EveryBestPicture.com revisits this Oscar Best Picture winner
This is one of the early Oscar winners that few without an intimate knowledge of the early days of the awards would know anything about. It tells the tale of Emile Zola and his lifelong battle against inequality, and for justice. It is an epic, the scale of the producing is apparent with the brilliant use of hundreds of extras who sometimes play almost as significant a role as any of the principals, creating the tense, hostile atmosphere in the courtroom, the panic in the square and jubilation in the streets for the returning army from the Prussian conflict. The baying of the crowd is particularly impressive- individual voices can be heard while the overall effect is naturalistic. However, the fact that the stand out performance is from the extras maybe reflects that an actor’s training in 1936 is still heavily grounded in the theatre- cinema had not yet quite found a style appropriate to the big screen. Their bold movements, necessary on the stage, like many other films of the era come across as unrealistic and exaggerated. Sometimes even comical without intending to be. We begin in the draughty hovel of a room he shares with an early Cezanne, the master painter, who was also yet to hit any headlines. Very sentimentally shot in soft focus, black and white, and with orchestral strings brought in regularly to direct emotion it has a very dated feel. There is an artistry to it all, but it is hidden- camera trickery might go unnoticed, such as the very clever lighting and use of shadows to enhance the scale and depth of certain shots. For instance, in the 2nd military tribunal (of Estherhazy) there are only ten soldiers behind him, but the lighting gives the impression of the darkness, power and reach of this moment. Costume and set design were also carefully considered. The contrast between poverty and opulence is stark- the broken, dirty window panes and crates of the start are replaced by gilt-edged furniture, sparkling 18 candle candelabras and rooms stuffed with other decorative items. If it were not already enough, Zola and his wife ensure you can’t miss their progress up the material ladder: “see the pearls Emile bought for me when we were in Italy”; “this most exquisite majolica”. You may know Zola, the author, legion d’honneur holder, founding father of modern France. Here he is shown to have a moral compass that always pointed true north, much to his detriment in the early days where he suffers at the hands of the authorities and rich, dumpy employers- none of whom argue that the man can’t write, but all abhor his chosen subject of bringing to light the injustices suffered by the poor, the weak, the vulnerable while berating the rich, the powerful for what he saw as their criminal inaction and neglect of ordinary citizens. “Why do you write such muckraking stuff when there are many pleasant things in life?” his tubby superior implores. The film focuses on two moments of inspiration in Zola’s life. The first, a chance encounter with a lady of the night who gives him the bones of the story for his first bestseller, ‘Nana’. She is running from police who are rounding dozens of such ladies up in the square, Zola hides her in plain sight at his table in a cafe and they get chatting. She tells him her story of hopes dashed, small girl in a big city, being taken advantage of by unscrupulous characters and finally the death of her young daughter. He puts pen to paper, tells her story (calling it “Nana”), hits a winning streak of success after success and finally finds economic stability. That’s the set up. The years pass, Zola himself grows ‘fat and old’ (his old friend Cezanne warns him) and soft too… he effectively retires from fighting injustice, feeling he has earned it. But we are barely half way through the film, and so the second moment of inspiration arrives. Another female figure- the wife of a wrongly convicted military man serving a life sentence on Devil’s Island (the notorious prison island off Guyana, you might remember it from 'Papillon' - the 1973 film starring Steve McQueen and Dustin Hoffman*) arrives and appeals to Zola to take up their cause. Although reluctant, he can’t refuse once he takes the time to study the evidence not just of his innocence, but also of a conspiracy at the top of the military establishment. A juicy target he has no intention of passing up. And so Zola, in what will prove to be his final act of defiance against a superior authority begins a seemingly unwinnable battle when he utters the immortal line: “I accuse…” (or “J’accuse!” if you so prefer) and accuses the entire higher military establishment of collusion, conspiracy, fraud and cowardice. This soon becomes a courtroom drama, the earliest I have yet seen, shot sumptuously with over a hundred extras who are fantastically directed. Once again, Zola suffers indignity, and this sets up the denouement. Vindication! Justice! Vive la France! Overall, the film impresses, but with a running time of just under 2 hours and every minute heavily laden with overacting, wigs, stiff backs and calculated movements it is one whose qualities, like a large Havana cigar, are perhaps best enjoyed by connoisseurs of the genre. The rest of us are unlikely to make it all the way through. Postscript: Many of Emile Zola’s writings are referenced throughout the film, and I wanted to add a final note on this. At Zola’s funeral at the very end of the film the eulogy given includes the following words, a translation of Zola’s (from the 19th century) and here used as a warning to Europe, in the middle of the rise of the Third Reich- : “Do not forget those who fought the battles for you and bought your liberty with their genius and their blood. Do not forget them and applaud the lies of fanatical intolerance. Be human.” Fine advice to all. *Corrected 9/9/18- I previously stated that Napoleon was imprisoned there, but that was the Island of Elba. Silly me. EveryBestPicture.com revisits this Oscar Best Picture winner All love is powerful, Hollywood has long exploited this. It sells this particular strain by the bucketload: a romantic love that knows no bounds and is limited by no earthly constraints. The English Patient is one of the most perfect expressions of this kind of love. This man (Almásy, played by Ralph Fiennes) and woman (Katharine Clifton, played by Kristin Scott Thomas) find themselves in a situation which needs no further complication. She is married to another, WWII is breaking out around them and they spend most of their time in crocked vehicles with dwindling water supplies in the deepest of deserts hoping that they will be rescued sooner rather than too late. But they do fall in love. That much you can see from the poster. It is as if Jane Austen and Rudolf Valentino collided, creating something new, but old. Somehow, innocence and good sense had been left out of the mix. Our two protagonists show neither of these qualities in any great abundance and as a result the fireworks fly, a marriage implodes and the devil may care. I can't say that I warmed to either one of them- but that doesn't seem to matter to me. Both are rich- he is a count, she is landed gentry. Both have lives of excess and folly, champagne camping trips, events in evening dresses and tuxedos, but also manage to take themselves terribly seriously. They are not used to having to earn anything, to having to wait for what they want. If it weren't for the fact that she falls for him, that the feelings are mutual, you are left with little doubt that his sense of entitlement to her by virtue of the fact that he loves her utterly and completely would not just be creepy (as it sometimes comes across), but dangerous. He has little compunction in letting her know that he has rights to her, that she should relent, and she does. His somewhat single minded view of how she should spend her time is, fortunately, shared. His willingness to do anything to see her again leads him to provide maps to Rommel's Nazi desert troops enabling a massacre of thousands. All in the name of his love for her. However, this portrait of a love which leaves a trail of destruction across North Africa is countered by another tale woven into the film, a tale of two simpler people who seek nothing material (Naveen Andrews plays Kip, Juliette Binoche as Hana). Their love hurts no one, but hanging above them is an ever approaching double-bladed sword of Damocles: everyone she loves dies, and he is a bomb disposal expert who spends his days defusing booby traps and unexploded ordinance. The English Patient is sumptuously shot. To make it this far into a review without mentioning this, or comparing it to Lawrence of Arabia (as lazy as it may seem, with both set in the desert) is absurd. But it is to the film's credit that the beauty is complementary, not central. The power of this film lies in the worlds created by the director (Anthony Minghella): utterly convincing. You willingness to believe is enhanced by the central performances, the intimacy between Fiennes & Scott Thomas is particularly striking. There is so much going for this movie, and it stood out so considerably from the other films of the mid nineties, I can understand why when it came to voting for 'Best Picture' the members of the Academy would have thought to themselves that this had the edge, and posted their ballot accordingly. It distils Hollywood's obsession for (and vision of) love so well that it doesn't even need you to like the characters very much in order to admire the depth of feeling they have for each other and enjoy this movie-going experience. So, both couples find their worlds shaken and shaped by love and death, and spend much of their time transcending both. It is well worth watching it happen. This was worth revisiting. An important note on the matter of size
If you get the chance, this is really one for a very big screen. We are lucky that these days most of us have a 40-odd inch screen in their home, but being immersed in this film, to physically look up to it, is where it is at. To feel the music, to become part of the world that is Minghella's creation is worth a cinema ticket. If you can't, although there is plenty to take from watching it scaled down, the epic nature of a film like this will most likely be lost in translation to the small screen. Enjoyable in both settings, but I recommend an outing for this one more than most. EveryBestPicture.com revisits this Oscar Best Picture winner
One luxury for filmmakers for most of last century was that your audience had patience. ‘Mutiny on the Bounty’ knew it had a story worth telling, and in Charles Laughton and Clark Gable it had actors who were each able to hold the screen for as long as they cared. And that is just what they did. As if to emphasise the point, the movie opens with a title sequence that explains the plot of the film we are about to see. We don’t need the suspense generated by not knowing what broad twists and turns might take place because from the outset we are fully informed. This is a story about a mutiny committed by a crew on the HMS bounty who could take no more of the ill-treatment meated out by their captain. Clark Gable plays Fletcher Christian- the most wronged of the officers by Captain Bligh and the man who spearheaded the mutiny itself. A more apt name for the hero of this version of events is not possible. He was a picture of Christian virtue, standing up to Captain Bligh for the men of every station when they were unjustly treated. Mutiny, when it finally came, was a relief to those on board and likely to the audiences of the 1930s. The relentless floggings and unfair treatment would have been tough to watch, although through modern eyes it is quite bearable. Black and white images soften the violence considerably, blood is no longer alarm-red while the special effects are yet to be developed to the point of believability. It is a surprise to see any ambiguity on whether the mutiny was the correct thing to do or not- while ensuring that the audience understands that the mutineers were given no choice the film also shows the many who sided with the captain. And as the film goes on you find the mutineers’ righteousness was probably all in your head. There is a surprising suggestion that not everyone who stands up to a tyrant is on the side of good. And so, there is the issue of the 'natives'. The Bounty arrives at its destination, Tahiti, where there appears to be an idyllic life- the indigenous population are delighted to have the English arrive and shower them with garlands and all the women are for the taking. The men are few and far between, but generally are quite happy to have English sailors take their pick of their wives, daughters, sisters and others women. There is even an odd moment where an ageing deckhand is about to disappear into a hut with an island lady, only to scarper when he sees her 6 children rush into the hut ahead of them. Again, the one dimensional reductive image of other races rears its ugly head, this time as a plaything. The reductive image is one of a peace loving, benign, happy people who seem to be one step ahead of civilisation in many ways, but, typically, it is of a foreign, simplistic 'other'. The violence is stylised, much of the techniques no doubt gleaned from stage fighting. Movements are bold, clean and clear cut. The theatrical nature of early film is not universal, but any film designed to appeal to a broad audience at the time would have done the same. It borrowed a little swashbuckle from earlier seafaring pictures of the Errol Flynn stable, but nonetheless, the message was clear- the bad guy got his comeuppance and the journey to this endpoint was entertaining. The message was less clear surrounding the fates of the others. In reality, aside from pardons for those who had connections to land, money or titles the mutineers were hung or remained in exile until their dying day. But lets not let a little history sneak into our historical drama, let’s focus on the change for the good that the mutiny brought. The navy was a much better place to be as a result. Officers and seamen were now brothers in arms. Well done everyone concerned. Bligh may have gone on to receive promotion after promotion, before dying at around 60 years old, but he never sailed as a captain again. And Britain ended up ruling the waves, all thanks to this Mutiny on the Bounty. Yes. The message is upbeat but doesn't entirely make sense. But with land of hope and glory and Rule Britannia playing over the top of stirring images of sailing ships just before the credits roll we are left with a feeling of satisfaction that it was all worthwhile. And actually, I quite enjoyed these escapades in a 9 year old boy-ish kind of way. A nice bit of fun for a Sunday afternoon. EveryBestPicture.com revisits this Oscar Best Picture winner
At the time, 80 Days Around the World was released with the man behind it being chased by creditors for repayment of the massive debt incurred by his production (Michael Todd, a broadway producer who had never been involved in the making of a film before). With a paid cast of nearly 70,000 people and 8,000 animals this was certainly a production of epic proportions. It was a film with a budget of $6,000,000, shot on locations over 3 continents and even used a new filming technique ("Todd-AO") which allowed it to be filmed in widescreen on one lens and projected onto a curved screen, producing a more immersive experience for the audience. The gamble clearly worked- it made its money back nearly six times over and of course won the academy's Best Picture Oscar of 1957. Why were audiences so taken with it? Well, if this film has one thing in spades, it is spectacle. Audiences settling into the colour era which began 10 years before could witness a Jules Verne story, written 100 years before, come to life and take place all around them. There is a long air balloon sequence inserted solely to showcase the stunning palace gardens of France, Spanish bullfighting sequence which lasts a full ten minutes, train mounted cameras showing us countryside scenes from the asian subcontinent featuring elephants and other exotic animals. None of this has much bearing on the story, but are successful in providing us with sights we would almost certainly never have witnessed, had we seen this film in the 1950s. Around the World in 80 days was ambitious in its scale, technically and even quite daring in its technicolor portrayal of the past.
Sadly, this is the perfect of example of a film whose charm and success appear largely to have been lost in the 50 years since it was released. Perversely, the very things which made it so special 50 years ago are now precisely the things that now stand against it:
Although I cannot find any reference as to why the 'fisheye lens' effect dropped in and out throughout the movie, I would suspect it was down to the Todd-AO effect. Michael Todd, the man behind the movie, funded development of this, which he believed to be a more immersive experience: the screen curved subtly around the moviegoing audience. It is now impossible to see it as intended as the technology was superseded by IMAX tech and eventually lost. As the first widescreen film to be filmed through one lens (previous 'cinemascope' films required a 3 lens camera and other technical info you are probably not as interested in hearing about as I was) this was an achievement which set a standard still around today- an early version of widescreen IMAX. Unfortunately, watching it now, the fisheye effect remains in many scenes and, perversely, reminds you that you are watching a film rather than immersing you. Not a good thing to say about any movie.
The film spends the first 2 hours introducing you to cultures that you my not have been familiar with in the 1950s, which would have been a huge draw, especially since it was all in colour. The makers had the power to show sights which few in the world could boast to having seen all of. Alas, they chose to use this power to show stereotypes of all nationalities. In its favour is the fact that they spared no nation from this process, but when the stereotype of the British was someone who kept good time, had good manners and kept his cool while the Chinese come out smelling of opium (or other such intoxicants), Native Americans languished in the 'Redskins' narrative and in Japan all women were dressed as Geishas you find yourself less inclined to give it the benefit of the doubt.
Even at the time, Around the World in 80 Days was considered to be 'Light Entertainment', for the masses and certainly not worthy or highbrow contemplation. Nonetheless, it was venerated by the academy, winning 5 Oscars. It is also fair to say that given that there was no expense spared (and it showed) audiences are likely to have come out of the cinema feeling that they certainly got their moneys worth, regardless of whether the script was written by an overzealous 14 year old. It could have been, but wasn't.
Actin performances are perfectly fine- there is only so much an actor can do with a script whose highlights are long panning shots of the Asian and American countrysides from trains. Much to my surprise I discovered that Cantinflas (playing Passepartout) won the Golden Globe for best actor, quite an achievement considering he probably spoke fewer than 100 words. Although I heard Chaplin was a fan of his work in Latin American cinema.
In the final act the story makes an appearance. Finally, the story comes alive. Our travellers make it to the states and after a fracas with some 'injuns' (and before that the most hilarious cameo ever, from Frank Sinatra, who appears to have had his lines cut) the threat of not completing their journey rears its head. In summary, the first 2.5 hours are a slow motion tour of someones idea of the concept of 'foreign', but the ending was well orchestrated. You could accuse the film of using that old cinematic trick of convincing an audience they have seen a good film by inserting 25 minutes of decent plot and dialogue just before they go home, so it stays with them. Unfortunately for me, the first two acts were too overlong to forget, so I would lean towards a rating of 'bearable relic'. Around the world in 80 Days is to be avoided, if you have a choice.
With no thanks whatsoever to Dr. Louis Bayman who requested this review. :/
EveryBestPicture.com revisits this Oscar Best Picture winner
The story of Cimarron follows all-round awesome guy -lawyer, gent, sure shot who everyone looks up to in his journey west (“I know my bible cover to cover”). He brings along his initially reluctant wife (Sabra), adorable 5 year old son and stowaway home help, Isaiah. They help establish the town of Osage, seeing off Bandits and lowlifes as they go. This is a generous synopsis. The purpose of this blog is to assess films on the basis that a viewer, in our current age, may want to see it. What will they make of the very best that Hollywood had to offer in 1932? This, a western made in living memory of the time it was set (1889) dealt with “white settlement” of “Indian Oklahoma”. The introduction immediately had my back up. Some other historical films have been successful in lulling me into looking past political incorrectness, but just 2 minutes and 40 seconds in I am already resenting the use of naïve, lazy stereotypes to tell this story. It just took grinning shoeshine boy Isaiah (yes, he is black) and the telling of the happy opening up of a “new empire” at the expense of the ‘Indians’. This kind of film harks back to the origins of cinema: the fairground, where some would get a glimpse of the 'exotic'. And that is where it belongs, among the sawdust and elephant dung.
On seeing watermelons: "Yes Sir, I sure glad I came ta OaklyHomey"
Twenty minutes in and Isaiah is admiring watermelons, 30 minutes in and the ‘civilised’ hero, Yancey Cravat, is mocking a gentle, hard working man with a speech impediment for laughs with a little help from his wife, who later scolds her son for talking to “those dirty, filthy Indians”. As much as these may well have been attitudes shared by many white colonists, it does not make it any easier to stomach. The distinct lack of quality in production does it no favours and you end up with no reason to forgive it anything. Even if you wanted to. Which I don’t. Bafflingly, the man who himself tried to stake a claim on acres of Indian land in the opening scenes announces the Cherokee are “too smart to put anything in the contribution box of a race that has robbed him of his birth right”. Which land are you staking a claim to, Yancey? It can’t possibly be the moral high ground, can it? If so, you missed by a mile. But then, this is a man who shoots a mans dead while giving the towns first sermon from the pulpit and considered a hero for doing so.
Yancey later declares how deeply unfair the government have been in buying up more land from the Cherokee at a paltry $1.40 an acre and in the same breath declaring he wants to head off and stake his own claim on this new handout of Indian Land to white folk. Make up your minds, film folk, is this land grab good or bad? And so, our hero departs. He leaves Sabra, son and daughter and won't be seen for another 5 years: they are left to fend for themselves. His wife pines for him and converses with Levy the Jewish tailor (is that racial stereotype bingo yet?) who declares Yancey to be one of the men whose shoulders America is built upon. She does not disagree and continues to long for his return. Some hero this Yancey is turning out to be. Cimarron declares to know right from wrong, but just can’t resist appealing to the base instincts of cinema goers and assuming their ignorance. The makers can’t seem to decide which side of the fence they are on (or perhaps just don’t care, or understand) and so take up positions on both. As well as on it. All this added to slapdash storytelling leads to another movie-going experience much like The Broadway Melody: full of spectacle and very little substance. Having seen all of these tropes before, we, the modern viewers, are bored. I cannot believe that this could have been considered on a par with All Quiet on the Western Front which won the same award just one year earlier. The film tails off summing up the next 20 glorious years. Yancey follows his wanderlust and goes walkies again, the cast age, their town becomes a city and Sabra runs for governor. Will he return? Do I care? Everyone seems to be getting on just fine without him, if not better. Finally, his last appearance sees him commit one last act of bravery, saving hundreds of lives in a sacrificial act at an oil field. Despite a last bid by the film to use blunt force exposition to explain what a hero he was, the idea that a man who shirked responsibility so consistently throughout his life be someone to emulate and worship falls flat. Much like the film. EveryBestPicture.com revisits this Oscar Best Picture winner
The Academy went from choosing the light and airy The Broadway Melody as Best Picture in 1930 to next voting the dark nightmare of trench warfare, All Quiet on the Western Front. This is a movie that is difficult to extricate from the context in which it was made- the great depression had led the masses into a ruined world from which there was no escape and for which they bore no direct responsibility. The recent advent of sound also made it more possible than ever to give audiences a taste of trench warfare. Cinema’s roots lay in circus tents, films of trains rushing towards the camera sent audiences diving for cover at the turn of the century in scenes impossible to imagine for our screen-conditioned eyes. Sound now added to the immersive impact, and as ‘Wings’ had been so well received just 3 years earlier (Best Picture winner 1929, also set in the Great War) one can picture the people behind AQotWF anticipating the prospect of the impact of adding sound and dipping into the deep palette of pathos provided by the great depression shared by the viewing public. Now, I could go deeper into the fresh young recruits learning how to deal with the horrifying realities of war from the worldly, grisled trench veteran they cling to (Kat) being a reflection of the naivety and unpreparedness of the charleston dancing, jazz handed, chorus-girl filled 1920’s smashing face first into the Great Depression. We could also comment on the clear disdain throughout for authority figures: ridiculed, mocked and undermined; being an expression of the feeling of disappointment in what the industrial military complex gave them (WW1 & the depression). The “look where blind nationalism gets us” message is woven in throughout. Our boys swap home comforts for trench foot at the behest of the Kaiser, are scoffed at by their drafted comrades for having been foolish enough to be talked into volunteering to be in this predicament. As an American (or any allied) audience member you would find yourself rooting for the survival of these men, quite rightly undermining any blindly patriotic views. The last act of the film moves away from the front line to take a look at goings on back home when our protagonist (Albert) is given leave after suffering an injury to his side. He is despairing at the attitude taken by those around him, who have not tasted the bitter sharp end of war and proselytise more young recruits. In fact, it is in a classroom where he is reunited with the professor who convinced he and his classmates to go to war where he makes what would have been considered a criminal speech in wartime: “It is dirty and painful to die for your country. When it comes to dying for your country it is better not to die at all”. Returning early to his 2nd Company comrades willingly, as he can no longer bear being on home leave, the film closes gently but powerfully. The final shot is a super-imposition of two images: a cemetery of white crosses which stretches to the horizon and the 2nd company marching in the same direction, each glancing back to look directly down the camera as if to say goodbye. So what impression does this film leave the modern viewer? The effect lies in an unrelenting effort to drown you in the whistles of shells, bullets and mud, which is entirely successful. Long lasting tracking shots along the trenches as troops are mowed down bring you closer to each soldier’s death than an aerial shot of a busy, muddy field. The shot that lingers on the empty space left by a man going ‘over the top’ long enough for you to feel the unease brought on by a sense that within seconds his corpse will be filling that same space, and so it does. The elaborate camerawork and direction rarely distracts and often impresses, adding to the scale of the production. The multitude of characters and a dreaded feeling of ‘who’s next?’ only dissipates when they are on leave, far from the front line, and this adds to the audiences' emotional connection with the young Germans. Once again the stylised, theatrical acting (although massively toned down in comparison to previous Oscar winners) is still somewhat off-putting, especially as everything else seems so contemporary in its execution. I can see that the tone of this post reflects the sombre, earnest spirit of the film. There are moments intended to shock, but the overall effect is one of a relentless, unforgiving advance towards an inescapable fate whose only relief comes from no longer partaking in the experience. Although it did not make for comfortable viewing for the first two acts there is undeniably something very special about a picture which so successfully allows you to join the experience of its protagonists. This was well worth revisiting. EveryBestPicture.com revisits this Oscar Best Picture winner
Although your critic has seen many of these films at least once before, somehow The Sound of Music has escaped my attention. This puts me in the rare and enviable position of being able to see a widely regarded classic for the first time. A musical often included in all-time top 10 lists, this is a film that Julie Andrews couldn’t resist starring in, despite her reluctance in reprising “another nanny role” after her success as Mary Poppins. Now, clearly I am not going in blind, I know much of the music while the setting and tone have become familiar by cultural osmosis. The film is ubiquitous and its cultural importance cannot be underestimated, it defines an age. The impenetrable protective bubble created by Rogers & Hammerstein’s score and Julie Andrews performance as Maria the governess was strong enough to thwart even the Nazis, and convincingly so. But how does it look to someone watching it in adulthood? At very nearly 3 hours running time and almost certainly the closest thing to a children’s film best picture winner, could I sit through it? There does seem to be a fairly strong divide in people I know: between cisgender men and everyone else on just how good this film really is. Make of that what you will. My initial impression is that Julie Andrews exercised a power that swept up all before her, yes, even me. There were cracks if you looked for them, I found it very difficult to get past the innocent (/absurd), portrayal of the benign sisters and mother superior of the nunnery where the film opens. However, I am very much aware that I am completely open to the accusation of wilfully resisting the suspension of disbelief as the son of a woman who told me horror stories of her time in a school run by German Catholic nuns, so this is likely to be my failing rather than the film's. As someone who works with primary aged children I also found the young Vonn Trapps escapades early on largely unconvincing. However, in both of these cases Andrews convinced me in her performance opposite them that this was just the way things were, and I should get over it. And I did. As theatrical as the performances are, so stylised, I didn’t ever feel that the camera was the actor’s focus. I didn’t feel performed to, like I have done in other musicals; it appeared that they performed for each other rather than their audience. This provided a gateway into their world; an escape from my own. Once this has happened, in any film, if the magic continues for the reminder you will forgive it almost anything. It is also shot sumptuously: exteriors shot on location in Salzburg, Austria and the difference made on screen is astounding. The visual depth seems limitless and this sucks you in body and soul from the first truly iconic shot of Maria atop an Austrian hill, telling us how alive it was. I believed her, the proof was there before me. There are some very interesting shot choices, one such eyebrow raiser during the ‘climb every mountain number’. The Mother Abbess (MA) sings to Maria to convince her to return to Captain Von Trapp and be brave enough to find out if her feelings are mutual (Maria's feelings, not the Nun's) in full black habit. The singing nun spends almost the entire duration obscured, in complete darkness in the foreground, with Andrews face illuminated by a light which suggested to me that the voice she hears is in fact a message of divine provenance, directing her away from the habit and into the arms of the man she loves. There are many theories on why it was done this way: to preserve the MA's modesty; to highlight how dark Maria's life would be in the Abbey seeking the love of Jesus just there for consolation (in comparison to the outside world which appears so brightly lit through the windows here); to obscure Peggy Wood's (the actress who played the MA) poor lip-syncing (as it was not her singing)... I'll stick with my initial interpretation on this one until directed to believe otherwise. The chemistry between the Captain and Governess was a beautiful example of a slow burn beginning to a relationship, so often used in cinema before and since, rarely as successfully. When Maria returns from her honeymoon there is a visible, arresting change in her presence and interactions with the Captain. The suggestion that the marriage was a missing piece in their relationship was poetic, everything between them had now fallen into place. The biggest departure from the norm, something that I have still struggled to get my head around, is the structure of the film. I do not mean this as a negative, quite the opposite. Typically, films (and almost any tale, however old, however told) have three acts. You will know this already: when we teach children to write fiction in England we repeat ad nauseam from when they are 3 until 11 years old, throughout what we call primary school, and often beyond that you must 1. Establish your characters, setting & situation; 2. introduce a dilemma / change to the status quo you have established; 3. Resolve the situation. The Sound of Music, in fact, is a film and its own sequel. The Sound of Music has 6 very clearly defined acts: 1: in the nunnery 2: role as governess INTERMISSION 3: wedding and then a 40 minute sequel in which we 1: meet the Nazis 2: see the Nazi net close in on the Vonn Trapps 3: escape the Nazis Each ‘film’ is perfectly capable of standing on its own two feet, but together they create an epic where nothing stands still, not for a moment. Both parts fit together in a seamless and natural way that cannot be challenged because hey, it all just works so well. Most importantly it doesn’t feel like 3 hours. At the end of the 3rd act we had to put our son to bed, at the wedding scene, perfect timing. I was amazed to see that there were only 40 minutes left. Were this a studio movie made 20 years ago vast swathes of it would have been cut and it would have been a flop of 88 minutes. 10 years ago it would have been a 3 picture franchise (each of 2.5 hours) and today it would have been a Netflix series with each of the Von Trapp children having a spin off of their own. All of these alternatives would have sucked. This picture struck me to be like an antique music box, containing a magic that could only have been created in its time. Any imperfections I may have noted add to its personality. So yes, I enjoyed it. If somehow, like me, you are yet to see it, male cisgender or not, get thee to the Salzburg nunnery. Addendum Although I found it hard, I have decided to consciously avoid discussing the sexual or wartime politics which are present in the film. Perhaps another day. I may be wrong to take the film as intended by the makers, but there was a pleasure in doing so. The suspension of this part of my consciousness made for a much more enjoyable experience, something I am not often capable off doing. Although I do feel a little guilt akin to having just finished a 500ml tub of Haagen Dazs despite myself. |
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AuthorPablo Griffiths is a man with a passion for many things. He has recently taken an interest in writing about film, and himself in the third person. |