Aulic Exclusiva Reviews

Anna Karenina (1967)

A sorry misfire

[4/10 · 23 October 2010]

This film re-creates the historical setting of the 1860s brilliantly, then spoils it all with an Eisensteinian-expressionistic style of acting and photography that gives one the giggles with its melodramatic jerkiness. Worst of all is Rodion Shchedrin's shrill, strident score. It would be too loud and insistent for an axe murder in an insane asylum; in a drawing room from the reign of Alexander II it sounds simply ludicrous and irritating.

Vasili Lanovoy is handsome and romantic-looking as Count Aleksey Vronsky—his stiff bearing probably correct stylistically, his costumes wonderful. He does love to stare and lurch in that "I-am-Ivan-the-Terrible's-kid-brother" manner of Soviet film. His hair piece is not very good, either.

Lanovoy does at least very much look his part, which is more than can be said of the woman playing Anna Karenina. She looks a lot more like Anna Magnani, complete with black moustache. Mme Karenin is supposed to be an extraordinary aristocratic beauty, a being from the highest society. Here she looks like she has strayed from a film by Pietro Germi. The actress likes bombastic reactions right out of Mexican television drama, which the camera captures with Shchedrinesque careenings.

That great acting was possible, even in this school of film, is witnessed to by the master player of the role of Aleksey Karenin, Nikolai Gritsenko (1912–1979). He is quite unforgettable and detailed; he helps one understand Tolstoy better.

Most of the film is the other way around: one would hardly understand anything if one had not previously read the novel. The abrupt and disconcerting editing doesn't help.

No film could ever hope to do justice to such a literary masterpiece, but Clarence Brown's 1935 version is incomparably more satisfactory. Too bad. This could have been wonderful.

Bucharest, Memory Lost (2008)

A strange documentary on quiet, unquestioned fanaticism.

[5/10 · 25 April 2009]

A documentary, between humorous and quizzical, on what it was like to grow up as the child of clandestine Spanish Reds in the Franco era, complete with cloak-and-dagger comings and goings on false passports, complaining, from said Reds, on what life in Bucharest was like, (when they had dedicated their existence to giving Spain precisely something like the Ceauşescu régime, though they themselves spent a lot of time in Paris), and the strangeness of having one's young life completely dominated by a weird, inhuman ideology that had no connection to anything one wanted or felt. And yet one knew nothing else.

The whole General Staff of then-alive Spanish communists is interviewed on-screen, one more bizarre than the other, yet completely un-selfconscious.

La verbena de la Paloma (1963)

A Brilliant Adaptation of a Classic Music Theatre Piece

[9/10 · 8 April 2009]

Never mind the semi-literate socio-balderdash posted below, by someone who is obviously not, shall we say, musically minded. This film is merely a screen adaptation of the zarzuela La verbena de la paloma ['The Carnival of the Dove'], composed in 1893 by Tomás Bretón (1850-1923), to a libretto by Ruperto de la Vega. A zarzuela is a Spanish form of operetta, and this piece is one of the most successful and beloved examples of the genre. As the dates above indicate, this very popular piece has nothing to do with whatever "régime" was governing Spain in 1963. Indeed, this was part of a whole series of filmed classic zarzuelas produced by Spanish State television in the 1960s, all selected for their popularity and long success with the public.

The production is lavish and beautifully illustrative of traditional zarzuela stagings, filled with nostalgic charm, except for the brilliant twist ending which is equally endearing 45 years later. Of course some of the colloquial humour sounds definitely "period": this theatre piece is 115 years old, and all the more enchanting for that. It evokes a whole bygone era of life in Madrid, pokes gentle fun a several foibles of that time, and rattles with some of the most wonderful music ever composed by a Spaniard. All the tunes of this zarzuela are known and beloved over the whole Spanish-speaking world, except perhaps by the latest rapper generation.

The cast is superb in its command of the idiom and style of the piece, especially the two veterans in charge of the comic parts, Milagros Leal as battleax 'Aunt Antonia' and the immortal Miguel Ligero in one of his unforgettable rôles, the cowardly 'Don Hilarión', dirty old man extraordinaire. His solo as he primps himself up to go out with the young girl is one of the great moments in filmed musical theatre.

This is a life-enhancing version of this beloved chestnut, recommended to all who love vocal music and sung musical theatre.

Princess of the Ursinos (1947)

A Brilliant Romantic/Patriotic Costume Drama in the Best Spanish Tradition

[7/10 · 16 November 2008]

IMDb gives the informal international title of this film as "The Princess of the Ursinos", a "literal translation" of the Spanish. A correct translation would be "The Princess Orsini", "Ursinos" (French "Oursins") being merely a Spanish rendering of that illustrious Italian name, derived from the Latin "ursus", 'bear'.

(Note: I have capitalised the Spanish/French preposition "de" as well as all manner of words in Spanish titles, because the User Comments Section does not accept the correct spelling of these elements.)

Marie-Anne de la Trémoille, Princesse "des Ursins" (Orsini) (1642 – 1722), was a French lady prominent at the court of the first of the Spanish Bourbons, Philip V.

Philip of Anjou, a French prince, became King of Spain in 1700 at age 16. Young, inexperienced, shy and ineffectual, he and his teen-aged wife needed all the help they could get over their first years at Madrid, during which a full European war, The War of Spanish Succession, raged on for 14 years to decide which of the great-grandsons of Spanish King Philip IV had a better right to the Spanish throne.

Philip of Anjou had the best claim, for his grandmother had been the eldest daughter of Philip IV. He also had the strongest backer, for that grandmother had married Louis XIV, Sun King of France and the most powerful monarch of his time.

King Louis provided his grandson with a full entourage of French advisers and spies to both sustain and keep an eye on him during his youthful years as King of Spain. One of the most interesting of these was Marie-Anne de la Trémoille, a French noblewoman who, in her varied and adventurous youth, had been married to the Roman Prince, Flavio Orsini.

The princess had taken an active part in arranging Philip's marriage to Anne-Marie-Louise of Savoy. Her ambition was to secure the post of Chief Lady-in-Waiting to the young Queen of Spain, a mere child of twelve. By quiet diplomacy she succeeded, and in 1701 she accompanied the young queen to Spain.

For a decade and a half, she was to be the most powerful person in the Spanish Court. Her functions about the king and queen were almost those of a nurse. Her letters show how she put them to bed at night, and got them up in the morning. She gives a most amusing description of her embarrassment when she had to enter the royal bedroom, laden with intimate articles of clothing. But if the Chief Lady-in-Waiting did the work of a domestic servant, it was for a serious purpose. She was expected to look after French interests and manage the absurdly complicated politics of the court. She also rallied King, court and nation during the War of Succession.

Madame Orsini was resolved not to be a mere agent of Versailles, though. During the first period of her tenure of office she was in frequent conflict with the French ambassadors, who claimed the right of sitting in the council and directing the government. She wisely held that the young king should rely as much as possible on his Spanish subjects. In 1704 her enemies at the French court secured her temporary recall, nevertheless she retained her extensive influence until the death of Queen Marie-Louise in 1714, which coincided with the end of the Succession war, and arranged for Philip's second marriage to Elisabetta Farnese, princess of Parma. This last was to be her undoing, as the clever and spirited young Italian was not about to be managed as a child by the aging Frenchwoman. Elisabetta quickly acquired full sway over her husband and obtained the dismissal of the Princess, made all the easier by the outbreak of peace and the death of Louis XIV in 1715.

This 1947 movie (oh yeah, the movie!) takes the above-described elements and weaves two dramas, one romantic, the other political and patriotic, together against the ornate and exciting background of the Spanish court at war. It is wonderfully produced and acted by a cast of greats.

Spanish cinema is renowned—or was once renowned—for its costume dramas, such as Locura De Amor (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0040544/); Agustina De Aragón (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0042185/); La Reina Santa (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0039760/); Teresa De Jesús (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0055513/) or the supreme and never-to-be-outdone 1947 Don Quixote ("Don Quijote De La Mancha", http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0039330/). This film is one of the best in that tradition.

Made at the end of the first decade of the Franco regime, it is also surprisingly pro-French and pro-Bourbon, neither of which elements had been particularly prominent in Francoism up to that time.

Francisco Franco's government had been close to the Axis Powers during the Second World War. As he saw the Axis' fortunes decline, however, he slowly but surely detached himself from them, dismissed those of his ministers who had been too-prominently pro-Axis, and sought a terse rapprochement with Britain and, later, France. In the same year this film was made, 1947, to distract international opinion from the idea that his was a Fascist regime with a kind of Duce at the helm, he proclaimed Spain a monarchy....hence the friendly white-washed views of both French influence in Spanish life and the beginnings of the French Bourbon dynasty in Spain which this film so brilliantly and dramatically places at the heart of a historical, patriotic struggle.

The whole thing is quite a tour-de-force, and makes an immensely interesting and entertaining screen Fest.

Connected (2008)

Like a haiku

[6/10 · 30 August 2008]

A brief, dialogue-less short about two boys who meet, love, break up, in the subway. The running NYC subway, like Democritus' river, provides a complete yet very simple image of fluidity. Everything is done through facial expressions. In Varpness' case, very beautiful facial expressions.

In a brief few minutes, Brunskill etches in the poignancy, perplexing quality and impermanence of everything save heartache. No fireworks or cant. It's like a haiku.

It is stated here that Mr Brunskill intends to expand this short into a full feature. It will be interesting to see how this will be done, considering the admirable economy with which this short intimates the basic point.

Aida (1953)

A Completely Misguided Period Piece

[20 April 2008]

Opera is a different stage art from spoken theatre, let alone theatrical films or television. Opera succeeds on its own terms or it doesn't signify at all. The "problem" with opera is not that opera singers are not as bodacious as film stars; the principal requirement in opera is that the musical drama be conveyed in musical as well as visual terms in a manner all its own, a stage mystery that is easier to experience than to analyse.

Non-musicians seldom understand this. They seek to graft on whatever expressive values they trade in within the medium they are familiar with, without understanding why and how opera works on its own, without their alien help.

Thus the woman who sings Amneris in the soundtrack of this film, Ebe Stignani (1903-1974) may have been, at 50, wider than she was tall and not Hollywood's idea of an appropriate screen figure, yet she was, even in 1953, an amazing Amneris, successful throughout the world in this, her greatest role, consistently making dramatic contact with her audiences through the musico-dramatic medium of Verdi's music. And she had been doing so since her debut (as Amneris), in 1925.

Lois Maxwell, who lip-syncs to Stignani's singing here, simply makes no impact, dramatic, filmic, musical or even sex-appealing. We KNOW that Stignani was a hugely successful Amneris without Maxwell. What does Maxwell add to Signani's Amneris through the medium of this film? Nothing at all.

A film that brought us, even at once removed, the greatness of a Stignani or a Renata Tebaldi, might have had some filmic justification. But this film, which adds nothing at all to what the singers had to contribute and rather detracts from it, is of no value.

What the film does underline is the limitations, cultural, visual, technological, of a merely mechanical medium. Everything about this film is ludicrously dated, except the singing of the great singers whom it pretended to "improve" all those long years ago.

India pravile (2003)

A charming, bittersweet film

[8/10 · 1 March 2008]

A charming, bittersweet film about a once-famous director from the heyday of the Argentine studio system era (c 1937-1957) who is now a bitter, confused, loving grandfather whose only fantasies left are all self-dramatising make-believe about himself.

It is an amusing film, very much about the Argentine condition, with swift, racy dialogue and a legerdemain hint of magic realism. Elegant.

Fine performances from everybody, especially Lito Cruz as the flighty grandfather and Nicolás López Padín as the adorable, cynical, understanding 14-year-old grandson.

The undercurrent of love underneath the farcical despair is very amusingly and touchingly handled.

Albéniz (1947)

A Lovely Biopic

[8/10 · 31 December 2007]

An exceedingly vivid, only slightly romanticised narrative of the authentically novel-like life of Spain's famed composer, Isaac Albéniz (1860-1909.) This classic of Argentine cinema has entertaining, variegated direction from the stalwart Amadori, with excellent production values, and an absolutely colossal, corking performance from the great Spanish-born star of stage and screen, Pedro López-Lagar, a fabulous figure quite reminiscent of Paul Muni.

Although he was in his late forties when he made it, the handsome Lagar somehow manages to transform himself into a boy to play the adolescent Albéniz as a devil-may-care stow-away to Cuba. He eventually dons a most convincing old man makeup for the composers' final years—a dramatic license, as Albéniz was only 48 at the time of his premature death, and so exactly Lagar's own age when the movie was made.

As the film is also brimming over with Albéniz' lovely music, this is a production to cherish and remember.

Bab El Oued City (1994)

Haunting

[8/10 · 5 November 2007]

A searing film about the growing tension between secular and fundamentalist Algerians that would plunge Algeria into a blood bath soon after this movie was made.

The tendency of an oppressed society to self-mutilation is made painfully palpable: nobody is happy and nobody CAN be happy; nobody can enjoy even what they love; only hatred and despair are left. And the longing, somehow, to escape.

All the participants act as though their lives depended on it: especially unforgettable is the strikingly beautiful Hassan Abdou (listed as Abidou by IMDb) whose unique face seems to embody all the happiness that could be, but isn't.

Esquilache (1989)

A superbly produced semi-documentary drama

[8/10 · 14 August 2007]

This film concerns the Esquilache Riots, which took place in Madrid in March 1766.

Brought about mainly by a growing dissatisfaction among the populace of Spain's capital with the rising cost of bread and other staples, they were sparked off by a series of unpopular and impolitic measures affecting what clothes people might wear in public, enacted under the advise of the Marquis of Esquilache (in Italian: Squillacce) a Neapolitan whom King Charles III had made his Minister of Finance.

Charles III was Spain's chief exponent of what is called Eighteenth Century Enlightened Despotism. He brought public lighting and paving stones to Madrid. But measures tending to encourage a rational, modern, hygienic, peaceful mode of living were generally resented by the very conservative lower classes, under the influence, it was believed, of reactionary clerical elements, especially the Jesuits, who were said to oppose every attempt at modernisation. One of the results of the Esquilache riots was the eventual expulsion of the Jesuit order from Spain and her vast colonial Empire.

All these political and existential conflicts are made very clear in this beautifully produced and interesting semi-documentary, a model of what such films can be.

The Ski Trip (2004)

A Charming Spoof

[6/10 · 5 June 2007]

This is an impish spoof of:

1. "Black" sitcoms.

2. Gay "white" sitcoms.

3. "House party" type movies in which friends get together to tear each other apart. (I love the way everybody keeps saying to one another "we go way back", right before plunging the stiletto in.)

4. Stereotypical, low-budget Indies.

All this is done with real charm, and some of the guys are HOT, especially John Rankin as Omar, the dread locked beauty who simmers for the geeky protagonist. Good fun.

The Man You Loved to Hate (1979)

A Top-Notch Contribution

[8/10 · 28 May 2007]

One of the "viewer reviews" here suggests that this documentary's focus is "soft", without explaining why, and that it "skimps on details" about a man "whose origins are a total mystery".

In fact, the film actually shows Stroheim's birth certificate, documenting that he was a Viennese Jew without any 'von' attached to his surname. We know who his parents were and a photograph of his mother is shown in the documentary. Later, producer publicist Paul Kohner, himself Austrian, who collaborated with Stroheim and had plenty of opportunity to speak German with him, testifies that Stroheim spoke German with a low-class Viennese accent—and names the Viennese district he sounded to be from. We are also told that Erich Stroheim came to America in 1909, at age 23.

I'd say all that's plenty about his origins.

The documentary then adopts a factual, step-by-step chronicle approach to the man's life, without cute theses but plenty of interesting information contributed by a goodly number of interviewees who knew and worked with him, including his widow and the Frenchwoman who shared life with him during his last decade, in France.

Many, many clips and stills, including work that has not survived, are fascinating indeed and otherwise utterly unobtainable..

Although the KINO DVD presentation of this 1979 documentary, which accompanies their FOOLISH WIVES, has not been restored and looks somewhat faded, I can only call this a top-notch contribution on a really major figure. HIGHLY RECOMMENDED.

El candidato (1959)

Ferocious, delirious, exquisite

[9/10 · 30 April 2007]

A ferocious yet exquisite indictment of Argentine politics and societal mores as practised before, during and after the Peronist dictatorship (1946-1955.) NO ONE is spared in this film: not the self-seeking, hungry oligarchs, not the greasy populist thieves who wish to take their place and certainly not the "well-intentioned", or the narcissist who is in denial as to what a banana republic is.

The Argentine class structure is deliriously sent off by a superb cast of character actors who offer truly memorable performances, especially Guillermo Battaglia as the conservative enforcer and Alberto Candeau as the brother-in-law who loves champagne and European embassy sinecures.

If it weren't so sad, this would be one of the funniest movies ever made.

The Pillow Book (1995)

Fatally Flawed

[7/10 · 15 April 2007]

Inventive and most original, full of arresting images and unpredictable developments, this flick has one fatal flaw.

The whole progression of the story is predicated on the character Nagiko's obsessive power over others. One would have to have the beauty and fascination of ten Mata Haris to carry off this woman's singular willfulness. But the actress who impersonates Nagiko has none of that. She is a reasonably pretty female with little or no personal magnetism that one can discern. Her high-pitched voice and peevish, juvenile enunciation of the English language are singularly irritating. At one point she is called by the script to scream out the name Jerome a dozen times (she pronounces it "J'roam"): she sounds like a hysterical high school student, or perhaps a dental assistant whose finger has been drilled through.

As a result of this flaw, the spectator is bewildered by the sight of two dozen men running around feverishly trying to execute this woman's whims. It makes nonsense of the whole situation.

Ewan McGregor is sweet and charismatic (and lovely to look at) as the much screamed about Jerome—one wonders what did he ever see in the aggravating Nagiko.

Bab Al-Sama Maftuh (1989)

Indelibly evocative

[9/10 · 7 April 2007]

There is nothing original in the "plot" about the sophisticated émigré who returns to a traditional society only to "find" himself, his real place and beliefs. Fina Torres' ORIANA and Ferzan Ozpetek' s HAMAM have basically similar themes.

What is unique about this film is the rich set of images on screen, the wonderful feeling of Morocco and its life that those images impart. I could not get the ambiance of that traditional Fez house out of my mind for YEARS after I watched this movie! It's as if some atavistic Mediterranean window had been opened in my psyche.

A powerfully evocative picture narrative, never mind what the "characters" do.

Sebastiane (1976)

An Enjoyable Period Piece

[7/10 · 7 April 2007]

A clever re-telling of the pious legend of the Martyrdom of Saint Sebastian, favourite homo-erotic subject of Italian Renaissance painters.

A small detachment of Roman soldiers guard a tower in some desert setting, under the command of one officer. Boredom and lust simmer under the desert sun, especially as the officer, Severus (hahaha) develops an obsessive, wine-soaked craving for the strange, un-soldierly Sebastianus, who refuses to be had.

Under the mask of Christian chastity, Sebastianus is playing a searing game of Sado-masochism, in which his "chaste" refusal only exacerbates Severus' desire to the point of madness.

The physical tortures to which the thus-maddened Severus subjects the more than willing Sebastianus turn, in the end, into a hot snuff story.

This little incident is told in a manner emblematic of the 1970s. Any of these images could have happened on the beach at Fire Island... They remind one of Fellini's Casanova, Hair, Oh, Calcutta, the Gore Vidal Caligula, Jesus Christ, Superstar and other flower-child epics, complete with skinny, scruffy men in lusty Afros dancing in the buff. All that's missing is the poppers.

The Roman soldiers are rather laughably British-looking (they resemble the Bee-Gees) except the Sebastianus, Leonardo Treviglio, who looks comically Italian. He has the skinniest legs of all.

The language of the film is college-professor Latin, stiffly rehearsed by the actors in any number of classroom-variety pronunciations. Treviglio's is a kind of French-flavoured, softly-inflected Italian Latin. Very seductive.

The form Sebastiane, by-the-by, is the name Sebastianus in the Vocative case, the case used to call or invoke. Thus the title of the film would be translated, Oh, Sebastian!—shadows of Oh, Calcutta!

An enjoyable, sexy period piece.

Friends Forever (1986)

An adorable film

[8/10 · 9 January 2007]

This is an adorable film full of the charm and high spirits of youth. There are few shadows here and those are dealt with with confident irony, for what is youth but implied optimism? It is amazing how different the point of view is from what an American or English film might be: ambient negativity is not assumed; the boys' gayness is not an automatic ticket to trials and stress. That isn't the point at all. Their discovery of love, of their own sexual energy and of the life-enhancing qualities of friendship/comradeship is just as buoyant and just as magical as that of anyone else: wonderfully positive without ever being sugary.

The chemistry of this movie is just not that common and I would LOVE to see it on DVD. **And I now have!**

I first saw it in general release in NYC when I was 14.

Opasni put (1963)

Unforgettable for a Child

[8/10 · 6 January 2007]

The title, OPASNI PUT, is Serbo-Croatian for "Dangerous Road." Director Mate Relja (1922-2006) was Croatian and received the Golden Lion for children's movies in 1963, for this film.

I saw this with my mother when I was about 10 years old and I have never forgotten it. Two small, displaced children making their way home alone in war-torn Yugoslavia; a kind of W.W. II ~ORPHANS IN THE STORM~. I can still remember the shattering, spellbinding effect this movie had on my small self: I completely identified with the fear and trembling of the two children far from their parents. The film captures perfectly the psychology and viewpoint of children, their powerlessness and humor. Beautiful! And I recall the photography being very beautiful too, contrasting the loveliness of the Balkan land with the ugliness of adults at war.

How I wish I could see this again.

Les Paladins (2005 TV Movie)

Extremely irritating and STUPID

[1/10 · 1 January 2007]

Why on earth go to extreme lengths to secure an "authentic" musical performance, with period instruments and a fully developed grammar of vocal ornamentation recreating 18th century practices and then saddle it with a perverse, vandalic and utterly irrelevant "conceptual" production full of enervating nonsense?

Hervieu's mise-en-scène bears no relation whatever to Rameau's creation and can only be considered an alien accretion visited upon a work with no one to defend it. Why would musicians who have dedicated their performing lives to understanding the creative mentality and style that gave life to a theatre piece participate in such a desecration? It seems to involve a complete negation of the logic of their own lives.

Hero (2002)

Charming Yarn; Visual Feast

[2 October 2004]

This is a "martial arts" movie, meaning that it has nothing whatever to do with "real" martial arts, any more than Hollywood gun fights have anything to do with real gun fights: it is all like ballet, really.

All the more so in this lovely picture, where the performers fly, do calisthenics over the surface of water and levitate within whirlwinds of Autumn leaves that change colour when one of the dancers is nailed. Very pretty, though juvenile.

The plot, such as it is, is a bit of a labyrinth, in which the same narrative is seen to have several different meanings; this is a wonderful excuse to have the handsome Leung killed several times over in different manifestations of the same setting, always by his lover. This is the most erotic sword play I have ever seen. The women are something else.

There is at least some effort to illustrate the Confucian ethic of The Good of the Many over selfish, individualistic concerns. But this does not keep the King from doing the [eventually] selfless hero in, which leads to a very picturesque Wagnerian procession with said Hero borne on his shield.

Finally, though, it is the visual magic of Chinese landscapes, Chinese interiors (not to mention the idealised beauty of the very decorative cast!) that make this short (96 min) lively film spellbinding. It is probably too pretty for the grunt-and-slash young male fraternity, but I am very happy I saw it. There is something very much like poetry here at times.

Oriana (1985)

Hovering...

[8/10 · 6 January 2002]

...over this movie is the mystery of other people, symbolised by the unknown, hidden past. Uneasy discovery is the subject: very Proustian.

If you are interested in action, pace, fancy shots, virtuoso transitions, and all the shenanigans that fascinate a certain segment of the film_BUFF_ "community", forget it. There is an almost Zen minimalism to the dramaturgy of this film: precisely like a South American Summer siesta. The Gothic element comes almost as an anticlimax, so perfectly is the mystery evoked. We might prefer not to discover, then? The protagonist, at the end, chooses to perpetuate her enigmas. Good for her. "The hacienda is not for sale." An outstanding Latin-American work of art.

Tales from the Vienna Woods (1979)

Unforgettable

[10/10 · 6 January 2002]

An unforgettable evokation of the city, its feel, life, ambience, air. Unforgettable photography of one of the most often-depicted places on earth. Dramatically, there is a sentimental side to the story that is both disconcerting and perfectly APT: why else would despair exist, if it weren't for the dreariness of people? Vienna's mortality, too, is the fountainhead of art. What greater love?

Death in Venice (1971)

Life in Venice

[6 January 2002]

The thing about Mann's novella is its inert, bolder-like German pretentiousness. Everything about it bespeaks Puritan dreariness and fear of the body. Talk, talk, talk, lest you touch yourself...!

Come Signor Luchino Visconti [di Modrone], ancient Lombard nobleman, fine connoissur of the prettiest ragazzi, film this wet Teutonic rag, per favore!! Add mushiest, turgidest music by the detestable Gustav Mahler...the kind of mitteleuropäische Master Of Megalomaniac Self-aggrandisement that we are only too familiar with now...heart attack follows (clogged musical arteries, no doubt!) CURTAIN, showing the boy's ineffable buttocks...

The fascinating conflict here is between the very Germanic subject, and the very Italian manner of execution. Whatever in this film reminds us of Mann's original is utterly repellent. But apply Mann's scenario to Venice, marry it with the Italian love of sensual beauty (Tadzio's butt) and even Mahler's music, as a travelogue to La Serenissima, is made to sound attractive. The Mann/Mahler æsthetic is DEATH. Venice is LIFE. The clash creates the dramatic tension in this memorable film, a life-affirming pæan to Italian ideals in art. (In spite of itself?)

The Diary of an Innocent Boy (1968)

Surprised by simplicity

[7/10 · 6 January 2002]

There is a very French economy in the story-telling here: how a young man loses his virginity. An experience that we all recognise, simply told. The park at the château Hennessy in Cognac is evocatively photographed, giving that sense of the idealised, lost manor, that the French love so much. (Alain-Fournier wrote a very pretty novel about that)

Pierre Clementi and Catherine Deneuve, two VERY decorative figures, are loved by the camera; their climactic, moon-lit encounter is wistfully nostalgic of the '60s, when taking off your clothes was An Event. Mme Morgan is the very embodiment of A Presence.

Now that châteaux are invariably conference centers for greasy-haired accountants, now that all Presences have left us for ever, now that we have taken off our clothes just about a million times, this simple film is surprisingly moving.

The House of the Angel (1957)

Love affair

[9/10 · 6 January 2002]

The writer of this scenario, Beatriz Guido (1924-1988) was Torre Nilsson's wife, and an estimable literary figure in her own right. Under the pretense of criticising a "decadent" [what does that mean? A sentimental Marxist shibboleth, no more] oligarchy, she, like many Argentine writers, indulges her fascination with the old aristocracy and its surprising, forever vanishing, ever-enduring, world.

The film follows suit: the camera loves the old houses, the elegant surroundings, the secluded parks and silent interiors where the Best and Highest hold forth. The presence of the lower orders is seen as a transgression, unless they are silently wielding a tray, or something like that. The speech of the actors-and in particular Guillermo Battaglia, and the marvelous Berta Ortegosa in an unforgettably detailed tour-de-force performance-is, in itself, a delicious tract for The Argentine Way. The preoccupation with duelling brings a smile to the lips.

Above all is the unique iconic appeareance of Lautaro Murúa-a Chilean, if you can believe it-as the rapist/senator, as beautiful as the sun, and equally merciless.

As entertaining as a genre painting, this film is "tête d' école" of the Argentine film school. Beautifully emblematic, even in its silly melodramatic side.