With the exception of JFK’s stunning cinematic bravura, arguably Born on the Fourth of July is Oliver Stone’s most accomplished film. The remarkably told story of Ron Kovic, all American boy turned war activist, exemplifies Stone’s ability to create American period nostaglia with impeccable tonal accuracy and also eviserate it with bold uncompromising cinematic force. With expert help from other giants of cinema Robert Richardson, John Williams and editors Joe Hutshing/David Brenner Born on the Fourth of July resounds, argubaly, as the foremost film on the subject of Vietnam.
Showing posts with label War. Show all posts
Showing posts with label War. Show all posts
Thursday, 14 November 2013
Monday, 26 August 2013
The Devil's Backbone
After the uninspired sophomore effort of Mimic, Guillermo Del Toro’s modest but emotional and affecting wartime ghost story represented an early career creative reboot of sorts. The Devil’s Backbone resounds best not so much for its genre scares or creature effects, but the effective point of view of children displaced by war and Del Toro’s distinctly gothic and disturbing take on the subject matter.
Thursday, 4 April 2013
The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp
A sometimes goofy, sometimes profound sprawling epic chronicling the 40 years of service of a stuffy British officer. A rare non-propagandist war film made in the 40’s, with Britain in the midst of the fight, Powell/Pressburger’s challenging picture both aggrandizes and mocks the superiority complex of upper class British soldiering.
Tuesday, 19 February 2013
Ivan's Childhood
Andrei Tarkovsky's debut is a whilring dervish of cinema, and perhaps the final word on the impact of war on children on film. As an introduction to Tarkovsky, the sometimes inpenetrable cine-poet, the film is also his most accessible. Virtuoso camera flourishs and astonishing B&W lighting and composition brings to mind the midcareer films of Fellini, Welles and Kalatozov, and newer generation masters Miklos Jancsó's and Bela Tarr.Monday, 21 January 2013
Zero Dark Thirty
Kathryn Bigelow’s sprawling Bin Laden hunt picture is a spotty affair, a film sectioned off into often disjointed segments over the course of ten years only finding it’s rhythm in the final 30mins or so. The rivetting climax is a masterwork of military procedural execution, easily smoothing over the rocky 2 hours which came before it. Zero Dark Thirty thus resounds as both a conversation piece and a rip-roaring action film.
Friday, 31 August 2012
La Grande Illusion
The futility of war was never more intelligently articulated with wit and poignancy than in Jean Renoir’s 'La Grand Illusion', a prison-escape film which presents almost no conflict or action in favour of a sharp commentary on the absurdities of war.
Grand Illusion (1937) dir. Jean Renoir
Starring: Jean Gabin, Erich Von Stroheim, Dito Parlo, Pierre Fresnay
By Alan Bacchus
Here war is a gentlemanly game, where mutual respect and admiration for each other extend from the front lines to war camps. In the opening scene the German captain hosts a shot-down officer for a splendid dinner. Everyone is polite and accommodating and orderly - a far cry from the gut-wrenching pain and agony the soldiers on the ground conduct against each other. I’m not sure if this was the reality of WWI, but for sophisticated cinema Renoir is making a statement not unlike his satire of class system stupidity in Rules of the Game. The officers’ first meal is ‘the best they ever had' - chicken, foie gras, fine spirits and wine.
If it was so good for these soldiers at these prisons then where’s the drama? I can’t answer this, but Renoir doesn't need traditional notions of cinematic conflict to make his point and tell an engrossing dramatic story.
Admittedly, it took me a few viewings for this picture to really sink in. It's consciously anti-climactic, not a traditional war film at all, and not even a traditional prisoner of war film either. There are three distinct stories. At first we see Lieutenant Maréchal (Jean Gabin) and Captain de Boeldieu (Pierre Fresnay) being shot down behind enemy lines in WWI Germany. As officers they’re greeted at the German base with honour and respect by their captor, Captain von Rauffenstein (Erich von Stroheim).
They’re then sent to a formal POW camp, and once locked into their prison cells the pair discovers an affable group of international prisoners. Despite their joyous carousing they’re also plotting their escape, tunnelling underneath the camp and beyond the fence. The procedural mechanics of their scheme are choreographed beautifully – arguably influencing the granddaddy of prison escape films, The Great Escape.
But it’s an anti-climax, as Maréchal, de Boeldieu and their new friend Rosenthal are shipped away to another camp in the mountain region, headed by the same Captain Rauffenstein from earlier. Due to Rauffenstein’s aristocratic roots and respect for de Boeldieu’s lineage, their stay is even more laid back and they enjoy good food and respectful treatment. But again, it’s a rouse with the trio plotting their escape to return home and endure more fighting.
And so after a dramatic escape, aided by the sacrifice of de Boeldieu, Renoir changes gears by showing Rosenthal and Maréchal’s comfy stay as borders at a local German widow’s home. As Maréchal and the girl fall in love, Renoir remarkably shifts us emotionally with a deeply emotional love story.
If this film was made today, we would have seen the love story placed before the trio’s movement to Rauffenstein’s camp, thus ending the film with the action-oriented escape and likely the reunification of the estranged war torn lovers at the end. But somehow, as arranged by Renoir, it works.
For Renoir theme runs deeper than conflict, and here his commentary on patriotism is thought provoking. For Maréchal, de Boeldieu and Rosenthal their desire to escape from a prison despite being well fed and far from the carnage of the trenches stems from their instinctual need to subvert the enemy and fight the war by whatever means necessary.
While Von Stroheim is characterized like an Emperor with No Clothes, I don’t see this as an anti-war statement. Instead, Maréchal's and de Boeldieu’s duty as soldiers to escape and fight is as patriotic as it gets. And with the onset of WWII at the time of the making of this film, La Grand Illusion is as encouraging to French citizens to stand up against aggressive authority as any war propaganda at the time.
****
La Grande Illusion is available on Blu-ray from Alliance Films in Canada.
Wednesday, 18 April 2012
War Horse
Starring: Jeremy Irvine, Peter Mullan, Emily Watson,
**½
By Alan Bacchus
There's a great deal going on in War Horse, but enjoyment of the film essentially comes down to how much you can stomach the Spielberg brand of syrupy schmaltz, where metaphors are loud and clear, no emotions are left unexpressed and almost nothing is between the lines.
If this was a year in which modern films paid homage to the past (i.e., The Artist and Hugo), War Horse would also fit in with this company, harkening back to not only the "mature" Steven Spielberg of the late '80s (The Color Purple, Empire of the Sun, Always), but the dreamy cinema of John Ford. Ford has creeped into almost all of Spielberg's films in some form of another, but at times, War Horse is, shamelessly, The Quiet Man revisited.
Certainly the opening act does, which feels like a film within a film - the story of the birth of the warhorse Joey and how he came into the company of the Narracott family, specifically smitten young son Albert (Jeremy Irvine), with whom he develops a unique bond. This all takes place in the rolling green hills of Devonshire, beneath impossibly beautiful cloudscapes, shot with the same kind of compositional perfection that made Ford famous. The overly tender sweetness of Albert's unspoken love for the horse, which seems to hypnotize both he and his father (Peter Mullan), is devoid of any kind of reality. For good and bad, it's the stuff of old world Hollywood dream factory filmmaking.
Spielberg settles down for much more accessible second and third acts, where the horse is brought into the cavalry to fight in WWI. This is where Spielberg never misses a beat – choreographing and directing phenomenal action scenes with breathtaking scope and intensity, a talent still unrivalled by even the hottest young directors. The story cleverly follows Joey's Odyssey-like journey from owner to owner, each of whom exhibits their unconditional attachment to the horse. Twists occur that allow us to see both sides of the battle and show the confounding tragic irony of the war as a conflict of cockeyed gentlemen fought by innocent and naive kids with nothing at stake except their lives.
Despite the mushiness, Spielberg does engineer a satisfying and cathartic reunification at the end, a moment drawn out to excess, but a scene in keeping with the storybook tone of the rest of the film, and thus earned dutifully by Spielberg.
This review first appeared on Exclaim.ca
Thursday, 9 February 2012
Wings
Starring: Clara Bow, Charles "Buddy" Rogers, Richard Arlen and Gary Cooper
****
By Alan Bacchus
Renowned for being the first ever ‘Best Picture’ Oscar winner at the Academy’s inaugural awards ceremony in 1928, this film gets its Blu-ray debut 85 years later. Perhaps it’s timed with the success and acclaim of The Artist and, alas, the release of Red Tails (sad, but true). Wings, however, deserves much more than the minor historical significance of its Oscar win, as it’s one of the greatest film spectacles of all time and one of the greatest war films ever made.
Jack Powell (Rogers) and David Armstrong (Arlen) are chums from a small town, friends but also rivals, who compete for the same local hottie, Sylie. While Jack is ogling Sylie he fails to acknowledge the affections of his neighbour, Mary (Clara Bow!). Once word arrives of America’s involvement in the War (WWI), like all boys their age Jack and David quickly sign up, leaving both gals at home. The boys join the Air Service as pilots, trained in dog fighting against the German Air Service and the likes of the Red Baron.
The film takes us through some of the traditional stages of war combat, including basic training, the fun experiences during R&R and, of course, hardcore wartime combat.
As produced by Lucien Hubbard with a $2 million budget (then, ENORMOUS), every aspect of the production is huge. As for the combat, Wings is untouchable for its awesome aerial sequences. Through some great hustling by Hubbard and the Paramount execs the production received full cooperation from the US military, including use of their air force base, planes, men and weapons. The result is some of the most authentic, exciting, visceral and visually spectacular war action scenes we’ve ever seen on film.
In the air, cameras capture the actual actors in real bi-planes. With no rear projection, green screen or CGI, Wings spares no expense for realism, and the effect is more effective than anything of its equivalent produced today.
On the ground, Hope Loring and Louis D. Lighton’s script anchors the film in a melodramatic, but no less tragic and triumphant, human story. The two friends are torn apart by their love of the same girl and by Mary’s desperate plea for attention from Jack. The final act is almost Shakespearean in its tragedy. After the monumentally epic Battle of St. Michel, David is shot down behind enemy lines and presumed dead. But when he escapes and commandeers a German plane he comes face to face in the air with his best friend, who, in the most tragic of ironies, is hell bent on avenging David’s death. The final moments between the two friends are truly heartbreaking and bordering on homo-erotic (but I won’t go there).
Other than the Oscar, Wings is notable for its influence on George Lucas in cutting Star Wars, not only in the choreography of the Millennium Falcon-Tie Fighter battle, but actually using footage from Wings as temp cuts before his special effects were finished. And I doubt any filmmaker making a war film about aerial combat hasn’t referenced Wings or used the film as a yardstick.
The new Paramount Blu-ray special edition is a decent package, featuring two soundtracks, a completely new track with new music, and sound effects created by Ben Burtt, as well as a traditional organ music track one would have heard back in the day. Either version is fine and doesn’t significantly alter the superlative experience of the film.
Tuesday, 3 January 2012
War Horse
Starring: Jeremy Irvine, Peter Mullan, Emily Watson, David Thewlis, Niels Arestrup
**½
By Alan Bacchus
This film certainly lived up to the expectations as an often stunning action/war film with some phenomenal production values recreating WWI warfare and lively horse action. But it also features heavy doses of syrupy Spielberg sentimentality that, in his later years, he keeps grabbing for and just never seems to reach. As with most of his post-1982 work, War Horse is admirable in some moments but not a complete winner.
John Ford's influence on this film is even more front and centre than in Spielberg’s other works. The opening act featuring the birth of the animal and his rearing as a plow horse on a quaint English farm feels like Ford nostalgia from The Quiet Man or How Green Was My Valley. Even the unique cinematography tries to capture the saturated look of early Technicolor. Unfortunately, it doesn't always work. The inconsistent lighting and background cloud cover seems to have been over-corrected, and on a few shots I even noticed the actors standing in front of green screen-generated cloudscapes. These opening scenes on the homestead set up the bond between man and horse, specifically Albert (Jeremy Irvine), a teenager who's smitten with the young stead, and the titular horse, named Joey by his master. The plotting of Albert's father (Mullan), who is penniless and desperately needs Joey to plow the field, is the schmaltzy, syrupy stuff mentioned before. Peter Mullan and Emily Watson, normally endearing personalities on screen, are rendered dull in the case of Mullan and overly deified in the case of Ms. Watson.
The film hits its gears in the second act when Joey is brought into WWI to fight in the British cavalry in a series of spectacular action scenes. Twists occur over the course of the journey, which allow us to see both sides of the battle and show the confounding tragic irony of the war as a conflict of wonky gentlemen fought by innocent and naive kids with nothing at stake except their lives.
The worst moments in the film are with the normally wonderful Niels Arestrup. Playing a Frenchman who speaks English, he comes into possession of the horse with his granddaughter. These scenes stop the film dead, but luckily the horse eventually moves on to new owners for the film’s rousing finale.
It's not news that Spielberg has lost his edge, and here, like in most of his films, the quieter moments are marked by a tin ear for dialogue. This is unlike some of his films, such as Close Encounters, ET, Jaws and The Sugarland Express, in which the actors spoke in natural rhythms no matter how outrageous the situation, and the humour contained a whimsical joie-de-vivre. Here, every gag is hit home with a sledgehammer of subtlety and stung by John Williams' forgettable music contributions. I know there's some loyalty here, but the aged John Williams and his turn-key orchestral arrangements have been so lacklustre over the past 15 years, I firmly believe he's pulling Steven down.
Despite rolling my eyes at the gushing sentimentality, Spielberg does engineer a satisfying and cathartic reunification at the end. It’s a moment drawn out to excess, but the scene is in keeping with the storybook tone of the rest of the film – a scene Spielberg earns dutifully. War Horse is no masterpiece, but at times it’s rousing, cinematic entertainment.
Tuesday, 20 December 2011
Tora, Tora, Tora
Starring: So Yamamura, E.G. Marshall, James Whitmore, Martin Balsam, Jason Robards, Tatsuya Mihashi, Joseph Cotton
****
By Alan Bacchus
What a terrific picture this is despite being considered a failure in its day, perhaps because of the concerted attempt to de-heroize the era and create a realistic portrait of war from both sides of the battle. If anything, the matter-of-fact modus operandi at play here reminds me of Paul Greengrass’s procedural approach to 9/11 in United 93. This picture is utterly believable and because of the hefty budget the production values are virtually invisible to its age.
The title, which Hollywood execs probably fought the filmmakers on, refers to the Japanese code word for the green light given to attack on that fateful day of December 7, 1941. Under the meticulous research efforts and strong adherence to historical credibility, Tora Tora Tora by proxy represents an antidote to the shameless tragedy-turned popcorn entertainment Jerry Bruckheimer/Michael Bay version a few years ago.
Among other things, what separates Michael Bay from Richard Fleischer here is the fact that Fleischer and company believe wholeheartedly in the drama and power of the event, as opposed to manufactured character-based dramas injected into the story. Without the distraction of a brotherly battle between troops, a black cook who overcomes racial prejudice to become a hero on the day or a romantic dalliance between a pilot and a nurse, the riveting day-by-day, minute-by-minute details leading up to the attack is pure cinema, as tense and thrilling as any genre film can create.
The film goes back months before the attack to the planning stage from the Japanese point of view and the systematic piecing together of details by the Americans. If anything, the dual storylines feel like the cat and mouse chase in the Day of Jackal. In that picture, the Jackal and his pursuers begin far apart, but gradually become closer together as the picture goes along. Unfortunately, we can't fictionalize an ending in this case. In the magnificently staged action climax, a 45-minute long attack sequence, it's Hollywood destruction at its finest.
With that said, there is something missing in the emotional detachment. In United 93, it was the fine editing work that created a singular moment of pain and triumph felt by the audience in the very last frame. Of course, in this film WWII has just started for the United States, so closure would have been impossible without such Bruckheimer dramatic manufacturing.
The producers famously recruited Japanese directors Kinji Fukasaku (who would go on to direct Battle Royale in his older age) and Toshio Masuda to direct the Japanese sequences. This is more than a gimmick. Admirably, the Japanese side is humanized as much as possible. Sure the Imperial army and its commanders are certainly made out to be power-hungry strategists looking to expand their control of the ocean, but the rationale for the attack is sufficiently justified. And the doubt expressed by many of its leaders creates a powerful inner conflict from this opposing side.
The American side of the story focuses on the various generals, chiefs of staff and other officers piecing together the Japanese plan. Accurately, the attack is never portrayed as a true 'surprise' attack, nor is there any embellishment of conspiracy theories about the Americans' pre-conceived knowledge of the attack. Again, the filmmakers always land on the side of realism and the truth.
Sadly, Tora Tora Tora is rarely ever spoken of in terms of the great war films in history. Perhaps it’s because of lingering effects of the film's perceived failure and its budget overruns. But discard these notions and discover this terrific picture.
Tora Tora Tora is available on Blu-ray from 20th Century Fox Home Entertainment.
Friday, 9 December 2011
The Four Feathers (1939)
The Four Feathers (1939) dir. Zoltan Korda
Starring: John Clements, Ralph Richardson, June Duprez, C. Aubrey Smith
***
By Greg Klymkiw
I wonder if it's better, at least with some movies, to hold childhood memories dear and assume those same feelings of joy will NEVER be rekindled in adulthood. Zoltan Korda's celebrated 1939 film adaptation of A.E.W. Mason's turn-of-the-century Boys Own-styled novel of war and redemption during Britain's colonial struggles during the late 19th century in Egypt and Sudan, was a movie near and dear to my heart. Seeing it now, I can SEE why I loved it. I just don't FEEL it anymore.
Mason's book spawned numerous adaptations for the silver screen, and of those I've seen, I still believe it's the best. Don Sharp directed a low-budget version in the 70s with a great cast, but sub-par production value and Shekhar (Bandit Queen, Elizabeth) Kapur generated a dull, annoyingly revisionist version with the late Heath Ledger in 2002. What these subsequent versions lack, frankly, are the stunningly directed battle scenes of Korda's film (Sharp's were proficient, Kapur's a mess) and, surprisingly, the Kapur offers less food for thought in terms of the notions of imperialism and war.
It's a simple tale. Harry Faversham (John Clements) is descended from an upper-crust British family of war-mongers and against his better judgement, he follows in their footsteps. On the eve of Britain going to war with the Dervishes in Egypt and Sudan, he resigns his post. His three best friends, military men all, send him three feathers - signifying that they believe him to be a coward. His fiance, Ethne (June Duprez) and her father General Burroughs (C. Aubrey Smith) are disgusted with his decision. Ethne always loved Harry's best friend, Captain John Durrance (Ralph Richardson) anyway, so she also bestows Harry with a feather symbolizing his cowardice and breaks off her betrothal (a marriage of convenience to please her father who now has nothing but contempt for his son-in-law-to-be). Harry, is not a coward, however. Once the war begins in earnest, he secretly journeys to the middle east in disguise and sacrifices everything to rescue his three friends from the hands of the Dervishes.
This is, purely and simply, a great story! Great! As a movie, it would take a total bonehead to mess it up and Zoltan Korda (along with legendary producer Alexander Korda) render it with skill, production value and impeccable taste. So why, you might ask, does the movie not send me soaring to the same heights I ascended as a young boy? It's a reasonable question and one I find difficult to answer. Allow me to try.
The movie opens with an astounding battle montage that lays the historical groundwork for what follows. So far, so good. We're then introduced to Harry as a young man and get a sense of of his intelligent, sensitive, introspective nature - at odds with his family and those around him. Leaping ten years later, we find him on the cusp of marriage and war. When he resigns his commission, he makes it clear to both his superiors and fiance that his dream is to use his wealth to HELP people, not to engage in senseless war (especially this one which, is rooted in both vengeance and the maintenance of colonial exploitation). When the movie settles into Harry coming to the decision to assist his comrades and begin the long, dangerous journey into the Middle East, the movie begins to slow down - not so much due to pace, but because a number of interesting elements that have been introduced take a back seat to the proceedings.
Korda seems to settle into a weird auto-pilot here. We get all the basic plot details by rote, but with little passion. Oh, there's plenty of spirit infused in the surface action, but by abandoning the very interesting thematic and character-rooted ideas of a man struggling with the "values" of colonialism is precisely what drags the movie down. This theme is not one rooted in the same kind of revisionism applied to contemporary adaptations of period work, but is, in fact, anchored in both the source material and the first third of the screenplay. Even more odd, is that we don't adequately get a sense of how Harry's friendship with the three men is what pushes him forward. He pushes forward because the plot would have it so.
As a kid, this WAS good enough. Alas, as an adult, it's not - especially since the groundwork of some very interesting and ahead of its time notions of anti-colonialism are introduced, but dropped and/or just glanced upon. Plot takes over, but there are layers - already and consciously set-up - that are begging to be plumbed.
When the film shifts its focus to his old pal John and we're treated to an astounding night attack sequence upon the British by the Dervishes, the movie springs miraculously back to life. When Harry catches up to John and the arduous rescue sequence across the desert begins, the movie slows down again. This time, it's a similar problem. Korda hits all the plot points, but seldom rests long enough to explore the true resonance of the tale.
There are several more rescue and action scenes - including a battle sequence that is clearly one of the best ever committed to film, so this is not to say I was disappointed in seeing the movie again. On the contrary, it's still a fine story and there's enough by way of spectacular derring-do with a huge cast, great costumes and stunning technicolor photography. The problem, perhaps, is all mine - assuming it's possible to recreate childhood wonder with EVERY movie I loved as a kid.
It's not the movie's fault. Korda ultimately delivered what audiences at the time wanted. After all, the world was on the cusp of war with Hitler. Propaganda in all things war-related was starting to heat up.
Historically, in terms of the British film industry, this movie and subsequent British films thrived because of the Act of Parliament passed in 1927 which instituted a stringent exhibition quota that lasted for ten years and was responsible for developing a vibrant indigenous film industry in Britain. Sure, there were bombs and it also gave way to what was referred to as the "quota quickie" (low budget B-movies), but it helped the Korda family establish a great British studio and generate product that, while expensive and unable to recoup costs entirely in Britain, did so spectacularly in the international marketplace. It also gave rise to consistent output from the likes of Alfred Hitchcock and The Powell-Pressburger Archers' team.
The Four Feathers was beloved the world over - for decades. Certainly, as a child, it did what it was supposed to do and as an adult, it has plenty of great things going for it. It's a good movie. Don't mind me.
"The Four Feathers" is now available on a Criterion Blu-ray version. The source material seems to have needed quite a brush-up and, at the very least, the colour is spectacular. The uncompressed mono sound is a joy - proving once again that a great mono mix is as spectacular as anything. There's a bevy of decent extras in this package including an audio commentary by film historian Charles Drazin, a new video interview with David Korda, son of director Zoltán Korda, "A Day at Denham", a short film from 1939 featuring footage of Zoltán Korda on the set of "The Four Feathers", a trailer and an essay by Michael Sragow.
Monday, 5 December 2011
Sarah's Key
Starring: Kristin Scott Thomas, Mélusine Mayance, Niels Arestrup, Frédéric Pierrot, Aidan Quinn
**½
By Alan Bacchus
The despicable Vel' d'Hiv event in 1942, during which thousands of French Jews were rounded up by French police before they were sent off to concentration camps, is just the starting point for the big screen adaptation of Tatiana de Rosnay’s best-selling novel. The film version attempts to compress too much story, including not only the round up, but also the life journey of a child survivor and a present-day story about a journalist uncovering her personal connection to the girl’s story – all in a scant 107 minutes. As such, there’s a melodramatic feel to this powerful story, which is badly in need of a delicate touch to convey the complex internal conflict and sweeping, epic, cross-generational conflict.
Sarah Strazinsky is a 10-year-old girl subjected to the intense anti-Semitism of Nazi-Europe. In an instant her young life is plucked from her when her home is invaded and her family is rounded up. Sensing danger, she attempts a heroic act by hiding her younger brother in a bedroom closet and locking the door, promising to come back when she’s released.
Paquet-Brenner’s film does a terrific job of putting us in the child’s point of view, as the youngster desperately tries to find a way back to Paris and her home to release her brother. We can’t help but think how badly this reunion would turn out. And quietly, we as audience members are hoping a cinematic miracle will save us from the harsh realities of what would actually happen to that young boy.
Despite my reservations about the film as a whole, Paquet-Brenner gets the scene right, as Sarah uses her key (referenced in the title) to open the cupboard door weeks or months after leaving her brother there. Indeed, it's a real heartbreaker.
Where Pacquet-Brenner falters are in the events after this moment, which encompass the second half of the film. Framed by French-American journalist, Julia (Scott-Thomas), investigating the round up, Sarah’s life story and the personal connection with her husband’s family in the present, we learn about the harrowing journey of Sarah's escape from the concentration camp. Niels Arestrup delivers another strong humane performance as Sarah’s surrogate father, who takes her in and hides her from the Nazis. But as Julia makes a connection with Sarah’s new family in the present, the truth and lies become murky, revealing dark secrets that Sarah hid from her family. These secrets all stem from the trauma of her naïve decisions as a child during that traumatic event so many years ago.
There are some profound internal conflicts at the heart of Sarah’s character, as this one action affected everything she did later in life. Unfortunately, when seen only in dollops of flashbacks from scrapbooked photo albums collected and revealed later in the picture, the true gravity of a life never fulfilled is lost. Some of the key reveals in the film occur in the last 15 minutes and are handled with much haste. Paquet-Brenner resorts to a shamelessly overused scene, during which Sarah’s grandson in the present confronts his father who knows the family secrets. The clichéd ‘tattered old diary’ that has been hidden until now is brought out, a cheap and dirty melodramatic ploy that solves complex intergenerational problems much too simply.
This is the stuff three-hour plus movies are made of - and they're made by David Lean, Steven Spielberg or Anthony Minghella. Though I haven’t read the book, we can tell that the compression of events and material this dramatic can never been done justice without patience and cinematic due diligence.
Sarah’s Key is available on Blu-ray from TVA Films in Canada.
Monday, 15 August 2011
Léon Morin Priest
Starring: Jean-Paul Belmondo, Emmanuelle Riva, Irène Tunc
***
By Alan Bacchus
While the French New Wavers were running around Paris with their handheld cameras reinventing cinema, fellow French filmmaker Jean-Pierre Melville continued to make his classical Hollywood-influenced Euro-cool crime pictures, including films like Bob Le Flambour, Le Samurai and Le Deuxieme Souffle. Sandwiched into these stylish films is a remarkably gentle and quiet picture, Léon Morin Priest, featuring Jean-Paul Belmondo as a handsome priest who has a profound effect on a cynical widow in Nazi-occupied France.
Barny (Emmanuel Riva) is a recently widowed mother to a young daughter living like many of her girlfriends – scared witless for her family’s future in her Nazi-occupied village. With Jews being extricated from the village and her being half-Jewish, Barny needs to find a new identity. For women like her, the only option is conversion to the Catholic Church.
Walking into the Church she confesses for the first time at random to Léon Morin (Belmondo), a deeply thoughtful and impossibly handsome priest. As an atheist, Barny initially intends only to fake her way through the conversion process for the sake of her and her daughter. But given the combination of Jean-Pierre’s persuasiveness and attractiveness, Barny gradually becomes a true convert and by the end she is completely devoted to God.
The film begins and ends with a naughty and sexual tease of then New Wave heartthrob Jean-Paul Belmondo as a man-in-frock. Belmondo’s rugged and untraditionally handsome face, even with these heterosexual eyes, is the stuff of dreamy Hollywood. Imagine bad boy Steve McQueen wearing a frock and a reverse collar?
This is not The Thorn Birds though. Melville’s screenplay (based on Beatrix Beck’s novel) is one of the most devout and intellectually rigorous films about religion I’ve ever seen. The near two-hour running time is filled with numerous lengthy dialogue scenes between Barny and Morin discussing the contradictions and attractions of Christianity. At times overly intellectual and at other times spiritually stimulating, the film doesn’t quite hold us through its excessive 117-minute running time.
At the very least, this film is something to be cherished for its place in the filmography of one of France’s best filmmakers. It’s an elegant and heartfelt transition to something personal to Melville. The theme of the French resistance also connects well to Melville’s Army of Shadows (1969), as they are two films about the passionate fight for freedom. One is about guns and bloodshed, and the other, in this case, is about a spiritual awakening and liberation of the soul.
Léon Morin Priest is available on Blu-ray from The Criterion Collection.
Wednesday, 13 July 2011
Das Boot
Starring: Jürgen Prochnow, Herbert Grönemeyer, Klaus Wennemann, Hubertus Bengsch, Martin Semmelrogge
****
By Alan Bacchus
A landmark in international cinema, a Hollywood-style war film created outside the US and Britain, and a heroic German film about Nazis, Das Boot was conceived primarily as an action film with a message. Wolfgang Peterson’s strong directorial style and deft abilities to juggle intimate moments of character with intense action are the reasons this film caught the attention of Hollywood producers, received a stateside theatrical release, was nominated for several Oscars (including Best Director) and became a success.
Some spotty production deficiencies aside, Das Boot still looks and sounds great. It’s an intense war film, which arguably tops all submarine films produced by Hollywood over the years.
The new Sony Pictures Blu-ray release features both the original theatrical cut (149 minutes) and the 1997-released director’s cut (209 minutes). I chose to watch and review the film based on the theatrical edition, which is usually the version to stick with. The shorter running time results in a more intense experience, one that’s meant for the big screen and is the reason why the film garnered the amount of attention it did back in its day. At 209 minutes Das Boot is still a fine film, but it requires a much more significant investment of time for the same emotional reaction.
Peterson puts us in the viewpoint of Lt. Werner, a war correspondent assigned to cover the missions of U-96 in October 1941, specifically its charismatic Captain (Jürgen Prochnow). The opening scenes in the German nightclub before the crew is shipped out for battle are key to establishing Peterson’s stand on Nazism. Watch the sullen reactions of Prochnow and his other crew mates to the drunken Nazi oaf mocking Churchill. Here we see the crew as soldiers caught up in the winds of war, not genocidal Nazi tyrants. With the audience on the side of Peterson’s characters, it’s not difficult to invest in their survival.
Once in the boat and on their journey, it’s a taut thrill ride. Peterson moves us quickly from one set piece to another. The thrill of victories in the Atlantic using their ingenuity to take down a number of Allied ships and the third act setbacks, which result in the flooring of the boat at over 200 ft, provide a miraculously energetic finale. The crew virtually rises from the dead and returns home in one piece.
Peterson takes time to show us the horrors of battle and the deep concern his characters have for their opposing combatants. At one point, after the first Allied ship is destroyed, we see the soldiers on fire leaping into the ocean with no rescue in sight. The German crew witnesses this, and given their apparent unease, Peterson once again reminds us these are working class soldiers – ordinary men like you and me.
The celebrated production values still look astonishing, specifically Jost Vacano’s superlative camera moves through the tight belly of the sub. Somehow, Peterson is able to push his camera through the tightest of spaces in long takes and through the tiny portal holes between sections of the boat as his characters run from end to end. These unbroken camera moves effectively ratchet up the intensity and the claustrophobia of their confined environment. At the same time, I'd be remiss if I didn't cringe at some of the lacklustre exterior process shots and some of Klaus Doldinger’s synthesized score. But then again, it was 1981, and just about every movie sounded like this.
The tragic and ironic denouement, which has the U-Boat and crew attacked from the air during the reverie of their return, is a curious way to end the film. But it’s wholly necessary to keep the film in the context of history and punish the soldiers, however unjustly, for the future and past crimes of their country. For this and all the other reasons cited above, Das Boot will always be a great film.
Das Boot is available on Blu-ray from Sony Pictures Home Entertainment.
Saturday, 11 June 2011
Tigerland
Starring: Colin Farrell, Matthew Davis, Clifton Collins Jr., Shea Wingham, Tom Guiry
***1/2
By Alan Bacchus
How good is Colin Farrell in this movie? Great. Sadly, he would never again even come close to the cinematic charisma and complexities he puts into the role of Pvt. Roland Bozz, the enigmatic shit-disturbing soldier who affects the lives of the scared witless grunts he trains with during the lead-up to their tour in the Vietnam War. His memorable performance seems to inspire every other creative element in the film, from his supporting actors, Joel Schumacher's direction, which has never been better, and the awesome cinematography of Matthew Libatique.
Jim Paxton (Davis) is a humble middle-class WASP private training in the continental US before being shipped out to Vietnam. It’s Advanced Infantry Training at Fort Polk to be exact, nicknamed Tigerland for its ability to create the military’s ruthless fighting machines. Through Paxton’s written diaries and voiceover we get to see the horrific life of a soldier through his innocent and naive eyes. Another newbie is the less identifiable presence of Pvt. Bozz (Farrell), a wildcard crackerjack who marches to his own beat and at all times exudes superiority to the hyperbole of military training.
While his self-imposed right of personal freedom and expression is admired and looked up to by Davis and some others, Bozz is also a frustrating stick in the mud for his officers and fellow soldiers. The main source of conflict comes from a near psychotic bully, Pvt. Wilson (Wingham), who resents Bozz’s libertarian ways. As others, like the cowardly Corporal Miter (Collins Jr.), crack under the strain, Bozz becomes an angel of comfort for those who will likely not survive the stress of battle.
Joel Schumacher has never been better. Ever. He’s made 22 feature films, many of them extremely successful, yet he’s never made a great movie except for Tigerland. Like his discoveries in previous pictures St. Elmo’s Fire and The Lost Boys, his casting is sharp. Not only Farrell, but look at the performance of Clifton Collins Jr., who matches Farrell’s veracity with a less show-offy role, but one he burns into our memories. Same with Shea Wingham, who like Collins is certainly not a star, but an equally respected character actor today. His performance as Wilson, the antagonist to Bozz, is frightening.
If not Colin Farrell, then Matthew Libatique’s muddy and grainy 16 mm photography is at the helm of this ship. This was a time before acceptable quality high-definition, before the Red Camera and before the extensive colour timing capabilities in post that we have now. Libatique employed good old fashioned 16 mm to create an earthy and grainy newsreel feeling. The format also allows for a distinct type of colour saturation not present in regular 35 mm.
Though this aesthetic was likely influenced by the Danish Dogme films that were hot at the time, Libatique and Schumacher create their own rules. Despite the gritty feeling, they don’t always handhold the camera. Many of the shots are on tripod and dollies for a traditional steady and smooth look, which demonstrates that realism needn’t be exclusively achieved using a handheld or ‘shaky’ camera.
In Citizen Kane, Orson Welles famously shared his title credit on the same card as his cinematographer Gregg Toland to honour his immense contribution of the visual design to the picture. If any film deserves a similar co-authorship, it’s Tigerland.
Tigerland is available on Blu-ray from MGM Home Entertainment.
Friday, 3 June 2011
Platoon
Starring: Charlie Sheen, Tom Berenger, Willem Dafoe, Keith David, Forest Whitaker, Kevin Dillon
***½
By Alan Bacchus
If we were comparing dick sizes, Platoon doesn’t quite stand up to the strong auteur works of Stanley Kubrick’s or Francis Ford Coppola’s Vietnam flicks. But few films before or since have captured the unique contradiction of the soldier’s point of view of the war better than Oliver Stone’s. Platoon is both an anti-war political film and a heroic celebration of the brotherhood of soldiers and men in battle.
It’s hard to remember Charlie Sheen as a wide-eyed naive everyman, but before he became hardened and crazy he embodied an American middle-class wholesomeness, which made him ideal for Oliver Stone's self-influenced character. As the audience’s eye into this war, Sheen’s character, Chris, is less a character to study and more a window into the insanity of war.
Platoon opens with Chris landing in the warzone and witnessing body bags being stacked into helicopters to be shipped back home. Samuel Barber’s weeping Adagio For Strings tells us exactly how we’re supposed to feel at this moment – that Chris has stepped onto the worst place on earth in the heart of an unwinnable war where both internal and external conflict has turned American soldiers into beasts of mayhem and destruction.
Stone’s narrative is unencumbered by upper-ranking military strategy or command. Instead, we see with plain simplicity the day-by-day grind of a soldier at ground zero in the war, in the jungle sweating out blood and bullets. For most of the film it’s a taut power struggle between two opposite personalities though equally influential within the platoon, Lt. Barnes (Berenger), the John Wayne-style rugged cowboy who goes by his own rules of the jungle, and Col. Elias (Dafoe), the Henry Fonda-like educated wasp, son of privilege and humanitarian.
Though there’s lots of gunfire, explosions, heroism and bloody horrific violence, Platoon never feels like a set-piece action film. Part of this is Stone’s unexploitive shooting style. It’s unstylistic and realistic but not show-offy like Saving Private Ryan, which, despite its honourable intentions, is a set-piece film. Stone is also clear to rarely, if ever, show the enemy. As such, gunfire feels random, which contributes to a truer feeling of realism.
The Barber music cue heard in the opening is reused as the main theme throughout the film. It sets a tone of sadness from beginning to end. Through this piece of music Stone is clear about his stance on the war, a clusterfuck of massive proportions and a sad stain on the American nation. It’s a terrific and memorable piece, but for cinema history fans it’s important to note that this wasn’t a Stone discovery. While it may be synonymous with Stone’s film, look to David Lynch’s The Elephant Man (1980), which used this same cue to even more magnificent effect at the end of that marvellous film.
Looking back on the Vietnam War films, from Apocalypse Now to The Deer Hunter to Full Metal Jacket (and maybe even Tigerland), Platoon doesn’t quite stand up artistically to these others. But as a statement on the war, it is no doubt the most influential and arguably the final word about the Vietnam War on film in dramatic form.
Platoon is available on Blu-ray from MGM Home Entertainment.
Friday, 25 March 2011
Lebanon
Starring: Itay Tiran, Yoav Donat, Michael Moshonov, Zohar Shtrauss
***
By Alan Bacchus
The surprise Venice Golden Lion winner of 2009 is an intense adventure using the same subject matter as Waltz with Bashir—another Israeli take on the 1982 Israeli invasion of Lebanon. This time we’re put into a tank with four Israeli soldiers. There’s Assi the commander, Shmulik the gunner, Yigal the driver and Hertzel the loquacious loader. Being friends as well as comrades means that Assi often has difficulty asserting his orders to the group, specifically with Hertzel, who questions the logic of the chain of command and the hierarchy of duties. It makes for light, humorous banter, dulling us to the horror going on outside the tank.
But when Major Jamil enters the tank, orders get thrown down with authority. With clarity, Jamil makes it simple—proceed through the recently demolished village, look for surviving enemy soldiers and contain any lingering threats. We’re told it’s a walk in the park until they get to their next destination, an impending battle in San Tropez.
The tank has two points of view, a wide angle pigeonhole target sight of the gun and a closer zoomed in view from the same angle. From these two shots we watch as Shmulik slowly goes stir crazy due to the brutality he’s forced to watch happening on the outside. A family being shot to death in a vacant building, an innocent Muslim blown apart in his car and even a cow clinging to life with his stomach torn open are indelible images to both Shmulik and the audience.
For the others, the intensity increases because of the earth-quaking caused by the explosions and the devastating sounds of war echoing through the steel machine. Like the metallic claustrophobia of the German sub in Das Boot, the confines of the metal tank serves as the film’s only location. The space is tight and perhaps Maoz used Alfred Hitchcock's Lifeboat as inspiration to maintain a dynamic and non-repetitive visual experience in such a small place. But it's important to note this film was made before the rash of single location thrillers of 2010 (i.e., 127 Hours, Frozen, Buried, etc.)
The few sources of light create enough creative light schemes to play with. And the occasional time when the hatch is opened up, a blinding beam of light is sent into the tank, which is enough to remind us that there is another world outside.
Admirable as it is, in creating an intense war film without really seeing anything, the film suffers from our uncertainty about whether the filmmakers are actually taking a stand on something. War is bad, we know. Perhaps it’s the singular point of view of the tank as a metaphor for the unwavering party line of the Israeli military. Maybe. It’s an implied theme, which we have to stretch to find, but it lacks the passionate confessional tone of Waltz with Bashir. And so it fails to raise itself to the cinematic level of brilliance the concept and the era in history demands.
Wednesday, 5 January 2011
Paths of Glory
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.
Saturday, 1 January 2011
Apocalypse Now
Starring: Martin Sheen, Marlon Brando, Frederick Forrest, Dennis Hopper, Robert Duvall, Albert Hall Jr.
****
By Alan Bacchus
Gut, determination and a whole lot of ego from Francis Coppola was the engine which not just got Apocalypse Now made but made it great. Coming off the Godfather films, Francis Coppola was at the height of his creativity, the height of his influence and undoubtedly his confidence. When filmmakers find themselves in this type of position it's wonderful to see filmmakers push themselves creatively.
And he couldn't have set goals any higher than Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness. One of those legendary Hollywood properties deemed unfilmable. It's one of cinema's great page to screen translations, injecting the chaotic American involvement in the Vietnam into Conrad's material. The combination the machoness of John Milius's original script, the dense poetry of Michael Herr's voiceover and Coppola's hallucinogenic vision, it's a miraculous combination of the written word and the visual medium.
Coppola famously filmed a million and half feet of film, for months, often straying from the script and re-writing as he went along. Looking at both the Redux and the original theatrical versions, it's interesting to see the creative choices Coppola made in terms of narrative plotting. In the original version continuity is purposely eschewed in favour of a hallucinatory series of set pieces. The USO playmate show is just such a scene. It’s a lengthy sequence, which doesn’t serve the narrative but the absurd and strange nature of the war. In the Redux version, an additional scene with the bunnies meeting Willard is reinstated, but by removing this scene and never referencing the bunnies again, the scene is compartmentalized, complimenting progressive journey, or odyssey undertaken by Willard and his crew.
Same with the character of Kilgore as played by Robert Duvall, who disappears from the story after he says his famous line, 'Some day this war's gonna end'. It's a perfect line to close his character off with. But in the Redux version continuity is reinstated with a couple of additional scenes with Kilgore, showing his discombobulation after having surfboard stolen. It's an interesting scene to watch but takes the macho lustre off his character and for the worse smooths over the punchy editing of the narrative.
As a stand alone sequence the lengthy French plantation scene is terrific. It deserves to be in the Redux version, but admittedly is too long for the theatrical version, in particular it's placement at the end of the second act. It's a shame it found no place in the original version, it's one of the best scenes in the entire film.
The opening dialogue scene, after trippy helicopter ghost/hotel sequence, is still a classic. So perfectly written, performed and directed. I think my favourite part is the silent civilian character played by Jerry Zeismer, who we see reacting to the questioning with a stoic professionalism. His only line in the scene comes at the end, when he dramatic utters Milius’s best line, ‘terminate with extreme prejudice. How awesome is that.
Arguably the most incongruent aspect of the film is Coppola’s kooky electronic score, co-written by Francis and his father Carmine. When we first hear the music it comes after Zeismer's dramatic line, ‘terminate with extreme prejudice’ which sends Willard on his mnission. We then hear the drone of synthesizers which is always jarring to me. It feels out of place and arguably tempers the punch line of that scene. Yet as the film moves along and Coppola delves further into the psychology of war, the score successfully merges with the all other sights and sounds of the picture.
The Blu-Ray special edition, entitled ‘Full Disclosure” features both the theatrical and Redux cuts in addition to Hearts of Darkness and newly produced special feature interviews. The picture quality is stunning, the most eye popping is Vittorio Storaro’s colours which never looked so vibrant and bold. It's also presented in the original uncropped 2:35:1 aspect ratio for the first time.
Thursday, 18 November 2010
The Bridge on the River Kwai
Starring: Alec Guinness, Sessue Hayakawa, William Holden, James Donald, Jack Hawkins
****
By Alan Bacchus
I once met a WWII veteran who was imprisoned in a Japanese POW camp not unlike the one depicted in this film. Not surprisingly, his opinion of the realism of this film was bunkum. In Kwai, David Lean and producer Sam Spiegel romanticize prison camp life, dulling down the shear brutality and torture that occurred, but as someone once said, "the truth should never get in the way of a good story" and The Bridge on the River Kwai is one of the greats.
Lean was a master of framing great characters against huge canvasses of war. Such is the case with Kwai and his duelling rivals: Col Saito and Col Nicholson. Saito is the hard-line commandant of a POW camp in Western Thailand charged with building a bridge to complete the Burmese Railway, while Nicholson is the British career officer determined to maintain his dignity and pride, even if it means collaborating with the enemy and thus building a bridge better than the Japanese could to prove his superiority as a soldier and man of honour.
Character depth is heavily weighted towards Nicholson, unfortunately, as, after the first act, Saito gets the short shrift. But it's a magnificent character arc for Nicholson, culminating in blowing up his own bridge, a great cinematic representation of the contradictions of war, not unlike the absurdities in Apocalypse Now, Full Metal Jacket or Renoir's The Grand Illusion.
Lean contrasts Nicholson's British snobbiness with the pragmatism of the American Shears, played by William Holden, who provides the parallel story to the action in the camp. His un-heroic escape from prison and eventual return to regain his pride and dignity links up memorably with the grand finale.
The standard plastic jewel box just wouldn't cut it for a film of this grandeur and prestige. As such, though it's not bursting at the seams with extras, the new Blu-Ray comes in a large, beautifully designed, sturdy box worthy of the greatness of the film inside. Along with the pristine looking high-def image, this "collector's edition" comes with a glossy hardcover book with photos and liner notes to go along with some of the requisite, but unnecessary, "lobby cards."Seriously, does anyone really care about lobby cards?
Though British soldiers in Japanese war camps weren't whistling military marches during their incarceration, in terms of cinematic storytelling, The Bridge on the River Kwai is still a jolly good show.
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