secondtake

The choice to make the movie all a withdrawn color palette, not quite black and white, might seem intriguing (it looks nice) but it summarizes the whole movie which can't quite decide what it wants to be or do.

The start is quite a rush of cliches--the madhouse, the shipwreck, the gory death, the guileless woman. And simple carelessness, like the man who just dragged himself from the sea into a cave isn't even wet. Really?

What saves the movie slightly is Langella, who plays Dracula with a subtle charm and gravity. Olivier, when he shows up, plays one of those roles he likes where he puts on an exaggerated accent, but it's all a bit silly.

There is an attempt at historic effect--a hair past the late-1800s as Stoker (the writer) might expect, but close enough. And in a way this commitment makes the movie drag a bit. I would have let loose and think drama first.

Well, okay, there is the "dramatic" scene in the middle with some color, but I say no more. It's meant to be a climax, literally, but it hasn't been supported in the hour leading up to it.

Sloppy, sloppy movie making. A shame, because the roots are here for a decent rendition of a great story.

There is something radical about the structure of the movie and its self-referencing, a kind of early post-modern twist, that is energizing. And there is Audrey Hepburn, of course, who has her own way of lifting a movie up. William Holden always seems to be trying too hard, however, and it's his movie more than anyone's. The long sequences of him explaining the scenes to Hepburn in their flat are tedious, even with some sincerely good acting.

The cameos by Dietrich and others are fun (Sinatra singing a quick ditty), and the Tony Curtis part is spot on. But in all the movie has very little ambition. Really, you say, what is the point? All this construction and artifice for nothing? For the effect? For watching Holden try to be something greater than he (after all) actually is, as an actor?

Disappointing, and yet interesting for anyone interested in the period. Certainly Hollywood is struggling to be fresh and new, and this is one curious attempt.

West Side Story (2021)

We can't forget that "West Side Story" is a musical. It's a fantasy, a Shakespearean vehicle for sparkling song and dance. The first movie version, from 1961, knew that and emphasized that. The theater of the so-called tough characters is made lyrical and anti-realistic right from the first scene, snapping their fingers, going around the chalk drawing, moving with fluidity down the street. In the newer version, there is still dance (and snapping of fingers, briefly), but the mis-en-scene is about late 1950s reality.

Reality? That ends up being the raison-etre for the remake, actually. I had to laugh when I read that the war zone appearance of the opening scenes was to make the film about gentrification. So director Spielberg and writer Kushner want to give a more accurate snapshot of post-war New York City, and Puerto Rican migration? In a musical?

So for all the great effort here, and some truly inspired performances, there is a steady undermining of the real core of the film, the fantasy world of a musical set in a semi-rough neighborhood in mid-century Manhattan. A quick way to see the difference in how the films feel is to see the first one as a Broadway play adapted to a Technicolor screen, and the second one as a Broadway script worked into a new kind of movie. Spielberg's version is trying, very hard, to do something different. For me the whole effort is burdened by Kushner's politicizing, but it does have a more authentic handling of the cast, Maria most of all. And the inclusion of Spanish without subtitles is great, though the constant on-screen reminders to speak "in English" feels like a tired device.

What about the photography? There is a lot of exciting moving camera. It's a complex filming plan, heavily edited but with precision. The choice of lighting is fitting for their larger goals-leaning into realistic kinds of light and color, often subdued (though never dull), unlike the deeply rich and truly gorgeous (and not so realistic) palette of the 1961 movie. The cinematographer, Janusz Kaminski, chose to follow recent trends in emphasizing, and even introducing, excessive lens flare (including those anamorphic horizontal blue lines), and once you notice it (which is right away for me) it becomes obstructive. This kind of New Hollywood thinking (remember, Spielberg is New Hollywood, coming out of the late 1960s) is often about showing the flaws so that the scenes feel more real.

But again, this isn't a realistic story. Sure, a flare in the lens now and then is part of our cinematic language, but here it becomes a stylistic watermark, showing up everywhere like unexpected stains on a color photograph. The 1961 version is just barely pre-New Hollywood, and the visual feeling is polished and perfect, a look that isn't much in favor now, but which truly suited that production.