army of shadows

L' Armee des Ombres (Army of Shadows) is actually one of the first times the title of a film really helped to illuminate what I was seeing on screen. It isn't just a tip-off to Melville's story of the French Resistance, but another filter by which to understand the power of this film. All of the characters are shadows; they are ghosts. Melville strips them of all emotion and personal attachment and shows how terrifying the results of war can be, not on a nation, but on an individual.

The bleakness of the story and the stoic nature of the characters would be enough to bury a film if it didn't have a master's touch. The men and women in the army of shadows are functioning as people who are emotionally dead, yet Melville keeps their souls alive, giving their bodies the deadpan humor of mundane action in order to show how impossible it is to escape being human, even under extreme duress. The scene in which Gerbier parachutes back into France is a perfect example: Gerbier is one of the masterminds of the French resistance, a man who has removed all emotional connection to people. He appears deathly stoic through much of the film and yet he jumps from a plane with bandages stuck all over his face to keep his glasses on. For a split second the audience giggles at this shadow of Inspector Clouseau and are then returned to the grim reality of occupied France but now with reassurance that the main character is still agonizingly human, despite what circumstances have driven him to. Minus the humor, the firing squad scene also strips away the illusion of the character's emotional mastery but would seem implausible and out of character had we not had these earlier deadpan moments.

To say that this movie is great is an understatement, but perhaps that is ok for a such a formally understated film. After being riveted and terrified by Children of Men, I didn't expect to see another film so soon that had the same effect on me, particular one that is the stylistic antithesis. Roger Ebert summed up the lasting power of this film in one sentence: "Yes, there are moments of excitement, but they hinge on decisions, not actions." Therein lies the difference between a film by a showman and a film by an artist.

Melville was the latter.



Post-script: Jessica and I went to see Army of Shadows during some work travel over in the Twin Cities. Although the number of repertory titles showing at Oak Street Cinema is a mere fraction of what it once was, it was nice to see that the place is still open at all. It used to be my favorite of all favorite haunts. Army of Shadows has had a really big year, being named one of the great films of 2006. It's hard to believe it took almost 40 years for it to be shown theatrically in the U.S., but I suppose all the screens were being appropriated by another shitty Star Wars film. Thankfully there are still venues like Oak Street and The Music Box that allow us to see great cinema in a contextually appropriate venue. By all means, please support them for it.

the monster that challenged the world

The Monster that Challenged the World (1957) ended up being more 'guilty' than 'pleasure.' Thankfully it was shrewdly edited down to just under an hour and a half, but it is still only worth watching for the 45 minutes in which the giant sea snail is chasing or eating people. In fact, the sea snail was a fairly impressive creature effect for the time. I was fairly engaged during the diving scene halfway through the picture in which the creature just sits in a cave waiting to pounce on the divers.

The real laugh here is Tim Holt who, God bless him, looks like he just finished a three year vacation at Dunkin' Donuts. Maybe I'm just more used to seeing talentless beefcake as the leads in B-sci-fi, but somehow a bloated and waddling Tim Holt didn't strike me as the most likely creature in the film to find its way into Audrey Dalton's pants. After a brief stint in the 40's as an A-list supporting actor (Magnificent Ambersons, Treasure of the Sierra Madre, My Darling Clementine) it seems that Holt took a five year hiatus, only to reappear in this film and only a handful of others until his death in 1973. I shouldn't snark a guy who won a purple heart in WWII, but I couldn't help but see his eyes bulge at the prospect of cooking and eating the giant sea monster egg... perhaps with bacon.

For Holt it seems that the transition from B-Western to B-Sci-fi was a natural one. Westerns were waning by 1957 and cheap sci-fi was all the rage. The difference is that a cheap western doesn't elicit the giggles the way a cheap sci-fi flick does. No one goes downtown at midnight to throw popcorn at the screen at B-Westerns. So Tim, I throw this buttered popcorn in your honor. God knows you'd have loved to eat it.

kwaidan

I watched most of Kwaidan in the Milwaukee airport at 7am after only 3 hours of sleep. Whether it was the lack of sleep or the rising sun over the runway, the movie legitimately freaked me out. Of the four episodes Hoichi the Earless was the most incredible. It struck me about halfway through Hoichi that what made the supernatural element of the film so eerie is that there was no separation of worlds. Instead of having the supernatural descend (if you will) into an earthly reality, all of the earthly reality was heightened through careful production design. This leveling of the playing field, this portrayal of the natural and supernatural on wholly equal levels, makes their interaction seem simultaneously commonplace, organic and mystical.

The version I saw was the Janus/Criterion version which is apparently missing 20 minutes of footage and suffering from erroneous color timing. I have yet to discover if this edited version is a legit cut of the film or an error by Criterion, but to be honest, I don't feel like I was missing anything.

umberto d

Vittorio de Sica's Umberto D is sited as the final authentic film in the Italian Neo-Realism movement. It is a film that is equally cruel and kind, the kind of symbiosis that neo-realism lends itself to perfectly. The film concerns itself with Umberto, an aging man who is buried in the expansion and ambition of post-war Italy.

The cruelty of the film comes from a certain disconnect between all of the characters in the film. People are selfish, greedy and lacking in compassion throughout the entire film. Umberto himself is not a kind character, though he does find compassion for the servant girl in his apartment building. Even this compassion finds no proper outlet as he befriends her but is entirely unable to help her.

The only hopeful relationship is between Umberto and his little dog Flike. The disparity of all human interaction is only emboldened by this fact. Umberto is left with only enough dignity to care for his dog. Abandoned by the government, the church, co-workers, friends and ultimately himself in an attempt to jump in front of a train, Umberto's final sense of worth comes less from having a dog that needs him, than from the mutuality of a dog and a man who is treated like a dog. Yet the final impression of the film is that this is enough for survival, even hope. The ambiguity of Umberto's origin perhaps extended this hope to all Italians who needed a reason to survive in the ambitious bulldozer of post-war rebuilding.

Because it is impossible to praise this film enough:

• The Wiki entry on this film is more of an essay
• Alternative Film Guide on Umberto D
• Criterion Collection Essay
• and finally, Culture Court review
  

touch of evil (podcast review)

Out of the Past has this incredible podcast available on Orson Welles' penultimate film noir, Touch of Evil. As always, Clute and Edwards provide a scholarly analysis of the film, but for once I was sorely disappointed by the length of the piece. A half hour may be great for some films but it seems like there is so much more that can be mined from the film, particularly in terms of theme. Anyway, I highly recommend delving into the Out of the Past archive as there isn't a moment in the series that won't keep you engaged and dying to see more film noir. In particular listen to their comments on It's a Wonderful Life.