Re: Track the Films You Watch (2009)
Epic/Religious Month Day #10:
04/10/09:
URSUS IN THE VALLEY OF THE LIONS (Carlo Ludovico Bragaglia, 1961) 
Though featuring many an unlikely plot point (starting off with Ursus as a baby – even if it was the third of his adventures to be released within the same year!), this emerges as a slightly above-average
peplum in which the muscular hero is once again played by the affable Ed Fury. He is the heir to some throne, obviously coveted by the villain of the piece – Alberto Lupo – and thus the target of assassination; amazingly, he not only survives this but is also brought up, Tarzan-like, by a bunch of lions (hence the title). Amusingly, though he seems to have effortlessly mastered the faculty of speech regardless, Ursus is blissfully ignorant of etiquette since he sees nothing wrong in taking a dip into a stream while the protesting (and obviously annoyed) heroine – a girl, intended for a slave market, whom he helps – is bathing! Special mention, then, is given in the credits to the animal wrangler involved, Orlando Orfei, presumably a relative of the film’s villainnss Moira Orfei (who was actually a staple of such fare: as was the case with the first URSUS, she has to contend with another girl over the love of a man, even if the object of her affection here is Lupo). Surprisingly, the film maintains a fairly sober tone throughout – with little concessions to the genre’s usual pitfalls (there is no insufferable comic relief, for instance)…but we still get the villain’s unconvincing demise at the hands of Simba, Ursus’ favorite lioness (elsewhere it also bonds with the heroine’s snowy-white mutt), and some unintentionally hilarious action scenes: Gerard Herter, Lupo’s henchman, is hit squarely on the head with a stone-block the hero has dislodged from his prison-cell and lives (at least long enough to be devoured by a creepy pack of hungry hyenas); a soldier is thrown into a fire during a scuffle, rises up blazing, trips and falls flat on his face; a number of soldiers are commissioned to demolish a cave, the meeting-place of rebels, only to end up buried within it themselves, etc. In the end, the film provides standard excitements but proves mildly entertaining nevertheless (if hardly essential); again like URSUS, we find some notable names among the credits – not just director Bragaglia but composer Riz Ortolani and assistant director Ruggero Deodato(!).
04/10/09:
NOAH’S ARK (Michael Curtiz, 1928)
The film which cemented versatile director Curtiz’ reputation in Hollywood is a part-Talkie spectacular which, despite the title, is not entirely concerned with the famous holocaust depicted in the Old Testament. Rather, it purports to parallel the Deluge with the massive losses in human life incurred during the so-called Great War; in that respect, NOAH’S ARK survives not merely as a solid example of late 1920s film craftsmanship but also as a heartfelt morality play delineating the long-lasting effect of that particular combat upon society – pity that, for all its good intentions, a second (and infinitely harsher) World War would be waged in the space of just 11 years! Anyway, to get back to the topic at hand, I knew the film enjoyed a considerable reputation among epic productions of the Silent era but, aware of the fact that the Biblical tale was only illustrated in the form of a vision (lasting for about 40 of its 100 minutes) embedded within the main plot, I had expected to be disappointed by it. However, we open on a remarkably elaborate prologue (superbly-edited in the contemporary Soviet style) and the WWI sequences themselves are well done (featuring even a spectacular train crash early on) and prove surprisingly absorbing in their own right (especially the interaction between the four protagonists – Noah Beery, Dolores Costello, George O’Brien and Guinn “Big Boy” Williams). Incidentally, all four (and a few others) play additional roles in the Noah story; this section is done on a truly grand scale, in clear imitation of Cecil B. DeMille (with a couple of obvious nods to THE TEN COMMANDMENTS [1923] which, coincidentally, I watched 2 days later!) – with the flood itself still highly impressive after all these years and undoubtedly deserving to be ranked among the finest sequences in all of cinema (though controversy still rages about the apparent disregard for the consideration and safety of those involved – with three extras reportedly drowning and several more getting injured during its shooting)!
04/10/09:
HE WHO MUST DIE (Jules Dassin, 1957)
Rather than go the usual Hollywood biblical epic route, this Good Friday I opted for an alternative “Communist” view of the tale of the Christ via 2 European films made by exiled American film-makers: Edward Dmytryk’s British-made GIVE US THIS DAY aka CHRIST IN CONCRETE (1949) and the French film under review – both of which, incidentally, also share blacklisted screenwriter Ben Barzman. Naturally, neither of these movies is located in Roman-ruled Judea or features crucifixions and, in fact, they are allegorical in nature and modernized in setting. Celebrated Greek novelist Nikos Kazantzakis – on whose book “Christ Recrucified” Dassin’s film was based – would die the same year HE WHO MUST DIE was released and is himself perhaps best-known for another controversial work on similar lines, “The Last Temptation Of Christ”, that was filmed much later by fervently Catholic film-maker Martin Scorsese. Set in 1921 in a small Greek village under Turkish rule during Passion Week, the film deals with the moral dilemma caused by the arrival in town of a group of Greek fugitives led by their priest (Jean Servais) – the survivors of a nearby village that was burned to the ground by the Turks. The majority of the townspeople, headed by the fearsome local priest Grigoris (Fernand Ledoux) and the wealthy mayor (Gert Frobe), refuse them any help lest they be judged traitors by the Turks, but a handful are sympathetic to the fugitives’ plight: Maurice Ronet (as Forbe’s hesitant son), Melina Mercouri (as the popular local widow-whore) and Pierre Vanek (as a simple shepherd in Frobe’s employ). HE WHO MUST DIE marked a departure for Dassin who, leaving behind his tried-and-tested
noir territory in which he had excelled until then, goes straight for Art in this powerful but heavy-going drama. The villagers are deep in preparation for the annual Passion pageant on Good Friday (a tradition that is still highly popular in my neck of the woods – in fact, I had an uncle and a good friend of mine who both used to take part in local representations of this sort many years ago!) when the harassed band of countrymen pass through their town; needless to say, the resulting heated confrontations makes everybody forget all about the play but the Christ saga soon enacts itself in real-life in the person of the stuttering shepherd (who, unsurprisingly, had been the one chosen to portray Jesus in the first place). The reteaming of Servais and Carl Mohner (as a chief member of the fugitive group) – both from Dassin’s legendary caper RIFIFI (1955) – could not have been more different, nor (the future Mrs. Dassin) Melina Mercouri’s portrayal here – despite the surface similarities – of the proverbial “whore with a heart of gold” than that of her most famous role in Dassin’s popular hit, NEVER ON SUNDAY (1960)! This unholy mélange of patriotism and sensuality – not to mention Communist solidarity and Christian hypocrisy – cannot fail to give rise to impressive sequences and performances (particularly a white-haired Frobe and the enigmatic ‘Blond Christ’ Vanek) along the way but also, at least, one major deficiency: the villagers’ avowed fear of Turkish retaliation if they aid the fugitives – especially as displayed via the overstated performance of Ledoux as a vindictive Patriarch – rings false when set against the laid-back personality of the Turkish Agha (Gregoire Aslan), perennially clad in pyjamas, seemingly uninterested in anything that happens around him and perfectly happy (until the finale, that is) to let his Christian subjects fight it out amongst themselves! Likewise, the melodramatic tussles over Mercouri’s favors, between the awkward, pacifist Vanek and the robust, violent Roger Hanin, seem intended to give the film an extra touch of Greek tragedy more than anything else. Nevertheless, I am grateful to have been provided with an opportunity to check out this elusive Dassin film, and also very glad that it was by way of such a (surprisingly) pristine widescreen copy.
Epic/Religious Month Day #11:
04/11/09:
GIVE US THIS DAY (Edward Dmytryk, 1949)
It took me a long while to purchase this one (by which time, most of the output by DVD-producing company All Day Entertainment – with whose president, film historian David Kalat, I had the pleasure of corresponding on a number of occasions – had gone out-of-print) and some more before I actually sat down to check it out. Having finally watched this, I must say that the mainly gushing reviews which I had read on the Internet upon the DVD’s first appearance – citing the film as a neglected masterwork (though not quite director Dmytryk’s best, in my opinion) were very much accurate; incidentally, the main feature bears the official title given above rather than that attached to the DVD i.e. CHRIST IN CONCRETE, actually the name of Pietro Di Donato’s original source novel. Knowing of its pedigree – Dmytryk having famously been one of The Hollywood Ten, jailed for refusing to appear before HUAC (the House Un-American Activities Committee) in view of his alleged past Communist leanings – and its theme – the domestic and professional troubles of struggling Italian immigrants in the construction business with a 1920s New York setting – I had expected to be somewhat unenthused by it, but the reverse proved to be the case, thanks largely to Dmytryk’s unerring eye for detail and a handful of naturalistic performances (an achievement which seems all the more remarkable when considering that it was entirely filmed in England with a mostly British cast!). That said, one of the two leads was a genuine Italian – Lea Padovani – and the other an American, fellow victim of the blacklist Sam Wanamaker: both of them are terrific playing husband and wife, though he remains attached to friendly Kathleen Ryan, and their consistently precarious economic situation (exacerbated by the Wall Street crash of 1929) shatters the wife’s dream of owning her own home. Also appearing in the film are Charles Goldner (the old man who actually got the couple together), Bonar Colleano, William Sylvester and George Pastell as Wanamaker’s team-mates at work, Sidney James(!) as another construction operative who harbors ambitions to start his own company and wants the hero to get in on the business with him, and Karel Stepanek as the elderly landlord of the protagonists’ house. In view of its inherent grittiness, unusual compositions (employed during melodramatic passages) and doomed hero, the film has been rightfully likened to the then-prevalent
noir style – in which, as it happens, Dmytryk had already proved himself several times while still employable on his home turf. Despite its generous length (115 minutes) and the occasional Marxist viewpoint (it is clearly stressed that Wanamaker’s downfall transpires because he dared to stand out from the crowd, even if all he wanted was to improve his family’s conditions), the proceedings compel attention all the way through – culminating in the unforgettably harrowing sequence of the hero’s death, engulfed in cement after the weak structure he had been supervising gives out. Regrettably, I did not have time to look into the numerous extras featured on the double-sided “Special Edition” DVD – I had actually made a resolution in this regard at the beginning of the year, but which I am now finding myself increasingly unable to accommodate! In closing, I cannot fail to mention Benjamin Frankel’s superb music score – no wonder that one is even given the option to listen to it in isolation on the All Day disc.
04/11/09:
URSUS IN THE LAND OF FIRE (Giorgio Simonelli, 1963)
This is yet another
peplum with the muscle-bound Ursus for protagonist; of the four I watched during this epic movie marathon, it is perhaps the least – but, by this point, the over-familiarity of the plots (and set-pieces: once again, the hero is made to perform a show of strength involving large animals) had begun to make itself felt! So, we get a usurper to the throne abetted by an ambitious woman (Claudia Mori, future wife of celebrated Italian personality Adriano Celentano) and a deposed princess whom the villain secretly covets; Ursus, too, is once again protector of the peaceful farming community living in the shadow of a mountain housing a volcano (worshipped as a god and guarded by a group of elderly priests). The villain finds both other units in his way and has them decimated – but Ursus, with the help of the princess (both of whom had been led to distrust one another until saner minds prevailed), determines to right the many wrongs committed. As with most examples of its low-brow ilk, the film cannot fail to provide intermittent (albeit unintentional) hilarity: the oddest case involves the hero cowering from a string of arrows (fired by the enemy on horseback) which never come!; a woman engaged in casual conversation with Ursus’ aged(!) sidekick suddenly drops dead, the first victim of an assault on the village; and, when Ursus and the old man are captured and tied to the obligatory grind-stone, it is the latter who is mercilessly whipped in an effort to coax the hero into submission! In the end, the only noteworthy touches here are atypical ones – a jousting tournament(!) in which Ursus fights (and wins) incognito
a` la Robin Hood or GLADIATOR (2000) and the various entrances in the form of weird faces within the volcanic cave itself.
Epic/Religious Month Day #12:
04/12/09:
THE TEN COMMANDMENTS (Cecil B. De Mille, 1923)
This was another Biblical epic from the Silent era which I had long wanted to check out; even so, I had owned the DVD (accompanying the more popular 1956 version of the same events, from the same showman director no less, and which has received countless viewings from yours truly) for some time before I finally got to it. As with the later NOAH’S ARK (1928), virtually watched simultaneously, it seems that film-makers of the time were unsure of the appeal of such religious epics, so that they had to present them within the context of a modern story; still, De Mille’s THE KING OF KINGS (a milestone in itself for being the first and, for a time, only picture to show Jesus’ face) preceded that Michael Curtiz work by a year and its was set exclusively in the time of Christ. In this case, only the first 50 minutes or so are dedicated to the familiar tale involving Moses (needless to say, the dull Theodore Roberts is no match for the stoic Charlton Heston in the remake): the exodus, the parting of the Red Sea, the writing of the tablets and the Golden Calf; these are clearly heavily streamlined in comparison with the almost 4-hour long 1956 THE TEN COMMANDMENTS and, in spite of their obvious care, gargantuan scale and excellent special effects, can feel unsatisfying in that respect...especially when the parallel story is so hokey, unnecessarily inflated and, at the end of the day, somewhat ordinary! The latter sees a Bible-thumping matriarch (which she proudly holds even when posing for a portrait), her two sons and the girl who comes between them: one of the boys (played by Richard Dix) is righteous – and, as his mother claims, engaged in a skill (carpentry) which has produced some notable exponents (alluding naturally to Christ himself) – while the other mocks religion and vows to become somebody by his own merits. Eventually, we find him as a top contractor and, perhaps to make amends, takes it upon himself to build a church; however, to cut costs, he reduces the amount of cement required to make the concrete, with the result that the walls are weak and liable to collapse at any time (coincidentally, the very previous day I watched a film in which a character had faced a similar dilemma – GIVE US THIS DAY aka CHRIST IN CONCRETE [1949]): this ruse is discovered by Dix, appointed “boss-carpeneter” on the project, and he confronts his brother…but, before anything can be done about it, the whole edifice falls on top of the mother who picks just that moment to visit the premises! The morally-corrupt sibling even forsakes his wife (the destitute girl they had taken in and whom Dix relinquished on his account) for an Asian temptress, whom he eventually kills (the only commandment, according to his spouse, not yet broken by him); in the end, the boy gets his come-uppance and Dix can reclaim his lady. While the two sections may seem to jell better than those in NOAH’S ARK, the overall achievement is a lesser one – and not just to it, but THE KING OF KINGS (by the way, Christ makes a ‘cameo’ appearance here towards the end!) and, most importantly, the later version…if still quite worthwhile in itself.
04/12/09:
SIMON BOLIVAR (Alessandro Blasetti, 1969)
To begin with, I had never heard of this one before its late-night screening on Italian TV not too long ago; the sole appraisal I read about it back then gave the film – revolving around the struggle under the titular general to unite the South American countries into repelling the Spanish oppressors – the thumbs down but I have to say that I liked it well enough. Incidentally, it proved distinguished director Blasetti’s swansong – a return to the epic scale of his most famous productions i.e. THE IRON CROWN (1941) and FABIOLA (1948), though certainly not up to them despite effort all round. Maximilian Schell makes a fine, thoughtful lead; he is supported by the likes of Rosanna Schiaffino (as the unfulfilled wife of an enemy officer who becomes romantically involved with Bolivar) and Francisco Rabal (as a peasant leader who, at first, is unwilling to serve under the Venezuelan general but subsequently emerges the most loyal among his allies). As a matter of fact, Schell brings together about 5 different factions – all of whose individual endeavor had proven futile, while as one army they manage to make a considerable dent in the Spanish lines; that said, Bolivar’s zeal (driving the exhausted soldiers on to further conquests) is misconstrued even by his own followers and ends up accused of dictatorial presumptions! Needless to say, the film’s tone is heavily redolent of the revolutionary fervor which marked the latter half of the 1960s: in that respect, one can also detect links with the Spaghetti Western subgenre – particularly in view of a jauntily rousing score by the reliable Carlo Savina. The emphasis here is on impassioned speeches and period detail (the widescreen location photography is a big plus, too) rather than sweeping battle scenes yet, when it has to rely upon them, they are still reasonably well-staged.
Epic/Religious Month Day #13:
04/13/09:
JOAN LUI – MA UN GIORNO NEL PAESE ARRIVO IO DI LUNEDI` (Adriano Celentano, 1985)
Many an Italian pop singer dabbled in cinema (there was something of a boom in the 1960s, though few if any seemed to cater beyond their strictest fan-base) but, past that initial phase, Adriano Celentano harbored ambitions to make his own films (writing, directing, obviously scoring and even editing his own material!). Curiously enough, I came across 4 of his vehicles practically simultaneously: 2 of which were helmed by notable directors, Pietro Germi’s SERAFINO (1968) and Pasquale Festa Campanile’s RUGANTINO (1973), and a couple more – the picture under review and the earlier YUPPI DU (1975; which has recently been re-edited and shown at the last Venice Film Festival!) – he made himself. This oddly-named movie (the long title translating to JOAN HIM – BUT ONE DAY IN THE COUNTRY I WILL ARRIVE ON A MONDAY!) is actually the first I watched of them – included in my epic/religious marathon due to its Christ allegory. The star, of course, is the Messiah figure who, as a sign of the times (though hardly an original concept: see Peter Watkins’ PRIVILEGE [1967]), imparts his message – after the preliminary consternation – via the established media of our age. Even so, unless one understands the phenomenon – which endures to this day – of the wiry Celentano himself (a combination of quasi-neanderthal features and an equally distinctive raspy voice), one may well end up baffled by this whole self-indulgent enterprise…especially since the character is never seen to do much of anything (for instance, he monopolizes the airwaves, consequently notching up record TV ratings, but ends up making just a split-second silent appearance!). The songs are typical 1980s electro-pop but still bearing the star’s particular signature, especially the number performed in a discotheque named “The Temple” sporting deliberately gibberish lyrics set to a catchy rhythm! A still attractive Claudia Mori (Celentano’s real-life wife) is featured as a Communist female reporter, Marthe Keller plays his long-suffering agent and the character of a chauffeur-turned-assistant is played by the bespectacled (and most prominent) member of a stand-up comic trio dubbed “I Tre Tre”. Of course, within such a framework, there also has to be a corresponding figure of evil – represented here, albeit not too convincingly, by an Asian crime boss: actually, he first appears as a lame person cured by Joan Lui at the aforementioned disco, subsequently kidnaps the singer along with his two closest collaborators to his vast estate (before whom they even get to sing and dance!), has a penchant for speaking in Celentano’s own voice (to mirror the dual nature of a man’s soul) and is ultimately metamorphosed into a snake (a creepily effective scene) at the Armageddon-type climax. While I cannot say that the film has made me want to rush into checking out the star’s other work, being more interesting for what it attempted to do than the uneven achievement in itself, there is no denying that it is arresting in spots (thanks to the kinetic editing style and the odd surreal image like the nightmare sequence featuring a cross-bearing, long-haired and bearded Celentano!) and the star’s own magnetic/enigmatic personality is still enough of an incentive for one to keep watching.
Epic/Religious Month Day #14:
04/14/09:
JOAN THE WOMAN (Cecil B. De Mille, 1917)
One of the most famous American Silent productions is also among the first to deal with the much-filmed subject of Joan of Arc – treated over the years in both an elaborate and intimate manner. De Mille being De Mille, this particular version naturally takes the former path – even drawing parallels with the ongoing 1914-18 war (in the bookend sequence, a British soldier is inspired by Joan’s sacrifice to undertake a suicide mission). Incidentally, this aspect necessitates a certain sympathy for the English – resulting in a tentative yet unconvincing romance between the heroine and, of all people, the young man leading the enemy forces facing her! Geraldine Farrar is an earnest but clearly over-age and rather ordinary-looking Joan, while the figure of Bishop Cauchon – whom she spites and ends up on the receiving end of his ire during the subsequent trial – inevitably represents the archaic prototype of the hissable villain; he is abetted in his wickedness by a so-called mad monk (who eventually repents) and an enemy agent dubbed “The Spider” posing as the uncrowned King’s jester – with the latter, always depicted as something of an idiot, being easily influenced by their wiles and proving rather unworthy of Joan’s championing. Of course, the film – a hefty but rarely boring 137 minutes – illustrates the most significant events in the exploits of the Maid Of Orleans: receiving her spiritual calling via symbolic crucifixion on a fleur-de-lys lit against the back wall of her room (she later experiences visions of a radiant sword and a black horseman alerting her to impending doom), her military campaign (by way of one lengthy and surprisingly fierce battle) and her martyrdom (though the hearing itself – around which would be built some of the best versions of the story – is rather hastily resolved with the threat of torture). In retrospect, this De Mille effort can be seen to have retained its essential relevance (despite its obvious age) when compared to other accounts of the life of Saint Joan (of which this is the eight example that I have seen). Incidentally, being the 50th anniversary of the director’s passing, I have managed to acquire a fair number of his works (some of which had thus far eluded me) – including two more well-regarded Silent dramas, namely THE CHEAT (1915) and THE WHISPERING CHORUS (1918) – and which I now hope to check out in the not-too-distant future.
