Saturday, September 30, 2006
Boxcar Bertha (1972) is one of Scorsese's films that I have heard about since I began studying movies nearly ten years ago; it's one that I've always meant to see, but always put off, but lucky for me, it was screening on 35mm at The Gene Siskel Film Center as part of an "Essential Scorsese" retrospective this past weekend. Well worth the wait to see it on 35mm, if you ask me. The Film Center is a bright, clean venue that looks much like the Angelika theater in Manhattan replete with an espresso bar and gourmet snacks. But who needs snacks when Scorsese's rolling?
I anticipated undeveloped direction from Scorsese, but there was swiftness to the characters' actions, their dialogue, and the general pacing of the story that impressed me with an agility that most directors don't have until they are in more mature years. The picture is tinted with the fast camera movements Scorsese still uses, and continues to master. The story balances gruesome detail with humor from characters you trust are real. There are images in long shot highlighted with simple costumes, bare-bone set designs, and soft natural lighting that illuminates his characters' love-making, fighting, death, and laughing with nuance, with a tender care and sincerity. Like everything Scorsese does, this film was made in earnest where he is struggling to articulate the simple feelings his characters have when they're embroiled in conflict. He delicately shows us a character's history in relation to setting and environment.
The main character, Bertha (Barbara Hershey), is introduced with the simultaneous action of her father's death and the love-at-first-sight meeting with her sweetheart, Bill (David Carradine), and moves immediately into her future alone as she meanders the country. Because Bertha has no family or money, and barely the shoes on her feet there is no pride lost as she encounters people who treat her as an inferior. The mounds of diamonds and jewelry she steals from them and drapes around herself, make her look like a kid playing dress-up. The film is sharp with characters' expressions and actions, a pleasant surprise indeed after years of waiting to see it.
Sunday, October 1, 2006
Drums Along the Mohawk - 1939 - DVD
Friday, September 29, 2006
Drums Along the Mohawk was shot in Technicolor, a surprise to me that makes the movie look more modern than it is. The image is crisp and deep, the colors super-saturated in brightness and contrast. Henry Fonda plays the lead, Gilbert Martin, a pioneer type that marries his sweetheart Lana (Claudette Colbert) in 1776 Albany, and moves her immediately to the countryside, which is under threat of Indian and British invasion during the Revolutionary War. It is the first time I have seen Fonda in color at his early stage in film; at this point he is just four years into his acting career, 34-years-old, and still a baby-face.
The movie establishes a lot of John Ford's regular players, Fonda, of course, who he worked with twice in 1939 for this and Young Mr. Lincoln, and John Carradine who appeared in Stagecoach (1939) and a year later in The Grapes of Wrath (1940), also with Henry Fonda. Ward Bond is around for secondary roles in this, and also Young Mr. Lincoln and The Grapes of Wrath, but his earliest Ford acquaintance was in Born Reckless (1930), a film I have never heard of, but is co-directed by John Ford and Andrew Bennison. From 1930 onward it seems like Bond had bit parts in all of Ford's films, including the recently discussed Arrowsmith (1931). He also played the bus driver in It Happened One Night (1934), the film that headlines Drums Along the Mohawk's other star, Claudette Colbert. More research will tell me of Colbert's previous and subsequent collaborations with Ford, but for now this is the only Ford flick I know of her contributing to.
There are other actors, mostly smaller names that hold parts regularly in his films in addition to the ones listed above. There is a sense of family in Ford pictures, the recurring faces become familiar; in later films, scenery recurs, as well, namely the movies set in Monument Valley. The result of this repetition of space, faces, and the similarities in story combine to make the picture people remember when they think of the American West. Ford does more than comment on or perpetuate the history and myths of the West in this regard, but creates it with his own brush strokes.
Next up in the Ford Marathon: The Lost Patrol (1934).
Drums Along the Mohawk was shot in Technicolor, a surprise to me that makes the movie look more modern than it is. The image is crisp and deep, the colors super-saturated in brightness and contrast. Henry Fonda plays the lead, Gilbert Martin, a pioneer type that marries his sweetheart Lana (Claudette Colbert) in 1776 Albany, and moves her immediately to the countryside, which is under threat of Indian and British invasion during the Revolutionary War. It is the first time I have seen Fonda in color at his early stage in film; at this point he is just four years into his acting career, 34-years-old, and still a baby-face.
The movie establishes a lot of John Ford's regular players, Fonda, of course, who he worked with twice in 1939 for this and Young Mr. Lincoln, and John Carradine who appeared in Stagecoach (1939) and a year later in The Grapes of Wrath (1940), also with Henry Fonda. Ward Bond is around for secondary roles in this, and also Young Mr. Lincoln and The Grapes of Wrath, but his earliest Ford acquaintance was in Born Reckless (1930), a film I have never heard of, but is co-directed by John Ford and Andrew Bennison. From 1930 onward it seems like Bond had bit parts in all of Ford's films, including the recently discussed Arrowsmith (1931). He also played the bus driver in It Happened One Night (1934), the film that headlines Drums Along the Mohawk's other star, Claudette Colbert. More research will tell me of Colbert's previous and subsequent collaborations with Ford, but for now this is the only Ford flick I know of her contributing to.
There are other actors, mostly smaller names that hold parts regularly in his films in addition to the ones listed above. There is a sense of family in Ford pictures, the recurring faces become familiar; in later films, scenery recurs, as well, namely the movies set in Monument Valley. The result of this repetition of space, faces, and the similarities in story combine to make the picture people remember when they think of the American West. Ford does more than comment on or perpetuate the history and myths of the West in this regard, but creates it with his own brush strokes.
Next up in the Ford Marathon: The Lost Patrol (1934).
Thursday, September 28, 2006
Arrowsmith - 1931 - DVD
Thursday, September 28, 2006
Arrowsmith is a cross between a Western, Sci-Fi, Horror, maybe a little bit of Gangster, and has some Noir elements, too. Outside of a few fast-panning and soft-focus shots, perhaps precursors to the intro shot of John Wayne in Stagecoach (1939), and, of course, the credit sequence, you would have no idea the film was directed by John Ford. Meaning, it has none of that John Ford grit. No characters are dirty or angry, or have an attitude problem that goes beyond superficial. Some scenes of dialogue are funny, but most don't mean to be. The film is limp. And that is sad, especially for us Ford fans.
But I'm going to let this one slide. Let's look at the facts: it's 1931 when this film was made, that's just the start of Ford's career; he's still learning his trade, and he has not met John Wayne either. If you ask me, it's Wayne who consistently makes Ford's films as notable as they are, though he is certainly not the only factor. Ford's exquisite technique and his intrigue with the history and mythology of the American frontier are primary considerations for his many perfect films as well.
Arrowsmith is based on a Sinclair Lewis novel, was adapted for the screen by Sidney Howard, who was later nominated for Best Screenplay at the 1932 Oscar's. There were three other nominations, as well, Ray June for Cinematography, Richard Day for Art Direction, and overall for Best Picture. The film ended up walking away from the awards empty handed, but it was clearly popular at the time.
The story follows Martin Arrowsmith (Ronald Coleman), a young-blood doctor and chemist who spends equal amounts of time studying and creating vaccinations for diseased cattle, and falling in love with his girlfriend, and later wife, Leora (Helen Hayes). A anecdotal observation: she looks a lot like Claudette Colbert, and he similar to Clark Gable--those two teamed up for Frank Capra's It Happened One Night (1934), a fantastic movie in contrast. This resemblance was the second thing I noticed about the film. The first was the credit sequence, which takes place in a laboratory with bottles and test tubes filled with bubbling liquids. Credit names disappear in a mimic of the liquids reducing in the beakers. It has a sterile comic mood to it, and seemed, for instance, more appropriate for a film like Hawks' Monkey Business (1952) (that's actually what popped into my head as I was watching).
Ensuing comes the mesh of elements from the above mentioned genres: there's a panorama of an outdoor landscape, a horse-drawn carriage rips across the road (Western iconography); and there is the name “Arrowsmith” itself, a name that draws up images of the West and dusty battles of cowboys and Indians. There are city street scenes: a car squeals to the side of the road, kids are hanging on the street (Gangster icons); then there is the garland of beakers and test tubes in a lab where the sleepless scientist puts in inhuman hours of research (elements of Sci-Fi); and the strangest part yet is the horror element. As the story progresses, Arrowsmith earns credibility as a scientist and doctor, and he is called to the West Indies to curb an outbreak of the Bubonic plague. (Really? The Black Death in 1931?) He and his team of scientists tear through the contaminated village tearing down and burning structures, a mob scene that bears resemblance to those of King Kong (1931); the people scatter as if a monster is waiting to attack beyond the walls of their village, the plague being the monster in this case, illustrated by rats shone with an overexposed white light (or is it the negative of the film stock?). Then there are scenes decorated with a hint of Noir. Shadows of Venetian blinds strike against the wall, and a very sultry Myrna Loy clad in dark eye shadow and a slinky dress waltzes through the jungle as the femme fatale.
In an early part of the film Ward Bond is spotted, a John Ford regular in later films like Fort Apache (1948), The Searchers (1956) and others. He is not listed in the credits, but you can clearly see him in a scene playing a police officer; he stands outside a door where a baby is being born, he smiles big when he hears it cry; his hair is much less gray than later films recall.
Next up on the Ford screening list: Drums Along the Mohawk (1939), with Claudette Colbert, and another Ford-acting regular, Henry Fonda. My expectations are high. I don’t expect to be disappointed.
Arrowsmith is a cross between a Western, Sci-Fi, Horror, maybe a little bit of Gangster, and has some Noir elements, too. Outside of a few fast-panning and soft-focus shots, perhaps precursors to the intro shot of John Wayne in Stagecoach (1939), and, of course, the credit sequence, you would have no idea the film was directed by John Ford. Meaning, it has none of that John Ford grit. No characters are dirty or angry, or have an attitude problem that goes beyond superficial. Some scenes of dialogue are funny, but most don't mean to be. The film is limp. And that is sad, especially for us Ford fans.
But I'm going to let this one slide. Let's look at the facts: it's 1931 when this film was made, that's just the start of Ford's career; he's still learning his trade, and he has not met John Wayne either. If you ask me, it's Wayne who consistently makes Ford's films as notable as they are, though he is certainly not the only factor. Ford's exquisite technique and his intrigue with the history and mythology of the American frontier are primary considerations for his many perfect films as well.
Arrowsmith is based on a Sinclair Lewis novel, was adapted for the screen by Sidney Howard, who was later nominated for Best Screenplay at the 1932 Oscar's. There were three other nominations, as well, Ray June for Cinematography, Richard Day for Art Direction, and overall for Best Picture. The film ended up walking away from the awards empty handed, but it was clearly popular at the time.
The story follows Martin Arrowsmith (Ronald Coleman), a young-blood doctor and chemist who spends equal amounts of time studying and creating vaccinations for diseased cattle, and falling in love with his girlfriend, and later wife, Leora (Helen Hayes). A anecdotal observation: she looks a lot like Claudette Colbert, and he similar to Clark Gable--those two teamed up for Frank Capra's It Happened One Night (1934), a fantastic movie in contrast. This resemblance was the second thing I noticed about the film. The first was the credit sequence, which takes place in a laboratory with bottles and test tubes filled with bubbling liquids. Credit names disappear in a mimic of the liquids reducing in the beakers. It has a sterile comic mood to it, and seemed, for instance, more appropriate for a film like Hawks' Monkey Business (1952) (that's actually what popped into my head as I was watching).
Ensuing comes the mesh of elements from the above mentioned genres: there's a panorama of an outdoor landscape, a horse-drawn carriage rips across the road (Western iconography); and there is the name “Arrowsmith” itself, a name that draws up images of the West and dusty battles of cowboys and Indians. There are city street scenes: a car squeals to the side of the road, kids are hanging on the street (Gangster icons); then there is the garland of beakers and test tubes in a lab where the sleepless scientist puts in inhuman hours of research (elements of Sci-Fi); and the strangest part yet is the horror element. As the story progresses, Arrowsmith earns credibility as a scientist and doctor, and he is called to the West Indies to curb an outbreak of the Bubonic plague. (Really? The Black Death in 1931?) He and his team of scientists tear through the contaminated village tearing down and burning structures, a mob scene that bears resemblance to those of King Kong (1931); the people scatter as if a monster is waiting to attack beyond the walls of their village, the plague being the monster in this case, illustrated by rats shone with an overexposed white light (or is it the negative of the film stock?). Then there are scenes decorated with a hint of Noir. Shadows of Venetian blinds strike against the wall, and a very sultry Myrna Loy clad in dark eye shadow and a slinky dress waltzes through the jungle as the femme fatale.
In an early part of the film Ward Bond is spotted, a John Ford regular in later films like Fort Apache (1948), The Searchers (1956) and others. He is not listed in the credits, but you can clearly see him in a scene playing a police officer; he stands outside a door where a baby is being born, he smiles big when he hears it cry; his hair is much less gray than later films recall.
Next up on the Ford screening list: Drums Along the Mohawk (1939), with Claudette Colbert, and another Ford-acting regular, Henry Fonda. My expectations are high. I don’t expect to be disappointed.
Monday, September 25, 2006
After Hours - 1985 - DVD
Friday, September 22, 2006
After Hours is Scorsese on cocaine. It moves fast, it's a delirium, but is one of Martin Scorsese's finest. According to the commentary track the film wasn't supposed to be. The Last Temptation of Christ (1988) was in production and suddenly halted. Why? Not sure. But the script by Joe Minion was given to him by Amy Robinson, who also appeared in one of Scorsese's earlier films, Mean Streets (1973), and with the feeling that his directing career was crumbling before his eyes, he gave After Hours a shot. There was urgency to this piece of work because Scorsese had to prove to himself (and the studios) that he could produce good film amidst the disaster that Last Temptation was turning out to be. He had to prove he was a Director.
The film is edginess in the dark, and was shot entirely at night including interior scenes. Griffin Dunne who plays Paul Hackett, the sleepless lead character who is unwillingly sucked into the black hole of the SoHo after hours, says that the film would begin shooting as the sun went down, and for the next 6 or so weeks he and the crew slept in the day and awoke to the world at permanent midnight. The opening shot takes place in an office lined with cubicles and filled with what appears to be sunlight, but that light is artificial, too. The camera sweeps across the room to Paul, and in the moment we meet him there is tension in the room that pounds its way into the next sequence, completed with Scorsese's signature seamlessness, but faster. He measures our breaths with the camera's punching movements, and in Paul's sudden and awkward circumstances you exhale in a puff of laughter. How could he manage to lose the keys to his apartment to the owner of a bar who is married to the woman who just committed suicide after her failed date with he himself? It happens quickly before your eyes as if it were one long shot, full of exhaustion, and full of grace.
After Hours is Scorsese on cocaine. It moves fast, it's a delirium, but is one of Martin Scorsese's finest. According to the commentary track the film wasn't supposed to be. The Last Temptation of Christ (1988) was in production and suddenly halted. Why? Not sure. But the script by Joe Minion was given to him by Amy Robinson, who also appeared in one of Scorsese's earlier films, Mean Streets (1973), and with the feeling that his directing career was crumbling before his eyes, he gave After Hours a shot. There was urgency to this piece of work because Scorsese had to prove to himself (and the studios) that he could produce good film amidst the disaster that Last Temptation was turning out to be. He had to prove he was a Director.
The film is edginess in the dark, and was shot entirely at night including interior scenes. Griffin Dunne who plays Paul Hackett, the sleepless lead character who is unwillingly sucked into the black hole of the SoHo after hours, says that the film would begin shooting as the sun went down, and for the next 6 or so weeks he and the crew slept in the day and awoke to the world at permanent midnight. The opening shot takes place in an office lined with cubicles and filled with what appears to be sunlight, but that light is artificial, too. The camera sweeps across the room to Paul, and in the moment we meet him there is tension in the room that pounds its way into the next sequence, completed with Scorsese's signature seamlessness, but faster. He measures our breaths with the camera's punching movements, and in Paul's sudden and awkward circumstances you exhale in a puff of laughter. How could he manage to lose the keys to his apartment to the owner of a bar who is married to the woman who just committed suicide after her failed date with he himself? It happens quickly before your eyes as if it were one long shot, full of exhaustion, and full of grace.
Sunday, September 17, 2006
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