Gloede_The_Saint

A political stage theatre, musical, satire and history lesson all in one: Covering hundreds of years of colonialist, slavery, exploitation and disenfranchisement.

Now this is a Hondo closer to his roots in O Soleil, and what an incredible, mad and beautiful film!

To talk about West Indies, we need to talk about the minimalist setting, and extraordinary scope. Almost every scene is set, fittingly enough, one a stage made to look like a large ship - used both as the transportation of slaves - and as the actual unnamed island home of our study. The black people, with the exception of those set forth to lead them, are always in the bay - that is their home - above them, the higher deck, is the place of parties, elites and rigged elections - and one step higher - that of the 5 people truly ruling the island - in France's stead.

Above them: France's slogen: "Liberty. Equality. Fraternity." - and as we move through the ages, the slogan changes.

We are also fitted to our secondary setting, which is also where our film opens with our 5 elites - the captain's lounge - a throne room with 5 chairs. Their faces remain the same, even as the trail through history - and see them put their "plan" into action.

Their plan: cheap labour - and, well, power. (Not to mention the complete displacement of the entire people)

Slavery, or low paid workers, it makes no difference - and as the film intercuts slave transportation with immigration - and the plot moves to have more and more French take over the island - it truly is a look at how history rhymes - not to mention the complacency and complicity for those allowed to join in the ride.

But what sets West Indies further apart is their dance numbers, and songs - playing into the seduction of France and Paris - the submission and happiness of "assimilation" for those on top - and songs of struggle and freedom of the people.

It even manages to take snipes at petty white revolutionaries, either propagating xenophobia themselves or uttering empty phrases without care and insight.

And "pretty speeches", lies, deceit and complicity is a theme throughout; no one is really spared - though the film's message is clear: take power into your hands and free yourself.

What is truly striking, beyond the scope and message - is how Hondo managed to craft it all, not just within the allegory of a slave ship, but within a literal ship - and the incredible way he plays with form and setting.

Decades before Dogville, he allowed us to suspend our disbelief, and see and understand the boat to be any setting - and the choreography and songs simply feel at home in the visual and formatic landscape he created. The humour, the emotion and the al-together experience becomes something more than real life - and it is through this overt performance of history, that the nature of this reality - past and present - as Hondo sees it - can fully be expressed.

We are introduced to Wozzeck as he is shaving his superior officer. We can see him drifting off, the knife somewhat out of place, his reaction to the officer's words, the knife straightening, slowly gliding in a straighter and straighter position, playing with the skin, ready to slice his throat at any given moment. This scene sends chills down your spine - and sets the mood for the entire film.

Wozzeck, directed by the fairly unknown Georg C. Klaren, really represents what is so interesting and special about German cinema just after WW2 - a period of cinematic creativity, with many overlaps with the expressions we saw in the early Weimar era. Wozzeck takes this one step further by adopting a visual atmosphere reminiscent of the silent era, frequently with faded edges, and play with the image itself - and to one specific aim. You can, through the cinematography, feel the descent into madness, and experience the increasingly (well, honestly, consistently) unsettling world of our protagonist.

The only thing contemporary film I can think of comparing it to is really Hangover Square, but only to the extent that the visuals are a gateway to the madness of our protagonist - the expression here goes in a very different direction, i.e. where Hangover Square bring noir aesthetics to 19th century England, Wozzech takes us into a horror landscape of far more stripped back dimensions. In some ways Wozzeck could genuinely feel like an atmospheric arthouse film from the 80s or 90s - the kind of stripped back nightmarish expression toying with bleak existentialism just wasn't a staple of 40s cinema - and this makes it even more enjoyable.

The only downside here is the exposition, i.e. the real opening, showing Wozzeck's body in a science lad, and a battle of ideas between the dr. who is happy to be able to cut up his new body, and charging an offense against this view of disposable humanity, leading into a charge of freeing the people of oppression - and the premise that Wozzeck was pushed to commit the acts he did by the society he lived in. This is too blunt, too clear and forcefully obvious in steering our mind and connecting it to the issue of class. Luckily this framing plays a minimal role in the film itself, which is simply gorgeous.

You rarely expect an actor, no matter how great, to simply ease into the director's chair, especially not in her debut. The thing that struck me the most is how daring she is in regard to composition and style. This does not feel Japanese! In fact it moves almost like an early piece from the French New Wave.

The strict composition of formality and form is nowhere to be seen. Instead of calculated and rigid Tanaka places the camera slightly to the side or slightly higher than Mizoguchi, Kinoshita (who wrote the scrips), Ozu, Naruse, Ichikawa and any of the other masters of cinema in 1950s Japan. The camera moves, a lot, especially on the streets, giving you the feeling of true cinema verité - thought is also clear that this is not an experiment, nor consistently forced, only used when it's natural for the story.

Breaking with the traditions of Japanese cinema does however fit perfectly with the movie itself, where it's characters also break away from the traditions, morals and standards of old. We follow Masayuki Mori, a broken returned soldier barely scraping by while supported by his younger brother. He has a longing. Upon meeting an old friend he gets into a business he had not thought likely - writing "love letters" to American GIs from their mistresses, often several GIs per woman (many of whom are also prostitutes).

One day the woman he has been longing for and searching for comes in for the exact same purpose. Though described as a melodrama, and yes the label may to an extent fit, Tanaka takes the harsh issues straight on and elevates it with her almost unbelievable prowess. What a natural!