This is one of the most gorgeous and idealistic movies I've ever seen. From the moment the curtain rises, to the moment it falls (and yes, there is a curtain), we find ourselves in a strange and wonderful world. The pettiness and cruelty of reality is everywhere on display, but it is shadowy and false compared to the spirit of the principal characters. Everything—the plotting, the casting, the scenery, the music—is perfect. For me there wasn't a wrong note in the whole thing. One of my top five.
Reviews
12 Reviews
The Stranger
(1991)
Ray's unforgettable swan song
9 November 2016
Warning: Spoilers
This is one of Ray's best movies, and has never been more relevant. In the opening scene, Anila Bose opens a letter, written in fine traditional Bengali, from an uncle she hasn't seen since she was two. Her son is excited. Her husband is sceptical. The supposed uncle arrives, and they spend two days trying to understand this mysterious stranger who claims to be their family.
I found the movie deeply touching. Its great strength lies in the relationship between Anila, perfectly played by Mamata Shankar, and the enigmatic Manomohan, played by the utterly convincing Utpal Datt. The action unfolds in the Bose's home. Guests come and go. Anila and her husband Sudhin speculate about the stranger in bed. Manomohan bewitches young Satyaki and his friends with tales of his travels in the distant parts of the world.
The story is simple, but it evokes deep feelings and provokes deep thoughts on issues that have never been more pressing: faith, identity, ideals, the sense of home. Ray's tact is immaculate, as is his sense of rhythm. It is difficult for an amateur like me to describe his method, which is unobtrusive. He takes us into the little home of the Boses, unpeels their skin, and lets us see "the poor reasonable animal, as naked as ever nature made him." It is a deeply human vision, but it builds into a powerful allegory, of the power of art and of hope to make our world into a home.
And here's the spoiler. I couldn't help it, sorry!
This was Ray's last film, and this knowledge makes its final scene heartbreaking. When Manomohan, the all-embracing intellect, leaves the Boses, young Satyaki asks, will he ever return? Monomohan tells Satyaki it will be his turn to visit next, otherwise what are promises? If only we could visit Ray!
I found the movie deeply touching. Its great strength lies in the relationship between Anila, perfectly played by Mamata Shankar, and the enigmatic Manomohan, played by the utterly convincing Utpal Datt. The action unfolds in the Bose's home. Guests come and go. Anila and her husband Sudhin speculate about the stranger in bed. Manomohan bewitches young Satyaki and his friends with tales of his travels in the distant parts of the world.
The story is simple, but it evokes deep feelings and provokes deep thoughts on issues that have never been more pressing: faith, identity, ideals, the sense of home. Ray's tact is immaculate, as is his sense of rhythm. It is difficult for an amateur like me to describe his method, which is unobtrusive. He takes us into the little home of the Boses, unpeels their skin, and lets us see "the poor reasonable animal, as naked as ever nature made him." It is a deeply human vision, but it builds into a powerful allegory, of the power of art and of hope to make our world into a home.
And here's the spoiler. I couldn't help it, sorry!
This was Ray's last film, and this knowledge makes its final scene heartbreaking. When Manomohan, the all-embracing intellect, leaves the Boses, young Satyaki asks, will he ever return? Monomohan tells Satyaki it will be his turn to visit next, otherwise what are promises? If only we could visit Ray!
Gol Maal
(1979)
The perfect comedy
22 October 2016
This is the perfect comedy! It has all the hallmarks of the genre. A delightful, optimistic young hero. A tempestuous young heroine. A stiff and prejudiced father. A garrulous uncle. A tough and sentimental aunt. Dopey friends. Misunderstandings. Seemingly unending conflict and a hilarious resolution.
Amol Palekar shines as the hero, Ram. His character is absurdly unrealistic. He is a feckless youth and a devoted nephew and brother. He has a wicked sense of humour and strong religious devotion. He is a brilliant accountant and has a raft of boring opinions of Kabir. He is an incredibly hard worker and yet has a thriving social life. He loves sport more than anything else, but will sacrifice it for a job and for love. Ram is a chameleon, a supreme actor, and Palekar is utterly convincing as each of Ram's altar egos.
The rest of the main cast are equally brilliant. Deven Verma is the best friend a young guy could ask for. Bindiya Goswami has just the right balance of disobedience and daughterly devotion to be utterly charming. Dina Pathak is hilarious as Kamla, the part-time actress who climbs through kitchen windows. And Utpal Dutt is nearly unbeatable as the fierce potential father-in-law, who thinks that only men with moustaches and without hobbies or nicknames have any value in modern India. He reminded me of Walter in Sterne's classic novel "Tristram Shandy," a man of great status and absurd beliefs, but withal extremely likable.
Like all the best comedies, this one takes place in a world just a little bit different from our own. Everyone is flawed, but there is no harm in that. Everyone misunderstands one another, but in the end all difficulties melt in the breeze.
The plot unfolds breezily, and complication piles on complication as Ram's schemes get increasingly involved. I was grinning or laughing the whole way through, and I think you will too. 10/10
Amol Palekar shines as the hero, Ram. His character is absurdly unrealistic. He is a feckless youth and a devoted nephew and brother. He has a wicked sense of humour and strong religious devotion. He is a brilliant accountant and has a raft of boring opinions of Kabir. He is an incredibly hard worker and yet has a thriving social life. He loves sport more than anything else, but will sacrifice it for a job and for love. Ram is a chameleon, a supreme actor, and Palekar is utterly convincing as each of Ram's altar egos.
The rest of the main cast are equally brilliant. Deven Verma is the best friend a young guy could ask for. Bindiya Goswami has just the right balance of disobedience and daughterly devotion to be utterly charming. Dina Pathak is hilarious as Kamla, the part-time actress who climbs through kitchen windows. And Utpal Dutt is nearly unbeatable as the fierce potential father-in-law, who thinks that only men with moustaches and without hobbies or nicknames have any value in modern India. He reminded me of Walter in Sterne's classic novel "Tristram Shandy," a man of great status and absurd beliefs, but withal extremely likable.
Like all the best comedies, this one takes place in a world just a little bit different from our own. Everyone is flawed, but there is no harm in that. Everyone misunderstands one another, but in the end all difficulties melt in the breeze.
The plot unfolds breezily, and complication piles on complication as Ram's schemes get increasingly involved. I was grinning or laughing the whole way through, and I think you will too. 10/10
Amour
(2012)
Delicate and humane
22 October 2016
Warning: Spoilers
This is a beautiful movie, which picks up the story some decades after "happily ever after." People often talk about art being "universal." This is usually a cop out. All art is rooted in a culture, and books and movies make little sense if we don't come to them with the required knowledge. But if ever there was a universal movie, it was this one. Illness, death and love are part of everyone's experience. They are all fundamental parts of bodily experience, and transcend culture in a way that health, life and romance do not.
The Taj Mahal looms over the Yamuna River in remembrance of Shah Jahan's lost love. "Amour" is a monument no less grand.
The heart of the film is the relationship between Anne and Georges, who are played with consummate skill by Jean-Louis Trintignant and Emmanuelle Riva. I found Riva's performance particularly heartbreaking. It chimed with my own memories of similar situations, and her emotional course through the movie is as complex as it is heartbreaking.
Haneke has a muted style. The camera is still, the soundtrack is bare, we continually see the same rooms and the same furniture from the same angles. This throws all the emphasis on the warm emotions of the principal characters. Their faces burn through the screen. Their words are crystal clear against a silent backdrop. The little details of Anne and Georges's home become familiar and take on lives of their own. The piano, the books, the kitchen table, the sink, the green chairs in the salon, the white cornices, the parquet floors. I don't think I've ever seen a movie before where I remember such things.
It is a slow movie, but if you're not a fan of international art-house releases, this might be the one film you could handle. It is so warm and so real, that I think it really does have a universal appeal.
***
Having slept on it, I've changed my mind. I still think this is a beautiful movie. And I still think it is true to say that bodily illness is an almost uniquely universal theme.
But it is not right to say that this movie is culturally universal. It is filled with contemporary, western themes to do with illness and dying. Should Anne be put into a home? Should she receive treatment? Is euthanasia justified? What responsibility do parents have for their children? What is the value of human life? How important is a person's dignity? How should we talk to and about the terminally ill? Perhaps many cultures pose similar questions, but surely none pose all of them in quite the way this movie does. This is one reason I found the movie so touching. It asked me questions I have asked myself about my own family members. Someone who had asked themselves different questions might not like the movie.
Nor would people who find such questions distressing—as some of the other reviews show.
My initial response to the movie reminds me of a scene in "The White Masai." Nina Hoss's character has just arrived with her husband, Jack Ido, in her new home among the Masai. She sees an old woman who has been abandoned to die, and tries to save her life. Neither the old woman nor anyone else sides with her. Euthanasia is not a question everywhere, but my strong response to "Amour" made me feel for a moment that it was. "I want more life," cries Roy Batty in the most famous scene of "Blade Runner." "Amour" brings this cry into question, in a beautiful, subtle, and undeniably Western way.
The Taj Mahal looms over the Yamuna River in remembrance of Shah Jahan's lost love. "Amour" is a monument no less grand.
The heart of the film is the relationship between Anne and Georges, who are played with consummate skill by Jean-Louis Trintignant and Emmanuelle Riva. I found Riva's performance particularly heartbreaking. It chimed with my own memories of similar situations, and her emotional course through the movie is as complex as it is heartbreaking.
Haneke has a muted style. The camera is still, the soundtrack is bare, we continually see the same rooms and the same furniture from the same angles. This throws all the emphasis on the warm emotions of the principal characters. Their faces burn through the screen. Their words are crystal clear against a silent backdrop. The little details of Anne and Georges's home become familiar and take on lives of their own. The piano, the books, the kitchen table, the sink, the green chairs in the salon, the white cornices, the parquet floors. I don't think I've ever seen a movie before where I remember such things.
It is a slow movie, but if you're not a fan of international art-house releases, this might be the one film you could handle. It is so warm and so real, that I think it really does have a universal appeal.
***
Having slept on it, I've changed my mind. I still think this is a beautiful movie. And I still think it is true to say that bodily illness is an almost uniquely universal theme.
But it is not right to say that this movie is culturally universal. It is filled with contemporary, western themes to do with illness and dying. Should Anne be put into a home? Should she receive treatment? Is euthanasia justified? What responsibility do parents have for their children? What is the value of human life? How important is a person's dignity? How should we talk to and about the terminally ill? Perhaps many cultures pose similar questions, but surely none pose all of them in quite the way this movie does. This is one reason I found the movie so touching. It asked me questions I have asked myself about my own family members. Someone who had asked themselves different questions might not like the movie.
Nor would people who find such questions distressing—as some of the other reviews show.
My initial response to the movie reminds me of a scene in "The White Masai." Nina Hoss's character has just arrived with her husband, Jack Ido, in her new home among the Masai. She sees an old woman who has been abandoned to die, and tries to save her life. Neither the old woman nor anyone else sides with her. Euthanasia is not a question everywhere, but my strong response to "Amour" made me feel for a moment that it was. "I want more life," cries Roy Batty in the most famous scene of "Blade Runner." "Amour" brings this cry into question, in a beautiful, subtle, and undeniably Western way.
The Man Who Fell to Earth
(1976)
A flawed masterpiece
8 October 2016
This is a weird movie, and compelling. David Bowie stars as himself: an alien, fallen to earth, whose moral vision is out of kilter with the humans around him. He is superb. His quietness, timing, movements, and thin otherworldly look are mesmerising. And despite his moral strangeness, he is sympathetic. He is one of the strangest characters in fiction: almost impossible to relate to, and yet constantly evoking our pity.
The plot moves in fits and starts. Some moments stretch forever, and then suddenly it races ahead, and we find the same characters thrown together in new relationships. Things seem to be developing in a certain direction, and then suddenly turn and render what went before irrelevant. The whole movie is mysterious. Events are unexplained. Characters' motivations are cryptic. But it is never boring, because it is so suspenseful.
It is a poetic movie. Often two or three scenes take place at once, and are spliced with the television Bowie is watching or the things he sees and imagines. Strange images come together. We get a sense of how his mind works, though it is often ambiguous whether all the different things we see are in his mind, or are simply coincidences.
I loved this movie, but I found aspects of it less compelling. A subplot develops about the finances of the company Bowie founds, World Enterprises. Like the rest of the film, this subplot is weird, but unlike the rest, it doesn't work. The characters involved are ciphers. Thinking about it the next day, I can begin to see some connections between the subplot and the rest of the movie, but I still feel it was jarring and ill- managed.
The plot moves in fits and starts. Some moments stretch forever, and then suddenly it races ahead, and we find the same characters thrown together in new relationships. Things seem to be developing in a certain direction, and then suddenly turn and render what went before irrelevant. The whole movie is mysterious. Events are unexplained. Characters' motivations are cryptic. But it is never boring, because it is so suspenseful.
It is a poetic movie. Often two or three scenes take place at once, and are spliced with the television Bowie is watching or the things he sees and imagines. Strange images come together. We get a sense of how his mind works, though it is often ambiguous whether all the different things we see are in his mind, or are simply coincidences.
I loved this movie, but I found aspects of it less compelling. A subplot develops about the finances of the company Bowie founds, World Enterprises. Like the rest of the film, this subplot is weird, but unlike the rest, it doesn't work. The characters involved are ciphers. Thinking about it the next day, I can begin to see some connections between the subplot and the rest of the movie, but I still feel it was jarring and ill- managed.
Lourdes
(2009)
The perfect balance of vinegar and olive oil
6 October 2016
That was George Martin's description of Lennon and Maccartney's songwriting partnership: Maccartney provided the olive oil, and Lennon the vinegar. The balance is just as perfect in this movie, which manages to capture the temple of crass which is Lourdes, without ridiculing the faith that leads people to revere it. It is a quiet movie, with little dialogue, and frequent recurring motifs—religious services, visits to the grotto, Lourdes water in ghastly containers. The little cast of characters is superb, and there are no weak performances here.
If I had one criticism, it's that the movie is sometimes too subtle for its own good. Occasionally, I like to be told what I'm watching and why it's significant. Perhaps this is my own crudeness. Nevertheless a brilliant movie, that made me chuckle and yet moved me.
If I had one criticism, it's that the movie is sometimes too subtle for its own good. Occasionally, I like to be told what I'm watching and why it's significant. Perhaps this is my own crudeness. Nevertheless a brilliant movie, that made me chuckle and yet moved me.
By Our Selves
(2015)
An interesting, rather than an excellent experimental movie
2 October 2016
This movie is an experiment, and though not wholly successful, has moments of beauty and many of interest.
It is a combination of a documentary about John Clare's poetry, and a re-enactment of his famous "journey out of Essex," when he fled the asylum at High Beech, and walked the 80 miles back to his home in Northborough. Toby Jones plays John Clare, walking his long way home. Iain Sinclair, playing himself, follows Clare on his journey and interviews some fans of Clare on the way (Alan Moore, Simon Kövesi, and Freddie Jones. Andrew Kötting, the director himself, appears as the Straw Man, a figure from one of Clare's late poems, and surreally haunts many of the scenes.
The best aspect of the movie is the re-enactment of Clare's walk to Northborough. Clare walks the route as it appears today, in the 21st century. Highways, footpaths and power-lines litter the landscape, the paths in the forests are worn by many feet, and passers-by wonder who Toby Jones is and what the film crew are doing. At one particularly memorable moment, an older gentleman on a mobility scooter asks what the crew are doing, and when he hears they are filming Clare's journey out of Essex, points at Toby Jones and cries "That's not John Clare!"
Clare was, of course, mad at this point in his life, and Kötting cleverly evokes his insanity. CCTV cameras bristle in the trees, representing his paranoia. He wears boxing gloves around his neck, representing his delusion that he was Jack Randall, the prize fighter. There are many other examples, which I would rather not spoil.
The interviews are on the whole less successful, though they are still interesting. They are somewhat too short and ironic to be very informative, though the interviewees are well chosen, and we get some different perspectives on Clare's life and work.
There were also a number of surreal passages, which I admit I could not understand. Perhaps others could, but that is difficult for me to predict.
The camera-work is lovely. The black and white footage is atmospheric, and Kötting makes good use of drones to capture striking perspectives on the action. Toby Jones is terrific as Clare, looking as harried and footsore as Clare sounds in his famous journal of the journey. The music and sound design are creepy with moments of beauty. It all works together effectively to create a certain mood.
But the film as a whole doesn't really cohere for me.
It is a combination of a documentary about John Clare's poetry, and a re-enactment of his famous "journey out of Essex," when he fled the asylum at High Beech, and walked the 80 miles back to his home in Northborough. Toby Jones plays John Clare, walking his long way home. Iain Sinclair, playing himself, follows Clare on his journey and interviews some fans of Clare on the way (Alan Moore, Simon Kövesi, and Freddie Jones. Andrew Kötting, the director himself, appears as the Straw Man, a figure from one of Clare's late poems, and surreally haunts many of the scenes.
The best aspect of the movie is the re-enactment of Clare's walk to Northborough. Clare walks the route as it appears today, in the 21st century. Highways, footpaths and power-lines litter the landscape, the paths in the forests are worn by many feet, and passers-by wonder who Toby Jones is and what the film crew are doing. At one particularly memorable moment, an older gentleman on a mobility scooter asks what the crew are doing, and when he hears they are filming Clare's journey out of Essex, points at Toby Jones and cries "That's not John Clare!"
Clare was, of course, mad at this point in his life, and Kötting cleverly evokes his insanity. CCTV cameras bristle in the trees, representing his paranoia. He wears boxing gloves around his neck, representing his delusion that he was Jack Randall, the prize fighter. There are many other examples, which I would rather not spoil.
The interviews are on the whole less successful, though they are still interesting. They are somewhat too short and ironic to be very informative, though the interviewees are well chosen, and we get some different perspectives on Clare's life and work.
There were also a number of surreal passages, which I admit I could not understand. Perhaps others could, but that is difficult for me to predict.
The camera-work is lovely. The black and white footage is atmospheric, and Kötting makes good use of drones to capture striking perspectives on the action. Toby Jones is terrific as Clare, looking as harried and footsore as Clare sounds in his famous journal of the journey. The music and sound design are creepy with moments of beauty. It all works together effectively to create a certain mood.
But the film as a whole doesn't really cohere for me.
Accattone
(1961)
Bleak and brilliant
22 September 2016
This is not the Rome you see on Contiki. Pasolini has conjured up the half-life of the streets in this extraordinary movie. Accatone is a pimp and an idler, his friends are no better, and they walk Rome's emptiest streets night and day doing nothing much at all. Pasolini captures their aimless existence with his artless cinematography. Most of the dialogue is shot close up, and the cast deliver their lines with character and simplicity. It is perhaps their authenticity that makes them charming. Even Accatone is charming, despite his selfishness, idleness, resentment and occasional misogyny. They all need to be charming. In the bleak world of this movie, irony is the only defence against madness. There are moments of happiness that break through, and prevent the film from becoming monotonous or unrealistic. The beach scene near the start, and the later conversations between the tough and self-confident prostitutes, are scenes in which irony breaks out into humour, and defiance momentarily turns to content.
"The world will kill me, or I'll kill it!" exclaims Accatone. He struggles for redemption— but I won't spoil the end of the movie.
"The world will kill me, or I'll kill it!" exclaims Accatone. He struggles for redemption— but I won't spoil the end of the movie.
All's Well
(1972)
A bold experiment
6 July 2016
This film's an experiment, and I think it's fair to say that it doesn't quite pull it off. But I nonetheless found it quite an engaging film.
The plot is threadbare. An American journalist and her French husband are accidentally embroiled in an occupation at a factory. The different characters put their points of view about the occupation, and as the film goes on, the perspective widens, until it really isn't about the factory anymore, but about the state of France.
There are some striking scenes here, all of them pictorial rather than dramatic. Many of the characters speak to camera in one-sided dialogues (rather than monologues— the distinction is obvious when you watch). There are a few of Godard's trademark long panning shots. Fragments of vision recur or are recast. The effect of this style is to externalise all the characters. None is a mind or a soul. They are rather expressions of a certain point of view, or noises in the cacophony of society and history.
One of the film's more successful elements is its frame-narrative. Two voices discuss how the film ought to be put together, what it ought to achieve, and play around with the characters' fates. The frequent references to Brecht in the body of the film meld nicely with the frame, and make it clear that Godard is going for an "Entfremdungseffekt"—this is not a film to be immersed in, but one that is supposed to provoke reflection.
And that it most certainly does. I felt downright uncomfortable at times, as the film ruthlessly sent up the supposed insight of intellectuals, and the supposed historical effectiveness of political parties. But the film also had a light touch, and its gloriously silly penultimate scene left me laughing at my political certainties, rather than empty and sad.
It doesn't quite cohere, but I'm very glad I saw it. 7/10
The plot is threadbare. An American journalist and her French husband are accidentally embroiled in an occupation at a factory. The different characters put their points of view about the occupation, and as the film goes on, the perspective widens, until it really isn't about the factory anymore, but about the state of France.
There are some striking scenes here, all of them pictorial rather than dramatic. Many of the characters speak to camera in one-sided dialogues (rather than monologues— the distinction is obvious when you watch). There are a few of Godard's trademark long panning shots. Fragments of vision recur or are recast. The effect of this style is to externalise all the characters. None is a mind or a soul. They are rather expressions of a certain point of view, or noises in the cacophony of society and history.
One of the film's more successful elements is its frame-narrative. Two voices discuss how the film ought to be put together, what it ought to achieve, and play around with the characters' fates. The frequent references to Brecht in the body of the film meld nicely with the frame, and make it clear that Godard is going for an "Entfremdungseffekt"—this is not a film to be immersed in, but one that is supposed to provoke reflection.
And that it most certainly does. I felt downright uncomfortable at times, as the film ruthlessly sent up the supposed insight of intellectuals, and the supposed historical effectiveness of political parties. But the film also had a light touch, and its gloriously silly penultimate scene left me laughing at my political certainties, rather than empty and sad.
It doesn't quite cohere, but I'm very glad I saw it. 7/10
Love & Friendship
(2016)
Wickedly, wickedly funny
26 June 2016
A pitch-perfect black comedy. What's to be said? Every aspect of the film is immaculate—the brisk editing, sparkling script, gorgeous costumes, twisted plot, evocative music and splendid performances. Kate Beckinsale is delicious as Lady Susan, with the cold self-command and upturned lip of the accomplished Regency villain. Never was wrongdoing so likable. Tom Bennett makes a splendidly idiotic Sir James Martin, whose perfectly-timed cloth-brained monologues are some of the movie's most delightful moments. But really Whit Stillman has found the best in all his actors, and every scene is a little masterpiece.
"Lady Susan" is the least well known of Austen's novels, and I've never understood why. It has all the acid of Austen's best satire, all the wit of her best dialogue and all the clarity of her best prose. It is the only novel of hers whose protagonist is a villain, and Lady Susan is one of the most wonderful villains in English literature, as attractive as she is dangerous, and as likable as she is cold. It is also Austen's only epistolary novel, and Stillman should be credited for turning a novel of letters into a film of such grace and poise.
This is an extravagant movie, I had a good belly-laugh watching it, and its acidic representation of society's elites could not fit better with the cynical mood of the present times. 10/10
"Lady Susan" is the least well known of Austen's novels, and I've never understood why. It has all the acid of Austen's best satire, all the wit of her best dialogue and all the clarity of her best prose. It is the only novel of hers whose protagonist is a villain, and Lady Susan is one of the most wonderful villains in English literature, as attractive as she is dangerous, and as likable as she is cold. It is also Austen's only epistolary novel, and Stillman should be credited for turning a novel of letters into a film of such grace and poise.
This is an extravagant movie, I had a good belly-laugh watching it, and its acidic representation of society's elites could not fit better with the cynical mood of the present times. 10/10
Mephisto
(1981)
A thoughtful study of moral cowardice
25 June 2016
Mephisto is disquieting, ironic movie. Its star is Klaus Brandauer, who plays Henrik Hoefgen, a German actor slumming it in Hamburg in the 1930s, and dreaming of stardom just as the Nazis come to power. His moral challenge is obvious: to resist the Nazis, or work within the system? Brandauer is fabulous through the movie's twists and turns, and though occasionally clumsy, manages to convey Hendrik's timidity, self-deception, pride and guilt as he moves through a violent and chaotic world.
The movie is based on Klaus Mann's novel of the same title. Mann was part of a literary dynasty. His father was Thomas Mann, the famous Nobel-prizewinning writer of "Buddenbrooks," "The Magic Mountain," and "Death in Venice." His uncle was Heinrich Mann, a no less famous writer in his day, known to film-goers as the writer of "Professor Unrat," which became the great Marlene Dietrich film "Der Blaue Engel."
The movie, in a way, plays out the debate that the two elder Mann brothers had about art and politics. Thomas always felt aloof from politics, ensconced in the purer regions of art and culture. During WWI, he published a book called "Reflections of an Unpolitical Man," whose title says it all. Heinrich was a satirist, who believed that art must contribute to the betterment of society, and that it could not avoid being political. Their debate continued into the Nazi era, though to say how their minds changed would spoil this film.
"Mephisto" is occasionally a little obvious or simplistic, and some of the minor characters are unconvincing, but Brandauer shines in the main role, and the music, set design and camera-work are superb. A scene early in the movie, when the Hitler Youth meet in the street, looks and sounds like a sick parody of Riefenstahl.
This will always be a timely film, and certainly earned its Oscar.
The movie is based on Klaus Mann's novel of the same title. Mann was part of a literary dynasty. His father was Thomas Mann, the famous Nobel-prizewinning writer of "Buddenbrooks," "The Magic Mountain," and "Death in Venice." His uncle was Heinrich Mann, a no less famous writer in his day, known to film-goers as the writer of "Professor Unrat," which became the great Marlene Dietrich film "Der Blaue Engel."
The movie, in a way, plays out the debate that the two elder Mann brothers had about art and politics. Thomas always felt aloof from politics, ensconced in the purer regions of art and culture. During WWI, he published a book called "Reflections of an Unpolitical Man," whose title says it all. Heinrich was a satirist, who believed that art must contribute to the betterment of society, and that it could not avoid being political. Their debate continued into the Nazi era, though to say how their minds changed would spoil this film.
"Mephisto" is occasionally a little obvious or simplistic, and some of the minor characters are unconvincing, but Brandauer shines in the main role, and the music, set design and camera-work are superb. A scene early in the movie, when the Hitler Youth meet in the street, looks and sounds like a sick parody of Riefenstahl.
This will always be a timely film, and certainly earned its Oscar.
Pratidwandi
(1970)
A sultry masterpiece
21 June 2016
This is easily one of Ray's best movies. It tells the story of Siddhartha, searching for a job, against the background of the febrile Kolkata of 1970. There are few twists and turns in the plot, but each scene unpeels a layer of Siddhartha's character, or shines a light on some little aspect of his city. It has the same delicate beauty as Charulata, though Siddhartha is a more expressive character than Charu. We know Charu through her looks and silences; we know Siddhartha through his thoughts and dreams. This is Satyajit Ray's answer to the "angry young man" films that became so popular in India in the 1970s. Dhritiman Chatterjee gives a simmering performance as Siddharta, and the supporting cast is also assured. It is a tale of frustration, and its precious moments of calm are all the more moving for that.
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