Ham_and_Egger
Entrou em dez. de 2004
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Avaliações42
Classificação de Ham_and_Egger
One of John Ford's best films 'The Informer' doesn't feature any grand scenery of the American West. Instead the intense drama Ford was known for plays out on the no less rugged terrain of British character actor Victor McLaglen's face. The former prizefighter, who once faced Joe Louis in the ring, delivers an Academy Award-winning portrayal of disgraced IRA soldier Gypo Nolan on the worst night of his life.
The plot is gracefully simple: In 1922 Dublin, a starving and humiliated man who's been thrown out of the IRA for being unable to kill an informant in cold blood, himself becomes an informant. For £20 he betrays a friend to "the Tans" and for the rest of the night he drinks and gives away his blood money in rapidly alternating spasms of guilt, denial, self-pity, and a desperate desire to escape the consequences of his actions.
It is the remarkable complexity given to the character of the seemingly simple Gypo that is the film's most impressive achievement. In most movies a burly lout of Gypo's type would be cast as the heavy, he'd have at best two or three lines and be disposed of quickly so the hero and the villain could have their showdown. In 'The Informer' Gypo himself is both hero and villain, while the showdown is in his inner turmoil, every bit of which is explicitly shared with the audience.
Because Liam O'Flaherty's novel had previously been filmed in 1929, RKO gave Ford a very modest budget. The director and his associates, particularly cinematographer Joseph H. August, turned this to their advantage in creating a claustrophobic masterpiece about a man at war with himself. In addition to McLaglen's Oscar 'The Informer' also won John Ford his first along with wins for Best Screenplay and Best Score.
The plot is gracefully simple: In 1922 Dublin, a starving and humiliated man who's been thrown out of the IRA for being unable to kill an informant in cold blood, himself becomes an informant. For £20 he betrays a friend to "the Tans" and for the rest of the night he drinks and gives away his blood money in rapidly alternating spasms of guilt, denial, self-pity, and a desperate desire to escape the consequences of his actions.
It is the remarkable complexity given to the character of the seemingly simple Gypo that is the film's most impressive achievement. In most movies a burly lout of Gypo's type would be cast as the heavy, he'd have at best two or three lines and be disposed of quickly so the hero and the villain could have their showdown. In 'The Informer' Gypo himself is both hero and villain, while the showdown is in his inner turmoil, every bit of which is explicitly shared with the audience.
Because Liam O'Flaherty's novel had previously been filmed in 1929, RKO gave Ford a very modest budget. The director and his associates, particularly cinematographer Joseph H. August, turned this to their advantage in creating a claustrophobic masterpiece about a man at war with himself. In addition to McLaglen's Oscar 'The Informer' also won John Ford his first along with wins for Best Screenplay and Best Score.
A remarkably tense and anxious little film about a group of junky musicians "waiting for their man" in a New York flophouse loft. They're joined by a documentary film crew (just a director and a cameraman) whose goal seems to be some sort of cinéma vérité about the life of junky musicians who wait in flophouse lofts.
After a few introductions, and comical "act natural" type instructions from the documentary director, the characters take turns addressing the camera. They nervously rant, philosophize, and insult each other, interrupted occasionally by improvised jazz from several legitimate musicians in the cast (most notably pianist Freddie Redd and tenor sax player Jackie McLean). The anxiety they feel as they wait for their fix is brilliantly conveyed by both the actors and the director (this time I mean the real director, Shirley Clarke, not the actor portraying the documentary director, got it?)
Much of this conveyed anxiety comes from the fact that the film is a strange and slightly unsettling mix of stark realism and stage acting (it is a filmed version of a play from the New York theater scene of the day). This is an unusual film and it honestly takes some getting used to, though probably less now taking into account the glut of nauseatingly self-conscious "mockumentaries" and hyper-stylized "reality shows" we are plagued with today.
The Connection is something different, matching edgy subject matter with edgy film-making the producers were working very much without a net. Consequently some might think it ends in disaster, I think it's a highly interesting experiment that's well worth watching.
After a few introductions, and comical "act natural" type instructions from the documentary director, the characters take turns addressing the camera. They nervously rant, philosophize, and insult each other, interrupted occasionally by improvised jazz from several legitimate musicians in the cast (most notably pianist Freddie Redd and tenor sax player Jackie McLean). The anxiety they feel as they wait for their fix is brilliantly conveyed by both the actors and the director (this time I mean the real director, Shirley Clarke, not the actor portraying the documentary director, got it?)
Much of this conveyed anxiety comes from the fact that the film is a strange and slightly unsettling mix of stark realism and stage acting (it is a filmed version of a play from the New York theater scene of the day). This is an unusual film and it honestly takes some getting used to, though probably less now taking into account the glut of nauseatingly self-conscious "mockumentaries" and hyper-stylized "reality shows" we are plagued with today.
The Connection is something different, matching edgy subject matter with edgy film-making the producers were working very much without a net. Consequently some might think it ends in disaster, I think it's a highly interesting experiment that's well worth watching.
The Sheltering Sky is frankly a psychological masterpiece and one of the densest books I've ever read, but it has a fairly simple plot. The film adequately reenacts the plot. but can't really convey what it is that makes the novel so exquisite.
That's not to say Bertolucci and his contributors, especially cinematographer Vittorio Storaro, don't deserve a lot of credit for their work. This should probably be accepted as the industry standard for filming the scenery of North Africa. The title alone should tell you you're in for rich cinematography and in my opinion this is absolutely necessary to the telling of the story, but the scenery does tend to overwhelm the story at times.
Malkovich and Winger both give credible performances, but they seemed like strangers to me compared to the characters in the novel. Likewise the casting of the Lyles was excellent, but their role seemed abbreviated. I found Paul Bowles himself to be a captivating screen presence, though he's only on screen briefly as the narrator.
Ultimately the film is worth watching but constantly reminded me of the discrepancy between the two media, which isn't exactly an endearing quality.
That's not to say Bertolucci and his contributors, especially cinematographer Vittorio Storaro, don't deserve a lot of credit for their work. This should probably be accepted as the industry standard for filming the scenery of North Africa. The title alone should tell you you're in for rich cinematography and in my opinion this is absolutely necessary to the telling of the story, but the scenery does tend to overwhelm the story at times.
Malkovich and Winger both give credible performances, but they seemed like strangers to me compared to the characters in the novel. Likewise the casting of the Lyles was excellent, but their role seemed abbreviated. I found Paul Bowles himself to be a captivating screen presence, though he's only on screen briefly as the narrator.
Ultimately the film is worth watching but constantly reminded me of the discrepancy between the two media, which isn't exactly an endearing quality.