Napoleon

January 23, 1981. Radio City Music Hall. Nearly midnight. One of the most thrilling experiences of my life. "Napoleon", restored, and reconstructed, not seen for over fifty years, was debuting in front of 6,000 people packed into the great theater with Carmine Coppolla conducting a huge orchestra rising up on the lift as lighting cast fifty foot shadows of the conductor on the walls. The score was magnificent. By the end of the film when the tryptyches stretched the size of the screen to triple size filling the glorious famous sunburst proscenium, Radio City Music Hall erupted in a standing ovation - and Kevin Brownlow, who restored the film, at that very moment from the theater had Abel Gance (soon to die) live on the phone from France to hear the ovation! Just incredible. Glorious. The film is a masterpiece of the Twentieth Century. And a must see. The best scene was the battle in the Convention between the Girondists and Jacobins superimposed on Napoleon's escape from Corsica in a sea storm. Staggering editing and camera work. It is a tragedy for us all the the remaining chapters of Napoleon's life were never put on film as Gance planned.

I had the privilege of seeing the restored version of this film, to the accompaniment of a live orchestra under the baton of Carmine Coppola, in Los Angeles' un-air-conditioned war memorial. Despite uncomfortable seating and terrible heat, the experience of this four hour movie remains a watershed for anyone who attended. To think that because of the invention of sound, this masterpiece was partially destroyed by Abel Gance in a fit of depression, is heartbreaking. More shocking is that Gance's invention of Cinemascope - of which today only the end of the film retains in its triptych screen effect - was lost to filmgoers until its reinvention years later.

Obviously true art can't be hidden forever, and Gance did live to see Napoleon take its rightful place in cinematic history. Though it is many years later, I can still remember the tears and the ovation when the black screen with the white signature, "Abel Gance", signified the end of the film. A compelling and great work of art.

... and remarkable even in it's current, truncated form. The film details the early life of Napoleon Bonaparte (Albert Dieudonne), from his unpleasant childhood in boarding school to his early military life during the French Revolution and the subsequent Reign of Terror, through to his first military victories and marriage to Josephine (Gina Manes). Also featuring Annabella and Abel Gance as Saint-Just.

Gance seems to have taken note of every cinematic technique of the previous 30 years of the medium, combining them all into a breathtaking, exhaustive epic that transcends the time of it's making while being wholly of it, as well. This could not exist with such strength as anything but a silent film, I feel, as the reliance on visual stimulus forced Gance into finding new and exciting ways to express emotion and mood. His early use of montage editing and super-imposition of imagery is stellar. The use of handheld cameras adds to the immediacy of the revolutionary scenes, conveying a newsreel touch that seems far advanced from other films of its day. The sets and costumes are very impressive, as is the cast of thousands. Dieudonne resembles Olivier's Richard III more than any other screen Napoleon that I've seen, but it works, and I wonder if this is the image I'll conjure in the future when thinking of the French military genius.

This movie has a storied existence, with multiple running times and edits throughout the decades. Gance's original version is said to have run over 9 hours, but subsequent edits ran as short as 115 minutes (the 1929 US release). Noted British film historian and preservationist Kevin Brownlow has made it his life's work to try and restore the movie as closely as possible to Gance's original vision. The version that I watched was the recently released BFI version, supervised by Brownlow, and it ran 333 minutes, or about 5 and a half hours. It's definitely a must see.

Modern film-goers are used to explication, to having everything explained for them. The art of visual story-telling -- where images and action indicate the emotional state of characters, rather than have the actor tell you how angry or sad or excited they are -- has almost been lost. But "Napoleon" is a masterpiece of visual art. (Writer-director Abel Gance was honored at the Telluride film festival a few years ago for this film. Far too late, in my opinion.)

The film tells the life of Napoleon Bonaparte -- the Corsican who adopts France as his homeland, rises to supreme general of the French armies during the Revolution and eventually seizes the seat of government itself (twice!). It starts out with a lengthy (if perhaps mythological) examination of Napoleon's childhood in a Catholic school. Snowball fights between Napoleon and two future foes portend the future. Napoleon's friendship with a pet eagle foreshadows his role as emperor of France. But even though these scenes represent more artistic license than history, they are tremendously well-acted by the young Vladimir Roudenko (as young Napoleon). Among the many innovations are some relatively naturalistic acting by the members of the cast and some jaw-dropping editing and montage sequences (especially during the brawl during the snowball fight and the fight in the sleeping quarters). Such innovative use of editing probably wouldn't be seen for another 30 or 40 years!

After almost an hour of this three-hour epic, we're transported to the period of the adult Napoleon -- acted with gravitas and iciness by Albert Dieudonne (who is among the cast's taller actors, just as Napoleon was in reality fairly tall, too). The film dwells extensively on the formative period when Napoleon first arrives in Paris during the late Revolution, focusing heavily on how the chaos in the city stamped into Napoleon the authoritarianism and dictatorial leadership traits that would emerge later in life. This is perhaps the highlight of the film. The editing and visual images create a swirling, spinning, mind-blowing effect that is extremely effective.

The film then focuses on Napoleon's return to Corisca -- whose people held allegiances to Spain and Italy as well as France, and where Napoleon faced imprisonment due to his French leanings. For anyone interested in learning more about the life of Napoleon, this segment is pretty eye-opening. It's followed by a sequence at sea that's amazingly effective in conveying the power and terror of a storm at sea. For its time, this film contained some powerful ocean footage (watch for those amazing low-angle shots, and the ingenious intercutting of the "angry storm" of the French assembly and Napoleon's tiny skiff tossed about on the stormy seas).

The final hour and a half of the film depicts Napoleon's rise in the army and his tenure as emperor of France. This is perhaps the portion of the film that most viewers would think of as "the story of Napoleon." But perhaps one of the reasons why this film is so fascinating is that it delves deeply into the formative episodes in Napoleon's early life and gives as much importance to them as to his later actions on the battlefield in Italy, his tenure as emperor, and his subsequent exile, return, and exile. And the film does so without being heavy-handed, un-subtle or overly expositive.

A restored version of "Napoleon" is making the rounds in the US in cinemas and on television. It contains a new musical soundtrack by Carmine Coppola, which is fairly good (although at times repetitive and too loud). The film was restored and re-edited by Francis Ford Coppola's Zoetrope studio. Zoetrope added some tinting (the ocean scenes are all blue, the "angry mob" scenes are all red) that is interesting but perhaps not quite the "restoration" some viewers might have had in mind.

Watch "Napoleon." You'll be very surprised at how modern the film is. Compared to other silent films of the 1920s, with the undercranked action, overly emotive acting, fantastic plots and theatrical make-up and costumes, "Napoleon" is years ahead of its time. Silent films require concentration to watch. "Napoleon" will keep your interest.

The (more or less) full length version of Gance's NAPOLEON assembled by Kevin Brownlow over many years is an absolutely astounding achievement, both for Gance's inspired execution of a vision nearly too big for the screen, and Brownlow's dedication and perseverance, not to mention his superb reconstruction skills in bringing such a masterpiece back for the enjoyment of the world.

Well, not the whole world... Despite all this effort, the full restoration cannot be seen in the United States, on video or theatrically. It's a long story, but I just wanted potential and past viewers of this film to be aware of a few things:

-First of all, though video may be the only way to see this film in the U.S., keep in mind that home video can not even come close to providing the proper setting for such a gorgeous and epic film. The word "epic" has in fact never been so appropriate. So while I don't discourage people from seeing the video for lack of theatrical viewing opportunities, remember that the film was made on and meant to be seen on a grand scale.

-Secondly, the version currently available in the U.S. is not shown at the correct speed (24fps instead of the necessary 18/20fps). Also, it is missing footage. It is my understanding that in order to provide wider release possibilities in the U.S. upon the completion of the first major restoration in the '70s, the U.S. prints were edited somewhat to cut down on the admittedly long running time. This is also why the film is shown faster in the U.S., at "sound speed" or 24 frames per second. The newest restoration runs at 333 minutes, while the U.S. version is only 235.

The primary reason why the latest, glorious 2000 restoration of the film cannot be seen in the U.S. lies mainly with Francis Ford Coppola. Coppola controls the U.S. distribution rights, and allows only the U.S. version - with a score written by his father - to be shown. This is unlikely to change in the near future, so until then, deal with the substandard videotapes or plan your next European trip around one of the periodic English screenings of the film version - believe me, it's worth it!!