, and that includes perpetrating propaganda. So many American films include(d) hateful propaganda at various points throughout its history and in the former Soviet Union, Sergei Eisenstein extolled the virtues of a regime that butchered millions of people in the pre-Stalin era. Once Stalin was in power, Eisenstein, save perhaps for his last film, Ivan the Terrible II and the unfinished Ivan the Terrible III, continued - much like Veit Harlan in Nazi Germany - to strap on the kneepads before his totalitarian boss and extoll HIS "virtues". Stalin murdered many more millions in the former Soviet Union including the Ukrainian Holocaust - the forced starvation of millions of nationalist peasants. Stalin's purges murdered even more.

Certainly Riefenstahl should not have been blacklisted and, I'd argue that maybe even Harlan should not have been made a pariah - a laughing stock, however, for just how dreadful Jew Süss is as a movie would not have been out of line.

Harlan and his place in both the Nazi regime and in cinema always seemed like natural subject matter for a movie and it’s odd it took so long for a documentary on Jew Süss and its maker to materialize, but that it now exists, is cause for some kind of celebration.

Alas, Harlan: In the Shadow of Jew Süss is in that horrible never-never land of “it’ll have to do for now“. Director Felix Moeller doesn’t seem to have a firm grasp on the story he wants to tell and by covering too much in too short a running time, the movie leaves one with far too many questions – not questions of the philosophical variety, but more along the lines of wanting to simply know more within the context of the material presented. Sadly, the movie lacks a clear focus.

There is, however, a fascinating tale buried in this flawed, half-hearted TV-style feature length documentary. The movie not only focuses on Harlan’s career as a filmmaker in the pre-and-post Jew Süss period, but it includes numerous interviews with his family – children (the great political filmmaker and author Thomas Harlan), grandchildren, nieces, nephews and, I might add, one fairly prominent niece, Christiane Kubrick, the widow of the great filmmaker Stanley Kubrick (and executor of his estate) and her brother, an equally prominent nephew, Jan Harlan, Kubrick’s long-time producer.

On one hand, Moeller seems intent on telling the story of a family and how they’re connected to a legacy of evil. On the other, Moeller seems equally interested in delving into the career of Harlan himself. Pick one, already, Felix - or if you want the whole boatload of bananas, choose that and do it properly. Oddly, the story of Jew Süss itself, feels almost like an afterthought in this documentary.

Moeller’s movie is a mixed bag.

This, of course, is what makes it the most frustrating type of documentary – its filmmaker has no voice. He has great subject matter, terrific interview subjects (the surviving family who run the gamut of defending, demonizing and being indifferent towards Harlan), carte blanche access to family home movies and photos, rare archival footage and scenes – not just from Jew Süss, but from all of Harlan’s films. While we watch with fascination because of all the elements listed above, the experience and overall impact of this documentary seems lacking.

Just as Harlan’s Jew Süss pales in comparison to Riefenstahl’s The Triumph Of The Will in the Nazi propaganda sweepstakes, Harlan: In the Shadow of Jew Süss pales in comparison to Ray Muller’s brilliant documentary, The Wonderful, Horrible Life of Leni Riefenstahl. With the latter film, Muller sought to provide balance to his cinematic perspective of Riefenstahl’s life and in so doing, he was compelled to infuse the picture with an epic scope. It is this sense of sweep and the presence of a filmmaker’s voice that makes it work. Moeller, on the other, has great material, but has no real idea what to do with it. The picture, and as its title asserts, seems to be more about a family living in the shadow of one picture.

Well I, along with Peggy Lee, must ask, “Is that all there is?”

There’s nothing wrong with the surviving family thrust, but their perspectives don’t have the power they need to because one feels there’s simply not enough focus placed on Harlan himself – his life, his work and finally, why he chose to remain unrepentant.

Perhaps, it was enough that he was the only filmmaker from Nazi Germany to be tried for war crimes (for making Jew Süss in particular) and that he endured two trials and was acquitted both times.

This, however, is one of many maddening aspects of Moeller’s documentary. I longed to get more details about these trials – clearly the materials exist as public record. As well, I wanted to know more about Harlan and what his state of mind might have been before, during, between and after the trials. Surely enough people have thoughts on the matter.

Interestingly enough, the clips used from Harlan’s other films that pre and post date Jew Süss look great – so great I want to see as many of them now as possible. The clips suggest Harlan was a master of melodrama – perhaps even an inspiration to Douglas Sirk – and weirdly, their use in the documentary serves to suggest that he was a great artist in his own right.

Even more weirdly, they lend credence to Harlan’s firm insistence that he was coerced into making Jew Süss and furthermore, my own assumption based upon the documentary’s use of these clips that Harlan perhaps intentionally made a bad picture.

Oh, why must this be my assumption and why do I seriously doubt this was Felix Moeller’s intent?

Why?

Because Moeller's picture, as made, is like so many documentaries these days – it’s not been created by a real filmmaker. It’s been cobbled together by a camera jockey with great subject matter and finally, he manages to deliver a film that is still worth seeing because it addresses issues surrounding what might be the most notorious, evil and artistically lamentable film of the 20th century.

For me, Harlan: In the Shadow of Jew Süss was and still is a must-see film. Even if it doesn’t quite do what it should, it’s better than nothing at all.

And that is something.

Harlan: In the Shadow of Jew Süss is available on DVD from Zeitgeist Films. It’s a fine transfer and includes a few superb extra features that certainly supplement what’s lacking in the film itself. Definitely worth renting for anyone interested in the subject matter and of special interest to any Kubrick fans in light of the recent Kubrick Blu-ray box set. Scholars of this material may be better off buying the film since it has some excellent footage in spite of the film's lack of clear focus.

Thursday, 26 May 2011

Barry Lyndon

Barry Lyndon (1975) dir. Stanley Kubrick
Starring: Ryan O’Neal, Marisa Berenson, Patrick Magee, Leon Vitali

****

By Alan Bacchus

I’ve seen this film numerous times, but for some reason this latest viewing has convinced me that it’s one of Stanley Kubrick’s best. Despite critical praise and some Oscar nominations, the film wasn’t considered a success. No surprise, really. Even by Stanley Kubrick’s standards it’s a slow-paced three-hour epic featuring the director at his most dispassionate, cynical and cold. The story of Redmond Barry, the lowly Irish lad who worked his way up from a pathetic brat to being at the helm of a British aristocratic family, only to have it tumble down in devastating fashion, is perhaps the most structurally conventional film Kubrick has made.

Kubrick has always crafted the endings of his films very carefully, mostly favouring the oblique and jarring for thought-provoking effect. To this day, I still don’t know why he ended Eyes Wide Shut so abruptly on us. The Shining does this as well, though at least we know Jack’s dead at the end. And then there’s 2001: A Space Odyssey, the most beguiling of them all.

In Barry Lyndon, Kubrick arguably leaves us with his most satisfying ending, a fully complete character arc for Redmond, broken down both physically and emotionally, a comeuppance for his lifetime of deceit, immoral ambition and betrayal. But that’s the ending – let’s roll back to the opening.

Barry Lyndon’s three-hour running time is roughly split into two halves sandwiching a short intermission (customary back in the day for historical epics). The first half of the film describes Redmond Barry’s ascent to success with the wordy inter-title, ‘By What Means Redmond Barry Acquired the Style and Title of Barry Lyndon.’ The elaborate title fits into Kubrick’s general themes of class and the utter silliness of how men and women were divided into preferential groups of right and title. But this is the ambition of Redmond, whom we first see as a youthful brat smitten by the flirtations of his cousin. Unfortunately for Redmond, the cousin has been ‘promised’ to a British Lord for a sum of 6 pounds a year. The conflict boils over into a duel of pistols between the Englishman and Redmond – a remarkably tense sequence bookended by a duel in the final act of the film (but more on that later). This duel is won by Barry, thus sending him out of the country and off on his lengthy journey.

It’s an episodic journey in the opening half of the film, the benchmarks of which include his recruitment into the British Army, his desertion, his recruitment into the Prussian Army, the companionship of an Irish ex-pat living as a gambler stealing the riches of other aristocrats and finally, by the end of the first half, his meeting of Lady Lyndon. Barry becomes her husband and partner to her family fortune.

The compartmentalization of the individual scenes is a delight, each sequence self-contained as a great cinematic set piece. And yet, with each new encounter, Barry gains experience and insight, which informs his decisions in the second half of the film. Barry observes and participates in the class warfare as an outsider, green with jealousy at the privileges their title affords them. And so when Barry joins this club, he exploits his position with the same naive, bratty entitlement of his youth.

The second half of the picture is markedly different, as its scenes are shot like a series of immaculately composed still images, glacially paced, slowly showing the destruction of Lyndon’s life. The more Lyndon self-destructs through fornication, ill treatment of his stepson and wanton disregard for the family’s finances, the more stolid the picture becomes. At times, an entire scene shows Lady Lyndon simply lounging morosely on a chair (a recurring image in all of Kubrick’s films) with the camera slowly zooming out to reveal the state of depression and decay of the household.

The conflict between Lord Bullington, Redmond’s stepson, and Redmond himself is marvellously engineered. Bullington’s sequestered and conflict-free life of privilege is no match for the life experience of Redmond. The performances of Ryan O’Neal and Leon Vitali are spot on. Vitali is delightfully pathetic as a quivering doofus scared to bits during his confrontations with Barry, and O’Neal always has the Kubrick ‘look of steel’, confident in his abilities to outduel his opponents, both physically and mentally.

One of the knocks on Kubrick has been a lack of emotion in his films. Fans and critics usually point to that scene at the end of Paths of Glory, which features the German song leading the soldiers to tears as his high moment of unabashed sentimentality. While not sentimental, no other scene in Kubrick’s body of work can compare to the earth-shattering tragedy of the death scene of young Bryan in Barry Lyndon. As Bryan lies on his bed, aware of these last moments of his life, the reactions of both Redmond and Lady Lyndon are simply earth shattering. And the subtle use of the recurring musical cue by Handel's Sarabande hypnotically lulls us into a trance. Kubrick’s glorious sharp cut to Bryan’s funeral after this scene is just as startling and masterful.

Kubrick surprisingly ends the journey with every thread tied up. Barry is fully punished for all his wrongdoings in the film, which thoroughly satisfies everything Kubrick has set up for us. There’s little to confuse or confound us. By the end, though aesthetically challenging, the film is unintellectual – a simple and ‘common’ story of greed. A true masterpiece.

Barry Lyndon is available on Blu-ray from Warner Bros. Home Entertainment.

Wednesday, 5 January 2011

Paths of Glory

Paths of Glory (1957) dir. Stanley Kubrick
Starring: Kirk Douglas, George Macready, Joseph Turkel, Adolph Menjou, Ralph Meeker

****

By Alan Bacchus

The Criterion Blu-Ray of Stanley's Kubrick's classic war film looks absolutely fantastic. The 16x9 TV enhancement, though it actually crops a portion of it's 1.66:1 frame, adds a wonderful new full screen look of spectacle missing in previous DVD versions of the film.

It's one of Kubrick's most important films, with the exception of Spartacus, it's his most sentimental, a film with a clear humane message, that said, it’s still laced with Kubrick’s cynicism and indictment of human frailties.

It also features the same kind of truncated narrative structure he would employ in 2001: A Space Odyssey and Full Metal Jacket. The first half occurs almost exclusively on the front, either in battle or preparing for battle. The second half plays out either in the immaculately decorated aristocratic palaces of the haughty French generals, or in the halls of the kangaroo court where the fates of the three poor souls chosen to represent the cowardice of the regiment are determined.

Kubrick’s command of both the huge spectacle of action in the celebrated Ant Hill attack scene and the intimate and intellectually stimulating dialogue scenes between the characters showcase everything of what the great filmmaker will accomplish in his career.

Texture in the battle scenes is astonishing. Those lengthy tracking shots of Dax confidently walking to the demarcation point before the battle is mesmerizing to watch. As well look around at the detail in the background and the atmosphere of smoke, debris and the booming sounds of the artillery fire which blanket the soundtrack.

Paths of Glory also lays the foundation of Kubrick’s visual aesthetic, or his stylistic language which he would hone, reuse and arguably steal from himself numerous times throughout his career. For the first time we can see how Stanley Kubrick’s sees the world, through wide angle lenses, following his characters on his dolly through the trenches of the Western front. Same with the classically designed interiors of the Chateau where the trial takes place and where in safety the smug General Broulard conducts his war.

When we watch the scene where Dax approaches Broulard about Mireau’s heinous actions in the battle, the Johann Strauss waltz which plays in the background brings to mind the dance of the space station in 2001: A Space Odyssey a decade later.

Kirk Douglas provides a typically heroic and righteous performance as Dax. But arguably the best performance is George Macready as the stubborn and opportunistic General Mireau who is supremely villainous.

Mireau bridges two levels of conflict - General to General, as in the opening scene with the passive aggressive General Broulard; General to Colonel as in Mireau vs. Dax. The third level of conflict exists from Lieutenant to Corporal, represented by the complex relationship between Lt. Roget and Cpl Paris.

The opening scene is especially important. When approached by Broulard about attacking the Ant Hill, we actually see Mireau heroically champion his men saying, ‘I’m responsible for these men…etc’, and even when offered the promotion he’s hesitant and aware of the optics of such a post at the expense of the confidence of his men. And then he instantly switches to an unconscionable tyrant for the rest of the film. Curiously we never get to see that warm character from the opening scene.

This contradiction in character is at the core of Kubrick’s argument. The fact is, no one is fully to blame for the atrocities of war. In war sacrifices must be made. We never know who had given General Broulard the order to attack the anthill and thus pass the order to Mireau and thus pass the orders to Dax. The chain of command is infinite up to the top, through Kubrick is sure to show us where the buck stops, at the bottom with the fate of the three executed soldiers.

Sunday, 12 December 2010

The Shining

The Shining (1980) dir. Stanley Kubrick
Starring: Jack Nicholson, Shelley Duvall, Scatman Crother, Danny Lloyd, Barry Nelson, Phillip Stone, Joe Turkel

***1/2

By Alan Bacchus

Despite it’s stirling reputation as one of the greatest horror movies ever made, it’s a difficult film to penetrate, admittedly a difficult film to enjoy on first viewing. For mepersonally, it took a couple of viewings to appreciate it, maybe one more to enjoy it, and definitely one theatrical screening on a 35mm print to truly get the full experience of the film.

A couple weeks ago I had the opportunity to host a big screen presentation of the film on a rather faded 30 year old print. But it was the theatrical aspect ratio of 1:85:1 rather than the 4x3 full screen home video format we can only see today, and so from that perspective it was like watching a brand new version of the film. In addition, despite the age of the print, the sound was in pristine shape, and in the darkened theatre with the big soundscapes booming into our ears, it was more intense than I had ever experienced.

Some people may have forgetten, or, for those who weren’t even born then, may not even know, that The Shining was critically drubbed upon it’s release. Here's the Variety one-liner, "With everything to work with, director Stanley Kubrick has teamed with jumpy Jack Nicholson to destroy all that was so terrifying about Stephen King's bestseller." It was even nominated for 2 Razzies – Worst Actress (Shelley Duvall) and Worst Director (Kubrick) – What?? It’s true.

The opening is especially displeasing from a mainstream audience point of view. The celebrated helicopter shot during the opening credits is accompanied by a rather morose and disturbing musical synthesized musical piece by Wendy Carlos. And most of the introductory scenes are paced and performed with an oft-putting robotic detachment even more extreme than the most inpenetrable parts of 2001: A Space Odyssey or Barry Lyndon.

But it's all part of Kubrick's grand plan to put the audience in the psychologically damaged shoes of his characters - Jack Torrence, the alcoholic father with severe writer's block, the meek Wendy Torrence, Jack's feeble wife who quivers with fear when confronted by Jack's inner demons, and Danny, the tormented son whose only friend is Tony, the man who lives in his mouth.

Variety is right about Nicholson's jumpiness and his transformation into his deranged psychopathic childkiller. It's too quick, in fact, he's never even established as someone remotely grounded or human. But Wendy's arc is tremendous, and specifically Shelley Duvall's grand portrayal. Despite her meeks characterization of Wendy, her transformation into the heroic saviour of her son in the end is awe-inspiring. We all know how tormented Duvall was by Kubrick during the making of the film, and it's all on screen. Specifically the finale starting with her baseball bat confrontation with Jack and the battle in the bathroom wherein, the film's famous line is uttered, 'Here's Johnny.'

At the screening we also received the kind participation of Steadicam operator and inventor Garrett Brown who took part in an hour long Q&A about the film via Skype. His affable nature and great sense of humour warmed up that cold Toronto day. He confirmed many of the legendary stories of the production. The long arduous shoot, Kubrick’s reputation as a surly, bitter old man, and his notorious perfectionism. Brown recounted his frustration at trying to keep Shelley Duvall’s head in the exact centre of the crosshairs of his frame as he was following behind her for many of those lengthy meandering shots. Brown did admit that the dramatic sound effect of Danny's big wheel rolling on the floor contrasted by the quiet carpeting was a 'happy accident' and the result of Brown's camera and microphone placed mere inches away from the ground during the scenes. Brown did confirm that most of the crew were agonized by Kubrick's methodology, but that he strangely continued to hold a good relationship with the director. Brown was even asked to shoot both Full Metal Jacket and Eyes Wide Shut, but due to other commitments couldn’t take part.

Despite those critiques from years past, history has been good to Kubrick. The film was a financial success and the man just seemed to be a creative step ahead of everybody else that even those surly critics warmed up to it. Though the film is quite not a masterpiece, but it’s a wholly unique auteur horror flick, terrifying and hypnotic.

Tuesday, 19 January 2010

Spartacus

Spartacus (1960) dir Stanley Kubrick
Starring: Kirk Douglas, Lawrence Olivier, Peter Ustinov, Jean Simmons, Tony Curtis, Charles Laughton

***½

By Alan Bacchus

Sure ‘Spartacus’ is not a ‘Stanley Kubrick’ picture. It has none of his usual visual hallmarks, hell there’s nary a wideangle tracking shot anywhere in the picture. But ‘Spartacus’ represents a great achievement for the great director man nonetheless, one of the benchmarks of his career, and arguably one of his best pictures.

The story behind the making of the picture is well known, the vehicle for Kirk Douglas, serving as star and executive producer of the legendary story of the Roman slave who rose up against the his tyrannical captors, united his fellow slaves and fought against the powerful Roman army. The first director Anthony Mann, a fine director in his own right, displeased Douglas for his ‘lack of scope’ and thus was fired a week into principal photography. Douglas, having established a good working relationship with Stanley Kubrick on ‘Paths of Glory’, hired Kubrick, then 30 years old, to step in and direct the picture.

Thinking back, the idea of Stanley Kubrick as a hired gun, parachuted into a studio picture and working completely under the auspices of is ridiculous. And indeed Kubrick famously quarrelled with Douglas and didn’t get to have the full command and final cut of his film. But it was a learning experience and since then Kubrick famously worked independently, outside Hollywood, as his own producer and always with complete control of the film.

So what would have Kubrick changed of ‘Spartacus’ if he had control? Apparently some gory battle scenes were cut out. I’d also wager he would have plunked much of Alex North’s music. Despite the acclaim, it’s hit and miss score. In the great montage scenes and the aggressive fight and battle sequence, North provides a rousing rhythmic build up, while in the love scenes, hammers home a whiney overwrought tenderness. Of course Kubrick doing tender romance has never been his strong suit - in fact, he’s never tried it since - and so it makes for the weakest elements of the film.

The best personalities exist on the Roman side of the field. Peter Ustinov is loveable as the foppish slave trader and gladiatorial trainer, especiall his banter with crass and cruel Charles Laughton. And Lawrence Olivier relishes his ambiguously gay legion commander role converting all that homosexuality into typical evilness - as is customary in Hollywood.

As for the heroes, Kirk Douglas plays Spartacus with such godlike deification, and lacking any edge, flaws or internal conflict. Same with Jean Simmons as the devoted wife, Varinia, as mentioned a role softened like melted butter by Alex North’s syrupy leitmotif. Even Tony Curtis who plays the former slave whose skills only include juggling and singing songs is monotone and dull throughout. And so in the final act without action we only have these personalities to drive the picture to its finale. Instead it sputters to a mere whimper.

Such is the trap of many of these epics, especially the ones which present its money shot at the end of the second act. The best moments in the third act include the heroic ‘I am Spartacus’ scene and the heroic fight between Antoninus and Spartacus wherein, the ‘winner’ gets crucified! I still have trouble trying to figure out the motivations in that scene.

So the final act is a stinker. The previous two and a half hours provide some of the most rousing sword and sandal entertainment ever produced in the Hollywood. The entire opening gladiator camp sequence is a truly magnificently extended sequence. The gladiatorial training, led by the gruff-voiced Marcellus (Charles McGraw), shows the fuel for Spartacus’s anger and inhuman barbarism of the Romans. Though, it’s Woody Strode, as the silent Ethiopian who wants to keep to himself and eventually heroically sacrifices his life for Spartacus who steals everyone’s scenes. He’s arguably, the most ‘Kubrick’ of any of the characters.

And of course, when it comes to the climatic confrontation between the Gracchus’ army and Spartacus’ there’s few if any battle scenes hyped up and delivered with more cinematic awesomeness. And to think it was all conceived and choreographed by a 30 year Hollywood outsider with only two comparatively smaller features under his belt. To have and disown a film like this on one’s resume is one of the great anomalous asterixes in Hollywood history.

Friday, 11 January 2008

FULL METAL JACKET

Full Metal Jacket (1987) dir. Stanley Kubrick
Starring: Matthew Modine, Arliss Howard, R. Lee Ermey, Vincent D’Onofrio

****

With each successive viewing “Full Metal Jacket” seems to rise the ranks of the Kubrick oeuvre. For me it sits in his top three just below “Dr. Strangelove” and “2001” A Space Odyssey”. Like his other war film “Paths of Glory” Kubrick cuts the film in two distinct halves. Each half is a masterpiece in it’s own right and when put together greater than the sum of its parts.

The opening starts with some popular music – something we aren’t accustomed to in the Kubrick universe – Johnny Wright’s “Hello Vietnam” while our characters’ hair are being buzzed off. Kubrick is stripping his characters down – bare – so they can be shaped into the stone cold Marines they will become. Then we get a loud introduction to Gunnery Sgt Hartman (Lee Ermey) – a drill instructor with the most foul mouth to ever grace the screen. The opening half of the film which takes place entirely within these training barracks is hell on earth for these characters. As the verbal and physical abuse continues the character of Joker (Matthew Modine) emerges as the leader and protagonist. We also meet Leonard “Pvt Pile” (Vincent D’Onofrio) who is eloquently described by Hartman as a ‘digusting fat body’ and a ‘slimy fucking walrus-looking piece of shit’. The abuse doesn’t harden Pile into a Marine though – his mind is carved into a psychotic who will eventually take his anger out in the most violent of ways.

The second half is like an entire different film. Only Pvt. Joker and Pvt. Cowboy continue on in the film. It’s months after basic training. Joker, looking more relaxed and comfortable with his position in the army, is a war correspondent who writes articles for “Stars and Stripes” magazine. Joker is assigned to cover a platoon on reconnaissance after the famous Tet offensive. Like the first half Joker’s tour becomes a journey into hell. When the platoon gets lost they encounter a lone sniper that will test their physical and moral strength.

The Kubrick style is in our faces loud and clear. He elegantly glides his camera easily across the pristine floor of the training bunks. The rows and rows of beds allows for some immaculately composed shots – mostly symmetrical compositions of course. In the second half, Kubrick spares no expense in the production design – creating Vietnam out of the English countryside. Kubrick’s frame is composed just as carefully, specifically the use of the omnipresent background smoke. I can’t even fathom the logistical nightmare of coordinating the billows of smoke miles in the background. But it’s these details that make the film a visual delight.

The final sequence which follows the platoon into the abandoned town to confront the sniper is the highlight of the film. Watch the amazing long tracking shot from behind the soldiers as the crouch and run into their positions (notice the similarities in these shots to “Saving Private Ryan”). Watch the subtle lighting changes throughout the scene as the sun goes down. The scene moves from standard daylight to magic hour light to complete darkness. Again watch the fire and smoke which seems to breathe a life of its own. And that’s only the background.

The confrontation with a lone sniper presents the soldiers with a moral conundrum. After all the immoral death Kubrick makes us sympathize with his exposed and defenseless victim. This final scene is important not just in conveying the theme of the film – the duality of war – but also the themes of Kubrick's career.

Like most of his films “Full Metal Jacket” is largely inhumane, showing us an emotionally unencumbered world of violence. But after almost 2 hours of dehumanization Kubrick slaps us with a moment of humanity. And the denouement which takes the soldiers back to childhood reinforces his theme of innocence regained. Enjoy.

The HD DVD of "Full Metal Jacket" features a fine commentary track from many of the actors as well as new making of Documentary. Check it out.

Full Metal Jacket Full Metal Jacket

Saturday, 29 September 2007

2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY

2001: A Space Odyssey (1968) dir. Stanley Kubrick
Starring: Keir Dullea, Gary Lockwood, William Sylvestor, voice of Douglas Rain

****

At the Bloor Cinema in downtown Toronto on Wednesday I caught a screening of “2001: A Space Odyssey” in glorious 35mm (a 70mm print would have been nicer, but 35mm is just fine). In my brain I transported myself to 1968 (before I was born) and pretended I was watching the film for the first time at its premiere. I couldn’t quite pretend I didn’t know what was coming next, but the experience was a magical event.

When the lights went down the opening musical overture (customary in those days for epic films) played for a couple of minutes. It’s a wonderful soundscape of moody murmuring and chanting. Then the the opening “scene” set to Richard Strauss’ operatic Also Sprach Zarathustra. The audience is awe-struck with the most unbelievable special effects, then, ever put to the screen. Kubrick at his most audacious then, ‘flashes back’ to the dawn of man – a Neanderthal man chapter of the story which shows the moment of divine intervention when man progressed as intelligent creatures. Then one of the neanderthals throws one of his new bone-weapons into the air and match cuts to an orbiting satellite thousands of years later. Wow.

We then meet Heywood Floyd, an American summoned to speak at a meeting of scientists to discuss a brave new discovery on the moon. Floyd’s team investigates a mysterious black monolith recently been dug up in a crater on the moon. The monolith, which had been purposely buried there millions of years ago, emits a pulse toward the planet Jupiter. The third chapter occurs 18 months later as we follow two American astronauts, Dave Bowman (Keir Dullea) and Frank Poole (Gary Lockwood), on the space journey to Jupiter. Bowman and Poole’s mission is compromised when the ship’s intelligence computer HAL 9000 (voiced by Douglas Rain) runs amok and targets them for death. The rousing fourth chapter moves from the physical into another dimension of space and time. The monolith appears one last time before Bowman who experiences the ultimate existential epiphany.

“2001: A Space Odyssey” is no doubt a difficult film and not for all tastes. If it’s you’re first viewing, and you watch it with a clean slate without expectations, the film will likely astound you beyond belief. If you’re like me, who, at aged 8, had expectations of “Star Wars”, you’re in for disappointment. So it took me a second viewing in my teen years to fully grasp and appreciate the enormous depth and spirituality that Kubrick and co-writer Arthur C. Clarke puts onto the screen.

Technically the film is still a mystery as to how some of the shots and effects were made. Even today, against the highest-priced CGI, Douglas Trumbull’s special effects are utterly believable and awe-inspiring. Kubrick knew this film would set the benchmark for special effects and rewrite the book about science fiction on screen. As such he took meticulous care to get the physics and science correct. Watch how long he extends each procedure in the film. In the waltzing spaceship dock sequence Kubrick painstaking shows us with each immaculately composed shot how a space ship docks in zero-gravity space. Watch the sequence where Frank Poole changes the faulty “AE-35” unit on the satellite dish– the attention to detail on every switch flipped, button pressed or body movement is slow and steady but hypnotic in it’s meticulousness (and reminiscent of the CRM 114 sequence in “Dr. Strangelove”). Kubrick makes art out of technique and procedure.

Another of the great technical achievements is the famed rotating set which allowed Kubrick to achieve the incredible tracking shots through the circular ship. Perhaps the most head-scratching effect, is the smallest - the floating pen with leaves Heywood Floyd’s hand and floats effortlessly in mid air and then is caught by a stewardess. I now know how it’s done, but only after reading it in a book many years later.

The structure of the film is as daring as the concept. Splitting the film into distinct and separate chapters means, in each act we’re introduced to a new set of characters. But they aren’t so much 'characters' as instruments to propel the film forward. Bowman and Poole are so unemotional in their work they are as robotic as HAL, their computer nemesis. But their battle of wills is the highlight of the film. And watch the brilliant foreshadowing throughout the chapter as to how their battle will end – a brief cut a random hurdling asteroid, a shot of the “exploding bolts” sign on the pod, or the Bowman’s red helmet left lying in the podbay.

“2001: A Space Odyssey” has become a cultural phenomenon because of the way it unifies science and religion. “2001” tells us that though space and time are infinite, it’s God’s presence, whether you believe in the dogmatic teachings of the higher power, that that has caused man, as a species, to break free of our physical bodies and achieve the unachievable. Enjoy.

The greatest film opening ever?

Monday, 24 September 2007

EYES WIDE SHUT

Eyes Wide Shut (1999) dir. Stanley Kubrick
Starring: Tom Cruise, Nicole Kidman

***

I have tried really really hard to love Master Kubrick’s final film, but I just can’t do it. Some find “Eyes Wide Shut” a beguiling and seductive dream-story masterpiece and worthy of his other classics, but for me, it succeeds in teasing me without paying off in the profound way Kubrick wanted it to.

Throughout the mid 90’s there were several rumours about new Stanley Kubrick projects. There was the salivating sci-fi project, “Artificial Intelligence”, or the holocaust story, “The Aryan Papers”. But when it was announced he was filming a Tom Cruise/Nicole Kidman film heads turned (at least mine).

After an incredible 15 months of production, key casting changes during reshoots, and tall tales of obsessive behaviour from Kubrick the film was released in July of 1999. My expectations were high – too high in fact - and I was severely disappointed. But as with many of his films it requires many viewings to get through the dense themes. After 8 years and several viewings I can finally write about it.

The film opens with a Kubrick trademark - a waltz. Shostakovich's Suite for Variety Stage Orchestra plays over Bill and Alice Harford (Tom and Nicole) as they get ready for a Christmas party. They are a New York Park Avenue couple. Bill is a doctor and Alice stays home to raise their young daughter. At the magnificent party of their friend Victor Ziegler (Sydney Pollack) the couple get separated and start exploring the premises as singles. Alice gets hit on by a handsome Hungarian playboy, while Bill flirts with a pair of playful young gals. Before anything moves further, Bill is summoned to the Victor’s bedroom where his mistress has just over-dosed on drugs. The woman lives and Bill goes about the evening.

At home Bill and Alice get into an argument about their near-philandering activies. After much bickering about the sex-obsessions of men, Alice reveals to Bill a time, years ago, when she almost sacrificed her marriage for a lustful encounter with a stranger. It never happened, but the story shakes Bill to the core. Before the two can reconcile their argument Bill is called out to work. For Bill the night and the next few days becomes a journey into his own subconscious fueled by the jealousy from Alice’s shocking admonition. Bill moves from one odd situation to another where he is tempted into adultery, and climaxing with a dangerous ritual orgy which threatens Bill’s life.

The film is structured like a dream – the events in Bill’s rabbit hole journey are born from his psychological fantasies. You’ll notice that each and every time Bill seduced, just as he’s about the move into adultrous territory he is interupted by something outside his control. Ie. Before the two girls take Bill to the other room at the party he’s interupted by Ziegler’s assistant; Just before he gets naked with the kindly street prostitute his cell phone rings. So for this reason his frustration is our frustration as audience members. Some of these vignettes work, some don’t. Seeing the film for the first time, you’re fooled into thinking these events will somehow payoff later on down the line – but they don’t. It’s kind of a cruel trick of Kubrick to tease us - like a peep show, without ever showing us anything.

During these encounters Bill is inactive as a protagonist. Then he meets Nick Nightengale. With his sexual frustration at it’s peak he finally takes action and wills himself into the exclusive masked sexual ritual, which is the major set piece in the film. It is a classic scene. Kubrick expertly sets this scene up with unbearable suspense and his ominous and brooding Tamil chanting music. Kubrick continues his career-long fascination with masks, which adds to the creepiness of the sequence. But even this sequence teases us with threats of violence and we see ample amounts of graphic fornication. But does it really payoff? Unfortunately I can’t spoil anything here.

As expected the film looks fantastic. Kubrick improves on his traditional natural flat lighting with a gorgeous array of Christmas lights creating an omnipresent glow in the background. He also uses an unnatural but mood-altering blue light in the windows of his interior sets. There’s a few trademark tracking shots, but it’s surprisingly light on the camera gymnastics. Everything about the look works for the film. I think it's his best lit film.

“Eyes Wide Shut” is high on mood, chills and the usual technical brilliances we expect from his work. And even though I tried really hard to find the profoundness in the film, it’s no masterpiece for me. Though the film is supposed to express Bill’s sexual frustration, it still frustrates me. Maybe that’s the whole point of the film - that the events in Bill’s life never pay off. So for me, where Kubrick has made a film about impotence, not jealousy. Enjoy.

Buy it here: Eyes Wide Shut (Two-Disc Special Edition)

Tuesday, 31 July 2007

A CLOCKWORK ORANGE

A Clockwork Orange ((1971) dir. Stanley Kubrick
Starring: Malcolm McDowell, Patrick Magee

****

My mom hates “A Clockwork Orange” so much that watching it in our house was the equivalent of watching porn. If my brother and I heard my mom arriving home we would quickly shut the VCR off and hide the box. “A Clockwork Orange” is disturbing to say the least. It portrays as the hero a man who brutally rapes and assaults women, and someone we feel sorry for when his life turns to shambles during his rehabilitation. What makes the character of Alex Delarge and his droogie-droogs so appealing (to some)? Morbid fascination with the dark side of life, the filmmaking skills of Stanley Kubrick, our own subconscious carnal desires?

Alex Delarge is the prototypical anti-hero, like Paul Muni in “Scarface”, James Cagney in “White Heat”, Jake LaMotta, Travis Bickle etc. Alex lives in non-descript near-future London - a society in decrepit decline, where gangs run wild and terrorize local citizens largely unabated. In the impressive opening shot Kubrick frames Alex’s gang, the Droogs, drinking spiked milk in a milkbar adorned with lude images of naked women. We then see their night play out in a series of assaults, fights, rapes all for the joy of doing it for the sake of doing it – a lash of the “ultraviolence.”

Alex’s parents are completely oblivious to this behaviour even though he’s been in trouble before. He’s looked after by his parole officer Mr. Deltoid – a man who has grown sick and tired of Alex’s beligerant behaviour. But Alex trips up and is set up by his fellow droogs to be caught by the police during a home invasion. While in prison, hoping to get his sentence reduced, he volunteers for a new scientific technique to cleanse criminals of their need to commit crimes. Alex goes through the rigorous process and comes out a rehabilitated man. But the process backfires and results in near madness for Alex who can’t cope with the pain caused by the suppression of his desires. The film ends in the most ironic twist, vilifying the government for pushing Alex to suicide and canonizing Alex as the hero.

The film is a perfect adaptation of Anthony Burgess’ novella. In fact it’s the closest a book could come to its film version. Some of the dialogue is word for word as it is in the book. Part of the appeal of the film is the narrator, Alex himself, who tells his story from his point of view. Like Patrick Bateman in “American Psycho” we can learn to love Alex because we’re put inside his brain, however twisted. Malcolm McDowell portrays Alex as sincere, innocent and extremely likeable. His emotions are ours, and so when he’s beating up Mr. Alexander while his wife is being raped and singing “Singing in the Rain”, it’s actually humorous. My mom would differ of course.

This is Stanley Kubrick at the top of his game. The courage and skill to tackle this story and make it monetarily successful is a miracle. The film was one of the highest grossing films of 1971, and the highest grossing film for Warner Bros that year. Remarkable considering the graphic sex, rape and violence. Rumours abound that Stanley Kubrick banned the film from exhibition for years in Britain after a series of copycat criminal acts. In fact, Kubrick requested that Warners withdraw the film after threats were made to himself and his family. In any case, the UK ban latest the rest Kubrick’s life – 27 years.

Kubrick uses his familiar cinematic techniques to great effect once again. The opening shot is famous for gliding back from Alex’s close-up all the way to the back of the Corova Milkbar revealing the graphic images on the walls and the disaffected self-centered clientele. The music was ahead of its time as well. Wendy Carlos’ synthesized Beethoven score was the first of its kind for a mainstream film. The lighting and design of the film is sparse. Kubrick contrasts a mainly flat look with bright, punchy burst of colour. Sometimes a costume, or a wig, a chair or the brilliant opening and closing credit sequences.

Even though I’m 32 I feel guilty even writing this review. My mom would not approve. I hope she doesn’t read this. Several times I’ve tried to explain the artistic value of Kubrick’s masterpiece – after all “2001: A Space Odyssey” is one of her favourite films – but it always fell upon deaf ears. That’s the prophetic power of the art – to divide its audience into polar opposites. We miss you Stanley. Doobie doop.

Buy it here: A Clockwork Orange

Monday, 30 April 2007

THE KILLING

The Killing (1956) dir. Stanley Kubrick
Starring: Sterling Hayden, Timothy Carey and Elisha Cook Jr.

****

“The Killing” was Stanley Kubrick’s third feature film, but for cinephiles it’s generally considered his first "real film”. Made in 1956, when the young American director was just getting his sea legs, the film feels less an auteur statement than a rock-solid genre film. From beginning to end it’s one of the best heist films of all time and, ironically, one of Kubrick's most accessible and entertaining films.

We open with a classic noir image, a group of shadowy men sitting around a poker table, lit with a single harsh lamp above them, a cloud of cigarette smoke lingering. They are plotting a heist of a racetrack. The hard boiled dialogue bristles with kinetic energy. Sterling Hayden (the star of the “Asphalt Jungle”) is perfectly cast as Johnny Clay, the ringleader of the bunch. He’s fast-talking, tough and confident. Outside of the table the schemers seem like ordinary people, each with a specific task to make it all go down smoothly. There’s the Irish bartender Mike, one of the inside men who stages a fight in the racetrack as a distraction, George (Elisha Cook Jr.) another inside man, a teller who lets Johnny into the back office where the cash is, Maurice (wrestler, Kola Kwariani) who’s starts the fight which distracts the cops, Timothy Carey, the beatnik sniper who shoots the horse causing more confusion, and Randy (Ted de Corsia), the crooked cop who collects the cash.

The score is planned and executed to perfection, but there’s always a wrench in the works, which comes in the form of Sheri (Marie Windsor), George’s domineering trophy girlfriend, who’s waiting for the right time to double-cross her pathetic husband. There is no weak link in the ensemble as each character fits the mold of the genre perfectly.

The innovative structure of the film is due in part to both Kubrick and the great crime novelist/co-screenwriter Jim Thomson (“The Getaway). After the first act ‘setup’, the second act heist is replayed 4 or 5 times from the point of each of the characters. Quentin Tarantino’s “Jackie Brown” used this technique as well as Steven Soderbergh in “The Underneath” and “Ocean’s 11”. Neither filmmaker used it more effectively than "The Killing" and , 50 years later, the technique is still fresh.

The “Kubrickisms” are few and far between. Unlike his later films, Kubrick keeps the running time down to under 90mins, and we only see a hint of his famous wideangle lenses, and long tracking shots. There are a few seeds of his trademark visuals though, including Sterling Hayden’s disguise during the heist which would foreshadow Kubrick’s fascinations with masks (ie. “The Shining”, “Clockwork Orange”, Eyes Wide Shut”); and the omniscient voiceover, which would be used later in “Dr. Strangelove”, “A Clockwork Orange”, and “Barry Lyndon”.

The film certainly feels like a 50’s film, the dialogue, music and narration are a tad antiquated, and so viewers should watch it in context of the era. Whether it’s comedy, action, science fiction, suspense, horror, "The Killing" is a reminder of Stanley Kubrick's gifted skills to make any kind of film his own - a true filmmaker who could pretty much do anything. Enjoy.

Buy it here: The Killing

Watch Sterling Hayden set the scene:

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