msantayana

I saw "L' Innocent" in the mid-eighties, at at time when I was discovering a lot of Visconti's films from his last period ("Death in Venice"--my favorite--, "The Damned," and "Conversation Piece") It made a very favorable impression then; but I do agree with the viewer who dwelt on the languid pace of the film, highlighted by the sensuous musical score. What saddens me is that not one of the viewers commenting on the film --I have little to add regarding the plot, and am trying to avoid spoilers-has remarked that it is based on a novel by Gabriele D'Annunzio (né Gaetano Raspagnetta), the most popular and yet one of the most aristocratic "fin-de-siecle" writers in turn-of-the century Italy. Visconti, the majority of whose films are based on European 19th and 20th century novels, was extremely faithful to D'Annunzio' book, down to the morbidest details. D'Annunzio was a sensual man and what was regarded in his day as a "decadent" poet and novelist. His scenarios were usually luxurious, his characters were often relentless pleasure-seekers, albeit dissatisfied in their passionate search for the ultimate fulfillment of the senses. Tullio, the character so intensely played by Giancarlo Giannini, is a would-be Nietschean "superman", beyond good and evil, as "L'Innocent'(the novel) was inspired by the Italian poet's readings of the German philosopher.

Despite the slow pace of the film, I believe "L'Innocent' to be one of its director's most characteristic achievements. The glowing beauty of its female stars (fragile, yet alluring Jennifer O'Neill and earthy Laura Antonelli)and Giancarlo Giannini's seething intensity alone make this movie a worthwhile experience for cinema lovers who favor art over technology and substance over mindless, noisy violence.

A John Le Carré-based Cold War spy film will always challenge an audience with an unflinching look at the world of espionage, and confront viewers with its most unpleasant facts; true stories of manipulation and deceit where the simplistic, Manichean scheme "good guys versus bad guys" is exposed as deceitful and manipulative. Sidney Lumet ("The Verdict", "Dog Day Afternoon", "Q and A") added another feather to his cap directing this 1966 adaptation of "Call for the Dead", which features an international cast headed by James Mason, Maximilian Schell, Simone Signoret (not De Beauvoir, who was an Existentialist author, not an actress)and Harriet Andersson. In true Lumet fashion, characterization does not take a back seat to plot development: Mason brings his masterful touch, an understated yet poignant despair to his doomed agent Dobbs; Schell manages to come across as debonair and sinister at the same time, and world-weary Signoret eloquently speaks for the victims who were tangled up in Cold War power games. The Bossa Nova soundtrack, full of sad sensuality, creates an innovative contrast to the bleak, rainy London streets where the web of deceit is torn in a violent and realistic showdown. Excellent supporting performances by actors Harry Andrews and Roy Kinnear help make "The Deadly Affair", many years after its first viewing, a somber and masterful look at Cold-War espionage and a fine example of serious movie-making.

More than anything else about the French classic film "Le quai des brumes" (Port of Shadows)--the oppressive fog, the somewhat contrived plot, the odd characters (a compassionate drunkard, a lonely innkeeper who has nailed a clock's hands "to stop time"; an effeminate gangster, a suicidal painter, an ugly, lustful and desperate music lover); even more that the otherwordly beauty of a teenage Michele Morgan, and Marcel Carné's legendary camera work, it is Jean Gabin's intense portrayal of a doomed man who accepts his doom, yet still dares to dream, what makes this Prévert-Carné collaboration a memorable cinematic experience.

Like Gabin's "Pepé Le Moko" in another classic flick released the year before, "Jean" is a man at odds with society, a fugitive who dreams of being free and starting anew. Like the "Pepé" character, he forfeits his long-term hopes in the name of a fleeting yet all-consuming passion. Gabin was one of those few actors (Charles Boyer and James Mason come to mind) who could tell a story in front of a camera through sheer control of their facial expression. He was a "natural", exuding a strong animal magnetism, with icy, yet intense steely eyes, a defiant swagger and a voice by turns metallic and aggressive or pregnant with an urgent intimacy. Always the tough, yet vulnerable outsider, the Gabin persona became a favorite of some of France's most outstanding pre-"New Wave" directors: Renoir, Carné, Duvivier, Becker. And the result was a series of memorable films enhanced by Jean Gabin's memorable performances and screen presence. It has been said that Godard, Truffaut & company thought little of Gabin and of his films. Not featuring him in their films was their loss. He certainly did not need them.

If it is true, as I believe, that some aspects of "Quai des brumes" are dated and fail to make it a timeless classic, Jean Gabin's performance is certainly not one of them.