KallioWeHardlyKnewYe
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- May 30, 2003
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Movies: The Official "Movie of the Week" Club Thread III
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Ralph Spoilsport
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- Jun 4, 2011
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A fractured adult fairy tale which equates sex with power, The Scarlet Empress is the story a beautiful young princess-next-door brought from Germany to Moscow to become Catherine the Great, Empress of Russia. Actually, she is brought to the Imperial Court to produce an heir to the throne, but she sleeps with the Russian army instead of prince not-so-charming. So she digs a guy in a uniform. Although her romantic, schoolgirlish dreams of marrying a tall dark and handsome prince are crushed, she instead discovers and harnesses a strength she didn't know she had, the kind of influence that hot women have over men. It comes in handy when she gets wind of the Tsar's plan to do away with her. Sex appeal is her secret weapon; girl power brings down the tyrant. Catherine wears the pants in this palace.
The Scarlet Empress may be the most sensual, textured, tactile film ever made: a costume epic with lots of frills, feathers, and fur hats. Catherine is often shot through veils of fine lace. Pieces of straw are main props. In a great shot during her wedding we can practically feel her breath as it repeatedly threatens to extinguish the delicate flame of a candle dancing before her. You can almost feel this movie and sense its heartbeat. The visual motif of rhythmic, pendulum-like motion--the bells, swings, those smoke-filled thingys that are waved back and forth at ceremonies, blindfolded Catherine choosing between two lovers who have her in their embrace (hey, why not both?), or undulating from a rope in the barn--suggests this heartbeat. It may also suggest the erotic extremes that she experiences: from wide-eyed innocent to smirking vamp, consort to queen, sex symbol to sex goddess. My filthy mind has another interpretation for the back-and-forth motion. My filthy mind may have a point.
The Scarlet Empress may be the most sensual, textured, tactile film ever made: a costume epic with lots of frills, feathers, and fur hats. Catherine is often shot through veils of fine lace. Pieces of straw are main props. In a great shot during her wedding we can practically feel her breath as it repeatedly threatens to extinguish the delicate flame of a candle dancing before her. You can almost feel this movie and sense its heartbeat. The visual motif of rhythmic, pendulum-like motion--the bells, swings, those smoke-filled thingys that are waved back and forth at ceremonies, blindfolded Catherine choosing between two lovers who have her in their embrace (hey, why not both?), or undulating from a rope in the barn--suggests this heartbeat. It may also suggest the erotic extremes that she experiences: from wide-eyed innocent to smirking vamp, consort to queen, sex symbol to sex goddess. My filthy mind has another interpretation for the back-and-forth motion. My filthy mind may have a point.
The Scarlet Empress (1934) Directed by Josef von Sternberg
The Scarlet Empress is a period-piece costume drama about Catherine the Great's rise to power in the Russian court that is not quite like any other period-piece costume drama that I have ever seen. The film produces a mise en scene that probably influenced Eisenstein's later Ivan, the Terrible. Shot in beautiful black and white, image after image is filled with detail, often grotesque detail thanks to some imposing sculpture-like carvings that adorn candle holders, chairs and doorways. This is a fantasy Russia of the 19th century, though a decidedly adult fantasy. We first meet Catherine when she is a mere child, but she's smart and she grows up quickly. It's not that she will do anything to exercise her power in a circumstance where she shouldn't have any, it is how gleefully she is willing to use sex to achieve her desires. In an era, when almost all actresses communicated a "no" to all things physical or even suggestive of the physical, Marlene Dietrich leaves no doubt that she would say "yes" to anything as long as she is willing. It is a performance that dazzles and intoxicates, and it heats up the entire movie. Not that she doesn't have some help along the way. Sam Jaffe gives an indelible, although risky, performance as the mad King--perhaps the only male in court that Catherine isn't at least potentially attracted to. And as Empress Elizabeth, Louise Dresser is a hoot as a haughty, arrogant royal bound and determined to frustrate Catherine's ambitions. I mean this as a complement: Dresser gives a performance worthy of Miss Piggy who would have been absolutely perfect in the role. Still, it is Dietrich, full of sass, sly innuendo and easy sensuality, who dominates this movie with her electric presence. Von Sternberg photographs her beautifully, but her sexiness is off the charts, and he captures that, too. She seems to enjoy playing this role immensely. Perhaps Von Sternberg just aimed the camera and got the hell out of the way.
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Spring in Fialta
A malign star kept him
My physical health is a mess so its been difficult to watch films or read. I'll get caught up when I can, hopefully soon.
Ralph Spoilsport
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- Jun 4, 2011
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Spring in Fialta
A malign star kept him
I wish! I'm now hospitalized so don't think I'll be able to catch game 5! And thanks!
Jevo
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- Oct 3, 2010
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The Scarlet Empress (1934) dir. Josef von Sternberg
Princess Sophie of Anhalt-Zerbst is a minor German noblewoman. As a part of diplomatic deal between Russia and Prussia, the young beautiful Sophie is chosen as the wife of the crown prince of Russia, Peter. Sophie is a this point just a teenager, and mostly interested in the beauty of her husband-to-be. The handsome Russian envoy Count Alexei assures her that he is very beautiful. Upon arrival in Russia, Sophie is met by the Empress Elizabeth, who tells that she will convert to the Russian church, and receive a proper Russian name, from here on she would be Catherine, not Sophie. The court is as ravishing as Catherine imagined. But Peter is not. He's ugly, childish and dimwitted. The prospect of having to produce an heir with Peter repulses the young Catherine. Over the next 17 years, until Empress Elizabeth dies and Peter becomes Emperor. Catherine slowly builds up her influence at the court and in the various institutions in the Russia state. Often using her sexuality to gain power, by taking powerful men as her lovers. So that she is ready to usurp Peter once he becomes emperor.
When the movie had spent half an hour just getting to the wedding. I thought it wasn't leaving a whole lot for the rest of Catherine's life. There was after all quite a few years left in her by that point. But also because I thought it was going to be a comprehensive biographical film about her life, and not just until she became a ruler. Once I realised the scope of the movie, I became a lot more satisfied with the pacing. Catherine's early life in Russia and adaptation to life there is a very important aspect of how she develops from innocent teenage princess to ruthless ruler. Catherine gets a very rude awakening when she first lays eyes on Peter. Ever since she left Prussia, she has dreamed of a beautiful prince. She may even have dreamed that Count Alexei was the prince in disguise, due to Alexei flirting heavily with her on the journey, or maybe that was just me thinking that. But suddenly she has to grow up very suddenly. Life is not fairytale with a beautiful prince and they lived happily ever after. Her marriage is a business transaction. She knew this, but only now realises it. She has to grow up ten years in just a few months. She has to learn how to play court politics, because she can't rely on her dimwitted husband to do it for her. And it turns out she's very good at court politics, being willing to play every card in her hand if necessary. Her body is not cheaply for sale, but she abuses the fact that men puts a lot more value in it than she does.
The most impressive thing about this film has to be the set design and the costumes. Almost every scene is an elaborate display, filled with many tiny details. Many modern costume dramas do not come close to being as well made in this regard as The Scarlet Empress. Historical accuracy in the designs are likely to be lacking. But it's clear that this movie is style over history. If von Sternberg liked something, he put it in. The symbology used is not exactly subtle, and it doesn't try to be. Rather it seems to go for an approach where every scene is overloaded. It might not be for everyone. I think of it somewhat like Nicholas Winding Refn's recent films, where every scene is also aggressively stylish, which some like and some don't. The Scarlet Empress however has the advantage that it has more depth as a whole, and doesn't end up feeling as shallow as several of Refn's films do for me.
Marlene Dietrich is great as Catherine. She doesn't need to change much more than a slight facial expression to go from innocent teenager to sexy, intelligent and ruthless woman. She has an incredible screen presence when the scene calls for it. She is just as good as teenage Catherine, as she is as Catherine the usurper.
Princess Sophie of Anhalt-Zerbst is a minor German noblewoman. As a part of diplomatic deal between Russia and Prussia, the young beautiful Sophie is chosen as the wife of the crown prince of Russia, Peter. Sophie is a this point just a teenager, and mostly interested in the beauty of her husband-to-be. The handsome Russian envoy Count Alexei assures her that he is very beautiful. Upon arrival in Russia, Sophie is met by the Empress Elizabeth, who tells that she will convert to the Russian church, and receive a proper Russian name, from here on she would be Catherine, not Sophie. The court is as ravishing as Catherine imagined. But Peter is not. He's ugly, childish and dimwitted. The prospect of having to produce an heir with Peter repulses the young Catherine. Over the next 17 years, until Empress Elizabeth dies and Peter becomes Emperor. Catherine slowly builds up her influence at the court and in the various institutions in the Russia state. Often using her sexuality to gain power, by taking powerful men as her lovers. So that she is ready to usurp Peter once he becomes emperor.
When the movie had spent half an hour just getting to the wedding. I thought it wasn't leaving a whole lot for the rest of Catherine's life. There was after all quite a few years left in her by that point. But also because I thought it was going to be a comprehensive biographical film about her life, and not just until she became a ruler. Once I realised the scope of the movie, I became a lot more satisfied with the pacing. Catherine's early life in Russia and adaptation to life there is a very important aspect of how she develops from innocent teenage princess to ruthless ruler. Catherine gets a very rude awakening when she first lays eyes on Peter. Ever since she left Prussia, she has dreamed of a beautiful prince. She may even have dreamed that Count Alexei was the prince in disguise, due to Alexei flirting heavily with her on the journey, or maybe that was just me thinking that. But suddenly she has to grow up very suddenly. Life is not fairytale with a beautiful prince and they lived happily ever after. Her marriage is a business transaction. She knew this, but only now realises it. She has to grow up ten years in just a few months. She has to learn how to play court politics, because she can't rely on her dimwitted husband to do it for her. And it turns out she's very good at court politics, being willing to play every card in her hand if necessary. Her body is not cheaply for sale, but she abuses the fact that men puts a lot more value in it than she does.
The most impressive thing about this film has to be the set design and the costumes. Almost every scene is an elaborate display, filled with many tiny details. Many modern costume dramas do not come close to being as well made in this regard as The Scarlet Empress. Historical accuracy in the designs are likely to be lacking. But it's clear that this movie is style over history. If von Sternberg liked something, he put it in. The symbology used is not exactly subtle, and it doesn't try to be. Rather it seems to go for an approach where every scene is overloaded. It might not be for everyone. I think of it somewhat like Nicholas Winding Refn's recent films, where every scene is also aggressively stylish, which some like and some don't. The Scarlet Empress however has the advantage that it has more depth as a whole, and doesn't end up feeling as shallow as several of Refn's films do for me.
Marlene Dietrich is great as Catherine. She doesn't need to change much more than a slight facial expression to go from innocent teenager to sexy, intelligent and ruthless woman. She has an incredible screen presence when the scene calls for it. She is just as good as teenage Catherine, as she is as Catherine the usurper.
KallioWeHardlyKnewYe
Hey! We won!
- May 30, 2003
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Gents, off on a two week vacation. Unsure of internet connectivity so I may need to catch up, but I will return.
Pranzo Oltranzista
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- Oct 18, 2017
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That sucks even more than the MCU. Take care, man.
Ralph Spoilsport
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- Jun 4, 2011
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The Magnificent Ambersons is one of my favourite examples of how a great movie can be made from a nothing story. I honestly could not have cared less whether Eugene Morgan married his long-time sweetheart Isabel Amberson, or if her insufferable son George would forever keep them apart. But sometimes it is the storytelling which excites more than the story and that is the case with this Masterpiece Theatre-style soap opera told against the backdrop of constantly changing times, the lives of its characters ground down by the advance of time and technology being the real story here.
The movie starts at the beginning...that is, the beginning of film. Two title cards, primitive in their simplicity, as though we were back in the silent era. And then darkness. In the beginning there was the word, and the voice. Orson Welles is a perfect narrator with his "voice of God" baritone and he sets the story rolling with the basics: fade up on an establishing shot of Amberson mansion, it looks like a Norman Rockwell painting, but as the scene unfolds it becomes something more like a Lumière short. The camera remains static and fixed while recording a flurry of activity as a horse-drawn carriage pulls up at the house to wait for a passenger, the carriage-driver tends to the horses, other passengers hop out to stretch their legs, while Mrs. Amberson (her only apperance in the film I believe) emerges from the house, all in sync with the narrator's description of the scene as if pre-destined. Then we're in Melies territory: the shot remains fixed as seasons pass, a year goes by in a few seconds until a superimposed image of our hero-to-be comes into the scene. It's young Eugene Morgan making a fool of himself by tripping over and breaking his bass fiddle in a clumsy serenade attempt to the disappointment of his beloved Isabel--we don't know them yet, but we'll be properly introduced later.
This origin story of the Ambersons saga is also a nod to the origin of movies, and from there it goes on to unravel its tale with one stunning set piece after another (well, mostly--there are a few lulls), using the resources of sound and image in many innovative ways. There's a nice prologue about men's fashion which has absolutely nothing to do with the story but sets up the theme of constant change. There are plenty of elaborately choreographed long takes and dolly shots with the camera dancing with the actors, although there are some quick hits too: Isabel's death is depicted by a brief scene, maybe twenty seconds long, a haunting bit of surrealism; there's Major Amberson in front of the fire staring down death (and directly at the camera) while rambling like a senile sage, the reflection of the fire is in his face like he is staring straight into the sun. The soundtrack often tells the story: while the camera remains focused on Lucy and George strolling down Main Street during their breakup scene we can hear offscreen the sputtering sound of car engines mixed with the clip clop of horses--times are changing whether anyone is aware or not.
While the story is melodramatic fluff there's an honest bond between the family members that makes them engaging; I think this is often due to the settings: there are social settings for polite conversations--at least for those who remember their manners--but it is in the staircases, the boiler room, in the hallways as family members head to their rooms when the party's over and the guests have left, where their real intimacy comes out. This intimacy is also revealed in their manner of speech: the way they teasingly but lovingly mimic or razz one another: Aunt Fanny corrects George's grammar ("to whom Georgie") to which he responds "to whom" by putting on an annoying exaggerated "Aunt Fanny" voice, an exchange of mock laughter follows. An example of the way family members actually interact, it makes their relationship feel more genuine. Contrast this then with the gleeful indifference in Lucy's chirpy small talk as she refuses to take seriously George's attempts to say goodbye.
Despite my indifference to the plot I'll admit I too wanted to see spoiled mama's boy George get his comeuppance, and the scene in which he does gives me a chill. Funny how time slips away. Check out the new images of his town: a montage of ominous industrial buildings, pipes, overhead wires, haphazard angles, once-grand homes now converted to low rent rooming houses--not a Norman Rockwell painting at all.
The movie starts at the beginning...that is, the beginning of film. Two title cards, primitive in their simplicity, as though we were back in the silent era. And then darkness. In the beginning there was the word, and the voice. Orson Welles is a perfect narrator with his "voice of God" baritone and he sets the story rolling with the basics: fade up on an establishing shot of Amberson mansion, it looks like a Norman Rockwell painting, but as the scene unfolds it becomes something more like a Lumière short. The camera remains static and fixed while recording a flurry of activity as a horse-drawn carriage pulls up at the house to wait for a passenger, the carriage-driver tends to the horses, other passengers hop out to stretch their legs, while Mrs. Amberson (her only apperance in the film I believe) emerges from the house, all in sync with the narrator's description of the scene as if pre-destined. Then we're in Melies territory: the shot remains fixed as seasons pass, a year goes by in a few seconds until a superimposed image of our hero-to-be comes into the scene. It's young Eugene Morgan making a fool of himself by tripping over and breaking his bass fiddle in a clumsy serenade attempt to the disappointment of his beloved Isabel--we don't know them yet, but we'll be properly introduced later.
This origin story of the Ambersons saga is also a nod to the origin of movies, and from there it goes on to unravel its tale with one stunning set piece after another (well, mostly--there are a few lulls), using the resources of sound and image in many innovative ways. There's a nice prologue about men's fashion which has absolutely nothing to do with the story but sets up the theme of constant change. There are plenty of elaborately choreographed long takes and dolly shots with the camera dancing with the actors, although there are some quick hits too: Isabel's death is depicted by a brief scene, maybe twenty seconds long, a haunting bit of surrealism; there's Major Amberson in front of the fire staring down death (and directly at the camera) while rambling like a senile sage, the reflection of the fire is in his face like he is staring straight into the sun. The soundtrack often tells the story: while the camera remains focused on Lucy and George strolling down Main Street during their breakup scene we can hear offscreen the sputtering sound of car engines mixed with the clip clop of horses--times are changing whether anyone is aware or not.
While the story is melodramatic fluff there's an honest bond between the family members that makes them engaging; I think this is often due to the settings: there are social settings for polite conversations--at least for those who remember their manners--but it is in the staircases, the boiler room, in the hallways as family members head to their rooms when the party's over and the guests have left, where their real intimacy comes out. This intimacy is also revealed in their manner of speech: the way they teasingly but lovingly mimic or razz one another: Aunt Fanny corrects George's grammar ("to whom Georgie") to which he responds "to whom" by putting on an annoying exaggerated "Aunt Fanny" voice, an exchange of mock laughter follows. An example of the way family members actually interact, it makes their relationship feel more genuine. Contrast this then with the gleeful indifference in Lucy's chirpy small talk as she refuses to take seriously George's attempts to say goodbye.
Despite my indifference to the plot I'll admit I too wanted to see spoiled mama's boy George get his comeuppance, and the scene in which he does gives me a chill. Funny how time slips away. Check out the new images of his town: a montage of ominous industrial buildings, pipes, overhead wires, haphazard angles, once-grand homes now converted to low rent rooming houses--not a Norman Rockwell painting at all.
Jevo
Registered User
- Oct 3, 2010
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The Magnificent Ambersons (1942) dir. Orson Welles
The Ambersons are the wealthies family in Indianapolis at the beginning of the 20th century. Before the start of our story, the eldest daughter Isabel is being courted by Eugene Morgan. There's mutual affection between them, but Isabel rejects his advances after he publicly humiliates her. Instead she marries Wilbur Minafer, a man she doesn't love, but who's a good match. Eugene leaves town. Isabel and Wilbur has a son together, George, who's a right brat through and through, and many people in Indianapolis are just waiting for his comeuppance. Our story begins in full when George is home from college during the holidays, and at a party at the Amberson estate. Among the guests are Eugene Morgan, recently returned as a newly widower and business man with significant investments in the horseless carriage, and his daughter Lucy. George does not care for Eugene, deeming him a lesser man because he isn't "old money". But George is very taken with the beautiful Lucy.
George has never done anything himself, but is born with, and has been brought up to live with the knowledge that he's better than anyone else, not least because of his last name. George is a downright terrible person, who cares for no one but himself, not even his aunt or his own mother does he wish any good, if it would cause the slightest inconvenience to himself, and his mother encourages him in that. It's no surprise that when his inheritance suddenly disappears because of a bad investment, he does not know what to do. But you hardly feel sorry for him. It's karma coming to let him know his bad behaviour has consequences, even if no one in his own family was willing to be the one to give those consequences. For that reason, the last scene feels quite out of place. George is at the bottom of this karmatic pit of despair he has been sent into. Life is quite grim, but it is quite grim for most people who have to work hard and dangerous jobs to put food on the table. But suddenly, he gets the girl, Eugene comes and makes surely he's financially taken care of. What has George done to deserve such good things happening to him, outside of just being a regular person. Regular people don't get enough good karma to have such good things happen to them for no reason. I know The Magnificent Ambersons wasn't made with the intention of being an example of the philosophy of Karma. But that very last scene just feels out of place for me. What value is there in George's character arc, if by some magical force he's saved from living the life of the average citizen at the last minute, nothing. Any investment I had in George's comeuppance feels worthless now. This really is a great example of 60 seconds ruining the rest of the movie. What's left is some rich people arguing in a big house, which really isn't that interesting. I might be a little melodramatic right now, but when I pretend the movie ended 60 seconds earlier, it's just a much better film, than when I face reality of what it actually is.
Stylistically there's a lot of similarities between Citizen Kane, Welles' previous film, and The Magnificent Ambersons. The mise-en-scène is quite a like. It's great. I feel like Ambersons have more heart than Kane, and would be the better film, had it had a better ending. Ambersons have an amazing cast, with several great performances, especially Agnes Moorehead as Fanny. It's also been a long time since I've loved to hate a character as much as George, and Tim Holt's performance is a big reason why. You just have to look at him and the way he is to know that he's a smug bastard.
The Ambersons are the wealthies family in Indianapolis at the beginning of the 20th century. Before the start of our story, the eldest daughter Isabel is being courted by Eugene Morgan. There's mutual affection between them, but Isabel rejects his advances after he publicly humiliates her. Instead she marries Wilbur Minafer, a man she doesn't love, but who's a good match. Eugene leaves town. Isabel and Wilbur has a son together, George, who's a right brat through and through, and many people in Indianapolis are just waiting for his comeuppance. Our story begins in full when George is home from college during the holidays, and at a party at the Amberson estate. Among the guests are Eugene Morgan, recently returned as a newly widower and business man with significant investments in the horseless carriage, and his daughter Lucy. George does not care for Eugene, deeming him a lesser man because he isn't "old money". But George is very taken with the beautiful Lucy.
George has never done anything himself, but is born with, and has been brought up to live with the knowledge that he's better than anyone else, not least because of his last name. George is a downright terrible person, who cares for no one but himself, not even his aunt or his own mother does he wish any good, if it would cause the slightest inconvenience to himself, and his mother encourages him in that. It's no surprise that when his inheritance suddenly disappears because of a bad investment, he does not know what to do. But you hardly feel sorry for him. It's karma coming to let him know his bad behaviour has consequences, even if no one in his own family was willing to be the one to give those consequences. For that reason, the last scene feels quite out of place. George is at the bottom of this karmatic pit of despair he has been sent into. Life is quite grim, but it is quite grim for most people who have to work hard and dangerous jobs to put food on the table. But suddenly, he gets the girl, Eugene comes and makes surely he's financially taken care of. What has George done to deserve such good things happening to him, outside of just being a regular person. Regular people don't get enough good karma to have such good things happen to them for no reason. I know The Magnificent Ambersons wasn't made with the intention of being an example of the philosophy of Karma. But that very last scene just feels out of place for me. What value is there in George's character arc, if by some magical force he's saved from living the life of the average citizen at the last minute, nothing. Any investment I had in George's comeuppance feels worthless now. This really is a great example of 60 seconds ruining the rest of the movie. What's left is some rich people arguing in a big house, which really isn't that interesting. I might be a little melodramatic right now, but when I pretend the movie ended 60 seconds earlier, it's just a much better film, than when I face reality of what it actually is.
Stylistically there's a lot of similarities between Citizen Kane, Welles' previous film, and The Magnificent Ambersons. The mise-en-scène is quite a like. It's great. I feel like Ambersons have more heart than Kane, and would be the better film, had it had a better ending. Ambersons have an amazing cast, with several great performances, especially Agnes Moorehead as Fanny. It's also been a long time since I've loved to hate a character as much as George, and Tim Holt's performance is a big reason why. You just have to look at him and the way he is to know that he's a smug bastard.
The Magnificent Ambersons (1942) Directed, sort of, by Orson Welles
On a fundamental level, The Magnificent Ambersons is impossible to review. The movie that we see is not the movie that its director, Orson Welles, intended. Unlike the studio’s ridiculously truncated 88 minute version, Welles presented the studio with a movie that was 153 minutes long, nearly twice the length of the work that played in theatres. To make matters worse, repulsed by the length and by the depressing story of a spoiled brat who uses his influence to damage the lives of four people, including himself, the studio tacked on a ridiculous, utterly tone-deaf ending in which our little prig actually gets the girl in the end, the most egregiously misjudged happy ending in film hisstory.
So how does one review what is not there and, moreover, what can never be there because much of the original film has either been misplaced or, far more likely, destroyed. Would the director's edit of The Magnificent Ambersons, Welles second film, been a masterpiece the equal of Citizen Kane? While we will never know for sure, there are clues that suggest it wouldn’t have been. For one thing, the length is especially daunting when the focus of attention is on one of the most unlikable, unsympathetic brats in movie history. Two and a half hours is more time than I would choose to spend with George (Tim Holt). Secondly, whether due to studio cuts or not, The Magnificent Ambersons often seems less polished than Welles' first film. While some sequences, a ride in a sleigh early in the movie in particular, have the Welles magic, many close ups look cramped and the cinematography is sometimes more busy than it is distinguished, with a mise en scene more cluttered than functional. I can’t comment on the editing because what we are seeing is not what Welles intended, but overall, The Magnificent Ambersons may have been an overambitious work that Welles may not yet have acquired the technical skill to master fully. But even that assertion can only be at best a tentative one. Unfortunately, there is not sufficient evidence available to come to any sure-footed conclusion about what the movie might have been.
Ralph Spoilsport
Registered User
- Jun 4, 2011
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The story goes that RKO destroyed Welles' first cut of the film (the one shown to preview audiences) and any remaining footage to make space in their vault. But one copy was shipped to Welles in Brazil, where he was working on another project. It never arrived, but there's a chance it still might surface somewhere. It's happened before. The original version of The Passion Of Joan Of Arc was thought to be lost until a copy was found in a closet in a Norwegian insane asylum in the early 80s. So fingers crossed.
According to Welles, RKO simply lopped off the entire third act of the movie and tied it up after George's auto accident with a more upbeat ending. As is, the movie ends where the novel ends, with the same ending too. Welles' radio adaptation ends here also. It would be interesting to see where Welles intended to take the Amberson saga after this.
Anywho, my next pick will be Xu Bing's debut movie Dragonfly Eyes. This was my favourite from TIFF 2017, after which it just disappeared. I've been looking forward to seeing it again, just to see if it was really as good as I remember. Recently found it streaming for free on a couple of sites: NewAsianTV, for one, is a site that streams recent (since 2014) movies (saw Shoplifters the other night
). I can go to a backup pick if you all have trouble tracking it down (but be warned: I may pick a Jacques Tati film.)
According to Welles, RKO simply lopped off the entire third act of the movie and tied it up after George's auto accident with a more upbeat ending. As is, the movie ends where the novel ends, with the same ending too. Welles' radio adaptation ends here also. It would be interesting to see where Welles intended to take the Amberson saga after this.
Anywho, my next pick will be Xu Bing's debut movie Dragonfly Eyes. This was my favourite from TIFF 2017, after which it just disappeared. I've been looking forward to seeing it again, just to see if it was really as good as I remember. Recently found it streaming for free on a couple of sites: NewAsianTV, for one, is a site that streams recent (since 2014) movies (saw Shoplifters the other night
). I can go to a backup pick if you all have trouble tracking it down (but be warned: I may pick a Jacques Tati film.)
Ralph Spoilsport
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- Jun 4, 2011
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@kihei...I see what you mean, I was getting the same error code too.
The other site is wvw.drama3s.to, which looks to be a sister site...similar layout and content...same error code!
But it may have been a temporary glitch. I tried it again on NewAsianTV just now, and it appears to be back online. Only difference is now you get hit with a big popup ad when you press play. Close the tab and we're good to go!
Hulot is standing by just in case...
The other site is wvw.drama3s.to, which looks to be a sister site...similar layout and content...same error code!
But it may have been a temporary glitch. I tried it again on NewAsianTV just now, and it appears to be back online. Only difference is now you get hit with a big popup ad when you press play. Close the tab and we're good to go!
Hulot is standing by just in case...
Finally got lucky with NewAsianTV and saw it. Anything to avoid Hulot.
Spring in Fialta
A malign star kept him
Ralph Spoilsport
Registered User
- Jun 4, 2011
- 1,234
- 427
Shipwrecked on a remote Mediterranean island, a man finds what appears to be an abandoned resort. Lavishly furnished, and with a mysterious mechanical room, yet deserted. He is all alone. Or is he? People suddenly appear, a group of about a dozen elegantly dressed vacationers. At first he avoids contact with them, but when he finally tries, he finds he can't make contact with them. They completely ignore his presence. Are they ghosts? Or is he the ghost? Is he losing his mind? What the hell is going on here? Eventually, he will figure things out. But will you?
L'Invenzione di Morel (Morel's Invention) is probably best described as an existentialist mystery. I suppose it could be called science fiction, or even horror as there are elements of both. It even has moments of farce. But I think it is best taken as a kind of fable as there is no real attempt to present a plausible explanation for its science. I wonder, for instance, what would happen if our castaway simply walked up to Morel and punched him in the nose. And who builds their laboratory in the middle of the sea? It reminds me of those James Bond movies where the mad scientist/villian builds a rocket launch pad and state of the art space station inside a remote dormant volcanic island. How do you build this without drawing attention to yourself? Don't you need to gather bids from engineering firms and construction companies? But these aren't the questions we're meant to ask. With Morel's Invention we're supposed to question the nature of our existence, the attributes of the soul, the possibility of (literally) undying love.
Morel's Invention does well as a movie to illustrate its story simply, without making it any more complicated than needs to be. Like Enemy which we saw recently it avoids the use of any kind of visual cues or sound effects which may lead us to question the reality of what we're seeing--no distorted images or exaggerated angles, no spooky music or touches of surrealism. My only complaint was the overemphasis on the castaway's footsteps, either tap-tapping on marble or hardwood floors or crunching on gravel, it was often the only sound and eventually became a distraction. Otherwise it's a very straightforward shoot, which leaves us more room to ponder its philosophical questions.
L'Invenzione di Morel (Morel's Invention) is probably best described as an existentialist mystery. I suppose it could be called science fiction, or even horror as there are elements of both. It even has moments of farce. But I think it is best taken as a kind of fable as there is no real attempt to present a plausible explanation for its science. I wonder, for instance, what would happen if our castaway simply walked up to Morel and punched him in the nose. And who builds their laboratory in the middle of the sea? It reminds me of those James Bond movies where the mad scientist/villian builds a rocket launch pad and state of the art space station inside a remote dormant volcanic island. How do you build this without drawing attention to yourself? Don't you need to gather bids from engineering firms and construction companies? But these aren't the questions we're meant to ask. With Morel's Invention we're supposed to question the nature of our existence, the attributes of the soul, the possibility of (literally) undying love.
Morel's Invention does well as a movie to illustrate its story simply, without making it any more complicated than needs to be. Like Enemy which we saw recently it avoids the use of any kind of visual cues or sound effects which may lead us to question the reality of what we're seeing--no distorted images or exaggerated angles, no spooky music or touches of surrealism. My only complaint was the overemphasis on the castaway's footsteps, either tap-tapping on marble or hardwood floors or crunching on gravel, it was often the only sound and eventually became a distraction. Otherwise it's a very straightforward shoot, which leaves us more room to ponder its philosophical questions.
L'Invenzione di Morel (Morel's Invention) (1974) Directed by Emidio Greco
I watched Morel’s Invention on the Daily Motion site and the movie was divided into two parts. After the first part I was wondering where this movie got its reputation, but as the second part unfolded, I started to feel like I had a better grasp of what was going on. For a long time it was just me watching this ship-wrecked guy who either survived a tragedy at sea or who was on the run for reasons of his own. He washes up on this craggy, isolated island, a thoroughly unappealing place, and eventually he notices an estate where people are dancing, people who look like they were from the distant flapper era in the 20s. Most of the time he watches these strangely detached figures dancing from a distance but he is drawn to one particular woman who ventures away from the estate to wander around the island. Curious and a little confused, he investigates more closely what is going on. However the people continue to behave as if they are either terribly rude or they literally don’t see him. Thankfully an explanation is forthcoming from Morel, the host of the party, and it is a beauty of an explanation. It seems the guests have been offered immortality, though, as it turns out, of a relatively paltry kind.
At this point, rather late in the movie, a few things clicked into place. One important peculiarity that I noticed was that there was a major Last Year at Mrienbad vibe going on here. I assumed that the movie was a deliberate homage to the Alain Resnais' earlier film, but I found out later that it was the other way around. Morel’s Invention is based on a book from the ’50s by Adolfo Bioy Casares that no less an authority than the great Argentine writer Jorge Luis Borges believed to be as close to perfection as a novel can come. Incredibly high praise, that. There was also an Italian TV mini-series based on the book the ‘50s. So it is Resnais who owes the debt, not the other way around. Morel’s Invention is a good film. However though it sets an atmosphere of its own, it is a mere sketch compared to Resnais' masterful achievement. Though Greco’s film did get more involving as I started to put the clues together, the first half plods by at a snail’s pace. While Last Year at Marienbad is impossible to categorize, Morel’s Invention seems more like existential science fiction delivered on a low budget, the end result somehow more prosaic and flatter than it should have been. But still there is something haunting about people living forever in a tiny slice of their own previous existence. It seems absurd and sad simultaneously, not a combination of feelings often experienced.
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KallioWeHardlyKnewYe
Hey! We won!
- May 30, 2003
- 15,792
- 3,845
The Magnificent Ambersons
Welles (1942)
“The magnificence of the Amebersons was as conspicuous as a brass band ...”
I sometimes have a bad habit of evaluating a movie for what isn’t there, more than for what is. Though it can be a relevant prism at times, it’s a bit of a crutch for me as I look back on some past evaluations. But not here! Not this time! The Ambersons that exists is almost inseparable from the Ambersons that didn’t (at least in any form that received wide release). Well, I suppose the two are separable if the viewer is unaware of the lore behind the film. But I digress. The studio meddling and destruction of Ambersons might be the greatest tale of corporate interference ruining artistic vision in movie history (apologies to the still unseen #ReleaseTheSnyderCut of Justice League, of course).
This is all bringing us into a bit of a “print the legend” scenario here. For all of Welles’ verve — there is an absolute exhilaration to be had from his staging and camera movement, even in a relatively pedestrian story Ambersons — it simply cannot rescue the movie from the damages inflicted upon it by others. The first hour is compelling. The last third is compromised dreck (though still staged and executed at high levels). While I don’t blame Welles for the butchering and the forced happy ending, I’m also not willing to give the movie its pass into the pantheon of greatness (as many critics have) because of the mistakes foisted upon it. Welles’ masterpiece is only theoretical now with its 50 additional minutes and more appropriate ending. The actual movie has its benefits, but its hard not to view it more as an interesting piece of history than a work of its own. I might be being unfair, but I can’t evaluate the movie that so many of us wish was here because it ain’t. And the movie that is here, is lacking.
Welles was a notorious lightning rod for such filmic bad luck. Ambersons was the first but far from the last project of his to face heavy meddling and/or assorted other behind-the-scenes issues (like funding) that compromised the final product. It’s practically a trademark. Watching his second movie, Ambersons, it was hard not to think of his last film, The Other Side of the Wind, which finally saw release just last year. Though production was separated by more than 40 years, it is pretty easy to connect the two. In both cases, the lore around them may be more interesting than the finished products itself. I also can’t help but think of the preternaturally talented Welles aiming for such maturity and stateliness so early in his career with Ambersons, juxtaposed with the old man Welles conversely grasping at being young and hip at the end.
I will always and forever have time for Orson Welles, but the stories that surround his films often overpower the films themselves. Ambersons may be the prime example of that.
Welles (1942)
“The magnificence of the Amebersons was as conspicuous as a brass band ...”
I sometimes have a bad habit of evaluating a movie for what isn’t there, more than for what is. Though it can be a relevant prism at times, it’s a bit of a crutch for me as I look back on some past evaluations. But not here! Not this time! The Ambersons that exists is almost inseparable from the Ambersons that didn’t (at least in any form that received wide release). Well, I suppose the two are separable if the viewer is unaware of the lore behind the film. But I digress. The studio meddling and destruction of Ambersons might be the greatest tale of corporate interference ruining artistic vision in movie history (apologies to the still unseen #ReleaseTheSnyderCut of Justice League, of course).
This is all bringing us into a bit of a “print the legend” scenario here. For all of Welles’ verve — there is an absolute exhilaration to be had from his staging and camera movement, even in a relatively pedestrian story Ambersons — it simply cannot rescue the movie from the damages inflicted upon it by others. The first hour is compelling. The last third is compromised dreck (though still staged and executed at high levels). While I don’t blame Welles for the butchering and the forced happy ending, I’m also not willing to give the movie its pass into the pantheon of greatness (as many critics have) because of the mistakes foisted upon it. Welles’ masterpiece is only theoretical now with its 50 additional minutes and more appropriate ending. The actual movie has its benefits, but its hard not to view it more as an interesting piece of history than a work of its own. I might be being unfair, but I can’t evaluate the movie that so many of us wish was here because it ain’t. And the movie that is here, is lacking.
Welles was a notorious lightning rod for such filmic bad luck. Ambersons was the first but far from the last project of his to face heavy meddling and/or assorted other behind-the-scenes issues (like funding) that compromised the final product. It’s practically a trademark. Watching his second movie, Ambersons, it was hard not to think of his last film, The Other Side of the Wind, which finally saw release just last year. Though production was separated by more than 40 years, it is pretty easy to connect the two. In both cases, the lore around them may be more interesting than the finished products itself. I also can’t help but think of the preternaturally talented Welles aiming for such maturity and stateliness so early in his career with Ambersons, juxtaposed with the old man Welles conversely grasping at being young and hip at the end.
I will always and forever have time for Orson Welles, but the stories that surround his films often overpower the films themselves. Ambersons may be the prime example of that.
KallioWeHardlyKnewYe
Hey! We won!
- May 30, 2003
- 15,792
- 3,845
Morel’s Invention
Greco (1974)
“It’s not the time for ghosts.”
A man washes up on the shore of an island. It’s a mostly desolate place, wind whipping its craggy shore. There’s a structure, a building. It’s abandoned, a layer of dust on the floors, desks, chairs and the mysterious large engines hidden deep within the space. He explores the landscape. Eventually it shows signs of life — a song, people dancing in the distance. There’s a woman with cartoonishly yellow hair. Another reads a book on a rock, looking out over the ocean. The man approaches and tries to engage with these fellow inhabitants but no one seems to notice him. He eavesdrops on a conversation between the scientist Morel and a woman. In three days, it will be of no use. The stranger continues his observation, resigned to the oddity of the reality he’s living in. Conversations repeat. One night, Morel gathers all the well-dressed citizens and shares the news — his magnificent machine has been recording them and will replicate them in full, a seven-day recording of their lives and frivolity. The space is a museum in which they’ll all live forever. There’s a price for immortality though, which ironically, is death. The man isn’t fake, the other are. They were on the island 50 years earlier and the shipwrecked man is just seeing the recording. Morel hoped to recreate a lost love. The man decides to test the machine himself, making a recording so he too can live forever on the island.
What stays with me the most about Morel’s Invention is the patience. I clocked a full 20 minutes of screen time any words are uttered and that comes in the form of a song. It isn’t until about 32 minutes in that any dialogue is spoken. It’s an effective set-up of the isolation the shipwrecked man feels. It keeps the mystery on a slow boil too. I was quite taken in by it all. The truth is slowly revealed. It’s an approach that puts you right alongside our mysterious seafarer, this scruffy Roy Scheider.
I have a huge soft spot for low key, low budget, off-the-beaten path sci-fi like this. Intriguing ideas placed over effects or flash. Not that the setting and world building doesn’t work, because it does. Only after watching did I learn that it’s all based on a fairly well-known and well-regarded book, one that’s been adapted many times over the years. It’s a rich vein. Wouldn’t be surprised to see someone else go at it. Other than the presence of Anna Karina, everyone involved with this was a completely new name to me, so I don’t have much context to provide beyond that. Not my most thorough or thoughtful review (still combatting some jet lag), but an unequivocal thumbs up from me.
Greco (1974)
“It’s not the time for ghosts.”
A man washes up on the shore of an island. It’s a mostly desolate place, wind whipping its craggy shore. There’s a structure, a building. It’s abandoned, a layer of dust on the floors, desks, chairs and the mysterious large engines hidden deep within the space. He explores the landscape. Eventually it shows signs of life — a song, people dancing in the distance. There’s a woman with cartoonishly yellow hair. Another reads a book on a rock, looking out over the ocean. The man approaches and tries to engage with these fellow inhabitants but no one seems to notice him. He eavesdrops on a conversation between the scientist Morel and a woman. In three days, it will be of no use. The stranger continues his observation, resigned to the oddity of the reality he’s living in. Conversations repeat. One night, Morel gathers all the well-dressed citizens and shares the news — his magnificent machine has been recording them and will replicate them in full, a seven-day recording of their lives and frivolity. The space is a museum in which they’ll all live forever. There’s a price for immortality though, which ironically, is death. The man isn’t fake, the other are. They were on the island 50 years earlier and the shipwrecked man is just seeing the recording. Morel hoped to recreate a lost love. The man decides to test the machine himself, making a recording so he too can live forever on the island.
What stays with me the most about Morel’s Invention is the patience. I clocked a full 20 minutes of screen time any words are uttered and that comes in the form of a song. It isn’t until about 32 minutes in that any dialogue is spoken. It’s an effective set-up of the isolation the shipwrecked man feels. It keeps the mystery on a slow boil too. I was quite taken in by it all. The truth is slowly revealed. It’s an approach that puts you right alongside our mysterious seafarer, this scruffy Roy Scheider.
I have a huge soft spot for low key, low budget, off-the-beaten path sci-fi like this. Intriguing ideas placed over effects or flash. Not that the setting and world building doesn’t work, because it does. Only after watching did I learn that it’s all based on a fairly well-known and well-regarded book, one that’s been adapted many times over the years. It’s a rich vein. Wouldn’t be surprised to see someone else go at it. Other than the presence of Anna Karina, everyone involved with this was a completely new name to me, so I don’t have much context to provide beyond that. Not my most thorough or thoughtful review (still combatting some jet lag), but an unequivocal thumbs up from me.
Pranzo Oltranzista
Registered User
- Oct 18, 2017
- 4,010
- 2,931
Well guys, first of all, thanks for watching and reviewing my suggestion! I'm very glad you mostly liked the film. 
L'Invenzione di Morel is to me a very interesting film in that, without great mastery (we are far away from the cinematographic genius of Resnais filming Robbe-Grillet's fascinating take on the same material), brings forth a complexity that was inherent to the novel but that words couldn't convey as images would. The 1940 novel was so ahead of its time, you have in these very few pages the basis for some of the most interesting stuff that Baudrillard and the postmodern thinkers would propose in the late 70s and early 80s (which makes the 1974 film a perfect product of its time): the replacement of reality by images, and the desire to exist as an image. The "castaway" character's choice at the end of the film is the equivalent to Cypher's choice in The Matrix: he chooses an existence as an image over his real Self. In L'Invenzione di Morel, the decision is first motivated by a desire for immortality but there's too hints of favoring "living the (fake) dream" over going back to normality (and the Real).
Of course, it is a very cinematic story. The recording and projection of events asked for a suitable filmic reflexivity. That reflexivity expends to every form of story telling by taking on the position of the spectator/reader. The "castaway" character is ignored and unseen by every other person on that island. It is, ironically, the only one who's alive that actually doesn't exist here - in that, he is the reader's avatar in the story. But he decides to become, like Morel, the creator of his own immortality, and (after some experimentation with shorter narratives) creates a role for himself in this grand work of art - becoming an avatar for the author too. I think the original story aimed for that more literary question: is he immortal as an image, or as the author of these images? Is Morel immortal, or is Casares?
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I think I can propose another film? If that's the case, I'll go with another gem I never discussed with anyone: Montag kommen die Fenster (Windows on Monday, 2006)
L'Invenzione di Morel is to me a very interesting film in that, without great mastery (we are far away from the cinematographic genius of Resnais filming Robbe-Grillet's fascinating take on the same material), brings forth a complexity that was inherent to the novel but that words couldn't convey as images would. The 1940 novel was so ahead of its time, you have in these very few pages the basis for some of the most interesting stuff that Baudrillard and the postmodern thinkers would propose in the late 70s and early 80s (which makes the 1974 film a perfect product of its time): the replacement of reality by images, and the desire to exist as an image. The "castaway" character's choice at the end of the film is the equivalent to Cypher's choice in The Matrix: he chooses an existence as an image over his real Self. In L'Invenzione di Morel, the decision is first motivated by a desire for immortality but there's too hints of favoring "living the (fake) dream" over going back to normality (and the Real).
Of course, it is a very cinematic story. The recording and projection of events asked for a suitable filmic reflexivity. That reflexivity expends to every form of story telling by taking on the position of the spectator/reader. The "castaway" character is ignored and unseen by every other person on that island. It is, ironically, the only one who's alive that actually doesn't exist here - in that, he is the reader's avatar in the story. But he decides to become, like Morel, the creator of his own immortality, and (after some experimentation with shorter narratives) creates a role for himself in this grand work of art - becoming an avatar for the author too. I think the original story aimed for that more literary question: is he immortal as an image, or as the author of these images? Is Morel immortal, or is Casares?
------------
I think I can propose another film? If that's the case, I'll go with another gem I never discussed with anyone: Montag kommen die Fenster (Windows on Monday, 2006)
Pranzo Oltranzista
Registered User
- Oct 18, 2017
- 4,010
- 2,931
Oh crap, didn't think about that. I got it from surrealmoviez while it was running. Might be real tough to find.
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