Why The Third Man comes in first for so many

Directed by Carol Reed and released in 1949, The Third Man stands as a classic of its time—and for all time—75 years later. The narrative unfolds in post-World War II Vienna, which is divided into zones controlled by the Allied powers. Holly Martins, an American pulp writer portrayed by Joseph Cotten, ventures to Vienna to reunite with his old friend Harry Lime, played unforgettably by Orson Welles. However, he soon learns of Lime's demise in a perplexing accident. Martins's quest for truth plunges him into a labyrinth of deceit, corruption, and intrigue. Joining the cast are Alida Valli as Lime's paramour, Anna Schmidt, and Trevor Howard as Major Calloway, a British military police officer aiding Martins in his inquiry.

To listen to our CineVerse group discussion of this film, conducted earlier this month, click here. For the latest Cineversary podcast episode, celebrating The Third Man’s 75th anniversary, click here.

How do we love The Third Man, shining as brightly as ever in its diamond anniversary year? Let us count the ways:

1. There’s a wealth of top-notch talent involved, including screenwriter Graham Greene, co-producers David O. Selznick and Alexander Korda, director Reed, cinematographer Robert Krasker, and the stellar actors already mentioned.
2. It represents a fascinating multicultural story and features a melting pot of performers: It’s a film primarily made by Brits and mostly populated by European actors in smaller roles but also boasting two acclaimed American thespians.
3. The fact that it was shot on location in war-ravaged Vienna, and not on a London set or Hollywood soundstage meant to replicate that European city, adds verisimilitude to the look and vibe of the entire picture. The striking Viennese architecture juxtaposed against crumbling edifices, cracked stairs, and glistening cobblestone streets creates an unforgettable visual template.
4. The expressionistic chiaroscuro lighting design by Krasker, especially in nighttime outdoor scenes, is one of the finest examples of stylistic black-and-white cinematography ever created. The impossibly grandiose shadows he was able to conjure and the monochromatic canvas of high contrast produced remain a visual marvel.
5. The screenplay by Greene remains one of the greatest narratives of any era, a masterfully constructed and brilliantly paced cinematic story that benefits immensely from wonderful dialogue, keen transitions between scenes, and sudden twists that compel the viewer to pay closer attention as the story progresses. The standout dialogue scene remains Lime’s cuckoo clock speech, delivered superbly by Welles, lines of which he contributed himself, but the entire exchange between him and Holly on the Ferris wheel, which spans a mere 300 seconds, is a masterclass in superlative screenwriting and directing. But the opening voiceover narration, spoken by Reed, also perfectly sets the scene. Recall, too, the back and forth between Holly and Calloway and how the major always maintains this verbal intelligence over Holly with great lines like “You were born to be murdered,” “Death's at the bottom of everything, Martins. Leave death to the professionals,” and, after correcting Holly for calling him Callahan, “Calloway—I’m English not Irish.”
6. The Third Man boasts perhaps the greatest delayed entrance of an enigmatic character in movie history. The buildup to Lime’s reveal in that dark doorway, which occurs at the 62-minute mark of a 95-minute picture, is the stuff that film legends are made of. “The Third Man presents such a nonstop visual experience that it is easy to miss what a small, seat-of-the-pants picture it essentially was,” wrote Criterion Collection essayist Lucy Sante. “Consider, for example, that Anton Karas, without whose score the movie would be substantially different, was found on location, playing in a restaurant…The Third Man is in fact a brilliant succession of dice throws, a borderline counterintuitive combination of disparate elements that somehow come together as if they had been destined to do so. It is a singular object, a fluke, a well-oiled machine, a time-capsule item, a novelty hit. There has never been another movie quite like it.” This famous delayed appearance, which excites an anticipatory audience with delight once this titular character and prime motivator of the story is shown, may have inspired similar delayed character reveals in later films. Consider Omar Sharif’s Ali in Lawrence of Arabia, Henry Fonda’s villainous Frank in Once Upon a Time in the West, Gene Wilder as Willy Wonka, Robert Shaw as Quint in Jaws, Arnold Schwarzenegger’s belated appearance in Terminator 2, Anthony Hopkins’ Hannibal Lecter in Silence of the Lambs, Michael Keaton in Beetlejuice, Jack Nicholson as Col. Jessep in A Few Good Men, Kevin Spacey’s John Doe in Seven, and Johnny Depp’s Jack Sparrow in Pirates of the Caribbean.
7. The zither-ific score by the previously unknown Anton Karas became the third biggest-selling album of the 1950s, proving immensely popular worldwide.
8. The Third Man may have been a forerunner to more modern spy thrillers, inculcating a morally disconcerting postmodern worldview in motion pictures, and serving as a delicious study in contrasts, according to John Miller with TCM. He wrote: “The Third Man works on many more levels than merely the "entertainment" that Greene termed it to be…it is an early example of a cold-war intrigue that, while not depicting a single spy, can be seen as a prototype for spy thrillers to come. It also works as a study of post-WWII morality with Harry Lime viewing his victims not as human but as far-removed dots that stop moving. It is also a character study featuring a hopeless love triangle… The Third Man rewards repeated viewings because it goes far beyond being a witty and exciting mystery thriller. It flips all expectations on their heads by featuring an attractive embodiment of villainy and ineffective heroism; an enjoyable sense of cynicism and a bleak view of romance; a calming sense of chaos and a nostalgic vision of decadence. And when you meet Harry Lime, prepare yourself for a smiling justification for everyday corporate evil in the post-war modern world.”
9. It’s difficult to name-drop films that may have been directly influenced by The Third Man; Welles’ Mr. Arkadin and the 1997 Croatian remake Treca Zena spring to mind. But this only emphasizes how unique the picture truly is and how challenging it was in the years following its release to ride its coattails. Interestingly, The Third Man may have been inspired by more films and books than vice versa. Predecessors include M, Morocco, The 39 Steps, Foreign Correspondent, Citizen Kane, Casablanca, The Ministry of Fear, The Stranger, and Les Miserables.
10. The British Film Institute placed The Third Man number one on its list of the greatest British films of the 20th Century. Additionally, it ranked #2 and #4, respectively, in a Time Out poll and a Total Film survey of the best British films of all time, and in 2005 BBC TV’s Newsnight Review viewers chose it as their fourth favorite movie ever. The American Film Institute named it #57 in its 1998 list of the top American films, while The Third Man earned fifth place in the AFI’s Best Mystery Films list.

This is often categorized as a film noir, yet it’s different from films established in the noir canon. Like other noir works, it utilizes a quite expressive lighting scheme evocative of film noir, featuring high-contrast lighting and exaggerated shadows in a gritty urban environment. It is this lighting style that makes possible arguably the most famous onscreen introduction of a character in motion picture history—the shot when Harry is revealed in the dark doorway. The film also puts us off-kilter with canted (tilted) camera angles utilized for many shots, and the filmmakers utilize wide-angle lens distortions and extreme facial close-ups to further purport this domain of strange, suspicious characters.

But while The Third Man’s milieu is a gritty urban environment endemic to so many classic noirs, the architecturally Old World Vienna in this story is a bombed-out, rubble-ridden cesspool of corruption, moral decay, and surveillance. Los Angeles, New York, or Chicago this is certainly not. Further evidence that this does not share the same DNA as proper noirs is the zither music soundtrack, which can sound jaunty and playful, deviating considerably from the traditional orchestral or jazzy type score prevalent in noir. The zither sounds mockingly shrill at times, as if revealing an undercurrent of pessimism and a tinge of tonal irony. This is quite idiosyncratic as musical accompaniment, with nothing else to truly compare to it.

Many scholars point to Carol Reed—director of several notable works, including Odd Man Out, The Fallen Idol, Our Man in Havana, The Agony and the Ecstasy, and Oliver!—as the irrefutable driving creative force behind The Third Man, and for compelling reasons. Reed chose to film on location in war-battered Vienna, a decision that lends valuable authenticity to the visuals and the entire mise en scene. Consider, too, that he was a fitting choice to helm this movie, as he was in the British Army’s wartime documentary unit. He refused to cast anyone but Welles to portray Harry Lime, which may have been the most consequential decision he made on the production. He resisted pressure from Selznick to imbue more American elements into the production and from Greene to bring Holly and Anna together at the conclusion. We can thank Reed’s vision and persistence for the cynical, unsentimental, and darker tonality that makes The Third Man a more lasting work.

As mentioned, Reed eschewed a conventional symphonic score, multi-instrumental soundtrack, or Viennese waltzes, opting instead to take a chance on Karas, an unknown musician, who impressed the director with his zither playing. This was a major risk: Reed fought with the producers to keep this solo instrumentation in the film and won.

Additionally, Reed wasn’t afraid to have characters speak in German or other non-English languages for long stretches with no subtitles, which perhaps helps us more closely identify with Holly, the American outsider surrogate for the audience. Ponder the wordless montage when Calloway presents proof of Lime’s crimes to Holly as a case study in efficient filmmaking, further proof that Reed had smart narrative and visual instincts. Reed’s choice to let the final shot breathe unbroken also speaks to his cinematic savvy. We, like Holly, are waiting eagerly to see if Anna will embrace him or not; lingering on her face and body language speaks volumes about these two characters and the situation. Proving to quite literally be a hands-on filmmaker, Reed facelessly infused himself in the narrative by filming his hands reaching through the sewer grate and voicing the opening narration.

Mind-stirring theses abound in The Third Man, a morality tale about corruption and hypocrisy. Lime personifies the morally reprehensible black market forces that erupted in postwar Europe and unscrupulously profited from other people’s suffering; and yet Lime’s speech about “would you really feel any pity if one of those dots stopped moving forever?” resonates in that period, which followed the mass killing of millions of people via bombings from Axis and Allied forces. “Lime stands out as one of the screen’s most chilling embodiments of the banality of evil, and a perfect stand-in for the film’s vision of moral breakdown in post-World War II Europe,” Slant Magazine reviewer Matt Noller posited.

One reading of The Third Man is that it espouses anti-American sentiment on the other side of the world following the war: Holly is a symbol of the United States and how our country was perceived in postwar Europe. Consider how foolish, clumsy, and naïve Holly is; he’s a personage of ridicule who is, as Village Voice critic Steve Hoberman stated, “blamed for a murder, followed in the street, hijacked by a cab driver, and repeatedly rebuffed by Anna (who can never remember his name). Such are the burdens of world leadership.” Hoberman added that the script created a political allegory: pro-British, anti-Soviet, and critical of the U.S.A.

Roger Ebert shared somewhat in this interpretation: “The Third Man" reflects the optimism of Americans and the bone-weariness of Europe after the war. It's a story about grownups and children: adults like Calloway, who has seen at first hand the results of Lime's crimes, and children like the trusting Holly, who believes in the simplified good and evil of his Western novels.”

Adding weight to this subtextual argument is Salon critic Andrew O’Hehir, who wrote: “The Third Man is important not just because of its technique but because of its theme: Just because blundering Americans rule the world does not mean they understand it, and American cultural hegemony has transformed the global economy into the plot of a gangster movie. While the corrupt and duplicitous postwar Vienna of “The Third Man” may at first look like an ancient realm of fedoras and overcoats, men in ties and women with ringlets, in moral terms it’s the same world we inhabit today.”

This is a picture dripping with pessimism and cynicism. There is no classic happy love story ending here, only the feeling of postwar disillusionment and weariness, a fractured existence (exemplified by a city divided into four sections), hapless victims and seedy opportunists, fools like Holly who have no place in this space, and confused identities (ponder all the wrong names and mistaken identities: Holly is called Harry, Calloway is called Callahan, Holly mispronounces Dr. Winkel’s name, and Harry is the enigmatic third man).

The Third Man certainly ruminates deeply on betrayal: Lime betrays the confidence and love that Holly had placed in his friend, and Holly betrays Harry by leading the police to him and ultimately shooting him dead. And you can’t avoid the classic love triangle trope: Holly loves Anna, Anna loves Harry, Harry at one time may have loved Anna but loves himself more. However, the irony is that, in this love triangle, despite Holly doing everything the classic romantic lead should do (fall in love with the woman and try to protect her), she rejects him and holds a torch for a villainous racketeer.

Here's an interesting exercise in comparative filmmaking: Contrast The Third Man with Casablanca, released seven years earlier. Note how both feature a love triangle between a profiteer (Rick/Harry), a beautiful woman with an Eastern European heritage and accent (Ilsa/Anna), and a man who believes he’s doing the noble/right thing (Victor/Holly). Both films involve emotionally charged endings where the woman has to decide which man to choose. In each movie, the heroine passes on the expected choice, although Anna doesn’t have any love for Holly as Ilsa does for Rick. According to film reviewer Glenn Erickson: “The Third Man shows how the sentiment and ideals of Casablanca have soured in the postwar situation. In Casablanca, the risks taken by Rick, Elsa, and Renault are in harmony with the larger drama being played out between the Axis and the Allies. This ‘ideological security’ helps all three of them make painful personal decisions based on faith in a moral cause. By contrast, Martins, Anna, and the late Harry Lime drift in a moral limbo where such absolutes no longer exist. The Allies have ‘won’ but Vienna has become a political mire of injustice and conflicting ideologies…The characters of the wartime Casablanca may be confused, but they are ennobled by patriotism and able to make wise decisions. Patriotism is dead in the Viennese ruins of The Third Man. Even the benign characters are too disillusioned to function effectively. Holly waffles and plays at romance like a schoolboy. Anna drifts between bitterness and suicidal despair.”

Ultimately, The Third Man reminds us that the world is complicated—populated by an array of disparate forces, races, languages, and interests. Everybody in this world, as Renoir famously says in The Rules of the Game, has their reasons, including shadowy figures like Harry Lime, emotionally abstruse love interests such as Anna Schmidt, seasoned sleuths like Major Calloway, and the countless ethically compromised inhabitants of postwar Vienna. Trying to navigate this byzantine ethical landscape is difficult enough for the natives and the occupying forces, but it’s exponentially harder for naïve outsiders like Holly Martins who attempt to apply a myopic Americanized mindset to a convoluted state of affairs that requires greater depth perception and nuanced sensibilities, not simplistic or romanticized notions.

Holly is the unmistakable bull in this China shop, making a mess out of multiple situations and leaving an embarrassing trail of mostly regretful decisions in his wake. Calloway urges him to be sensible, but Holly says “I haven’t got a sensible name.” He’s been spurned, disillusioned, admonished, and humiliated by nearly everyone he encounters because he’s failed to grasp the new world order: that pessimism, greed, mistrust, and dehumanizing turpitude are the prevailing currencies of value, and no cowboy on a white hat straight out of a western dime novel is going to rescue or restore anyone.

The Third Man’s greatest gift, then, is that it takes an internationally spiced prestige drama, with a would-be romance recipe that uses ingredients associated with an emotionally epic payoff, and slathers it with classic noir’s bittersweet sauce of cynicism. The result is such a unique blending of different, surprising tastes: a one-of-a-kind layer cake with a delightfully decadent Lime-flavored center that you never expected.

Read more...

Cineversary podcast celebrates diamond anniversary of The Third Man

David Thomson and Charles Drazin

In Cineversary podcast episode #68, host Erik Martin celebrates the diamond anniversary of Carol Reed’s The Third Man with two outstanding guests: David Thomson, renowned film critic, cinema historian, and author of The Fatal Alliance: A Century of War on Film; and Charles Drazin, film historian and author of In Search of The Third Man. Together, they scour the streets and sewers of Vienna on the trail of Harry Lime and the truths behind this now 75-year-old masterwork.

To listen to this episode, click here or click the "play" button on the embedded streaming player below. Or, you can stream, download, or subscribe to Cineversary wherever you get your podcasts, including Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Audible, Castbox, Google Podcasts, Pocket Casts, PodBean, RadioPublic, and Overcast.

Learn more about the Cineversary podcast at www.cineversary.com and email show comments or suggestions to cineversarypodcast@gmail.com. 

  

 

Read more...

Dear Zachary: Your movie is transfixing but devastating

Nothing can quite prepare you for the emotional rollercoaster ride that director Kurt Kuenne takes you on in his 2008 documentary Dear Zachary: A Letter to a Son About His Father, a film that asks a lot of its audience. Kuenne recounts the tragic story of Andrew Bagby, a young doctor murdered in 2001 by his ex-girlfriend, Shirley Turner. The filmmaker, who shared a longstanding friendship with Bagby since childhood, undertook the project both as a heartfelt tribute and a means to document Bagby's life for his unborn son, Zachary. Dear Zachary stands out as an expressively charged work, guiding audiences through the highs and lows of Bagby's life, his untimely death, and (SPOILERS AHEAD) the subsequent legal proceedings involving his grieving parents David and Kathleen and the titular grandson they seek custody of (fascinatingly, the film is not so much about Andrew or Zachary as it is about these grandparents). Kuenne lends exceptional authenticity and depth to the narrative, and his emotional investment is palpable throughout the movie.

To listen to a recording of our CineVerse group discussion of this film, conducted last week, click here.

Dear Zachary doesn’t even pretend to be objective. This is more of a passionate polemic or video as personal essay than a documentary. Kuenne, who also narrated, shot, edited, scored, and co-produced, has an understandably biased agenda here: To pay proper homage to his late friend, explain to Andrew’s son and survivors why Andrew was so loved and special, and bring needed attention to the injustice behind Andrew’s murder and the legal system that allowed Shirley Turner to kill two innocent human beings—one a defenseless child. In this way, it transcends its role as a true crime doc by serving as a form of advocacy, particularly addressing the shortcomings of the legal system in protecting victims and preventing similar tragedies. We hear Kuenne’s narrator voice get choked up in some scenes, revealing how sincerely invested the artist is emotionally in his subject.

In defense of the documentarian here, he never originally intended this to be released commercially to the public. It was to be a private video given to Zachary and his family and friends. The director donated all profits from the movie to scholarships named after Andrew and Zachary.

What distinguishes Dear Zachary as a doc? Kuenne employs a fairly rapid style of editing, using archival home video snippets, current-day interviews and visitation footage, and photographs to tell this story at a relatively swift pace, often speaking quickly and juxtaposing images speedily. Reviewer Brian Orndorf wrote: “Kuenne’s intense study of the events is impressive, using furious editing and speed reading to pack a hornet’s nest of holdups and procedural steps into the narrative. The effect is chaotic (think “Spun” for editorial comparison), whirling the viewer around, hoping to impart the tumultuous sensations that haunted the Bagbys, leaving “Dear Zachary” undeniably compelling, but also faintly pushy, trying much too hard to unsettle the viewer with visual gimmicks when the stark reality of Turner’s twisted ways and the Bagbys’ fury is more than enough to brand itself on the heart and mind.”

Arguably, Kuenne didn’t need to lace the film with his highly emotive piano score, which can come across as manipulatively maudlin. The images and words are powerful and persuasive enough to wring every emotion possible out of the viewer.

Dear Zachary stresses perseverance through the power of love. David and Kathleen have to put aside their hatred and loathing of Shirley, the murderer of their son, to have visitations with their grandson. They stand as the ultimate role models of grace and dignity under pressure, teaching viewers that love and family bonds are bigger priorities than even justice.

This is also a painful dissertation on the profound unfairness of life. One tragedy as a subject matter is enough to warrant a fascinating documentary, but two awful human catastrophes compound the misery exponentially and utterly unfairly. Just when you think the horrible circumstances the Bagby family has to endure can’t get any worse or more cosmically cruel, it gets much worse.

On a brighter note, Kuenne’s passion project reminds us that dead loved ones live on so long as we cherish and remember them. Dear Zachary pays tribute to Andrew and the young son he never knew, but the candid interviews with relatives and friends of the Bagby family—as well as David and Kathleen’s efforts as political activists to change the flawed legal system around bail and the safety of children in custody—reveal that they will never be forgotten.

Similar works

• Documentaries that set out following one trajectory but eventually change course and focus as filming progresses, such as The Queen of Versailles, Capturing the Friedmans, Gimme Shelter, and Vernon, Florida
• The Thin Blue Line
• My Brother Jordan
• The Imposter
• Tell Me Who I Am
• Making a Murderer

Other docs, shorts, and films by Kurt Kuenne

• Drive-in Movie Memories
• Validation
• Shuffle

Read more...

It's alright ma, I'm only bleeding (through the floor)

In 2017, Darren Aronofsky opened a disturbing Pandora’s box he called mother!, a psychological and surreal horror film that delves into the life of a young woman (Jennifer Lawrence), residing with her husband (Javier Bardem) in a rural and secluded mansion. Their peaceful existence takes a tumultuous turn when an enigmatic couple, embodied by Ed Harris and Michelle Pfeiffer, unexpectedly enters their lives. As tensions mount and the intrusive behavior of the visitors escalates, the woman's once-serene life descends into chaos. Complementing the leads are memorable supporting performances from Domhnall Gleeson, Brian Gleeson, and Kristen Wiig.

The movie's provocative and polarizing nature has further contributed to its enduring reputation. While some viewers admire its audaciousness and thematic complexity, others find it polarizing, viewing it as either pretentious or disturbing.

To listen to a recording of our CineVerse group discussion of this film, click here.

Aronofsky employs intense visuals to instill a pervasive sense of unease and tension throughout the film. But it’s a hard work to take literally, often employing dream logic and fantastical imagery (like the supernatural visions the poet’s wife sees throughout the house). Instead, it plays better as an allegory or parable for some greater lesson. After all, it’s pretty doubtful the director would subject his audience to (SPOILER ALERT) a literal killing and cannibalistic eating of a newborn baby.

Among the clues that this is a nightmarish cinematic metaphor removed from the real world? Consider how blood can dissolve wood and stone, the wife’s ability to sense a diseased heart hidden in the home upon touching the walls, the ridiculous escalation of intruders, and how the crowd so quickly devolves into brutality and aberrant behavior. Interestingly, the characters are never named. Speaking of characters, the house itself qualifies as one, often exhibiting human traits like that obscured cardiac organ or the bleeding floor as well as the exaggerated sound effects that enhance the domicile’s aliveness. The unnerving sound design, in fact, substitutes for a proper musical score.

The filmmaking choices ramp up the tension and claustrophobic elements of the misc en scene, as noticed by critic Brian Tallerico: “Aronofsky shoots the film with a stunning degree of close-up. We are on top of Lawrence and Bardem for most of the film, which not only amplifies the claustrophobia but allows Aronofsky and Libatique to play with a limited perspective. We stay close on Mother, and can barely tell what’s happening behind her or to the sides. The lack of establishing shots keeps us off the game when it comes to a typical horror experience. We often spend horror films looking for answers—Who's the killer? Who's going to die? Who's going to live? "mother!" changes the genre rules. It thrives on horror of confusion, which is the main currency of the film.” BFI reviewer Nick Pinkerton observed: “Save for two bookending scenes, the narrative is entirely filtered through her eyes; she is very often tracked in moving, choreographed closeups which recall Aronofsky’s treatment of Mickey Rourke in The Wrestler; and more than once the camera’s point-of-view is aligned intimately with her own, as when she looks down in the shower at the swell of her pregnant stomach.”

Major themes afoot in mother! include, of course, the abuse and destruction of the planet. The film can serve as an effective allegory for, as Jennifer Lawrence stated, “the rape and torment of Mother Earth… I represent Mother Earth.”

Mankind’s yearning to connect to an often uncaring and absent creator deity is also explored herein, as personified by the unnamed poet, who frequently abandons his wife and leaves her vulnerable.

Additionally, the film plays as a biblical metaphor, representing the Old Testament and New Testament. Lawrence further said: “Javier, whose character is a poet, represents a form of God, a creator; Michelle Pfeiffer is in Eve to Ed Harris’s Adam, there’s Cain and Able, and the setting sometimes resembles the Garden of Eden.” The poet’s wife gives birth to a Christlike messiah, who is literally consumed by the spiritually ravenous throng in a communion-like ritual.

Matt Goldberg, writer with Collider, wrote: “The movie is about the relationship between God, Mother Earth, the environment, and humanity, with Aronofsky coming down on the side of humanity being a plague upon the Earth…When (Ed Harris is) puking in the bathroom, we quickly see an injury right where his rib would be. In the next scene, his wife, representing Eve, shows up. They’re allowed to wander the house but are told specifically not to go into the poet’s office, but they do so anyway and Eve accidentally breaks the fire crystal. They’re then exiled and soon begin having sex elsewhere in the house, thus representing original sin and man’s fall from grace after eating the forbidden fruit from the Tree of Knowledge in the Garden of Eden…The wake then becomes a chaotic party where, after numerous protestations to not sit on an un-braced sink, the sink becomes unmoored from the wall and water pours into the house. Thus we have humanity’s downfall following the slaying of Abel and eventually the flood…the Earth and humanity will die and at best God will simply do everything all over again because he needs to create and desires love from his creations.”

Mother! reminds us, too, of the threat of a patriarchal-dominated society and male ambitions to women and families, who are frequently ignored, neglected, minimized, and abused. Case in point: The poet is a powerful and creative man but he takes his wife and other female partners for granted, demanding their love and adoration without reciprocating it equally. Furthermore, it’s a film about the dangers of religious fanaticism, the cult of personality, entrusting your faith in an imperfect human being or belief system, and social media—with the often rude, imposing, possessive, and outspoken home intruders symbolizing the nameless followers and comment critics who populate social media platforms, chatrooms, and comment fields.

This movie is also a rumination on the unbalanced relationship between a vampiric artist and his exploited muse, or how the artist often sucks dry the vitality of his inspiration. Critics have compared the poet to a kind of Bluebeard figure who cycles through one female muse victim after another. mother! has also been referred to as a “self-criticism” narrative in which the artist (Aronofsky) indicts himself and his self-indulgent creative instincts, illustrating the destructive nature of artistry and creativity. The poet has to “burn down” his inspirations and create a lot of waste to produce a relatively small but beautiful jewel. Ponder that Aronofsky was dating Lawrence at the time of this production.

 

Similar works

• The Apartment trilogy by Polanski, including Repulsion, Rosemary’s Baby, and The Tenant
• Allegorical thrillers like The Neon Demon, The House That Jack Built, The Babadook, The Killing of a Sacred Deer, and Don’t Look Up
• Home invasion horrors like Funny Games and The Invitation
• Suspiria (2018)
• Antichrist
• Possession

Other films by Darren Aronofsky

• Requiem for a Dream
• The Wrestler
• Black Swan
• Noah
• The Whale
• Postcard from Earth

Read more...

Universal thumbs up for It Happened One Night

They don’t come much more timeless or beloved than It Happened One Night, directed by Frank Capra, produced by Harry Cohn for Columbia Pictures, and released in 1934—90 years ago this week. The film follows the escapades of Ellie Andrews, a wealthy socialite portrayed by Claudette Colbert, who flees from her domineering father to elope with a fortune-seeking playboy. Along her journey, she encounters Peter Warne, a recently fired newspaper journalist played by Clark Gable. Recognizing Ellie, Peter offers assistance in exchange for an exclusive story, leading to a mismatched duo embarking on a cross-country adventure filled with comedic mishaps and burgeoning affection.

Set against the backdrop of the Great Depression, the film was crafted during a challenging era for Columbia Pictures, a minor studio competing with Hollywood giants like MGM and Paramount. Despite initial reluctance from Capra, who ultimately secured creative control, the production encountered obstacles including budget constraints and artistic disagreements. Nevertheless, It Happened One Night triumphed as both a critical and commercial success. The memorable performances of Colbert and Gable, coupled with their on-screen chemistry and impeccable comedic timing, solidified the film's enduring popularity.

To listen to a recording of our CineVerse group discussion of this film, click here. For the latest Cineversary podcast episode celebrating It Happened One Night’s 90th anniversary, click here.

This picture remains evergreen for delving into topics such as class privilege, socioeconomic disparities, and the universal quest for happiness—messages that particularly struck a chord with audiences of this hardscrabble era. Its examination of these themes, presented with both levity and depth, imbued the film with substance and raised it above the rank of frivolous entertainment expected from a romantic comedy for 1934.

Ponder that this is likely the best comedy that Gable and Colbert, individually, have ever starred in and quite possibly their finest performances, as evidenced by the fact that It Happened One Night is the only film each ever won an acting Oscar for. Although it was already his 13th directed film in the sound era, It Happened One Night is also the feature that made the world take notice of Capra, his first in a successful run of crowd-pleasing movies that the filmmaker crafted in the 1930s for Columbia.

Moreover, the film is an important early benchmark in the screwball comedy subgenre. Three-Cornered Moon (1933), also starring Colbert, and Bombshell (1933) with Jean Harlow are often credited as the first screwball comedies, but this is the work that likely helped put screwballs on the map thanks to its superior quality compared to those earlier pictures, its immense popularity at the box-office in 1934, and its enduring legacy. It helped introduce several key characteristics of the screwball comedy, a subgenre known for:

• Farcical stories and situations—where the film pokes fun at stereotypical characters, such as filthy rich fathers and spoiled rotten daughters (case in point: My Man Godfrey)
• Themes highlighting the differences between upper and lower socioeconomic classes, with many of the settings taking place among the high society but involving a likable male love interest from the other side of the tracks (see Mr. Deeds Goes to Town)
• A plot centered on courtship and marriage (The Philadelphia Story) or remarriage (The Awful Truth)
• Often a strong-willed, determined, and sometimes tomboyish female lead, commonly depicted as stronger and even smarter than her male counterpart (Bringing Up Baby, The Lady Eve)
• Fast pacing in the humor and repartee, direction, editing, and dialogue delivery (His Girl Friday)
• Physical humor, including slapstick (Bringing Up Baby), pratfalls (The Lady Eve), and sight gags (To Be Or Not To Be), are often used to elicit major laughs and make dignified characters look ridiculous.
• Quirky and colorful side characters also populate these stories, as evidenced by Shapely, Danker the singing thief, and the various motel owners in this film.
• A story involving mistaken identity, misunderstanding, keeping of an important secret, occasionally involving cross-dressing or masquerading (Some Like it Hot and Bringing Up Baby)
• A classic battle of the sexes between a man and a woman, with the male lead’s masculinity often challenged by a strong female love interest (The Awful Truth)
• Colorful supporting characters with quirky personalities.

It Happened One Night helped advance several of these elements in the subgenre, such as silly characters, eccentric scenarios, and a comedic battle of the sexes theme. Its seamless fusion of humor and romance, as well as its contrast between the haves and the have-nots, established a blueprint that numerous films would emulate in subsequent years, including My Man Godfrey, Sullivan’s Travels, The Lady Eve, The Palm Beach Story, and many others. Film scholar Molly Haskell remarked: “Films before (It Happened One Night), the romantic comedies, they really hadn’t been silly…here, (the leads) could be silly and also be incredibly romantic.”

This isn’t a wall-to-wall screwball, but certain scenes and situations employ the zaniness and physical chaos endemic of classic screwballs, such as when Peter and Ellie pretend they're married in front of the detectives, when he gives her the “piggyback” ride, and the hitchhiking sequence.

Aside from being a screwball influence, It Happened One Night made history by becoming the inaugural film to secure victories in all five primary categories at the Academy Awards: Best Picture, Best Director (Frank Capra), Best Actor (Clark Gable), Best Actress (Claudette Colbert), and Best Adapted Screenplay (Robert Riskin). This marked a significant milestone in Oscar history, establishing the film as a trailblazer in the annals of cinema. Consider that after It Happened One Night, only two other films have won all five of these major awards: One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest (1975), and The Silence of the Lambs (1991).

Furthermore, it’s been recognized as among the first Hollywood films to portray a wealthy character undergoing a dramatic reversal of fortune and being romantically involved with an individual from a lower socioeconomic background. This narrative decision allowed the movie to delve into themes of class and privilege in a manner that was innovative for a film set in and released during the Great Depression.

Additionally, It Happened One Night set new standards and expectations for on-screen romantic relationships. The palpable chemistry between Gable and  Colbert elevated the film beyond conventional romantic comedies. Their natural banter and flirtatious exchanges set a precedent for on-screen chemistry that would influence numerous romantic films to come. “It Happened One Night has had an immeasurable effect on the romantic comedy genre, which has paid homage to and spoofed Capra’s picture countless times,” Deep Focus Review essayist Brian Eggert wrote. “Whenever a character uses their sex appeal to stop a passing car, whenever a sheet separates a room, whenever life on the road provides a life-altering experience, whenever a bride changes her mind at the last minute, and whenever two bickering adults fall in love, It Happened One Night is among the influences.”

Capra’s work was groundbreaking for its realistic portrayal of downtrodden settings, which was rare for Hollywood films of that time. Scenes depicting dirty country roads, bus stations, outdoor shows, and a run-down countryside, along with characters eating raw carrots and meager breakfasts, offered a stark contrast to the glamorous escapism typically associated with Hollywood productions.

The movie left a lasting cultural imprint, shaping not just future romcoms and screwballs but also popular characters and trends. Recall that Gable eats a carrot and is called “Doc” by Shapely, the rider on the bus, who is later frightened by the mention of a personality named “Bugs Dooley”: This movie is credited with inspiring animator Friz Freling in the creation of cartoon character Bugs Bunny. Additionally, rumor has it that sales of men’s undershirts tanked after Gable was shown taking off his shirt to reveal a bare chest; the film may have also popularized hitchhiking.

As proof of how beloved this film and its narrative was and is, consider the numerous remakes in its wake: Even Knew Her Apples (1945); You Can’t Run Away From It (1956); and several adaptations made in India between 1956 and 2007. It’s been spoofed and referenced, as well, in movies like Laurel and Hardy’s Way Out West (1937), Mel Brooks’ Spaceballs (1987), and Bandits (2001).

This pre-code film was provocative in its time, too. For instance, the "Walls of Jericho" scenes were considered risqué in 1934 for their suggestion of an unmarried man and woman sleeping in the same room together, for Gable taking off his shirt, and for Cobert wearing a revealing undergarment. In her Criterion Collection essay, Farran Smith Nehme wrote: “What takes this setup from the cute to the ravishing is what happens when the lights are shut off and the full beauty of Joseph Walker’s cinematography takes hold. The rain outside makes the windows sparkle, and the light from them outlines Colbert’s form as she stands there in her slip, trying to calm her nerves. It’s a shot that, at the time, could have revealed more of Colbert’s state of undress, and indeed that’s how Capra had planned it. But Colbert objected, and Capra later said the scene was sexier in the near dark. It Happened One Night made the sexual longing unmistakable, but did it in a way that showed future filmmakers how to stay on the right side of the censors.”

Also, the film includes numerous instances of sexual suggestiveness, such as Colbert showing off her legs and fellow bus rider Shapely’s lines like “When a cold mama gets hot, boy, she sizzles,” and “Shapley’s the name and that’s how I like ’em.” Eggert continued: “Ellie…has a voracious appetite. Literary and early Hollywood symbolism often treated hunger as a shorthand analogy for sexual appetite, and It Happened One Night features no end of references to food and hunger…Coming from the vacuous high society, she finds herself drawn to Peter in all his earthiness—epitomized by his fondness for that most phallic of vegetable roots, the raw carrot. When, out of desperate hunger, Ellie resolves to try a bite, she realizes that raw carrots aren’t so bad, after all.”

Amazingly, we never even see Peter and Ellie kiss, nor does Capra give us a payoff romantic embrace at the conclusion—merely a clever shot of the Wall of Jericho blanket tumbling down, a cinematically potent suggestive image.

Capra's films often explore populist values and depict the struggle of the everyday common man against the machinery of politics, commerce, and corruption. They frequently portray rugged individualism as a myth or fairy tale created to maintain the illusion of democracy, as seen in works like Meet John Doe and Mr. Smith Goes to Washington. Capra's characters are often conflicted by alternating realities, exemplified by George Bailey's internal struggle in It's a Wonderful Life as he grapples with his desires for personal fulfillment and societal responsibilities. Strong and charismatic female leads are also a hallmark of Capra's films, with actresses like Jean Arthur, Barbara Stanwyck, and Claudette Colbert taking on memorable roles in movies such as Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, Mr. Deeds Goes to Town, Meet John Doe, and It Happened One Night.

Several of Capra’s scenes in the film serve as poignant reminders of the Great Depression setting. For instance, the scene where bus passengers engage in a spontaneous singalong symbolizes a moment of hope and unity amidst adversity, allowing them to momentarily forget their personal struggles and come together as a community. Additionally, the sequence where characters selflessly give their last dollars to a hungry woman and child highlights the widespread economic hardship faced by many during this era. Furthermore, the scene where Ellie impulsively dumps a perfectly good meal on the floor reflects a sense of hubris and extravagance that contrasts starkly with the prevailing economic conditions of the Great Depression. We also observe Peter gesturing friendly waves to drifters riding the rails.

Indeed, class disparities are front and center in It Happened One Night. At the heart of the film lies the juxtaposition between Ellie, an affluent, sheltered heiress, and Peter, a rugged reporter. Their interactions serve as a lens through which the movie delves into societal class distinctions, challenging preconceived notions linked to affluence and privilege. This is also a narrative about the battle between two Kings: King Wesley and Peter, who is nicknamed “King” by his fellow inebriated reporters in the scene when he is introduced. The former is a King whose class, fame, wealth, and privilege make him a fitting suitor to an heiress, while the latter is a king with a lowercase "k" who, despite his lower socioeconomic status, rules Ellie’s heart.

Other themes explored include self-reliance, autonomy, self-discovery, and the importance of thinking for oneself and pursuing one's true passions. Ellie and Peter each pursue independence and freedom in distinct manners. Ellie flees from her domineering father to pursue her marital desires, while Peter, a tenacious and self-reliant journalist, seeks autonomy through his career. Their joint odyssey facilitates a deeper understanding of their individual aspirations and desires. Ellie and Peter both undergo significant personal growth and exploration throughout the narrative. Ellie learns to assert her independence and agency, while Peter cultivates empathy and compassion. Their collaborative journey serves as a catalyst for uncovering pivotal truths about themselves and their intrinsic values.

Recall how Peter lectures Ellie on how to properly dunk a donut, ride piggyback, and hitchhike. This becomes a running gag in which Peter asserts his assumed authority on these subjects until the student becomes the teacher in the hitchhiking sequence, which demonstrates that, like her, he’s learning important lessons in this journey—including the lesson that Ellie isn’t the dizzy dame or helpless brat that he imagines her to be.

This is certainly a “money can’t buy you love” tale. The film espouses that wealth and material possessions are insufficient for securing love or happiness, highlighting the significance of true affection and mutual respect. The movie conveys a message that love can serve as a great equalizer among different classes, suggesting that interpersonal relationships have the potential to transcend socioeconomic barriers. 

However, this message may be diluted when tracing the trajectory of Ellie's character arc, which ultimately challenges the notion of female empowerment and independence. While initially depicted as a strong-willed and intelligent woman resistant to patriarchal control, Ellie's reliance on Peter for protection and eventual acceptance of her father's wishes arguably undermine her agency and autonomy. Moreover, her ignorance regarding financial matters and her inability to fend for herself highlight the constraints imposed on her by societal expectations and gender norms. Thus, while the film may celebrate the spirit of the common man in certain respects, it reinforces traditional gender roles and power dynamics for the time.

Per Slant Magazine critic Chris Cabin: “If the film ultimately idealizes the morals of the middle class in terms of usable intellect and responsibility, the narrative builds off the friction between entitlement and self-reliance, both between the two leads and within Ellie. The filmmakers all but underline this early on when Warne’s colleagues christen him “King,” just like Ellie’s other suitor—one given as a sign of a family’s wealth and heritage, the other gifted by the common man for an act of careless, bemused defiance.”

It Happened One Night has a few greatest gifts it continues to bestow with every rewatch. First is its ability to make us believe in the spontaneity of love and how it can happen unexpectedly. Gift #2 is its reinforcement of the often implausible notion that opposites can attract. And gift #3 is its remarkable power to increasingly care about and root for two characters who often aren’t very likable or relatable—especially 90 years later when the dated gender politics and patriarchal values of this film can uncomfortably stand out.

Read more...

The power of persuasion

Fair warning: The 2014 film Diplomacy, a French historical drama helmed by director Volker Schlöndorff and adapted from Cyril Gély's play of the same title, is one of those “based loosely on historical events” dramatizations that can infuriate scholars and historians. Nevertheless, even if it fudges the facts, it’s a compelling drama that unfolds against the backdrop of Nazi-occupied Paris in 1944, chronicling the efforts of Swedish diplomat Raoul Nordling, portrayed by André Dussollier, to dissuade General Dietrich von Choltitz—the German military governor of Paris, played by Niels Arestrup—from executing Adolf Hitler's directive to annihilate Paris before the Allies' arrival.

Dussollier and Arestrup deliver arresting performances, infusing their characters with depth and authenticity, while Schlöndorff's direction and the film's cinematography capture the tension and complexities of the narrative, effectively portraying the intricate negotiations and ethical dilemmas faced by the protagonists.

To hear a recording of our CineVerse group discussion of this movie, conducted earlier this month, click here.

What’s interesting about Diplomacy is that it’s an antiwar movie stripped to bare essentials, featuring only two main characters, filmed primarily in a single room, depicting very little actual combat and not featuring any personalities from or scenes involving the other warring side. This is the rare war film less about action than about words. In their essay for Offscreen.com, George Lellis and Hans-Bernhard Moeller wrote: “It is easy to dramatize war, but much harder to dramatize peace. In Diplomatie, Gély and Schlöndorff have pulled off the trick of making anti-war works because they have provided a largely non-violent resolution to the conflict at hand. The superiority of the choice of non-violence over destruction is reinforced by a closing caption that tells us that Choltitz’s wife and children went unharmed, putting to rest Choltitz’s fears that if he disobeyed orders his family would be killed… Diplomacy thus deemphasizes spectacle in favor of talk, drawing one’s attention to the subtleties of dialogue and performance.”

Interestingly, the filmmakers use archival black-and-white footage of, first, the destruction of Warsaw to quickly demonstrate how ruthless and mighty the Nazis are at destroying a city, and second the encroachment of the Allies into Paris and the street combat involving the French resistance, to lend the film a sheen of verisimilitude.

Although the outcome is anticlimactic, considering that we know Paris wasn’t decimated, Schlöndorff and company effectively tighten the knot and create riveting suspense toward the conclusion as we await the general’s decision and observe the fictional close call among the soldiers preparing to detonate the explosives. Nordling and Choltitz go toe-to-toe with intriguing contentions for why the city should be spared or not, with the diplomat increasingly serving as the general’s conscience as the film progresses and penetrating the Nazi commander’s thick armor of resolve and self-imposed ethical immunity. By administering Choltitz’s medicine in time—therefore resisting the urge to let him die—and by responding “I don’t know” when the general asks him what he would do in his place, Nordling earns his trust, respect, and convincible ear.

Indeed, Diplomacy serves as a memorable lesson on empathy, or putting yourself in someone else’s shoes. When Choltitz asks Nordling what he would do in his place, he’s posing the question to the audience, too. While it’s easy to argue logically that saving over a million French lives would outweigh saving your wife and children, the reality is that, if the decision were up to you it might not be so easy to make.

The moral conflict at the heart of the tale is palpable: If you are sworn to obey orders and do what’s best for your soldiers and your country, should you disobey those orders if they come from a leader you no longer trust and from a motive of senseless violence and brutality?

Here, we also have a classic battle of wills. This story pits one man—a neutral diplomat with cunning and persuadable powers—against a grizzled military leader who holds the fate of a major city and future postwar world order in his hands. The stakes are incredibly high, and both men prove that they can cogently rationalize their arguments and weigh the pros and cons of the impending decision. Although the general appears unyielding and determined earlier in the film, we see cracks emerge in his stony façade as well as physical and moral vulnerability.

Diplomacy further posits that the fate of nations and the outcome of major historical events often hinge on the mere choice of one flawed human being. Although this 11th-hour meeting between Choltitz and Nordling is a dramatic fabrication, it demonstrates how the decision one person can make in human history can be incredibly impactful. Director Volker Schlondorff said in an interview: “War places men in extreme situations and brings out the best and worst in humanity. These days a conflict between France and Germany is so unthinkable that I found it interesting to recall the past relationships between our two countries. If, God forbid, Paris had been razed, I doubt that the Franco-German bond would have formed or that Europe would have pulled through.”

This film also shows how words can sometimes be more powerful than weapons, and how healthy human dialogue and well-timed, carefully articulated arguments can defuse even the most volatile of situations. “The movie presents an argument between civilization and barbarism, between the pleasure principle and the death instinct,” wrote New Yorker critic David Denby. “But the filmmakers mostly avoid high-flown rhetoric in favor of the intensely practical give-and-take of negotiation. Schlöndorff…makes a case that diplomacy can solve the most intricately knotted problems.”

Similar works

• Is Paris Burning
• The Devil’s General
• Winterspelt
• Frost/Nixon
• Downfall
• Conspiracy
• Thirteen Days
• Shake Hands With the Devil
• Fail Safe
• 12 Angry Men
• Secret Honor
• Missing
• Films with narratives restricted by limited locations, like Rope, Rear Window, and Sleuth

Other films by Volker Schlondorff

• The Tin Drum
• Death of a Salesman (TV)
• Enigma (TV)

Read more...

Cineversary podcast sends valentine to It Happened One Night for its 90th birthday

Joseph McBride

In Cineversary podcast episode #67, host Erik Martin and guest Joseph McBride, a film professor at San Francisco State University and author of Frankly: Unmasking Frank Capra, send a valentine to It Happened One Night, directed by Frank Capra, which celebrates a 90th birthday this month. Erik and Joseph hitchhike across Hollywood history to examine how this granddaddy of the romcom and screwball comedy remains a classic, its influence on later films, what it reveals about Capra, and much more.

To listen to this episode, click here or click the "play" button on the embedded streaming player below. Or, you can stream, download, or subscribe to Cineversary wherever you get your podcasts, including Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Audible, Castbox, Google Podcasts, Pocket Casts, PodBean, RadioPublic, and Overcast.

Learn more about the Cineversary podcast at www.cineversary.com and email show comments or suggestions to cineversarypodcast@gmail.com.

Read more...

Talking Reds

Released in 1981, Reds is one of those “they don’t make ’em like that anymore” historical epics popularized in the 1950s and 1960s. Directed and co-written by Warren Beatty and featuring a star-studded cast including Beatty, Diane Keaton, Jack Nicholson, Edward Herrmann, Maureen Stapleton, and others, the film tells of the life and endeavors of John Reed—a journalist, activist, and author renowned for documenting the Russian Revolution in his seminal book Ten Days That Shook the World. The narrative follows Reed's radical journalistic pursuits and his immersion into socialist politics, culminating in his voyage to Russia to witness and report on the October Revolution of 1917, and delves into Reed's intimate relationship with fellow activist Louise Bryant, portrayed by Diane Keaton. Spanning several years in the early 20th Century and encapsulating significant historical events, Reds stands as a sprawling drama renowned for its grand scope and ambitious storytelling. The movie earned Beatty considerable accolades, including an Academy Award for Best Director.

To listen to a recording of our CineVerse group discussion of this film, click here.

Perhaps the most amazing thing about Reds is the fact that it was made at all, especially at a time when Reagan had come to power, the Soviet Union was still America’s bitter enemy, and Hollywood was dubious about funding bloated and costly passion projects epics like Heaven’s Gate and Apocalypse Now. Beatty’s considerable clout and unswerving belief in this film are primarily responsible for how it came to be made. Consider that Reds is one of the last movies with an intermission, and one of the last of the big-budget, three-hour-plus epics of the previous century, a type of movie that had gone out of fashion years earlier.

It’s also a genre mashup: a romance, a biopic, a period piece, and even a documentary thanks to its inclusion of “witnesses”—real-life talking heads who serve as a kind of Greek chorus, offering commentary on the characters and providing contextual counterpoints to the dramatizations we see. It’s been credited, in fact, as one of the best modern docudramas for this reason.

Beatty’s directorial choices are interesting: He weaves in the testimonies of these witnesses throughout the film, having them serve almost as introducers of new chapters within the narrative; yet, he never names them. Beatty also has a penchant for abruptly cutting away from a shot or scene, often refusing to provide closure to a particular sequence—such as when Reed runs from the train away from enemy fire. And rather than provide a soup-to-nuts account of Reed’s major life highlights, we are often given snapshots and brief snatches of an event, speech, or occurrence.

The film is divided into two sections, cleaved by the intermission. Part one plays more like a honeymoon and often ecstatic romantic and political coupling of characters, ending with exhilaration—for Reed and Bryant—of the Russian Revolution. Part two depicts trouble in paradise, as we witness arguments between Reed and Bryant and Reed and his fellow socialists, and observe the fraying of the optimism and idealism of Reed and other true believers who learn the hard way that communism has consequences.

Fortunately, Beatty navigates these controversial political waters deftly, being careful not to over-romanticize the allure of socialism/communism, presenting its promises and pitfalls in fairly equal measure. He embodies Reed as a flawed human being, as well.

At its core, Reds is a study of a personal relationship under pressure, and therefore, is regarded by many as more of a love story than a historical/political drama. Fascinatingly, Beatty and Keaton were a romantic couple during this production, and the filming put a major strain on their relationship.

That element of private tension, manifested in the performances, speaks to one of the film’s key themes: the toll a public/professional life takes on your private affairs. Reds is also about the risks and rewards of passionate idealism and commitment to a political cause. This biopic of Reed depicts his spirited support of communism and the lengths to which he was willing to advance it, ultimately dying young as a consequence of his tireless work ethic.

Perhaps most importantly, Reds is a treatise on how love grows and matures with time. Reed and Bryant’s on-again/off-again romance and eventual marriage are continually tested, but their unshakable love and bonds of affection prove stronger as the story proceeds to its climax. Even though Bryant has an affair with playwright Eugene O’Neill, she returns to Reed and stays faithful to him following the end of the tryst.

Reds espouses a carpe diem manifesto, as well, stressing the importance of seizing the moment and recognizing a seismic but fleeting event in history that you can be a part of by acting quickly, decisively, and intrepidly.

Reds also stands as a cautionary tale about disillusionment and the consequences of overinvesting in an unproven system of beliefs and unvetted political cause. Emma Goldman, Louise Bryant, and, to a lesser extent diehard believer Reed eventually realize that the idealistic Bolshevik revolution in Russia and its high aims have been co-opted by a relatively small group of soulless communist bureaucrats who defend their denial of human rights as good for the party. Goldman says: “Anyone even vaguely suspected of being a counter-revolutionary can be taken out and shot without a trial. Where does that end? Is any nightmare justifiable in the name of defense against counter-revolution? Nothing works. Four million people died last year. Not from fighting a war. They died from starvation and typhus in a militaristic police state that suppresses freedom and human rights.” Reed responds: “It’s not happening the way we thought it would.” 

Similar works

• Historical epics like Lawrence of Arabia, Doctor Zhivago, Gone With the Wind, Gandhi, and The Last Emperor
• Controversial big-budget Hollywood risks like Heaven’s Gate and Apocalypse Now
• Films about journalists or writers covering wars, revolutions, and social upheavals like The Year of Living Dangerously, The Killing Fields, Salvador, and Hemingway & Gellhorn

Other films directed by Warren Beatty

• Heaven Can Wait (co-directed)
• Dick Tracy
• Bulworth
• Rules Don’t Apply

Read more...

Child is mother to the woman

Céline Sciamma, acclaimed director of Portrait of a Lady on Fire, followed up that critical darling with another standout French work, Petite Maman (2021), which means “little mom.” Starring wonderfully precocious twin sister actresses, the movie has received acclaim for its emotional richness, subtle storytelling, and examination of intricate themes. Sciamma's skilled direction, along with compelling performances and a heartfelt narrative, has earned it kudos as a memorable cinematic text that connects with audiences through its genuine and poignant depiction of relationships.

Click here to listen to a recording of our CineVerse group discussion of this film, conducted last week.

Among the distinctive, memorable, and surprising facets of Petite Maman is the fact that this could very well be a science fiction film. It’s easy to assume that eight-year-old Nelly is a lonely but intensely creative and imaginative kid who fantasizes these encounters with her mother, who has suddenly appeared as a playmate of the same age. But consider that we see her father interact with and acknowledge young Marion, and he allows Nelly to stay one more day at the house after agreeing to let the girls enjoy a sleepover. Also, recall that young Marion tells Nelly “I’m already thinking about you”; at the film’s conclusion, Nelly and Marion call each other by their real names and there seems to be an innate understanding by the characters, and the audience, that adult Marion has been positively affected by Nelly’s time travel experience.

The casual but direct way that the filmmakers suddenly introduce the notion of time travel and fantasy, without explaining how or why it’s happening, is remarkable. Without exposition, we and Nelly are unexpectedly thrust into the past, and visual cues—like the grandmother’s wallpaper and bathroom tile—inform us, without fanfare, that a magically impossible journey is occurring.

Regardless of how fantastically you interpret the story, this is one of the best family films and movies about childhood released in the 21st Century, a work that can appeal to any age but that can prove particularly relevant to adults who need to be reminded of the wonders and mysteries of childhood and what we can learn from our youthful pasts. “(Petite Maman) immerses us into the world of childhood where magic and dreams and the impossible are all still possible, before the world has beaten it out of us. It evokes the ethos of Supertramp’s 1979 “The Logical Song,” which is all about how the world doesn’t just expect, but demands that everything that is wonderful about childhood be left behind in favor of rigor and logic…(it) celebrates that space where everything is still wonderful, a miracle, beautiful, and magical,” said critic James Kendrick.

Fortunately, Sciamma isn’t sentimentally coercive. The picture doesn’t constantly shift into heartstrings overdrive mode by slathering on mawkish moments or excessively tender scenes designed to make our eyes moist. There isn’t even a score. “Petite Maman is full of scenes…that aim for a casual nonchalance that allows the viewer to absorb them without a telegraphed emotion,” RogerEbert.com reviewer Odie Henderson wrote. “It allows you to fill in the blanks.”

Consider how Petite Maman is similarly structured to Sciamma’s earlier Portrait of a Lady on Fire. NPR critic Justin Chang astutely observed that, “In both films, two female characters are granted a brief, even utopian retreat from the outside world and something mysterious and beautiful transpires.”

There are also hints that this is a narrative about nonconforming gender expression in a child. Remember that Nelly knows the location of her grandmother’s hidden closet, a word that carries all manner of connotations today, and that she asks her grandmother for help tying her necktie, an article of clothing normally associated with males.

“Child is father to the man,” poet William Wordsmith wrote, or in this case “mother to the woman.” Petite Maman demonstrates how our personality is significantly shaped by the behaviors and activities during our childhood, but it also suggests that we can live better as adults by remembering the truths we learned as kids.

Moreso than any other film in recent memory, this work explores how temporal perceptions change as we age. As children, time seems to crawl, but we also have more time to explore the world and our own imaginations. As adults, time goes by increasingly faster and we are continually reminded of the inevitability of death when our parents pass and our own mortality when our offspring mature. Petite Maman reminds us to slow down and recall periods in our youth when we were afforded the luxury of extra time—not only to dream and play but to sort and comprehend a gigantic world that shrinks with advancing years.

The filmmakers are also nudging us to trust our offspring and our own inner child. By reconnecting with our past younger selves and cherishing our formative memories, we can learn to better cope with the stress and challenges of adulthood. Additionally, Petite Maman encourages us to form stronger bonds of affection, understanding, and respect with our sons and daughters, especially when they are young, tender, and impressionable, and to remember that nurturing can go both ways in a healthy parent-child relationship: Ponder how Nelly feeds her mother and hugs her from behind in the car. “Petite maman races us into the future that is the “path behind” us, an ancestral reminder to do, together, what makes us feel happy; to say goodbye to the straight time that commands us to abandon childhood. To see it again,” Criterion Collection essayist So Mayer wrote.

Perhaps most importantly, this film is a portrait of grief and how a child tries to cope with the loss of a loved one. Nelly feels guilty for not properly saying goodbye to her now-deceased grandmother. But by traveling back in time, or fantasizing, she can both reconnect with her grandmother and forge a deeper, more lasting rapport with her mother.

Similar works

• Curse of the Cat People
• The Five Devils
• The Quiet Girl
• Ponette
• The Florida Project
• My Neighbor Totoro
• A Little Princess
• The Red Balloon
• Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close
• The Spirit of the Beehive
• Pan’s Labyrinth
• Where the Wild Things Are

Other films by Céline Sciamma

• Portrait of a Lady on Fire
• Girlhood
• Tomboy
• Water Lilies

Read more...