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Renoir (France 2012)

Renoir (directed by Gilles Bourdos) was released at Cannes in 2012 but is only now getting a UK release. I didn’t have too-high expectations of the film, not only because of the fairly negative reviews (Peter Bradshaw in the Guardian, for example, called it a “cloying movie” covered by “a syrupy drizzle of tasteful prettiness”) but because it is a biopic, a genre I’m not usually very fond of, especially those of famous artists. Moreover, films about art raise the problem of how the practice of the art is represented and often find it difficult to get it right. But I was intrigued to see whether it offered any insights into the connection between one of the greatest painters of his era, Pierre-Auguste Renoir (Michel Bouquet) and his son, Jean, (Vincent Rottiers) one of the greatest exponents of the art of cinema, then still in its infancy. In the end I’m glad I saw it. It’s not a great film but I found it neither “cloying” nor “tastefully pretty” and I enjoyed it a lot despite weaknesses in plot and dramatic tension. The film, a meditation on art, love, war, life and death, is adapted from Le tableau amoureux, a biography of his great-grandfather by Jacques Renoir, grandson of Renoir’s oldest son, the actor Pierre. It takes place on Renoir’s farm near Cagnes-sur-Mer on the Cote d’Azur in 1915, four years before he died. The First World War is in its second year and although the front line is hundreds of miles away, Renoir’s two older sons, Pierre and Jean, have both been seriously wounded.

Here’s the UK trailer.

Spoilers – but it’s not really the kind of film which is spoiled by knowing the plot. 

The film opens with a young woman riding a bike into Renoir’s farm. She is greeted by a sullen urchin who we later discover is Claude (Coco), Renoir’s youngest son (played by Thomas Doret, the kid in the Dardennes Brothers’ Le gamin au vélo (Kid on a Bike) (2011)). She is 16-year-old actress and model Andrée Heuschling (though played by 22-year-old Christa Théret) who has been recommended to Renoir by his friend, the painter Matisse. Andrée (nicknamed Dédé) enters Renoir’s employment as a replacement for Renoir’s lead model, Gabrielle, whom Aline, Renoir’s wife, who has recently passed away, had got rid of, fearing Renoir was becoming “too fond” of her. Andrée, a voluptuous red-haired beauty, soon reinvigorates his painting, leading to a late resurgence of creativity in a series of nudes and landscapes. When Renoir’s son Jean returns from the war to recuperate from his leg wound, he too finds inspiration through Andrée. They become lovers and talk about their dreams for the future. She wants to be a film actress and wants him to direct her. However, Jean feels a sense of duty to the comrades he left behind and re-enlists, this time as a reconnaissance pilot, and returns to the front. The end-captions tell us that Renoir-père dies in 1919, having completed his great work, “Les Baigneuses” (Women Bathing). Jean survives the war and he and Andrée marry. He starts on a film career and she becomes his leading actress (under the name of Catherine Hessling) until they separate in 1931. They die in the same year, 1979, he a celebrated filmmaker, she all but forgotten.

The heart of this gentle film is a very convincing and detailed portrait of the artist as an old man, of a decrepit painter’s passion for the naked body of a beautiful woman. There is much nudity as Andrée poses for several canvases from Renoir’s “Bagneuses” series but they never feel exploitative. I don’t think Laura Mulvey’s theory of the “male gaze” comes into play here (ie the conventional device which presents the exposed female body as titillation to the male audience through which the female audience is also positioned to adopt the this gaze). Here we see the woman not as objectified in bits and pieces (as Godard does with Bardot’ body in the opening scene in Le Mépris (Contempt) (1963)  either an exemplification of the practice or a satire on it, I’m never quite sure) but as a glorification of beauty which the aging artist uses to combat the forces of mortality. I think that when we see so much of her naked we begin to see her as pure form, reflecting the soft light of the Mediterranean sky. (Interestingly, for a French film, in the love scenes Andrée is fully clothed or else the action takes place off-screen). Christa Théret, whose father is a painter and her mother a model, has interesting things to say about painting, nudity, eroticism and sex in an interview here, where she also tells us she had to put on weight for the part, suggesting a shift in body-shape norms since Renoir’s time:

If you are looking for sexual politics, it might be more fruitful to look at the role of the female staff of his household, mostly maids who become models and then maids once again. There are five or six of them who tend to his needs, cooking for him, nursing him, bathing him, putting him to bed, carrying him in his wheelchair up to his studio on the farm and outings down to the river. They refer to him as “patron” (boss). It is a demanding patriarchal order but a benevolent one: they seem to regard their work as a vocation, playing a part, however humble, in a successful artistic career.

The strongest feature of the film is not character but beauty – of the model, of the painting, of the cinematography (shot by the Taiwanese cinematographer Mark Ping Bing Lee who also worked on Wong Kar Wei’s In the Mood for Love) and mise en scène (not to forget the sound and the music), with several instances of stunning circular tracking shots and pans. Bourdos alternates scenes of Renoir painting joyously in luxuriant nature under the Mediterranean sun and with dark interiors where we see him struggling with his infirmities, especially his dreadfully deformed hands, forcing him to cry out in pain at night and have his helpers, including Andrée, bathe his inflamed joints.

(This clip doesn’t have subtitles. Andrée asks if it would bother him if she moved. He replies that if it bothered him he would paint apples. He goes on: “What interests me is skin – the velvety texture of a young girl’s skin.”

The look and feel of the film made me almost – but not quite – ignore the weaknesses in the narrative, its lack of dramatic tension, the pace that is just a little too languorous. There’s not much real conflict, even when Jean returns from the war on crutches and falls under Andrée’s spell. Renoir does ask him if he is “behaving like a gentleman” with her and if there is just a tinge of jealousy, it is as much a general awareness of youth and age than the tortures of individual possessiveness. And despite potentially Oedipal elements, it is clear that Jean loves and admires his father.

What there is of conflict in the film (apart from the 14-year old Claude’s resentment at his father who he feels only speaks to him to reprimand him) comes from Andrée’s self-assertiveness. She may be a muse (to son as well as father) but she is not a passive one. After her first session posing for Renoir, he tells one of his assistants to pay her 5 francs but she tells him her fee is 10 francs. When he remarks that for an actor she is rather “pudique” (modest), she retorts that actresses aren’t whores. She is outspoken, a feminist without necessarily being conscious of the concept, who knows what she wants – and it it’s not to remain an artist’s model, much less a kitchen maid. She resents being treated as such (by the other maids) and in a temper smashes a number of plates. Not any old plates but hand-painted by Renoir and no doubt worth a fortune. (A bit of a cliché, I suppose, using the smashing plate routine as an index of female stroppiness. It goes with the red hair.).

The film is helped by a strong cast. Renoir is played 87-year-old Michel Bouquet, mainly a theatre actor. Apart from a couple of Chabrols a few decades ago, the only film I remember Bouquet being in is Robert Guédiguian’s Le Promeneur des Champs de Mars (The Last Mitterand) where he was a completely convincing President Mitterand. His performance as Renoir is excellent, gruff and terse one moment (not when he’s painting, he tells Andrée), genial and tender the next. He manages to resemble the older Renoir, as shown in Sasha Guitry’s film which can be seen here:  (The actual footage of Renoir begins two minutes into the clip):

I thought Christa Théret’s performance was pretty good on the whole, especially given that her role was limiting from a dramatic point of view. (A sequence near the end where she escapes both Renoirs to spend time in a strange brothel-come-Weimar avant-garde theatre club is the least convincing in the film). Vincent Rottiers plays Jean as passive and lacking in focus. When he tells Andrée that he has neither dreams nor ambitions, she tells him not to say that to the woman he loves or she’ll have contempt for him. His passivity perhaps reflects the state of mind of much of the youth of Europe at that time, coming of age in the slaughterhouse of the First World War.

Renoir belongs to a substantial sub-genre of the biopic dealing with the life of painters and sculptors. Creative genius of any kind is difficult to capture on film but I thought the film did a pretty good job on the representation of the act of painting. It made quite a contrast with another French film dealing with the relationship between painter and model, Jacques Rivette’s La belle noiseuse (1991), which made the whole act of creation seem incredibly violent and painful, for the painter (Michel Picolli) and , especially, for the model (Emmanuelle Béart) as the demonic artist twists and stretches her limbs as he hacks away at his painting. By contrast, Renoir presents the process as almost serene. When Andrée asks Renoir if he minded if she moved a bit, he tells her of course not, otherwise he would just paint apples. Bourdos recreates the act of painting very effectively with the aid of Guy Ribe, a master forger who had just completed a three-year stretch in prison for selling works ‘by’ Picasso, Chagal and Renoir. Ribe (whose own story would make a great screenplay) didn’t copy known works but created work that simulated the style of paintings that might have been done by these artists, paintings that had languished (he would tell naïve collectors) in private collections for years. There is an interesting piece in the New York Times on Ribe which can be accessed at http://www.nytimes.com/2013/03/24/movies/guy-ribess-paintings-lend-realistic-touches-to-renoir.html?pagewanted=all . In the film Michel Bouquet is shown outdoors, a brush in Renoir’s bandaged, arthritic hands dabbing paint onto the canvas and when the camera cuts to the painting, it is Guy Ribes’s hand applying the paint. Dozens of false Renoirs appear in the film which I assume was cleared with the Renoir estate. Here are a couple of clips of this process.

As for the film prefiguring Jean Renoir’s career as a filmmaker, it does show him focused on repairing a film projector which looked to me like an early cinématographe, which functioned both as projector and camera though we don’t see him filming. And, the film implies, it takes Andrée to galvanise him in that direction. He buys a one-reel film from a traveling peddler and shows it to friends and members of the household, including his father whose only comments on this new form – which he would never have called an ‘art’ – were disparaging. And there is a nice piece of dramatic irony from the his brother, Jacques, who tells Jean that the cinema is for the ignorant mob and the French will never be good at filmmaking – it’s an American skill. We see a clip from the film they are watching – it’s DW Grifiths’ Intolerance (1916) projected onto a large Renoir painting covered by a sheet but I resisted the urge to read anything into this. The audience seems totally absorbed by the huge close-ups. This clip begins just after Jean has calmed Andrée down from the plate-throwing incident. He tells he arranged the film show for her, for which she thanks him at the end. It’s what unites them and will unite them further in the future. Here’s the clip.

And so this is a film which is weak in narrative and a little nebulous in character development which (almost) succeeds because of its aesthetic and performative qualities.

Édouard et Caroline (France 1951)

Director Jacques Becker (1906-1960) was at his peak as a filmmaker in the late 1940s and 1950s, having spent much of the 1930s as an assistant to Jean Renoir. In the late 1940s and early 50s he directed a series of ‘social comedies’. Édouard et Caroline is one of these. The denouncement of the so-called ‘Quality Cinema’ or the ‘Cinéma du Papa’ (as François Truffaut called it) by the critics of Cahiers du cinéma spared Becker’s work. In her introduction to this film on the Studio Canal DVD, Professor Ginette Vincendeau describes Becker as being ‘in between’ the reviled quality film directors and la nouvelle vague directors. This was partly because of Becker’s association with Renoir and partly because the young critics recognised both the skill involved in Becker’s work and the stamp of a ‘personal vision’ similar to that which the Cahiers critics celebrated in the work of Hollywood directors such as a Howard Hawks or Alfred Hitchcock.

Édouard et Caroline is almost like a theatrical stage production in that all the action takes place in two contrasting flats/apartments in central Paris (but in different arrondissements?) with only an opening and closing street shot and a few glimpses of staircases. Yet it is also highly cinematic with Robert Lefebvre’s fluidly roving camera. The dialogue and collaboration on the script is the responsibility of Annette Wademant who went on to also wrote significant films for Max Ophüls. She was much younger than Becker and this might have aided the sense of vitality in the interchanges between the central couple. With the camera movement and dialogue, the editing by Marguerite Renoir also helped keep the narrative moving. Because Becker was considered too ‘difficult’ and demanding and because the script in this case was so sparse, he had difficulty finding backers. Consequently the film had a small budget and a strict 30 day shooting schedule with penalties for over-runs.

An early stage in dressing when Caroline asks which shoes to wear

The titular characters are a young woman from a wealthy family (played by Ann Vernon) recently married to a young man from a poorer background (Daniel Gélin) who is a talented (and properly trained) pianist. They have little money and are living in a one room flat. All the action takes place over a few hours on the night when they have been invited to a party given by Caroline’s wealthy and well-connected Uncle Claude (Jean Galland). He has rented a grand piano and offered Édouard the chance to play for his special guests, some of whom may be able to help him get work and build a career. But Édouard is nervous about the opportunity and feels uncomfortable at the prospect of mixing with the haute bourgeoisie. Claude’s son Alain (Jacques Francis) presents another irritation with his snobbery towards Édouard and designs on his attractive cousin Caroline.

In genre terms, this film mixes elements from Hollywood screwball comedies of the 1930s with the sharp social observation of Jean Renoir and the sophisticated comedy of a Billy Wilder. As the dreaded party developed in Claude’s salon, I also caught a whiff of later Buñuel (Exterminating Angel (Mexico 1962)). Others have suggested the comedies of Lubitsch and Preston Sturges. I don’t mean to suggest that the film is a mish-mash of styles. Instead it is a coherent social comedy with some darker moments and a developing satire of wealthy Parisians. The plot is simple but the characterisation is strong. The young married couple, brilliantly played by Vernon and Gélin, clearly love each other but the social stress of the party creates divisions between them that get blown up to dramatic proportions. I haven’t mentioned the careful set dressing and costume design as part of the mise en scène. Costume offers the twin drivers of the narrative. Edouard has that familiar split reaction to entering ‘high society’. He despises the flummery of evening dress but feels he must have the correct attire or people will look down on him. The whole thing is disturbing him and when he can’t find his waistcoat, he gets angry. Has Caroline misplaced it? She has her own problem. She feels a different version of the same unease, thinking her pretty  dress is now out of fashion and then attacking it with a pair of scissors to make it more like a current couture outfit. Becker and Wademant are able to use these two concerns to drive a wedge between the couple and to disrupt the party and Édouard’s eventual piano playing.

The wealthy guests gather for a song and a dance after Édouard’s playing.

I’d like to say more about the music Édouard does actually play (or rather ‘act’) since a professional musician’s hands double for him. I’m not knowledgeable enough about classical music to comment (I believe it is Chopin) but I do know that Becker himself was a jazz fan and he uses musical taste as one of his weapons in skewering the wealthy patrons here. They listen to Édouard’s playing politely and applaud appropriately but later we see them dancing enthusiastically to the kind of dance music Édouard (and Becker) despise. To add further indignity Becker introduces an American played by William Tubbs. Tubbs was an actor in several French and Italian films in this period. Here he speaks French with a terrible accent but proves to be much more perceptive about Edouard’s talent than the others.

I enjoyed this film very much, particularly the playing of the two leads and the fluidity  and choreography of the camera work and direction. The DVD (I think there is also a Blu-ray) has two other extras as well as Ginette Vincendeau’s excellent introduction. One is a long and detailed interview with Annette Wademant, Ann Vernon and Daniel Gélin much later from French TV. The interview, full of details about the production was part of a TV broadcast of the film. What a marvellous idea. Why have we never had such detailed coverage of film in the UK? Finally there is an interview with Becker himself in which he talks about his love of jazz and discusses his satire on those who don’t understand the music. I was prompted to watch the film after watching Bertrand Tavernier’s A Journey Through French Cinema (France 2016). Tavernier tells us that the first film he remembers seeing as a child was by Becker and that several years later as a teenager in the 1950s he began to realise that Becker was one of the greatest French directors. Tavernier’s analysis of Becker’s work is fascinating and has encouraged me to search out more of Becker’s work. He emphasises that Becker was one of the first French male directors to present women as central characters in their own write – something Ginette also discusses, suggesting that Édouard et Caroline suffered in the eyes of critics, partly because its mix of comedy and romance was taken less seriously than ‘masculine’ genre films.

Here’s a very short trail for the film from French TV which allows you to meet William Tubbs and to see Caroline’s dress after her modifications:

Varda: Le bonheur (Happiness, France 1965)

François (Jean-Claude Drouot) and Thérèse (Claire Drouot) enjoying the pastoral

Agnès Varda has just had her 90th birthday and a season of her films is touring UK cinemas. If you’ve never seen an Agnès Varda film, you should seek out your nearest screening forthwith. Varda is a cinematic genius and Le bonheur is marvellous. On the DVD I watched, Varda introduces her film as part of a tribute to her by the TV arts channel ‘arte’. She chooses a vacant lot in her neighbourhood and, because arte is bilingual, she invites a young German boy to translate for her. The wasteland is decorated with posters for her films and she carefully positions herself for the camera so that the backdrop changes to the leaves of a group of saplings waving in the sunshine. She explains that she loves nature and she especially likes picnics, so in Le bonheur there are three. This intro is reminiscent of her autobiographical film The Beaches of Agnès (France 2008) in which she creates a beach on the street where she lives in Paris.

Thérèse dresses the local brides

The setting and the approach to filming Le bonheur is in line with Varda’s ideas throughout her career. The location is Fontenay-aux-Roses, a small community in the South-Western outer suburbs of Paris. In 1964 it must have still been almost like a rural village. François (Jean-Claude Drouot) works for his uncle’s small carpentry company. Drouot is tall and handsome and at this time he was the star of a French TV historical adventure series set during the Hundred Years War – perhaps that is why Varda names him François Chevalier (i.e. a ‘knight’). Drouot’s own wife Claire plays Thérèse Chevalier and the couple’s own small children play Pierrot and Gisou Chevalier (none of them are professional actors). Unsurprisingly, family life chez Chevalier often feels like it is being ‘captured’ by a documentary camera – and this extends to scenes featuring other members of the extended family and some of the scenes where friends and neighbours visit the small house or meet the Chevaliers in social situations. (Thérèse is a dressmaker and young women come to her for a wedding dress.) The family are seemingly blissfully happy during these summer months. But Varda has ideas about what ‘happiness’ might actually mean. I guess I should warn you if you haven’t seen the film or heard about its reputation. Many audiences have found the film ‘shocking’ for a number of reasons. The UK film certification board gave it an ‘X’ in 1965 (no one under 16). The DVD I watched carries an ’18’ certificate but the BBFC website lists a ’15’ (confusion like this is not unusual as tastes and moral codes change over time). The ‘advice’ from the board is that the film contains ‘sexualised nudity’. But this isn’t what shocks.

Gisou visits her latest cousin – while the extended family are outside

François meets Émilie (Marie-France Boyer) at the post of office in Vincennes

I should place a SPOILER warning here.

I can’t really discuss the film if I don’t reveal the main plot points, so if you want to watch the film without any foreknowledge don’t read on until you’ve seen it. The plot is very simple. François is so happy in his marriage to Thérèse that when he meets an attractive Post Office counter clerk, Émilie (Marie-France Boyer), he feels that he can add to his own happiness by falling for Émilie and loving her as much as he loves his wife. For a time François makes love to both women, sometimes on the same day. Émilie has moved to Fontenay from Vincennes on the other side of Paris and she joins in the local social celebrations, on one occasion attending the same event as Thérèse. The situation can’t last. During an idyllic summer picnic in the woods, Thérèse tells François she’s never seen him look so happy. Unable to contain himself, François tells her about Émilie, assuring Thérèse he loves her just as much as before. He explains this with a reference to an orchard of apple trees. He’s very happy in the orchard with his family, but he sees a beautiful apple tree on the other side of the wall and decides to investigate. Now he is happy inside and outside the orchard. With their children asleep under a bush, François and Thérèse make love. When François awakes, Thérèse is gone. She has drowned in the nearby river, whether by design or accident isn’t very clear. A few months later François and Émilie are re-united with the two small children.

Francois and Émilie

The film was a big success in France and around the world. The DVD carries a short discussion about the film involving four people, two journalists, a producer and a woman running a women’s charity. Two of these people saw the film on release, the others have seen the film more recently (the discussion is in 2005, I think). I suspect that the discussion points will probably be repeated by groups of people who see the film in 2018. The key issue seems to be what did the writer-director, an avowed feminist, want to say in 1964 when she shot the film? To expose the naïveté and arrogance of the man or to satirise ideas about family life and bourgeois ‘happiness’? But before making pronouncements it is a good idea to consider the formal aesthetics of the film. It is very beautiful to watch with images carefully composed and framed. Colour is used in dramatic ways. In her intro Varda explains how after 40 years the colours had faded but how, by painstaking work with original negatives, the restoration has reproduced the colours of the original.

The intense colours of some of the pastoral scenes are highlighted in the costume choices in this scene

The colours in the film are bold primary colours emphasised in two ways in contrast to the pastel shades of summer picnics. At one point, Varda’s camera (under the control of Charles Beausoleil and Jean Rabier, long-term collaborators with Varda and her husband Jacques Demy) discovers a series of shopfronts, each painted a single primary colour – red, blue or green. Did Varda repaint these buildings? A sunflower set against a field of corn is a study in yellow. Varda also challenges conventions by using fades and dissolves which are suffused by a single colour rather than the traditional black. She uses different techniques to show an instant rapport when two characters meet – cutting rapidly between close-ups. Similar camera techniques are used in other scenes. At one point the camera tracks left and right along a street party scene with locals dancing. As the camera passes a large tree in the foreground, the focus shifts and when sharp focus is regained, the dancers have changed partners. Thérèse is wearing a red dress, Émilie is in green. François dances with both women (there is no suggestion that the women know each other) among several other partners. This scene is a good example of how Varda’s documentary camera is allied to an expressionist sensibility – as it is in Cléo de 5 à 7.

Renoir on TV – a colour broadcast in 1964?

Le bonheur is not a realist film with a sociological underpinning, despite the documentary feel. It’s a film of playful devices and moments of intertextualities. The colours and aspects of the plot link it to Demy’s Umbrellas of Cherbourg – François met Thérèse during his military service and brought her back to Fontenay to marry. One of the strongest links is the tradition of al fresco eating that recurs in French art. At one point a film is playing on the TV set in the uncle’s home. The film is Jean Renoir’s 1959 Le déjeuner sur l’herbe (Picnic on the Grass). Both Manet and later Monet produced paintings with the same title during the Impressionist phases. Renoir himself had earlier used the ‘picnic’ as a vehicle to set up a multi-narrative, including seduction, in Partie de campagne (A Day in the Country, 1936). In Renoir’s 1959 film an older character pontificates about happiness. The odd thing about this scene is that the film is in colour, but as far as I’m aware, French TV did not begin regular colour transmissions until 1967. This anachronism is repeated with a reference to Viva Maria!, Louis Malle’s film starring Brigitte Bardot and Jeanne Moreau together for the first time. It was not released until the end of 1965 in France but Thérèse tells François she wants to see it. She also asks him (while stroking his back) “Which one do you prefer, as a woman?” “As a woman, you”, he replies. There is then an immediate cut to the carpentry workshop where we see that the door to the food cupboard is festooned with pin-up images of Bardot – and one of Moreau. At first, I thought we see François opening the cupboard door, but it’s one of his workmates. Even so, the cut reminded me of that moment in Truffaut’s Shoot the Pianist (1960) when a character swears on his mother’s life and a swift insert sees the old lady keeling over. Just before the Bardot/Moreau moment in Le bonheur, the  image of François shaving is juxtaposed with a soap advert that fills the screen with ‘Un savon d’homme!’ (a soap for men!). The sequence immediately before this is a smiling Émilie behind the post office counter, clearly smitten with François. Varda tells a story completely through montage editing. The use of an advert is picked up in Amy Taubin’s essay for the Criterion DVD label which re-released the film in the US. She compares the film to Godard’s Two or Three Things I Know About Her (France 1967). That film takes ‘her’ to be both a wife and part-time prostitute as well as signifying Paris. The film is a commentary on consumerism and politics in the new, ‘modern’ Paris of 1966. In Varda’s film, made only two years earlier, the new high-rise flats of Paris are only glimpsed a couple of times in the distance. Otherwise her film is both ‘traditional’ in depicting small-town France and ‘timeless’ in its exploration of the mores of love and life and community. In the discussion of the film on the DVD, one participant sees it as a story set in a ‘Garden of Eden’.

I love this film. I’ve written nearly 2000 words and barely scraped the surface of what Varda achieved in 80 minutes. I will have to watch scenes again to see just how the editing works before thinking more about the carpenter and his lovely wife and beautiful children. And I haven’t even started on the stamps that Émilie sells and the posters in the Post Office.

In the original trailer below, you’ll see an iconic pop image of Sylvie Vartan but the music on the trailer is Mozart – two pieces which form the main music soundtrack of the film. I’m something of a philistine re classical music and on this occasion I found the Mozart too loud and too distracting but many others have commented on the music as an excellent choice, suggesting that it perfectly matches the tone of the comedy/drama.

HOME in Manchester starts its Varda screenings this week with a 1 hour intro by Isabelle Vanderschelden on Thurs 26th followed by Varda’s first feature La Pointe Courte (1954) and on Friday her latest film Faces/Places (2017) – Le bonheur screens Saturday 4th August. In London, the BFI Varda seasons continues this week and FACT Liverpool has several Varda screenings (Le bonheur on 8th August) as part of Liverpool Biennial 2018. Le bonheur shows three times at Watershed, Bristol in early August and Curzon has a ‘Gleaning Truth’ season of Varda films at various of its cinemas during August. There are other venues with similar programmes so don’t miss the opportunity this summer – check out your local specialised cinema!

Human Desire (US 1954)

Jeff (Glenn Ford) with Vicki (Gloria Grahame) wearing an era-defining ‘pointy’ bra

In 1953 Fritz Lang, in the last section of his Hollywood career, was pleased to be able to sign a two-picture deal with Harry Cohn and Jerry Wald at Columbia. In the space of a year this arrangement produced what is generally recognised as one of Lang’s best American films, The Big Heat, as well as one of his least appreciated films (by critics) in the shape of Human Desire. Oddly, both films have the same pair of stars, Glenn Ford and Gloria Grahame, so what is supposed to have gone wrong with the latter film?

It’s important to recognise that these two films were very different ‘properties’ that Columbia hoped to exploit and that the producers and director took a different stance towards each of them. I’ve been reading Patrick McGilligan’s book on Lang (faber and faber 1997) on the background to the two productions and I was intrigued that he doesn’t mention the key change in Hollywood during 1953 – the switch to widescreen. Fox introduced CinemaScope as a 2.55:1 aspect ratio in 1953 and the other studios had to respond. They could agree to adopt the Fox standard or develop their own formats In the immediate aftermath of Fox’s The Robe in September 1953. Columbia did eventually opt for CinemaScope, but for Human Desire, released in August 1954, they released a non-anamorphic or ‘spherical’ projection print in 1.85:1 black and white. ‘Scope required an anamorphic ‘squeezed print’. Columbia’s option meant masking a traditional Academy ratio (1.37:1) 35mm projection print. Such a print would need to be magnified to fill a wider frame with possible increase in grain, but using black and white stock in 1954 would still make it a superior image to Fox’s colour ‘Scope. All of this may sound fairly academic, but for this picture the image is more important than usual. The cinematography by Burnett Guffy includes some terrific footage of the immense diesel locomotives then in use by American railroads. Guffy was one of the leading Hollywood DoPs, known for work with Max Ophüls (The Reckless Moment, 1948), Robert Rossen (All the King’s Men, 1949) and Nicholas Ray (In a Lonely Place, 1950). The last of these featured Gloria Grahame, so he did know how to present the magnificent Grahame at her best. The print I watched was from MUBI, available online. It was ‘broadcast’ at 1.78:1, i.e. filling the 16:9 video or computer screen. Even so it felt like a significant improvement on the 4:3 TV screening I watched thirty or forty years ago.

Genre definition 1: This Italian poster uses the original title and presents Broderick Crawford as the monster/beast from a horror film

Human Desire is an adaptation of the Emile Zola story that is probably best known from the earlier Jean Renoir film version, La bête humaine in 1938 starring Jean Gabin and Simone Simon. Columbia insisted on ‘Human Desire’ instead of the translation as ‘Human Beast’. The story is relatively simple. An engine driver falls in love with a married woman whose husband has forced her to become involved in a murder. Jean Gabin was, at the time and for many years after, the epitome of French masculinity in cinema and it is hard to imagine any Hollywood actor quite matching his mix of tough guy, heart-throb, hero, liberal icon etc. Simone Simon was one of several leading female actors in France to enjoy working with him. McGilligan refers to Glenn Ford and Gloria Grahame as “not quite A List”, which seems to me disparaging. He follows up with the suggestion that Ford was Columbia’s ‘go to’ star name, capable of playing a wide range of characters. Born in Canada but raised in California, Ford has that ‘ordinary but possibly heroic demeanour’. He’s cast here as Jeff Warren, a returnee from the Korean War who comes back to his job on the railroad. He returns also to lodge with his co-driver Alec (played by Edgar Buchanan), whose daughter is now grown up and has her eye on Jeff. It’s not long before Jeff becomes aware that Carl Buckley (Broderick Crawford) has become the railroad Yard Manager and only a little later that Carl’s wife Vicki (Gloria Grahame) is trouble of one sort or another. Crawford was probably best known then for his role as Willie Stark in All the King’s Men (1949) and also as Judy Holliday’s boyfriend in Born Yesterday (1950). Human Desire opened in the UK in September 1954, which was perhaps unfortunate timing since Broderick Crawford was about to become very famous as the Chief in the TV series Highway Patrol which began in the US in 1955 and became a staple of the new ITV programme schedule in the UK in 1956. Crawford’s role in Human Desire is actually rather sad – he’s a drunk who mistreats Vicki. The plot will manoeuvre Vicki into a situation where Jeff will have to try to keep her safe from Carl. I won’t spoil the narrative any further.

Genre definition 2: The US version presents a film noir with Gloria Grahame as the ‘bad girl’

I can understand why the critics were disappointed with Human Desire. Part of the problem was that the studio couldn’t cope with the idea of Glenn Ford as the psychopathic character of Zola’s story. Lang argued that all three characters suggested the ‘Human Beast’, but instead, Cohn insisted on Grahame as a femme fatale who manipulates the two men. My advice would be to forget the original story and simply focus on Ford and Grahame, both excellent in underwritten roles. For Gloria Grahame in particular, the role she was offered doesn’t really allow her full rein. For me she is one of the sexiest and appealing of all female stars forever seemingly typecast except when she got the role that won her an Oscar in Minnelli’s The Bad and the Beautiful (US 1952). Columbia certainly messed up on this movie. Guffey had originally researched shooting in the Canadian Rockies which would have added a great deal to the action including a metaphorical ‘edge’ as the line went through mountain passes. As it was it seems that the main railway action was filmed on the Rock Island line in Oklahoma.

I think the film is definitely worth seeing and I note that IMDb users rate it at 7.2 which suggests that plenty of audience members rate it highly. It certainly could be a film noir. The soldier returning is a good man drawn into a dangerous relationship. Perhaps the studio did mess up with its changes to the property but with the talents of the actors, director and cinematographer, this is a film that offers plenty of attractions. Here’s brief clip from a key scene.

Lease of Life (UK 1954)

Robert Donat as the Rev. Thorne and Adrienne Corri as his daughter Susan

Ealing Studios as a brand has become so associated in the public mind with the comedies of the late 1940s and early 1950s that many of its most interesting productions are barely seen or discussed. Fortunately, the ‘Ealing Rarities’ collections of DVDs, first published in 2013, have made several titles available for the first time on disc. The series runs to 14 volumes, each of which comprises a 2-disc set with two features on each disc. The four titles are a mix of films from the whole of the period 1930-1959. This makes sense as a way of selling the older titles but punters can benefit too, picking up unknown gems from the 1930s. The volumes were on a limited sales offer this week and I bought three volumes for £4 to £5 each.

I was most excited by the prospect of watching Lease for Life from 1954. This drama in Eastman Colour offers the major star Robert Donat in his only Ealing role, supported by a fine cast. With a screenplay by Eric Ambler, direction by Ealing regular Charles Frend and cinematography by Douglas Slocombe it promised to be a fascinating watch – and I wasn’t disappointed. It’s worth emphasising that Donat was arguably the major male romantic star of the 1930s in the UK, a man loved by millions who spurned Hollywood and preferred to work in the UK (sometimes on American-financed films). Because of ill-health (chronic asthma) he made only 21 films and died in 1958 in his early 50s. In Lease of Life he plays a country vicar in the East Riding of Yorkshire. He was only 49 at the time but looks much older, possibly because of make-up and greying hair. He hadn’t made a film for three years and he would make only one more after it, so part of his appearance may be down to his own state of health. The plot involves his character being told that he only has a year to live, but if this makes the film sound grim, Donat’s performance soon alters such a view. He’s magnificent.

The vicar attends the dying man, Mr Sproatly (Beckett Bould) watched by a stern-faced Mrs Sproatly (Vida Hope)

The plot is very simple (so I don’t think I’m spoiling the narrative pleasure by outlining it in some detail). Ambler gives the vicar (Rev. William Thorne) two problems to worry about (and then lands him with the news that he is going to die in about a year’s time). First he is asked by a dying parishioner to be his executor and to keep the will and a sizeable sum of money away from the man’s younger wife (Ealing regular Vida Hope) – the money is to go to the man’s son, still missing after the war. Reluctantly, the vicar agrees, knowing it is his duty to do so. He’s a kindly but not very inspiring vicar and he hasn’t saved any money. His second problem is that his talented daughter Susan (the fabulous Adrienne Corri who so graces Jean Renoir’s The River, 1950) wants to go to a music school in London, but he can’t afford to support her. A possible solution to his worries is that the local public school wants a new chaplain and the Dean of the cathedral in ‘Gilchester’ suggests Thorne. Thorne himself doesn’t realise why he has been invited to give the sermon at the school’s Founder’s Day service (but his wife Vera (Kay Walsh) realises that it is a kind of test of suitability). The chaplaincy would be a considerable step up in terms of income. The sermon comes halfway through the film and Thorne, in a moment of inspiration, tears up his prepared sermon and delivers an impassioned call to the boys to live their lives without the fear of breaking rules and to simply go out and fulfil themselves in finding God in life. Thorne is ‘re-born’, he has a new ‘lease of life’. The school’s headmaster is not enthusiastic about Thorne’s reference to a ‘Headmaster God’ as the wrong concept of religion for boys to have.

In the final third of the film the two problems prove difficult for Thorne to resolve in a satisfactory way and Ambler complicates things to create a climax. What is important too is that both June and Vera become active in their own right rather than just supporting Thorne. The other main character is June’s music teacher, the young organist at the cathedral, handsome (and quite cruel) as played by Denholm Elliott.

A parishioner calls on the vicar, concerned about the newspaper coverage of the sermon

The main attraction of the film is Robert Donat’s performance. In the pulpit delivering his sermon to the school he is transformed and energised but it is his voice and trademark delivery that stands out. I think mellifluous is the adjective often used to describe Donat’s voice. Here it sounds both soft and melodious, but also strong – and a big change from the character’s usually mild demeanour. So, in narrative terms it works to give the vicar in ailing health the energy to continue and to overcome the obstacles that lie before him. One interesting aspect of the film is the media interest generated by the sermon which gets everybody talking. In the early 1950s Ealing made films satirising the rise of television and, like this one, using the media as agencies in moral debates.

The other interesting aspect of the film is the use of location shooting to create ‘authenticity’ of setting and a feature of many Ealing films during and after the war. I was reminded of The Loves of Joanna Godden (1947), also directed by Charles Frend and set on the Romney Marshes. That was a black and white film and here the same cinematographer creates a rural landscape using Eastman Colour. The shoot was located in what was then the East Riding of Yorkshire with Beverley’s Minster standing in for the cathedral (Wikipedia suggests that the Minster is larger than many English cathedrals) and the village of Lund a few miles away acting as the vicar’s parish. The film is a transport enthusiast’s treat with footage of the town centre including the specially adapted buses needed to pass beneath the 15th century ‘Bar gate’. Railway scenes were filmed at Eton and Windsor and there is a scene featuring Susan’s arrival in London in a train hauled by Britannia Pacific 70020, only built in 1951 as a BR standard locomotive. Overall the Eastman Colour on the Network DVD is OK, but I did wonder about the make-up and how it appears in HD on a TV set.

The DVD set includes a slide gallery (see the images above with a lobby card and publicity stills). It also includes a Press Book from the period and I would recommend this for any student of British cinema history. The Press Book includes the kinds of ads to appear in local newspaper display listings as well as competitions and other ways of attracting audiences. It also features interviews and articles on the stars. The piece on Kay Walsh is interesting, pointing out how this ‘glamorous star’ of 1930s and 1940s cinema was prepared to be made-up as the older and ‘dowdy’ vicar’s wife in order to play opposite Robert Donat. There is also coverage of the outfits worn by Adrienne Corri, an important ‘tie-in’ feature for films of the period.

I’m pleased to have been able to view this film and I’m looking forward to exploring more of the Ealing back catalogue in the Network DVDs.

The UK release of Toni Erdmann (Germany-Austria 2016)

toni-erdmann2

Ines (Sandra Hüller) and Winfried (Peter Simonischeck). He’s not yet the full ‘Toni’, but he has got the teeth in.

Keith reported on Toni Erdmann as the closing film of the Leeds International Film Festival (LIFF) back in November 2016. The film had wowed Cannes in May 2016 and there was general dismay that it was not recognised by the Festival Jury despite almost universal acclaim. After the all too common long delay before a UK release (well done Soda for acquiring the title), Toni Erdmann has become one of the most hyped/heavily promoted arthouse releases I can remember for a long time. Most of the promotion has come on social media from people who have seen the film at festivals or on release in other territories. It is also significant that it is the first foreign language film to get a release on more than a handful of screens in the UK for two months (since the Dardennes’ Unknown Girl). I’m bored now with repeating the shaming fact that the UK exhibition sector offers no foreign language releases in December/January and that this has been the case for several years.

In these circumstances, I think it’s necessary to revisit the film and Keith’s festival report. Two quick points first. The film is 162 minutes but to me felt like 100 minutes. Second, it is at times very funny (raucous laugh-out-loud funny) and I have to agree with all those comments I read beforehand. I agree with a lot of what Keith said about the film as well, though I think we read some scenes differently.

I’ve seen reviews that describe Toni Erdmann as a ‘screwball comedy’ and others that compare it to Renoir’s La Règle du jeu (The Rules of the Game) and I can see that both descriptions have some merit. The film’s length gives writer-director Maren Ade the opportunity to move from one genre to another and to shift the tone of different sequences. The result is that most audiences will find something they really like in the film, but also that they might be frustrated by other parts. If you have managed to avoid reading about the film so far, let me briefly outline the narrative without spoiling it. The film’s title is the name of the alter ego adopted by Winfried Conradi (Peter Simonischek), a sixty-something living on his own in suburban Germany (although I guess it could be Austria). He seems to be a music teacher, probably retired, with an aged dog and an aged mother and ex-wife both living nearby. His daughter Ines (Sandra Hüller) is a management consultant in her mid 30s, working too hard and juggling projects in Bucharest and Shanghai. Events convince Winfried to make a surprise visit to Bucharest where he attempts to challenge Ines to reflect on her life. His strategy involves donning a wig and clip-on dentures and posing as ‘Toni Erdmann’, a ‘life coach’, who introduces himself to Ines’ colleagues and friends – with predictable, and sometimes unpredictable, results. There are several amazing set pieces that depend on script, direction and wonderful performances by the two leads.

'Toni' and Ines on their way to visit an oilfield.

‘Toni’ and Ines on their way to visit an oilfield.

Many reviewers have commented on the father-daughter relationship and this certainly runs throughout the narrative and carries an emotional heft. However, my own interest and enjoyment was mostly in the different perspectives and strategies the two characters adopt in their engagement with the work and social environment that Ines inhabits in Bucharest. I’ve had only a limited experience of working on international projects but my viewing companion worked as an executive for an oil industry services company and we both agreed that Maren Ade had captured the tone of business presentations and small talk at receptions/parties perfectly. Ines works for a consultancy company called ‘Morrison’. There are several real consultancy companies called Morrison/Morison some with a global reach but it was odd seeing the film in Bradford, home of the major UK supermarket chain ‘Morrisons’. Ines is a consultant who has to devise a strategy for a team with Romanian and German members to present to a multinational which is attempting to ‘modernise’ the Romanian oil industry (one of the oldest in the world) and this inevitably will mean reducing the workforce with all the subsequent social damage that will cause. This is an environment in which Germans and Romanians use their own language to talk to their compatriots but English to talk to each other in public. Nobody ever says what they really mean in public discourse and this provides the basis for comedy (and satire) – and tragedy. Ines is prepared to play the game, Winfried/Toni finds it more difficult. The contrast between the glamorous world of global capitalism and the reality for the mass of Romania’s population is well captured in the dialogue (the observation that the new shopping malls are far too expensive for Romanians) and by the camera when Winfried looks down from Ines’ cold and minimalist designer apartment to see in the streets below a working-class household living behind a high fence. The sexism inherent in the ex-pat world of consultants is another well-observed element in Maren Ade’s script. Overall the treatment of modern global capitalism reminded me of Christian Petzold’s Yella (Germany 2007). Sandra Hüller is herself from East Germany – like the character played by Nina Hoss in Yella.

A comedy classic in the making – Ines and her party dress.

A comedy classic in the making – Ines and her party dress. Good job there’s a fork handy.

The final third of the film shifts into what might be seen as surrealism. At one point I did think of Buñuel. But I still think the situation is believable given the circumstances. One of the funniest scenes involves Ines trying to get into and then out of a particularly tight-fitting dress. I’m trying to resist pointing out that such a scene is much more likely in a film written and directed by a woman – as is the unusual sex scene earlier in the film. I don’t want to give away what happens in the final scenes because the shifts in tone are surprising and revealing.

But is this like Renoir? I suppose it is in the sense that there is certainly a ‘game’ and that the film reveals the inequalities that exist in the globalised world of Romanian ‘modernity’. We get to know just about enough of the lives of a small group of characters to realise that none are totally ‘good’ or ‘bad’. Having said that, the multinational boss Ines has to please is very worrying. Some audiences appear to find it difficult to identify with either Ines or Winfried but I think we get to know both well enough to see them as ‘humanised’ characters. What at first might seem like a comedy of embarrassment eventually becomes a humanist drama. Winfried/Toni is, as Catherine Wheatley in Sight and Sound (March 2017) points out, a child of the 1960s. For those of us similarly inclined he’s ideologically and emotionally ‘correct’ – but not necessarily entitled to force/coerce/persuade Ines to feel the same. The film’s ending is worth thinking about. It’s a terrific film and I’d really like to see Maren Ade’s two previous films.

GFF16 #8: Panique (France 1946)

M. Hire (Michel Simon) in a noir composition

M. Hire (Michel Simon) in a noir composition

Julien Duvivier was an established director from the 1920s onwards perhaps best known in the UK for the proto-noir Pépé le Moko (1937) with Jean Gabin, although he ranged successfully across several genres. Like Jean Renoir, Duvivier spent the war years in the US and on his return he struggled to re-establish himself in the climate of mistrust surrounding those who had left France under Vichy and the Occupation. By the late 1950s his kind of cinema was going out of fashion as the New Wave came in. He died in a road accident in 1967. Duvivier’s earlier films from the 1930s had often been highly praised and GFF16 mounted a mini-retrospective of three films.

Panique was scripted by Brussels born Charles Spaak and based on a novel by the great Belgian crime writer Georges Simenon. The same novel was adapted again as Monsieur Hire in 1989 directed by Patrice Leconte. Spaak was a former colleague of Duvivier as was Michel Simon who played the mysterious M. Hire in the 1946 version. The simple story sees a small town (a Parisian suburb?) community in which M. Hire is a man of independent means who roams the town with his camera and fusses over his shopping. He clearly isn’t ‘one of us’ to use Margaret Thatcher’s unpleasant phrase. The disruption which kicks off the narrative is the arrival of an attractive woman, Alice played by Vivian Romance. She has just been released from prison and threatens to be the femme fatale who will provoke both Hire and the man for whom she ‘took the rap’ (and who in the same period in the UK would be called a ‘spiv’ – marked as a criminal type by his dress and demeanour). At the same time, a fair comes to town and the body of an older woman is found when the fair sets up. Murder and robbery are suspected.

The narrative is constructed around an extensive studio set in which M. Hire has a room which overlooks the hotel where Alice is staying. Apart from a brief excursion the whole plot is worked out on the set – a familiar approach from 1930s French cinema. Duvivier uses every possible narrative device to drive M. Hire to his doom. We will find out a little more about his background and why he is the way he is but mainly we are transfixed by how he is set up for the murder and the way in which the townspeople are whipped up into a frenzy about his presumed guilt. In one memorable scene he ‘escapes’ onto a dodgem car in the fairground only to find that every other couple on the rink ‘bumps’ into him deliberately. The use of these devices and the close control over mise en scène creates exactly the kind of social commentary about collective self-deception that must have been very uncomfortable for French audiences when everyone is likely to be identified as being in the résistance or a collaborator. The final scenes are a tour de force with a final tragic revelation. I’m certainly up for more Duvivier films if I can find them. The other two titles in the GFF retrospective were La belle épique (1936) and La fin du jour (1939). Although it was in the smallest auditorium at GFT, this screening was packed – an encouraging sign that a foreign language film can still generate an audience on the big screen.

LFF 2015 #5: Rocco and His Brothers (Italy-France 1960)

The French poster for the restored film showing Annie Girardot and Alain Delon. (The image from the film has been inverted for some reason.)

The French poster for the restored film showing Annie Girardot and Alain Delon

LFFRocco and His Brothers has been restored by the Cineteca di Bologna and the Film Foundation and it reappears complete with a couple of UK censor’s cuts now included. It’s quite simply magnificent, demonstrating Luchino Visconti’s great strengths of realism and melodrama as presented by a passionate opera director. It also features three central performances, each of which is worth the price of admission alone and which together keep our attention riveted to the action over nearly three hours.

Like many major films of the period this was an Italian-French co-production with two of the three leading roles taken by French actors. Alain Delon would go on to become one of the major French stars of the next twenty years and alongside Plein soleil in 1960 this was the film that established his international reputation. Annie Girardot was a major new female player in France in the 1950s, surprisingly ignored by the Cahiers critics-turned-filmmakers in the early 1960s but here getting the international exposure she merited. Visconti himself began his film education as an assistant to Jean Renoir in the 1930s before making Ossessione (Italy 1942), often regarded as the first neorealist film. I was reminded of Ossessione several times in watching Rocco and His Brothers, especially by scenes around Lake Como and by the bleakness of the outskirts of Milan. The story of the film is relatively straightforward. Rocco (Delon) is the third of five brothers and at the start of the film the four youngest brothers arrive with their mother in Milan to join Vicenzo the eldest, already trying to start a new life. The family comes from what is now known as Basilicata in the far South of Italy. The brothers struggle to establish themselves but eventually the second brother, Simone (Renato Salvatori), wins some fights as a professional boxer. This will eventually prove to be an unfortunate development as his success attracts the attention of a beautiful but dangerous prostitute, Nadia (Girardot). She later develops a rather different kind of relationship with Rocco and the resulting love triangle tears the family apart. Salvatori gives the third great performance. He has the look and the body of a boxer, something he trained for in preparation for the role. Several commentators have suggested that Coppola and Scorsese were both very impressed by Visconti’s film. Nino Rota wrote the score for Rocco and His Brothers and went on to work on The Godfather for Coppola. Salvatori’s performance was perhaps an inspiration for De Niro in Raging Bull?

Simone (Renato Salvatori) and Rocco (Alain Delon) get their first glimpse of the lights of Milan through the window of the bus that takes them from the station at the start of the film. (A screengrab from the MOC DVD on the DVD Beaver website.)

Simone (Renato Salvatori) and Rocco (Alain Delon) get their first glimpse of the lights of Milan through the window of the bus that takes them from the station at the start of the film. (A screengrab from the MOC DVD on the DVD Beaver website.)

The script is not without flaws. Visconti presents it in five chapters titled after each of the brothers in turn, but they don’t each get the same screen time and it is as if Visconti uses the other three characters to explore the sociological and cultural questions about the migration to the North while the melodrama rages around Rocco and Simone. Vicenzo marries the respectable Ginetta (an under-used Claudia Cardinale) and begins a family. Ciro, the fourth son, continues his education and becomes a ‘new worker’ – a skilled man at the Alfa-Romeo factory. The fifth brother is still a child at the beginning of the film and his main contribution (apart from running errands) seems to be to prompt Rocco into thinking of moving back down South to reclaim the family’s roots. (Rocco is named after San Rocco – the saint associated with the city of Potenza in Basilicata.)

In some ways the film’s story runs counter to the idea that the South is the source of corruption (and organised crime) and that the North is the new modern, ‘civilised’ Italy (a view partly derived from Gramsci). Geoffrey Nowell-Smith links Rocco and His Brothers to Visconti’s other ‘historical’ ventures, including his similarly long film on the tuna fishermen of Sicily, La terra trema (1948) and the rather different Senso (1954) set at the time of the Austrian loss of Northern Italy in 1866. It’s fascinating to read Nowell-Smith’s 1967/73 ‘Cinema One’ book on Visconti some forty years later. He points out that Delon is both ‘wrong’ as a peasant from the South, and as the boxer who is drawn into the fight game by his brother’s actions – but also very ‘right’ as the seemingly weak, puny character who has great strength in his convictions. Smith also recognises that Rocco is actually much more concerned about his traditional view of the family than he is about the safety of Nadia. There is great complexity in the triangular relationship of the melodrama and it requires analysis and reflection to work through the links between the two types of drama. Max Cartier as Ciro doesn’t have Delon’s star power. In a different film his performance would have worked well. Here he comes across as a vehicle for statements of aspiration and his action in exposing his brother’s crime seems like a betrayal of family. In a different way the high melodrama performance of the Greek actress Katina Paxinou (an acclaimed international theatre star) as the mother of the family works in terms of the central melodrama but perhaps not in a neo-realist narrative.

I’ve noted that positions on Rocco and His Brothers have tended to change over time. Nowell-Smith in his entry on Visconti in Richard Roud’s Cinema, A Critical Dictionary in 1980 seems to have moved towards a more damning criticism of the melodrama narrative. He seems to feel that the problem with Rocco is that Visconti does not have a literary source which might ‘reign in’ his melodrama and opera tendencies. Other critics have in fact tried to find literary sources that might have influenced Visconti, including Mann’s Joseph and His Brothers. Part of the problem for critics has been that the films of Fellini and Antonioni from the same rich period of Italian cinema have to some extent pushed Visconti into the background. My own preference would always be for Visconti and I think it’s time his work was re-evaluated. Many of Visconti’s films are not ‘in print’ as either cinema prints or DVDs in the UK and this makes it difficult. However, Rocco is part of the Masters of Cinema DVD offer (2008) which also had Bellissima from 1952 but that now seems to be no longer available.

I haven’t mentioned Giuseppe Rotunno’s excellent cinematography on Rocco (and many of Visconti’s films) and he is listed as ‘supervising’ the visual qualities of the digital restoration at the age of 90. The other feature of the film which probably now gets more attention is the narrative importance of a homoerotic attraction that underpins Simone’s boxing career when he is taken on by a promoter who will eventually be drawn into the struggle between Simone and Rocco. That struggle in turn seems to involve more than just brotherly rivalry in its brutality and sexual humiliation. I’m going to have to watch the film again.

The original Italian trailer refers to the controversies in 1960s about the frankness of some scenes: