jacu0444 Reviews

King Kong (1933)

One of the Early Wonders of the Cinema

[8/10 · 14 January 2023]

King Kong seems to me like the prototype for what would become the classic Hollywood style blockbuster, where spectacle takes priority over the story, dialogue, and character. It is a film whose two legs are composed of the revolutionary effects it implements throughout, the fantastic, lush set design, and the creative ways in which the stop motion set pieces interact with the actors on set. Story wise, the most engaging element it entertains is brought up at the very beginning and repeated as a mantra throughout the film at several moments, especially towards the end: that being the Arabian proverb on how beauty can take hold over the beast. Otherwise, there isn't much in terms of deep character study in this movie. The romance between Jack and Ann is poorly developed and contrived, especially considering his misogyny towards her and all women at the beginning of the film. Denham was interesting as an eccentric director who is obsessed with capturing the exotic with a voyeuristic spirit that is too reckless to not consider him the real villain of the movie. However, his motivations for such dangerous endeavors remain unknown by the end of the film. Surely, one can make a profit as a high-rolling director in New York City, without having to put so many lives on the line, right?

Regardless, I can say I thoroughly and wholly love this film, as the spectacle is just too great to avoid. The iconography of the film is deeply engrained within not only the monster movie genre, but that of big budget Hollywood films as well, and it makes it hard not to smile at the excellent action scenes captured here. I especially love the brutality of the rag doll physics on characters as they fall to their deaths. It adds an eerie layer of realism that I don't think is captured as well in today's films. There exists a visceral sense of kinetic impact when watching the fall deaths in this film; the bloodcurdling screams and the deafening silence as the bodies collide with the ground only goes to further this sensation. This definitely sticks out to me as a pre-code film, as brutality on that scale wouldn't be captured in popular film for quite some time after this.

I found it interesting to note how unsympathetic Kong was throughout this film. It seems to be a trend in modern horror and monster films to make the giant monster have an aura of humanity, a spark of pathos that can make the viewer identify with the creature. Hell, modern Godzilla and Kong movies are practical exercises in hero worship, with the lads fighting other creatures that usually have a far worse intent than the iconic beasts. Only until the very end was I able to appreciate some more subtlety in Kong, with his obsession over Ann and his final caress before plunging to his death down the Empire State revealing a side to him that was more than just an oversized alpha male gorilla vying for the blonde woman. Perhaps on a deeper level, the film was commenting on the nature of male sexuality and the tropes that ran alongside it during this time period. I can see some parallels between Jack and Kong in how they attempt to flaunt their masculinity to a woman they care about through acts of cruelty, aloofness, and in Kong's case, violence.

With that considered, I think King Kong presents Hollywood when it is at the top of its game in terms of action, spectacle, and bewildering effects-induced wonder. It also helps that the story it tells along the way is a fairly enjoyable one, despite the flat characters.

Crisis (1946)

The First Steps of a Future Master of the Craft

[6/10 · 14 May 2020]

Crisis marks Bergman's first film in the director's seat and serves as a promising, if often stumbling, showcase of the director's future prowess as a filmmaker. Guided under the steady mentorship of Victor Sjöström, a legendary Swedish director from the silent era, Bergman quietly made his appearance on the world stage with this melodramatic coming-of-age story on the loss of innocence. A layout of many of Bergman's future motifs is established here, with the conflict between family generations, the psychological tension that lies between men and women, and themes on existential despair being peppered throughout the film's run time. Some of his visual flair also begins to take root here, most famously of which being his refusal to capitulate to the classic shot-reverse-shot technique for scenes of dialogue. Bergman, with his fascination with the human face, would prefer to simply focus in on the face of a single actor throughout the length of a conversation, often to great dramatic effect. While these elements of the film definitely appeal to a student of Bergman's work, they do not necessarily translate into a must-see masterpiece.

This film suffered from a tedious and tumultuous production, with pressure from a studio that had little faith in Bergman at the time holding sway over the director's approach. Bergman was known for being an even-keeled, highly professional director to work with, but he has admitted that this was a reputation that he had to earn through many trials. In the production of this film he retained little popularity with the ensemble he had assembled, with a cantankerous, explosive attitude ruling over the young perfectionist. This would produce strenuous tensions between Bergman and the staff during filming. One famous incident involved Bergman's insistence that the crew continue filming after a cameraman had been injured from taking a fall. As Bergman's confidence in his storytelling would grow, so would his professionalism and capability as a director, something that this film reflects.

From a story standpoint, Crisis presents a narrative on the loss of innocence for a beautiful eighteen-year old girl by the name of Nelly (played by Inga Landgré), her relationship with her foster mother, Ingeborg (Dagny Lind), and the arrival of her estranged biological mother, Jenny (Marianne Löfgren). Jenny's lover, Jack (Stig Olin) also has a crucial role to play in the moral crisis that Nelly comes to face, as he seduces her to the whims and whiles of city-life and leads her further astray from the child-like innocence of her youth. The film carries commentary on motherhood, urban culture, and the naivety of the innocent. The success with which it pursues these themes is done with varying degrees of success. Towards the end, some of the plot developments feel sudden, and rash character actions appear out of place, making a compelling psychodrama teeter onto the edge of becoming a melodrama. This flirtation with becoming a hackneyed, overacted stage play transitions to the other elements of the film, particularly the acting and cinematography. The film is bolstered by strong performances by Stig Olin and Dagny Lind, with Olin playing a conniving, manipulative young man to great success (up until the film's end) and Lind portraying the saintly foster mother who does her best to protect Nelly. Otherwise, the performances in the film were middling in comparison to these two. Likewise, the cinematography can at times show a great sense of creativity that serves our understanding of the characters. The focus on one character during dialogue, as previously mentioned, and Ingeborg's dream sequence aboard the train are excellent examples of Bergman's future prowess. But much of the rest of the film has little flair going for it, and often feels as though it was shop fairly cheaply. This does not mean that the film was shot poorly, but that it lacked the steady guidance and beautiful compositions that would be found in Bergman's later work (often thanks to the support from Bergman's two key cinematographers during his career, Gunnar Fischer and Sven Nykvist). Thus, the clashing of these components of brilliance and mediocrity meld together to form a flawed, albeit strongly compelling psychodrama.

Bergman would describe this film as a, "complete disaster," in his later years, dismissing his earliest film with severe criticisms that were mostly directed at his capabilities and personal failures at the time. With Bergman being the perfectionist that he was, one would be remiss to take heed of his criticisms. While definitely one of Bergman's minor works, it is essential if one aims to view the first steppingstone in this filmmaker's journey. It also evokes a gripping narrative that hints at what was to come from the young director.

Smiles of a Summer Night (1955)

A Jovial Poem on the Puzzle of Love

[10/10 · 24 April 2020]

This was the second Bergman film I had ever seen. This came after a long period that took place after watching The Seventh Seal, a film that confirmed a newfound adoration for world cinema. The film was filled with contrasting depictions of nihilism and hope, despair and joy, faith, and agnosticism, which suggested that a meaningful life is built upon the acts of kindness we give unto others. I think I viewed it at the exact right moment in my life and will reflect on my first viewing of the film as a milestone in how I was shaped as a person. After having seen Smiles of a Summer Night, I strongly believe that if all of his other films, or at least, the majority of them, constitute the same level of quality as these two then I may quickly become a lifelong admirer of Bergman's work.

The similarities between The Seventh Seal and Smiles of Summer Night are sparse, yet significant enough to tie them together; no other director could have directed one or the other, as they are undeniably stamped by Bergman's craftsmanship. This is reflected in the wit of the written dialogue, something that Bergman excelled in with his established repertoire as a theatrical screenwriter. Melancholia and joviality are wed blissfully throughout the film's plot as an expertly performed juggling act on tone. Finally, what most clearly identifies this as a Bergman film, is the complex character psychology that projects relatable and sympathetic people that are in the middle of a moral dilemma. In The Seventh Seal, the crux of this narrative lies in Alexander Block's (played masterfully by Max Von Sydow) crisis of faith in the middle of a plague; here in Smiles, the crisis is more mundane though just as impactful, with a crisis of the heart taking place from varying perspectives.

From my readings, Bergman wrote the screenplay for this film at a very dark time in his life, having stated that he had narrowed himself down to two possibilities by the making of this film: he could spend the summer making Smiles of a Summer Night or he could kill himself. The bleakness of such a mindset reflects in the humor of this film, with each major character suffering from a succinct and devastating form of humiliation by the plot's end. Certain acts carried out by the characters in the film quickly change the tone to something very dark, almost gallows in its irreverence towards human suffering. And yet, despite this overshadowing cloud of gloom, the film carries with it an abundance of joy that completely counteracts this hidden depression. Just as a viewer's jaw lies on the floor as they contemplate the implications of what they have witnessed, the sly camera movements and the excellent script reveal an unexpected development that remedies the temporary threat of catastrophe.

The romances portrayed in the film were acted superbly by all of the leads. The relationship between Fredrik Egerman (Gunnar Björnstrand) and Desiree Armfeldt (Eva Dahlbeck) was my favorite in particular, with both characters having shown the weariness of a long search for love and displaying a mutual friendship that felt very natural on the screen. The liveliness of their banter once again highlights the strength of Bergman's script work and channels many elements of the classical Hollywood screwball romance. To that end, listening to the Swedish language carried out in such whimsical fashion is a treat to the ears, and reading the subtitled dialogue feels as engaging and pensive as examining poetry.

Another enjoyable aspect of the film lies in Bergman's plotting, where what could have been a maladroit erotic comedy is finely tuned to feel more like the solving of a puzzle. He takes four different couples, none of whom fit properly in terms of romantic chemistry and personality and ultimately resolves the puzzle laid before the audience by pairing the right couples off, one by one. It is an erotic comedy that carries with it a hearty sense of playfulness, with the libidos and sexualities of various characters colliding in ways that not only bring about hilarity for the audience's enjoyment but reveal interesting elements of a character's psychology. Take Count Carl-Magnus Malcolm (portrayed by Jarl Kulle) for instance: a military man who is devoted to his lack of devotion, pouncing on the sexual prowess of his mistress while neglecting the attention of his faithful wife, Countess Charlotte Malcolm (played by Margit Carlqvist). He jealously proclaims, "I can tolerate my wife's infidelity, but if anyone touches my mistress, I become a tiger," when threatened by Frederik for Desiree's hand in love. This later flips when Desiree's Machiavellian scheme for Frederik's love tricks the Count into believing that Frederik now pursues his wife, where he shouts, "I can tolerate my mistress's infidelity, but if anyone touches my wife, I become a tiger." When the laughter from this duality subsides, one can see that the Count is not a man possessed by the passions of love, but the preservation of his ego. He loves himself above all and his pride must be maintained at all costs.

In a small documentary on some of Bergman's home footage and early works, entitled Images of the Playground, Bergman would state his distaste for the summers of Sweden. The unbearable heat that would appear towards August would make him, "feel as if the world was about to perish," and create an uncomfortable working atmosphere for him. Despite this seeming discomfort, many of his films capture the cultural significance of the sweeping nature of the short-lived Swedish summers, with Smiles being no exception. The passionate trysts of the romantic lovers in this film capture the ambiance of a fleeting paradise, with the unpredictable nature of love and ardor echoing the vanishing season of warmth. Many of his films maintain this sentiment, insinuating that Bergman reflected an essential part of Swedish culture in his works, and made them essential to the progression of his stories. Gunnar Fischer's austere cinematography also captures the beauty of the summer nights, whether in the city locales or the countryside, making the film a visual treat from start to finish.

The juxtaposition of dark and light, joy and sorrow, and pride and humiliation that revolve as the themes of this film make for an enticing spectacle that also happens to contain some of the funniest moments I've ever seen in a romantic comedy. Charming and graceful in its presentation, this film functions as an enduring classic of the romantic comedy genre, alongside holding its reputation for being the film that brought Bergman worldwide recognition.