Made in England: The Films of Powell and Pressburger

This isn't the first time that Martin Scorsese has paid homage to his cinematic heroes, Powell & Pressburger. The BBC has broadcast the legendary New Yorker talking about this brilliant partnership and I'm pretty sure said broadcast awakened my own enthusiasm for their movies. But this, Made in England, is a final, richer expression of love, from a director in his dotage, for his great forebears. It even shows shot by shot examples of where Scorsese believes his own movies are influenced by The Archers' seminal example.

We learn how Powell was an English director who cut his teeth on grand, silent cinema productions made in France, and Pressburger was an emigre Hungarian Jew fleeing the Nazis, his head full of ideas for stories. Their meeting was a meeting of minds and ambition, and it led to a sequence of brilliant masterpieces, mostly appreciated, but not all appreciated, by the audiences and critics. Their films began during wartime and had to receive approval from The Ministry of Information. Scorsese describes how bold P&P were, even in their propagandist projects. He speaks lovingly of the impact P&P movies had upon him and his friends, even when they could only be seen in grainy b/w on television, sometimes cut to satisfy the prudery of the day. There was an undeniable magic to it.

Powell and Pressburger were like the Lennon & McCartney of cinema, a short-lived but mutually inspiring partnership. That's my simile by the way, not Scorsese's.

Made in England shows plenty from their best known movies, and clips from various others I'd never heard of, including a tasty little drama called The Small Back Room. Powell, once his partnership with Pressburger was over, made Peeping Tom, denigrated in its day, acclaimed as a masterpiece more recently. "But when do the English ever appreciate their great men?" asks Powell towards the end of the documentary. It's an old problem. One is not a prophet in one's own country. Even the greatest artists can't guarantee financing when the moneymen are merely bean counters.

I found it very moving, hearing the story of how the young Scorsese went in search of his hero (Powell), rescued him from obscurity, and brought him back into the world of clapperboards, gaffers and script editing. Theirs was a friendship born of mutual respect, as indeed was that of Powell and Pressburger. Love and respect. How much we need these things, ever onward, hither and yon.

Please go and see this movie. Few will. Be one of the few.

I've seen a few Powell & Pressburger films, not as many as Martin Scorsese I suspect. Here in Made In England he rightly waxes lyrical about the legendary filmmakers and British cinema, with a dizzying display of archive, some apparently rather rare, although I'm no expert to distinguish. It starts as much Scorsese's story as P&P's (forgive the abbreviation). He talks of obsessively watching films like The Tales of Hoffman on black and white American TV. I'll admit I struggle with that film, but little Martin loved it. I guess what I'm looking for here, is letting Scorsese tell his origin story through these films and find the films that I've been missing. The controversial Peeping Tom (technically just Powell) and the operatic The Red Shoes both look like a must see, but I'm thankful I've seen many of the others featured. Like The 49th Parallel, made during the war, its propaganda but made in the most beautifully cinematic way. It's essentially a film buff talking about films for other film buffs. I doubt this would catch the attention of a particularly wide audience, but it should really. It's a compelling story. Neither Micheal Powell nor Emeric Pressburger had easy starts, but both passionate and eager about film, once together, each gave the other the strength to succeed. In an era of defined roles, their partnership appears to have been a baffling mystery to many, but essentially Emeric wrote, Micheal directed and they both produced, and thanks to the success of films like The 49th Parallel, they made what they wanted. Films like The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp. A brilliant post war film that annoyed Winston Churchill, "Such a wonderful leader, but he just wasn't a good film critic". Pressburger is right, Blimp is an absolute masterpiece and certainly one of my favourites. It's a delight to hear how Scorsese talks about it like an old friend. Watching clips of their films like this, it throws into light their repeated use of the same actors. They too become like old friends. Roger Livesey pops up a lot, sometimes as the lead, other times as supporting like in A Matter of Life and Death, another epic piece of cinema and Deborah Kerr, again from Blimp and later Black Narcissus. There's lots of fun parallels drawn between P&P and Scorsese's work, as he hammers home his fandom. There's no punches pulled though as P&P hit troubled waters with studios... and each other. It's a functional documentary, it doesn't need to be anything more. Its aim is to shine a light on the life and work of Powell & Pressburger and it does that wonderfully.

I'm a long-time admirer of the films of Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger and so it seems is Martin Scorsese as he amply demonstrates in this warm and informed tribute to the duo. The first film of theirs I ever recall seeing was the wonderfully imaginative "A Matter of Life and Death", still one of my all-time favourites but of course there are so many other movies in their canon to admire and here Scorsese takes us through each of them in a linear fashion as well as imparting the usual biographical information about them.

I'm not quite sure why his commentary couldn't just have been done by voiceover which would have saved us the numerous static, cutaway shots to Marty sat in a cinema seat gazing intently at us as if the fourth wall was the movie-screen itself, other than to show us that it was indeed the renowned Mr Scorsese strewing pearls of wisdom our way, reinforcing his presence in so doing. I've not pegged him as being self-aggrandizing before so I'm going to discount that possibility too but I guess the producers thought it might have helped sell the movie a bit more when you can see as well as hear the esteemed contemporary director doing his stuff. Maybe I'm being too severe on him, in not conceding the personal nature of the project to him and also given he was personal friends with Powell for the last 16 years of the latter's life.

Another carp would be Scorsese unnecessarily referencing his own movies to the point where we're shown clips from his own films supposedly inspired by P & P. I'm not that big a fan of Scorsese's work and didn't appreciate him leveraging his own movies into the narrative to perhaps shine some unrequired reflected glory onto the Archers own productions, believe me, they don't need it. And just one more moan for the road, I didn't often hear him mention by name many of the wonderful actors employed in the various films.

Anyway, once I got past all the "All about Marty" vibes, I was able to really enjoy revisiting these marvellous films, some of them among the best ever in the medium and you can tell he's watched each and every one of them and written every word he speaks. There are welcome archive interview clips of Michael and Emeric as well as some of Powell's home movies - especially the endearing man-about-town clip of him at an advanced age in contemporary Hollywood and numerous stills photos of the two. The clips from the movies themselves are judiciously selected and aptly analyzed by Mr S.

I guess if the actual presence of the mighty Marty caused a few more people to catch this fine documentary then I suppose I can park my aforementioned reservations.

I just hope the viewer's next move was to hunt down a Powell and Pressburger film and not one by Scorsese as they'd be far better off if they did the former.

What makes the World Cinema documentaries of Martin Scorsese - American Movies, Val Lewton, Elia Kazan, and Voyage to Italy - so special is how he doesn't pretend that he can cover everything (though he certainly hits all the major beats that he can). He can't pretend to, so it all comes back to what his world was as a child; kid with asthma, couldn't play or do much in extracurricular physical activities, so there were two things he could manage: going to the movies, and watching movies on TV.

It's through this prism as well as the incalcubale influence that these works had on him that he shows us and talks about, with an enthusiasm and passion that makes you feel like you got a seat in a film class that lasts only as long as a feature (though the American and Italian docs run 4 hours - short time when you think on it), and this film, about the "Archers" Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger, is another in that pantheon.

Made in England is a film that is more than just a documentary about movies or the making of them (though it is that). You feel like he was changed by what the bravery and virtuosity of art - and as is detailed here the love and bond between the two creators (Powell mostly was on set and directed, Pressburger did more or the writing, and they both produced equally), which is itself an inspiration for creators. And as a difference from the other documentaries/history lessons, this time there's a friendship that Powell also had with the man and that love for his mind and heart as well as his work comes through completely.

Above all else is the sense that not only do you not necessarily have to have seen most or even all of the films by these filmmakers to appreciate what Scorsese is detailiny here - though I imagine having familiarity at least with The Red Shoes or Black Narcissus would help, and they are not hard to find these days - the documentary makes the case for what, we are told, was Michael Powell's mantra: one art in all (if I'm paraphrasing that forgive me before you throw me in movie critic jail). That is to say film in its peak potential can and should have all the arts working in unison: theater, painting, dance, choreography, literature, poetry, mysticism and spirituality all mingling in films like Canterbury Tale or, of course, Tales of Hoffmann.

The examples of experimentation and surrealism, how ambitiously the filmmakers kept pushing what could be done in the medium while not only keeping in the spirit and practice of the hallmarks of Silent-era film (telling as much as possible visually, over dialog, which isn't to say there isn't great dialog in there films because I Know Where I'm Going, enough said), are stellar and really point to how there was real joy in the fantasies and realities that Powell and Pressburger ventured into. And it's just a superb chronicle of how careers evolve and how one film will lead to another or then the next a sharp 180 turn has to be made (ie Red Shoes to Small Black Room, you almost can't believe they're by the same directors but the heart is the constant between the two films).

You understand completely how art and experimentation can thrive best when Those With the Power at the studios (and sometimes surely producers, ie Rank and Selznick) can make or break a career depending on how open or closed off they are to an approach to art; sometimes that's due to the circumstances of a time period (so the contexts of England in WW2 vs Post War and then into the 1960s - the forgotten part and the rediscovery in the later decades - is deftly explored so it becomes also a story about how, to quote of all things something I read once in a book about MTV, art is what you get away with).

What I mean to say is Scorsese, in his analysis that is down to showing the nuts and bolts of filmmaking - how color is used so daringly and vibrantly (I got goosebumps showing my personal favorite P&P, Matter of Life and Death); the choices of pre recorded music on set for sequences; planning so meticulous even eye movements are choreographed to the nines - he expresses what Cinema as a whole can express life, loves, rivalries, war, betrayal, capital O Obsession, the human need for control (and the lack of it), and materialism and how spirituality is in so many parts of life, as the ultimate art-form.

In other words, Scorsese uses specific examples; down to how the decisions in showing (sometimes uncomfortable) points of view; choices of actors (with Deborah Kerr sometimes multiple parts in one film); points that challenge our empathy with a character (49th Parallel), are one level that can't be separated from the pure joy that the Archers displayed in film after film (until, sadly, that dissipated).

Martin Scorsese has been trying to get people to know and like the films of Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger since the 60s when he was a film student at NYU. He actually discovered his first Archer films as a child, seeing The Tales of Hoffman on television and The Red Shoes in theaters with his father, but it wasn't until he became a success himself with the release of Mean Streets that he discovered that Michael Powell was still alive. Searching out the retired, English filmmaker at his small cottage in Kent, Scorsese is the singular force behind the rediscovery of Powell's films decades after he had made his pair of Australian films, and this documentary is probably the furthest that appreciation is going to reach.

Told by Scorsese who narrates the entire documentary, the story of Michael Powell in particular and his professional relationship with Emeric Pressburger is cast through the lens of Scorsese's own experience, opening with him as a child and his appreciation of some 19th century opera on television. Interspersed, Scorsese covers basic biography of Powell and Pressburger individually before really digging into their careers.

The documentary really is a primer for audiences, an introduction to the strange, otherworldly visions of the Archers who, as Scorsese put it, were experimental filmmakers in the British studio system. Having just gone through all of it (except for Pressburger's Twice Upon a Time, his only sole directing credit that I couldn't find a copy of anywhere), I got swept away in Scorsese's telling. I can't talk about how it would affect the uninitiated, but I have to assume that the strange sights and Scorsese's descriptions of their techniques, effects, and influence, especially on his own work, would interest those newly discovering the works of the British and Austro-Hungarian team.

It's interesting to note the differences of opinions that Scorsese and I have about the work. For instance, Scorsese considers The Red Shoes to be one of the greatest films ever made while I think it is merely very, very good. Or that he calls Gone to Earth a gothic masterpiece and I found it rather dull. Or that he considers both Oh...Rosalinda! And Ill Met by Moonlight to be disappointments, but I found them quite competent entertainments. Which is to say that while our opinions differed, I still loved hearing him talk about all of it.

If I have disappointments, it's that he skips over some professional details that I need answers to (I'll have to just read Powell's autobiography to get them, I think), namely around how Powell managed to pull together the production of The Queen's Guards after the horrendous reaction to Peeping Tom, or how The Boy Who Turned Yellow exists at all. It's understandable that Scorsese's focus is on Powell's successes rather than his failures, namely the artistic successes since he spends a goodly amount of time talking about Peeping Tom, a personal favorite of his. Still, with Scorsese's personal connection to Powell, a few seconds to talk about these things that concern me and no one else on the planet would have been nice.

It was interesting to hear of Powell's influences beyond what I found to be the obvious of Lubitsch (like in His Lordship) and Hitchcock (like in Crown v. Stevens and several others) to his earliest work with Rex Ingram, including clips from The Four Horsemen that emphasized the otherworldly approach to cinema that obviously Powell reformed in his own way through what he called "compositional film", the combination of sight and sound with an emphasis on synching the action on screen to the music, something he started with Black Narcissus and embraced fully across the entirety of the film with The Tales of Hoffman. It's a term that I couldn't have come up with myself but which fits this kind of idealized form of Powell's work rather completely.

I also really liked how Scorsese and the documentary's director, David Hinton, were able to include a fair number of clips from Scorsese's own work to highlight the influence of Powell's approach to making movies, Scorsese emphasizing the use of movement within a frame and editing to music. The largest clips come from Raging Bull, but the parallel between the obsessive characters like Lermontov in The Red Shoes or Mark in Peeping Tom with some of Scorsese's own characters like Travis Bickle in Taxi Driver or even May from The Age of Innocence helps deepen the connection between the two men's work.

And, of course, there's the actual personal connections starting with the energetic young director of Mean Streets searching out Powell in the English countryside, glad to hear that anyone would be interested in his films at all, much less a rising New York director from America. It continues on with Scorsese helping him find work in Los Angeles, the marriage between Powell and Scorsese's editor Thelma Schoonmaker, and ending with behind-the-scenes clips of Powell on the set of The King of Comedy as Scorsese talks about how Powell, the older, more mature, creative voice in his life was able to help him through tough times. He never talks about Powell's death, almost making it feel like Powell is still alive in some way, and it seems appropriate considering how Scorsese's entire efforts around Powell are to bring the man and his work alive to a world that had forgotten and abandoned him.

Really, the personal touch from Scorsese is what gives the film that wonderful emotional connection. There's talking about how Powell and Pressburger's work was great, and then there's Scorsese talking about a friend whose work he greatly admired.

This is a wonderful documentary and introduction to the work of The Archers for those who haven't seen it, and it's also a wonderful bit of catharsis for those who have.