Eien no hito (1961)

"Eien no nito" (in English, "Immortal Love", in French "Un Amour Eternel") is a 1961 film directed by Keisute Kinoshita, starring Hideko Takamine and Tatsuya Nakadai. It was Oscar nomination for best foreign language film, losing to Ingmar Bergman's "Through a Glass Darkly". It also has one of the worst Western translation of a Japanese film title once you actually seen the film; as love, immortal or not, is not really what the film is about (Google translates it as "The Eternal One").

Divided in five different parts of roughly the same length, representing key moments in Japan mid-20th Century (invasion of Manchuria, WWII, post-war) as background to the life of couple. This not, however, a romantic tale. Nakadai (later the husband), the heir of a rich family, comes back from the Manchurian war crippled, frustrated and resentful. He takes a fancy to the daughter (Takamine) of one of farmers in his family's land. Out of lust and spite towards the man she loves, he rapes her and then engineers to marry her. Powerless in a society where women were little more than wives and daughters, she is forced to submit, but this will taint their lives and the lives of their children.

For the last nearly two months, I have what can only be describing as binging on classic Japanese cinema of the 1950s (give or take a couple of years). And this is one of my favourites so far. It presented a rather raw and bleak view of a marriage where the wife hates her husband (with bloody good reason), and he resents her for it. Takamine is particularly brilliant, giving us a fully rounded, flawed human being; a fundamentally kind woman betrayed or abandoned by the men in her life; a mother whose love for her children is bounded by her feelings towards their father, particularly her eldest, the result of the rape. Nakadai, as her husband, is never a likable character, but is also not a hateful figure. Instead, he is presented as a spoiled brat, feeling entitled to do whatever he wants by his social position. However, as the film goes on, he becomes more and more a figure of old Japan, puzzled not only by the changes in his world, but also unable to connect with his wife (something he actually wants).

The film doesn't run away from these topics, presenting the story in an un-melodramatic fashion, each line of dialogue full of recriminations. The intention is, of course, that you have to face the story straight on. Although I didn't entirely buy the ending (possibly due to differences Japanese/European culture as opposed to a fault with it) this is one of my favourites so far. Exquisitely shot in Black and White cinemascope and with flamengo soundtrack (sang in Japanese), the film is also a pleasure to watch and hear. While it's not available in an English-friendly edition, there are French and German DVD editions, and the former (which I own) also contains a small introduction (in French) which I found useful on context of Japanese history.

Laura (1944)

“Laura”, directed by Otto Preminger, is a film where three men trying to assert their claims and possess a woman. One, Waldo Lydecker (played by Clifton Webb), wants her as the jewel in his collection of beautiful objects; the most beautiful ornament of them all. The second, Shelby Carpenter (Vincent Price), wants her for the escape opportunities she represents, and the chance of a better life. The last, Mark McPherson (Dana Andrews), falls in love with her portrait, a necrophiliac passion that anticipates something of “Vertigo” by more than a decade. None of them wants the real Laura, only the fantasy (the Laura in the portrait and of the flashbacks is not the one we see). Waldo in particular rejects any visions of her which don’t match and taint his own. In the end (and minor spoiler here), the one who does get her does so because his fantasy and her own desires match the best (for Laura is really made of flesh and blood). 

As Laura Hunt, the title character, Gene Tierney is wonderful. She has the allure and intelligence that Waldo refers to, but she also is enough of blank canvas that he and the others (as well as the audience) can project their fantasies into. Tierney’s gift is in showing us her real feelings and desires as the film progresses, and the portrait over the fireplace becomes more of a real person.

Another highlight of the film is Webb’s performance as Waldo. Caustic and sharp, with eyes that shoot daggers, he incarnates his character to give one of the most memorable performances of the 1940s. He got an Oscar nomination out of it, but lost (and he would loose two years later, for a similar role in “The Razor’s Edge”). Noteworthy are also Dana Andrews and Judith Anderson, as Laura’s patrician aunt with a soft spot for Price’s character.

And then, there’s the music. One of the most recognisable theme tunes of any film, Raksin’s score is a masterpiece. Heard mostly throughout as source music (i.e. from the radio, record, bands), I got the impression it became more of regular score once (and another minor spoiler) Laura enters the film, breaking Dana Andrews dream-like drunken stupor. Interestingly, the score did not get an Oscar nomination - in addition to Webb's, the film got nods for art direction, screenplay, director (Preminger's first) and won for Joseph LaShelle's beautiful black and white cinematography (beating, among others, "Double Indemnity", another noir with ravashing black and white cinematography).

If Laura” is one of the highlights in the careers of nearly all those involved (Tierney, Webb, Andrews, Anderson, Preminger and Raksin), the one sour note is Vincent Price’s grotesque miscasting. He doesn’t fit the character. He’s ill at ease in his clothes and his manner (and he shouldn’t in either) and I can’t buy him as someone who depends on his looks and charm to live. I also can’t see what either Laura or her aunt see in him.

As one minor note, the chronology of the film is a bit dubious: by Waldo’s account, Laura was around 17 when she first appears in his life, which might make her a tad too young for her job. That is not Tierney’s fault though, it’s just lazy scriptwriting. As is, Waldo’s opening narration, wonderfully delivered as it is – unless what we are hearing is what he is typing, it is completely inconsistent with the film’s time scale (the present, whereas the narration suggests the past)

Another (very minor) irritation is the silliness of some of the characters’ actions: everyone tags along Dana Andrews as if it was the most common thing in the world (and to a sense it is in 1930s and 1940s cinema); and everyone obstructs justice and gets away with it (particularly in the maid’s case).

Theodora Goes Wild (1936)

In early 2000, there was a life changing event in my cinema-going life: a season of screwball comedies that for two months made me go repeatedly to the Portuguese Cinematheque. By the end of that season, I had watched some new favourites and some forgettable things (and some that moved from one to the other later on), but more important, I had a good grasp of the genre and had seen most of its key titles. There was, however, one major exception – “Theodora Goes Wild” with Irene Dunne. I got to finally see it in 2009, when the DVD came out. Unsurprisingly I watched it on the same day it arrived.

Was it worth the wait? Oh, yes… Theodora, a small town good girl (Irene Dunne) writes a raunchy novel under a pseudonym. While visiting her publisher in New York, the artist who designed the cover of her book (Melvyn Douglas) takes an interest in her. He ends following her to her small town, and does his best to liberate her from her environment. Only now Theodora goes wild, in a sudden turn (and hilarious, I thought) that the script takes in the third act.

I can definitely add this film to my list of reasons of why I think Irene Dunne is a favourite. From repressed girl in the beginning, to the master and maker of her own destiny at the end, she makes you believe in the growth of her character. Her timing is impeccable, and no matter how many times and how many people have said it before it should be repeated. She also pairs extraordinarly well with Douglas (another of my favourite actors) - just look at the sequences in Lynnsburg, particularly the dueling confrontation between the whistle and the piano and how her face reflects the lyrics. (Also note how the cat and the dog in the scene represent Dunne and Douglas, with the cat following where she can't go...). I freely admit that the later sequences in NY aren't as good as the ones in the small town.

Interestingly, Dunne was reluctant to take the part. She preferred to be thought of as a dramatic actress. However, she could really be both, and she got an Oscar nomination and spanned a career as comedienne, with "The Awful Truth" (and another nomination) and "My Favourite Wife" (both with Cary Grant) as the other highlights. The season at the Portuguese Cinematheque in 2000, showed not only these two, but also "The Joy of Living" and "Lady in a Jam". I recall nothing of either, but I think I liked the first and definitely found the second very weak.

The supporting cast (which includes Thomas Mitchell and Spring Byington), is delicious, particularly the aunts and Byington as the town's gossip (who also gets her own comeuppance).

I decided to watch the film again following a passionate stance on it by Peter Swaab, the curator of the Screwball season at the BFI at the season's introduction. I wasn't able to go to the screenings (would have loved to see in on the big screen, introduced by him), so a DVD session had to do...

Dr Monica (1934)

A few years ago, I said that "I [couldn]'t point out exactly why, but [Kay Francis] doesn't interest me very much". Recently, I had a chance to see several of her Pre-code films and I changed my mind. Among them, was "Dr Monica", her last Pre-code and a woman's picture through and through, with a plot that reminded me of bits in "The Great Lie": Kay Francis is Dr Monica Braden, an obstetrician married to a writer (Warren William) who is having an affair with one of her friends (Jean Muir). They break it up, but the friend is pregnant while Monica is not able to have children herself.

The film is incredibly short, running at only 55 minutes. Running times quoted elsewhere, suggest that over ten minutes were cut - the Hays Office took issue with the film, with Joseph Breen objecting plot and characters (one of them was supposed to be a lesbian!). Whatever the cuts were, the film still flows quite well, with veiled references to abortion and a plot that hinges on adultery and illegitimate pregnancy. But, if one looks at the trailer, there are some scenes which are not in the film - a long sequence between Warren William and Jean Muir on doing the right thing, and a shorter bit of dialogue towards the end, when Monica and her husband watch a sunset together.

Personally, I think the film's pace works in its favour. A longer film would just have more time to be more sentimental - and it would harm it. The self-sacrifice at the end is a bit too much, as are some of the key telephone scenes, which are incredibly badly acted by Francis. The lack of chemistry between William and Francis and William and Muir is quite noticeable. To be fair only Francis and the actress playing her other friend (Verree Teasdale) seemed to do well.

The film has certainly its good moments - one of the best is the opening sequence, where the phone rings for Dr Braden, and it takes a few seconds to reveal that the doctor is a woman. Or the scenes with the three women, which show a deeper bond than usual at this time between women - sort of a 1930s "Sex and the City".

Kay Francis is the 1930s Pre-code successful professional woman who manages almost everything. She does it with charm, and many clothes' changes (as expected) but I sense in a rather routine fashion, and certainly with less spark than in some of her other films. Warren William is wasted in the sort of part that (and I mean this in the worst possible way) Herbert Marshall and George Brent made a career of (the latter better than the former). As for the other two main parts, Kay Francis' two friends, Jean Muir is quite weak, while Verree Teasdale shines as the bitchy best friend (in a sort of upper class Glenda Farrell), a successful, unmarried architect - I assume her character is the one Joseph Breen though was a lesbian (she does such lesbian things as being unmarried and successful...). I don't think I have seen that many films with her, and I never noticed her before in those I have. But will keep an eye open in the future.

Beggars of Life (1928)

From its start, "Beggars of Life" is infused with an incredible energy. The opening sequence is silent narrative at its best and even now, months after I saw the film, it has stayed with me (I made some notes at the time which only now I am translating into a post). Within a minute or so of the credits, we see a young man, clearly a beggar, arriving at someone's house. He lusts after the man's breakfast. He asks if it's possible to have some but the man doesn't reply. He has been shot. A girl (Louise Brooks) comes in, dressed in man's clothes and in a frenetic flashback we learn what happened.

And this is only an appetiser for a film which oozes sex, fear and danger, often at the same time: at some stage, there is real danger that Louise Brooks' character will be gang raped. William Wellman's pace is frenetic and his direction assured. Having seen recently "Wings", his most celebrated silent film with its amazing aerial sequences, I found it lacking in comparison to "Beggars of Life".

The film is, (and I won't make it justice), a romance road movie, where the Boy and the Girl (they don't have names) have to go through ordeals before they earn the right to Love. In a sense it reminded me of the Borzage at his best, but whereas he usually has an ethereal aspect to the romance, Wellman (clearly a more pragmatic man) keeps them feet on the ground. All in all, this is one the best silent movies I have seen - and I can't recommend it enough.

Other than Louise Brooks, who was a revelation, as I never really "got" her in the couple of films of hers I saw,  the film also stars Richard Arlen (who Wellman also used in "Wings") and an amazing, unforgeattable Wallace Beery, as the bastard with a heart (or whatever is the masculine equivalent of the tart with a heart) . 

I think a word needs to go to the musicians who provided the score: Neil Brand and The Dodge Brothers (film critic Mark Kermode's band) did a fantastic job, creating a fantastic viewing experience. I wouldn't hesitate twice in hearing them providing music for another film. In an ideal world, a home video release of this would have been done long ago, and they would provide the music.

On Raymond Macherot (1924-2008)

Sometimes I discover things in a very convoluted way. This is a story of one such discovery, so bear with me if you can.

I grew up in a house full of comic books. They were my father’s, who started collecting Disney comics sometime in the 1950s or 1960s and has an enviable collection. He also has a decent sized collection of French-Belgium Bande Dessinées (BD). They were ideally stored in my room, so I grew up reading and re-reading them. Fast-forward to last year, when Fantagraphics released two volumes of Belgian BDs: “Gil Jourdan” and “Sibylline” (as “Gil Jordan” and “Sibyl-Anne”). I had been vaguely aware of both and half-tempted to get “Gil Jourdan” in French. But most of all, I was puzzled with the fact that a major US publisher in the area was investing in these two series, of which I knew next to nothing.

So, tempted, I bought “Gil Jourdan” and loved it (in the French editions, as I prefer to read in the original, but believe me, I still support Fantagraphics in other ways). These had always been available, however “Sibylline” and the other works by Raymond Macherot (the creator) were extremely hard to find. But my timing could have not been better if I had planned it.

Within in a year or so, collections of some of his famous characters became available, with another soon to be published; an exhibition opened in Brussels and I manage to get the cult classic “Chaminou et le Khrompire” (1964) for a very reasonable price on ebay.

And I fell in love. Well not with all of it, but enough. His worlds are (usually) full of deceptively cute anthropomorphic animals, and in his best work, under that kids-friendly surface of pretty little animals there is real threat – if you take the Sibylline stories Fantagraphics has available (the stories were produced in the second half of the 1960s), it is hard not to see in Anathème (Ratticus in the English translation) a Hitler parody, with occasional serious undertones. These same undertones were actually more pronounced in an earlier series, “Chlorophylle”, with a more vicious rat (Anthracite) as the antagonist. If you can read French, the collected "Sibylline" is available in five volumes as is the first volume an integral “Chlorophylle”(with the second coming out next month – and I can’t wait). If not, you might want to grab this the English one, with a second volume expected to be available next May.

Love is a Racket (1932)

While some early pre-codes can seem a bit disjointed or clearly emphasising sex to attract audiences, William Wellman’s “Love is a Racket” doesn’t fall into either trapping. Instead, there is a closely-knit narrative full of interesting, albeit not the nicest characters.

Jimmy Russell (Douglas Fairbanks Jr) is a reporter in love with an ambitious young woman, Mary (Frances Dee). When she confesses she has debts she can’t repay, and he tries to help, he seems to have arrived too late. A local gangster (Lyle Talbot) got there first…

One of things I absolutely loved is that there aren’t any real heroes here. Jimmy can do the honourable thing or not, but his choice is based on what’s most advantageous to him. The same goes for Lee Tracy’s character – although, if you have seen him once (no matter which film), he does his usually routine here: drunk, loud, expedite but loyal when pressed. Mary is really not as nice as she is pretty, and she easily stoops to use her charms to achieve what she wants out of men. And a special mention to Cecil Cunningham as Mary’s aunt, who clearly never heard of scruples. In fact, the closest to a nice character the film comes is Ann Dvorak’s Sally, who is an honorary “one of the guys” (and very much in love with Jimmy) but has not much to do (niceness doesn't pay?)...

The plotting is solid, with a few minor twists in the tale which really grabbed my attention, particularly one great scene involving a newspaper left behind which would have made Hitchcock proud. And (spoiler alert), if you take the comedy and the innuendos, the film covers some real menace: Talbot’s character wants Mary and will stop at nothing to get her (he starts with blackmail...).

I am surprised that this film is not better known. Wellman, is clearly in shape here and is celebrated enough to have had several of his films of the period released (Warner’s Forbidden Hollywood volume 3 includes only films of his).