tom.hamilton's reviews

Michael Powell made movies in Germany?

Yes, and here's the proof.

Herzog Blaubeard's Burg or Bluebeard's Castle is a real oddity in Michael Powell's filmography. Shot in West Germany in 1963 and produced privately by singer Norman Foster, Powell became involved through the intervention of the film's production designer Hein Heckroth, who had designed some of the best Powell & Pressburger productions. For Powell it was a late chance to return to the kind of `total cinema' he and Pressburger dreamt of in their glory days at Rank, but which was impossible to create in the changed climate of the 60's. Powell's career had been derailed by a series of failed projects and the controversy of Peeping Tom. Moreover a new generation of `social realist' directors were the key players on the scene - and incredible as it might seem - Powell was now seen as an almost embarrassing throwback to outmoded values. But he wasn't about to give up and was already organising productions in Australia and directing for TV.

Still, this was the only really distinctive project he got to complete and thus it's all the more unfortunate that due to legal entanglements the film has rarely been screened outside of West Germany and is one of the most elusive titles for the hard core Powell fan.

I finally saw the film yesterday and I can report that it's a real treat. Although Heckroth and his students were responsible for the highly stylized and creative look to the piece, all materials used are synthetic, the camera work and intensity of this is pure Powell. In fact it's a total return to form.

Such a small scale piece requires great performers and both are well up to the task. Norman Foster makes a striking Bluebeard (although strangely his beard is actually auburn) and Anna Raquel Satre is a very effective Judith. Both give fine intelligent performances although Powell always thought Foster's performance was lacking in passion.

In it's darkness and other worldly beauty the film is a logical extension to The Red Shoes and Tales of Hoffman. Working in Technicolor for the first time in some years Powell creates some truly startling images, using transparent sets and back projection to give the film a magical multi layered feel.

It's all sung (in German), although apparently an English dubbed version exists, and although I'm not an opera fan, the Bartok score is quite powerful and brooding.

Just as an additional; comment to one of the earlier reviews - Channel 4 in England did show the original 1929 version of this film in the late 1980's. The print was in excellent shape and the lack of music did not greatly harm the film. Unfortunately although I taped it at the time I've since erased it and the public domain copy I bought later is the 1966 re-dubbed and cut version - which is not as good.

History paints Erich Von Stroheim as the great misunderstood genius, the `footage fetishist' whose grandiose films were too ahead of their time & too ambitious for producers with their `nickel and dime' mentalities. Irving Thalberg emerges as a major villain in this saga, sacking him first from Universal in the midst of shooting Merry Go Round, then hacking apart his masterpiece Greed over at MGM before sacking him again from The Merry Widow. By 26/7 Von Stroheim was running out of major studios to work for. Fortunately Merry Widow was a hit and he won backing from Pat Powers at Paramount for a two part epic critique of royalty. Only the first part survives, an executive changeover at Paramount occurred and new boss, B.P. Schulberg, took fright at the expense and failure of Part 1 and quickly dumped Part 2 on the European market where it vanished permanently. Von Stroheim was ostracized by the major studios and after two further abortive projects (Queen Kelly and Walking Down Broadway) he never directed again.

Whilst it's impossible not to feel sympathy with a man whose vision was too much for the industry of his time, the films themselves are often overloaded with details and appear stiff and pedantic when compared with the contemporary work of Vidor, Murnau, Lubitsch, Von Sternberg or DeMille. A good example of this is the scene where Fay Wray first sees Von Stroheim's prince. Partly filmed in 2-color Technicolor, this is a pleasure on the eyes, but an incident which should play out in 3 or 4 minutes is here stretched out to about 15. That would be fine if it was an isolated incidence or a dramatic high point, but this is the pacing Von Stroheim employs throughout. Whilst the result is impressive and strangely hypnotic, `Von Stroheim' time feels much slower than real time and the two hours of this film felt closer to three. Mannered as this is in a silent film, this style would've been painful indeed if attempted in sound.

Von Stroheim's direction reminds me of the theatrical producer Gordon Craig who in the early 20th century attempted to reproduce realism on stage with fully plumbed and working interior sets, real trees, gravel and soil for outside settings etc, even utilising giant tanks of water in which to stage shipboard scenes. Real objects are on stage, yes. but doesn't this miss the point of an audience engaging with players and text to create their own realism? Another result of this is an oddly dehumanizing one, as our attention is distracted from the interplay of characters by the piling on of detail. That for me is the basic problem with Von Stroheim Not to say Von Stroheim wasn't a great film maker, as Greed definitely proves. But I can't help feeling the cutting helped Greed more than hurt it. The recent TCM restoration, while fascinating and something to be grateful for, only serves to illustrate this, and in Wedding March we see just how indulgent the Von could become.

Choosing himself as leading man didn't help either. In The Merry Widow, John Gilbert was able to engage the audience through his charm and charisma. However here, Von Stroheim's impoverished Prince looks rather villainous and appears both cold hearted and kinky - not an endearing combination. He mostly gives a statue-like performance and only Fay Wray, vibrantly fresh and beautiful, engages us emotionally.

Admittedly the story becomes more gripping in the last half hour or so, and the ending (a surprisingly bitter one) made me wish the 2nd Part had survived.

It's definitely worth seeing, both as cinema and for what it tells us of this fascinating figure, but once is enough.

I'd never heard of this film before other than a footnote in Bela Lugosi's filmography until I read Richard Barrios' excellent A Song in the Dark. In a chapter detailing some of the horrendous musical disasters Warners launched on an unsuspecting public in 1930 Viennese Nights stood out like an oasis of quality. I was intrigued and went to some lengths to get hold of a copy which I finally watched for the first time about a month ago in a copy that left a lot to be desired. There was a lot of drop out, especially in the first hour, so it was something of an effort to get involved in this bittersweet romance.

That I did and that in the end the quality of the copy didn't matter is a real tribute to this film. In fact though I started watching expecting a mildly entertaining museum piece, by the finale there were tears in my eyes and I couldn't stop humming the melodies for days afterwards.

Everything about this works beautifully, the storyline, though nothing new is here performed with such sincerity that any predictability is unimportant. The performances from Alexander Gray and Vivienne Segal (finally given a worthwhile vehicle) and the rest of the cast are well nigh perfect, the songs are both lovely, haunting and actually express the emotions perfectly. For once the music is welcome. Alan Crosland's direction is elegant and inventive - in it's use of sound light and shadow, and the different periods as we move from 1880 to 1930 are perfectly evoked. Also the 2 color Technicolor (so far as I can judge) is restrained and very pleasing.

For Bela fans, his role as an Ambassador is very brief and consists of no more than half a dozen lines. However he does have a nice moment watching the opera when he purrs `Beau-ti-ful music.. Beau-ti-ful ladies.'!!!

It's a real shame this film is so under appreciated. UCLA have produced a wonderful restoration (which played at the National Film Theatre here in England last month) so maybe film fans Stateside can lobby TCM Stateside to screen it. (It's not listed as being in their holdings but surely as a First National Production they must have some right to screen it.)

A real gem of a film.

It may be a matter of taste but as much as I like and admire Erich Von Stroheim work before and behind the camera, his reputation as a `genius' doesn't seem justified by the films themselves.

Certainly Merry Widow is filmed with great style and the opulent design is certainly diverting. Also the decision to turn the story from light opera to fairly heavy drama is completely in keeping with Von Stroheim 's own rather cynical outlook. But I find his obsessive dwelling on details can make for a slow and even tedious viewing experience, especially in the first half which seems to spend an inordinate amount of time setting the relationship between the dashing, irreverent but humanist Prince Danilo Petrovich (Gilbert - in wonderful form) and the pompous, tight lipped and distinctly perverse Crown Prince Mirko (Roy D'Arcy).with scenes prolonged far longer than their dramatic weight justifies. Also where the film attempts a lighter tone, the effect is of a concrete soufflé, with every glance and double entendre painfully spelt out.

However this is still a satisfying film as a whole, especially in the second half where we finally have some DRAMA. Here in sequence after sequence we finally start to understand Von Stroheim's reputation as he examines the decaying Royal family under a particularly unflattering microscope. The tryst with the blindfolded musicians is a particularly memorable scene.

Having heard of Mae Murray's terrible treatment of the Von and others in her career, I had a tough time warming to her in this, but I have to admit she gives a great performance as Sally O ' Hara, an innocent who's mistreatment at the hands of the family almost ruins her life. Roy D'Arcy makes an indelible impression as the creepy Mirko, his every gesture filling one with disgust.

But for my money it's Gilbert's work that makes this film worthwhile. One of the very finest of silent actors, the expressiveness of his eyes, the tenderness of his playing and bearing throughout make his character completely convincing and his torment over loosing Sally a felt and poignant loss.

A really pointless remake of a beautiful original. Even given the changes to Gwymphaine this could still have been worthwhile. But this is one of those typically unfocused co-productions (bad dubbing, second rate acting, ott music) that plagued cinema screens in the 60's, and now thanks to TCM UK it too frequently turns up on Satelite here. First time I saw the title in the schedules I got excited and then I saw the year.

Don't waste your time on this one.

Buster Keaton's career as a performer comes full circle in this free wheeling little comedy which unites him with his mother, father and sister, all together for the only time on screen. Though produced very cheaply at the nadir of Buster's career this is another occasion where Buster pulled out the stops and managed to make an at least sporadically hilarious film. Perhaps working alongside his family perked him up, but he really seems to enjoy himself in this one and in it's unassuming way it's funnier than anything he did at MGM after Spite Marriage.

Fans will be a little taken aback by his appearance in this, both he and his father sport the most ridiculous beards, and `rube' accents as they portray a family next to whom the Beverley Hillbillies look sophisticated.

Adding a surrealistic touch to this virtually plot less romp all four Keaton's play with stone faces, and there's a real delight in watching them play off each other especially the scenes with Buster and Joe where Buster is clearly cracking the old man up.

Along with Allez Oop and Grand Slam Opera, proof that comic genius can survive just about anything.

Having always loved his knockout performance as the egoticstical producer in "The Band Wagon" and being familiar with his recordings I watched this latterday Jack Buchanan movie with great expectation. A parody of the Johnny Ray type celebrity it's based on a long running stage show that also starred Buchanan. The idea itself isn't bad and with the right handling it could've been a British equivelent of "The Girl Can't Help it" (it even features Britain's own blond bombshell - Diana Dors, in a cameo) But the satire is limp, and J Lee Thompson is far more at home in gritty thrillers than froth like this. What we end up with is a silly (in the annoying sense) witless piece typical of the mediocre stuff Rank was churning out in the 50's.

The film is dominated by constant mugging and bad performances (the teeth grindingly unfunny psychiatrist rates special mention) clumsy slapstick (Joan Sims repeatedly swooning whenever she sees the singer, Buchanan falling into a fish pool, or falling onto a trampoline, or repeatedly getting his hat pressed down over his eyes etc.) This might sound mildly amusing and maybe it was back in the 50's but now the whole thing is so predictable and laboured, with most gags being repeated ad nauseum that the only reaction is to groan. Furthermore it's a musical of sorts and our (minimal) enjoyment is dampened by some tedious songs. Of these only "Cry" hit's the mark being exactly the type of song Johnny Ray would've sung and this provides the sole amusing scene in the film when a slightly drunk Buchanan decides to have a crack. Apparently this was a real show stopper on stage. Here it's a brief chance for Buchanan to shine and he milks it for all it's worth.

By the last 5 minutes I was longing to fast forward this particular turkey when out of the blue the film gave us a few minutes of vintage Jack, in a brief song and dance number after all the plot points were been resolved.

If the whole movie had been like this few minutes of good humoured hoofing from a guy who knew how, then it would've been a very pleasant experience indeed. Unfortunately it isn't and although everyone tries hard (too hard) it's a laboured piece and unworthy of it's star.

Fascinating and amusingly bad, Lights of New York is the first all talkie feature and one that almost never saw the light of day.

Two naive barbers (Eddie and Gene) from out of town get involved with bootleggers and end up fronting a speak. When a cop is shot by one of the bootleggers the police start to close in, and the Hawk (who shot the officer) decides to pin the murder on Eddie instructing his henchman to "take him for a ride". But it's the Hawk himself who takes the bullet in a twist that will surprise few.

Shot in one week at a cost of $23,000, "Lights" was originally meant as a two reeler but Foy took advantage of Jack Warner's absence to extend it to six. When Warner discovered this he ordered Foy to cut it back to the original short. Only when an independent exhibitor offered $25k for the film, did Warners actually look at the film, which went on to make a staggering $1.3 million.

Seen now this is an extremely hokey piece, with acting that ranges from the passable (Eugene Pallette) to trance like (Eddie's Granny in a particularly risible scene) and much of the playing is at the level of vaudeville. Since it's an early talkie (4 part-talkies preceded it) that's about all the characters do, and very slowly at that. The script feels improvised, visual style is non existent (apart from the shooting scene done in silhouette) and scenes grind on interminably. Title cards are intercut which redundantly announce characters and locales.

Despite all this "Lights" is a compelling experience, as we watch actors and crew struggling with the alien technology, and changing cinema for ever.

Catch it if you can

I love this film. It's riveting, smallscale and concentrated. Has a rare intensity, despite occasional lapses in acting. Gripping and frightening exploration of extreme sexuality, which pulls no punches, yet leaves much to the viewer's imagination. Might well be a key underground movie of the 90's.

Though generally regarded as one of their weakest films, this has a fair quota of laughs. Stan's "dancing" at the beginning is amusing and Robert Mitchum has a good cameo "selling" the boys insurance. Best scene is where they try to hide from Margaret Dumont, eventually launching her husband into the swimming pool.