La Strada

I adore Fellini's 8 1/2 with all my heart, but it took me a while to see anything else by him, probably because of his huge stature in the cineaste community. What if I didn't like, or didn't 'get' his other films. After a while, because it sounded great, I watched I Vitelloni shortly after the DVD came out, and was kind of disappointed. It certainly wasn't what I'd expected after the incredibly clever, immensely fantastic work that is 8 1/2. I was so worried that Fellini was going to be one of those filmmakers that I simply did not get, which was a shame because 8 1/2 had quickly become one of my favorite films of all time. So, I once again approached one of his works with trepidation, with fear that I'd dislike it. Thankfully, La Strada proved me wrong in so many ways.

La Strada (The Road) is the story of a traveling strongman, Zampano, whose assistant dies, so he goes back to her family and offers a hefty sum to employ another of their daughters, the waifish Gelsomina. She's quickly caught up in the whirlwind that is leaving her home and hitting the road with this powerful, charismatic man. Soon, Gelsomina discovers how terribly brutal Zampano really is, almost completely devoid of emotion. The plot is not as important to Fellini as are the characters, and their relations to one another as well as the events that unfold around them.

The back of the Criterion case states "There has never been a face quite like that of Giuletta Masina." And I remember looking at the cover, and thinking "Hm, she's not really too pretty." While that may be true, I completely understood the statement made by Criterion within the first few moments of the film. It's all about Masina's facial expressions. It's very true, I've never seen anybody who can express emotion so easily as she does in La Strada. So easily, she contorts her face and in an instant, you understand what she's thinking.

Her character in La Strada is simple-minded, for the most part. She's very child-like, and in the first half of the film, she often gets along so much easier with the children around her. Despite her treatment by Zampano, she's still facing everything that comes along with wide-eyed optomism and enthusiasm, and it's a joy just to watch her.

The title of the film, The Road, plays a large, if slightly indirect, part in the plot. Gelsomina and Zampano are travelers in the simplest sense, and they're always on the road, going from one town to another. The nun at the Convent sums it up best when she tells Gelsomina that to be always traveling is a way of not becoming attatched to anything, and this is exceptionally true in Gelsomina's case. Despite the fact that the trailer is much like a home for her, "with pots and pans," she's constantly having to say goodbye, leaving things she cares for behind, much as she left her home in the beginning of the film. She would probably much rather have stayed with the Circus, but she forces herself to wait for Zampano, much as she'd like to stay with The Fool or stay at the Convent.

Special note must be made of Nino Rota's stunning score. It's stunning. :)

I understand now why I didn't care much for I Vitelloni at first, because it was before Fellini's turning point away from neorealism, to a more fantastic, more surrealistic style. La Strada was this turning point, and it blends both styles elegantly. It's a wonderful film, and I'm sorry that I waited so long to see it.

Summertime

Not particularly bad, but not particularly good, either. The film just didn't have much depth to it, I think. The high point, obviously, is Hepburn's performance. She's given quite a few great lines. But at the same time, this is one of the film's downfalsl, because you're often wondering why the rest of the movie can't measure up to one person's performance. So much of the picture just felt forced, especially music-wise.

I've seen many people compare it to an earlier Lean picture, Brief Encounter, which is one of my favorite romance films.. I can definitely see some similarities between the two, but they differ greatly in many ways, especially tone. For the most part, Summertime is light and breezy, very colorful, musically elegant andlushly photographed. Brief Encounter is gray, dour, full of disappointment and regret. Maybe that's why I didn't like Summertime as much, because it just seemed so much more contrived. You know, almost like a movie. Heh.

I finally finished Fanny & Alexander last night. I was highly impressed with it, as I am all Bergman's work. It took me a while to finish, just because I wanted to savor it, and watch each part with as little interruption as possible, and I eventually succeeded. At first, I wasn't sure if it would be up to the usual Bergman standards, just because the first act seems weak at first. You're introduced to a large amount of characters very quickly, and the narrative seems to lack focus. Looking back on it, after seeing the whole series, it's all essential in creating the portrait of the entire family. In the second act, things got better, and it contains, among plenty of great moments, a classic Bergman Climax where a grieving Emilie howls with sorrow for her late husband as the children listen. It reminded me of the climax in Autumn Sonata where Eva starts a rant towards her Mother with all the things that have been building inside of her, and her voice slowly ramps up intil she's screaming and it's nearly unlistenable. Or, the ending of Through a Glass Darkly, perhaps. I think it's because Bergman's films are so quiet, so haunting and somber, that the climaxes are so jarring.

Once you know the characters and their plights, Acts Three and Four are spectacular, incredibly entertaining and touching at the same time. I'm surprised at how much Bergman manages to get from a viewer here, on so many levels. When he wants you to be entertained, you're glued to your seat. When he wants you to laugh, you'll howl. When he wants you to be touched, you'll feel as if he's reaching into your chest and gripping your heart himself. And at the same time, you'll never feel manipulated in the least. I was sorry to see it end, in fact, I didn't want to say goodbye to Alexander, Gustav Adolf, Maj or anybody else.

It's unusual, in many ways, for Bergman. It's incredibly joyous, full of energy and life. The story is seen through the eyes of a child, and Bergman almost never had children in his films at all. However, as a swan song, it all just feels so right. It's almost a regression, back into his childhood, but with all the cinematic techniques he's learned and honed throughout his many years of work. He's confronting so many things in his childhood that he only dealt with metaphorically in past works. It's simply rapturous.

I can't wait to watch it again.

Contempt (Le Mepris)

I'm kind of torn about Contempt. Some things I liked about it, and some I didn't. Overall, though, a very good picture, and one that will probably reveal more after subsequent viewings. Fairly simple story about Paul, a writer hired to re-write a screenplay based on The Odyssey, directed by Fritz Lang. He arrives home with his wife, in their apartment, and he suspects she's lost the love she has for him. She eventually admits she has, yet they still head off to Cpari together, where the movie is being filmed. It's Jean-Luc Godard, so some things are intentionally fuzzy.

As you'd expect, the camerawork was great, if a bit flashy. I tried to pay a lot of attention to the symbolism in the film, though. It's divided, pretty sharply, into three acts; the opening and introduction of characters and The Odessey itself, a long sequence that takes place in Paul and Camille's flat, and lastly, the time spent in Capri, during the filming. The first act is breezy and lets you soak up the visuals and get to know the characters. I noticed that the characters move from right to left in the frame, most often, with the camera following them. I know that left-to-right movement is symbolic of travelling, a journey of sorts, but I wonder what the opposite means. Does it symbol a regression, and if so, whose regression? That of Camille, and her faded love for Paul? Or is it Paul's masculinity, his appeal? Or, it could be a direct opposite of a journey; a homecoming, of sorts. The heart of the film is the relationship between the two leads, so right-to-left movement could symbolize the build-up towards them getting to their apartment. That's the thing that sucks about amateur film analyzation, you can recognize symbols, but are barely able to figure out their precise meanings.

The second act is very claustrophobic, as it takes place entirely in Paul and Camille's apartment, in which you're not entirely sure what's truth and what's a lie. In here, there is a lot to put the viewer's subconscious on edge. The two are constantly changing clothes, hair, rooms, so much so that you wonder if we're viewing them on a completely different day and date. The Cinemascope photography is used to great effect, as it's able to show the physical distance between the two characters as they navigate through their marital dischord. In one particular shot, the two are in separate rooms with Paul nearly out of frame on the right, and Camille barely in frame on the left.

The final act, there's a great sense of motion in the camera's movements as well as the characters'. In one scene where Paul and Lang make their way to Prokosch's villa, they're seen coming down a hill, at the top of frame, as they talk. The two make their way down to the center of the frame, then turn around a bend and start to head down another hill, away from the camera. In the next shot, they're shown zigzagging a trail down another hill, down and to the right, then to the left, and to the right again. As for symbolism, it would normally show some kind of inner turmoil. However, there doesn't seem to be much for any character to be confused about, aside from Paul. Even Paul, though, seems to be pretty sure of what he wants, even if he couldn't have less of an idea how to go about getting it. The other characters don't seem to care one way or another, even as Paul makes his grand speech about writing in the villa. I think the side-to-side motif probably has more to do with the struggle that Paul is (and the other characters are, to some extent) is going though. He's trying his best to simply please his wife, to find out why she feels such disgust for him, and rectify the situation. Camille, I think she just wants out.

There's obviously a lot of ties drawn between the characters in The Odyssey and the film itself. This is solidified in the first and final shots. In the opening, we see Francesca reading a book, waiting for Paul to arrive. A camera crew is on the right, dollying towards us, following her movements. Afterwards, we're shown this angle, as Paul makes his entrance. The final shot of the film, we're seen this same dolly movement, externally, as the camera dollys to follow Odysseus as he looks out onto his homeland. It's fairly obvious, folks.

The soundtrack, I personally couldn't stand. It seemed horribly out of place here, and seemed to cut in at the worst times. However, I know Godard was fond of doing odd things with music, so it could very well be intentional. Also, how about that ending?

Edit: I was leafing through the Criterion essay and remembered something I'd forgotten to touch upon; the use of language in Contempt. I don't really understand it, but I do believe it's important in interpreting the film. Prokosch doesn't speak the same language as Paul and Camille does, and they all constantly have to rely on a translator to speak to one another. It would be so much easier, and simpler, for the filmmakers to just say 'Okay, Prokosch learned French somewhere' or vice versa. The fact that they didn't take the easy way out, and chose to make this an obstacle leads me to believe that it's an essential key to analyzing the film. But what does it symbolize, maybe a breakdown of communication between Paul and Camille, and everyone else, for that matter?

So, I made my way through the Night and the City commentary last night. A very good overall commentary, although it did try a bit too hard to cover all the bases, so a lot of biographical information was thrown out. What I really like is learning all about the film itself, so I'm a bit biased, but it was good for what it's worth. Very interesting bits about Gene Tierney's life and Jules Dassin's exile in Europe. Besides, where else are you going to hear Stanislaus Zbyszko's life story? A couple choice bits about the lighting and framing that I found interesting, when they popped up. Things like that always show me how little I really know about cinema, but I suppose that comes with multiple viewings. I remember reading somewhere that Truffaut went to see Hitchcock's The Lady Vanishes once a week, just to study the craft of the film, but kept getting so wrapped up in the plot that he forgot to note the technical details of the film. I'm that way, sometimes, I like to think.

So, I picked up quite a few Criterions from the library today; Summertime (mmm, Hepburn), Coup de Torchon, Billy Liar (recommended by Brent), Contempt, The Honeymoon Killers, and La Strada (can you believe I've only seen 2 other Fellini films?). Also got a copy of 1001 Movies Must See Before You Die, which my pal Luke (link pending) pointed out to me. I leafed through it, and it's pretty interesting, especially as a coffee table-esque book. The stills are great quality, as well. Should prove to be an illuminating week. :)

So, first post and such. I'll try to write as much about films I watch, films I love, films I never intend to see, films I will watch, and film in general, as I can. I'm not so hot with introductions, nor am I great with summarizing films, and odds are you're not reading this anyway.

Earlier tonight was Les Dames du Bois de Boulogne. I've only seen Diary of a Country Priest before, which went over my head in some respects, but I enjoyed Les Dames. The real star of the show were the dialogue (by Cocteau) and the plot itself. A woman scorned by her ex-lover dupes him into unwittingly falling for a tramp. It was only Bresson's second picture, and I understand he didn't develop his minimalist style (or lack thereof, perhaps) until a few pictures into his career, so there are some cinematic flourishes in the film. One in particular I loved, where Jean opens the door for Helene and makes a remark, from which the conclusion can be drawn that he's interested in Agnes, and as he walks around the front of the car, Helene's head and eyes turn slowly to follow his every move. The camera is stationary, so her head slowly turns to reveal a sly smile on her face; her plan is unfurling nicely.

If anything, Les Dames made me more excited to get my hands on Au hasard Balthazar. It's on the top of my Netflix and BBO queues, and I'm dying for a chance to sneak in and grab it. The Criterion disc for Les Dames is pretty much what you'd expect. A grand restoration, held back by the deteriorating print from almost 60 years ago. Clean mono sound, slightly brash, and a pair of essays in the book.