Showing posts with label William Powell. Show all posts
Showing posts with label William Powell. Show all posts

Thursday, December 29, 2011

The Artist





















THE ARTIST               B+                  
France  Belgium  (100 mi)  2011  d:  Michel Hazanavicius         Official site [ca]

Despite the unapologetically nostalgic tone of a silent era film that accentuates Hollywood cinema in its golden age, along with its dashingly handsome and debonair stars, like swaggering silent star George Valentin (Jean Dujardin), this film, along with Scorsese’s holiday release HUGO (2011), both eloquently pay tribute to a magical era of early cinema.  Set in the late 20’s and early 30’s, coinciding with the SINGIN’ IN THE RAIN (1952) shift from silent to talking pictures, the camera initially adores matinee idol Valentin with cameras and news items following his every move, living in a posh Hollywood mansion with a wealthy socialite wife Doris (Penelope Ann Miller) who’s too bored with show business that she spends her idle time marking up movie posters with graffiti-like mustaches and goatees, her caustic comment on the whole world of entertainment, rarely uttering a word to her husband.  This dysfunctional portrait of marriage is a satiric comment on Myrna Loy and William Powell’s supposed marital bliss in THE THIN MAN (1934), right down to a theatrical scene-stealing pet dog Uggie, who is a stand-in for Asta and all but steals the picture.  Valentin’s breakfast table scene mimicking the dog’s every move is a classic silent era comedy routine, but his wife couldn’t be bothered to even notice.  Valentin never lacks for a smile, exuding confidence and generosity from the outset, beautifully expressed in a spontaneous moment at a publicity appearance where he is accidentally bumped by a woman who drops her purse while standing in a cordoned off crowd of fans and well-wishers, where at first he expresses rude indignation at the insult, unwanted physical contact, but when he sees what a lovely and charming woman it is (Argentinean actress living in France, Bérénice Bejo, who happens to be the director's spouse), he immediately turns into the gallant gentleman, where their pictures are all over the Hollywood tabloids the next day. 

From this simple coincidence, A STAR IS BORN (1937, 1954, 1976), so to speak, as the lovely lady is Peppy Miller who suddenly lands a job working with Valentin on a picture as a chorus line dancer, nearly thrown off the set by movie mogul John Goodman, the cigar chomping movie producer who blames her for the little stunt which took the actual movie being promoted off the front page, but he relents when Valentin insists she belongs in the picture.  While the two obviously have chemistry, their careers are on different paths, as talkies are the new thing, introducing ambitious young talent like Ms. Miller, while Valentin’s career is all but over, though he refuses to believe he can’t draw an adoring public.  When the stock market crashes and the Depression hits, people show little interest in the way things used to be, despite Valentin’s insistence that he’s an “artist,” not some puppet on a string.  With his marriage on the rocks, his career in ruins, his fortune lost, he becomes a sad and destitute man, still unable to comprehend the chaotic madness of noise associated with talking pictures.  His much more organized silent life seems enchantingly simple, where all he has to do is perform before adoring fans to win their hearts, where he’s a natural born charmer.  Making matters more interesting, the film is actually silent in Valentin’s world, where sound is slowly and cleverly introduced, which others accept, where they eventually live in a world of sound, but Valentin and Uggie remain steadfastly silent.  The film effortlessly walks a fine line between the two worlds, where the unrecognized and distant love between the two stars remains confined to silence. 

The real magic of this film is an old-fashioned romance set against a backdrop of a continual stream of homages to different film eras, where Valentin begins as a 1920’s swashbuckling Douglas Fairbanks hero, where his Chaplinesque comic routines or enthralling Fred Astaire dance numbers are utterly captivating, but when his luck fades, he’s a down on his luck fading movie star lost in the decaying psychological cobwebs of SUNSET BLVD. (1950), filtered through the alcoholic doldrums of meaningless despair from THE LOST WEEKEND (1945).  What’s truly remarkable is actor Jean Dujardin’s range of ability in wordlessly conveying each of these tumultuous emotional turns so effortlessly, where his eminent demeanor never slips out of character.  Despite the predictable narrative arc of falling from grace to living a life in shambles, he carries himself with an immensely appealing dignity throughout, where the scenes with Bérénice Bejo simply sparkle and couldn’t be more scintillating, becoming heartbreakingly tender at times, bringing needed poignancy to their relationship.  Labelled crowd pleasing and lighthearted entertainment by critics, that would be misleading, as this is scrupulously well put together, painting a particularly tragic note to fame, which like youth, is fleeting.  The director combines a rare combination of cleverness and craft, where the extraordinary personalities of the superb talent onscreen win out in the end.  While the relatively unknown director is French, one can’t help but think of fellow countryman Jacques Tati, whose enduring silent comedy was set entirely during the unpredictable modern landscape of the present.  Something of a living, iconic anachronism, he spent everything he earned back into his own unfailingly unique cinematic art, crushed by the lack of success at the box office, probably thinking he was something of a failure at the end of his life, while today he is revered as a rare comic genius.  One might have wished for a special tribute paid to Tati, instead there's a curious debt of thanks to Argentinean soccer superstar Diego Maradona. 

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

A Star Is Born (1954)




George Cukor on the set with Judy Garland in A Star Is Born, 1954












A STAR IS BORN                  A                    
USA  restored version (176 mi)  1954  ‘Scope  d:  George Cukor            
Premiere version (181 mi), initial released version (154 mi)

A STAR IS BORN is Judy Garland’s triumphant comeback after her exile from Hollywood when her MGM contract was terminated in 1950 on the grounds of being unreliable on the set.   Her storied career by this time was well known, a child star who as a teenager was given amphetamines and barbiturates by the studio heads in order to keep her working without interruption so they could keep churning out the pictures and the profits.  In the middle to late 40’s, though still making pictures, suffering from failed marriages and drug and alcohol abuse, she began developing troublesome behavior on the set, moody, unapproachable, depressed, even failing to even appear on many mornings.  Watched closely by many studio heads upon her return, she delivers a gangbusters performance, arguably the greatest one woman show in the history of movies, where despite her unparalleled singing which is given the full treatment here, her voice deeper, richer, and more mature, she is equally stunning onscreen for nearly three hours exposing a deeper side to her character, turning in one of the greatest acting performances ever seen.  True to form, in 1954 the Academy Awards overlooked her performance in the best actress category, instead awarding Grace Kelly the Oscar in the now all but forgotten film THE COUNTRY GIRL.  This film, however, is a remarkable time capsule, a well directed, utterly poignant testament to her phenomenal gifts, given a story with so many parallels to her own life, it captures Garland at the peak of her powers better than any other work, where she is able to maintain her dramatic intensity throughout the duration, which is simply a phenomenal effort, one for the ages, perhaps because she was under such close scrutiny not to have an emotional meltdown.  Recently upgraded to Blu-Ray, improving the sound and the superbly brilliant color, the film was originally released at 181 minutes, but the studio heads immediately thought it was too long, so it was cut to 154 minutes during its theatrical release, where it remained until 1983 when film historian Ronald Harver restored some but not all of the missing footage, including lost musical numbers that existed only in the hands of private collectors, and additional soundtrack material, using still shots while additional dialogue is heard in the background, so that the film now runs 176 minutes.      

Much like Michael Powell’s film THE RED SHOES (1948) features a dazzling, uninterrupted 17-minute ballet fantasia in the middle of the film, a spectacular dance called The Ballet of the Red Shoes which features surrealistic and supremely colorful backdrops, creating a truly transcendent film moment, this film has a similar cinematic moment, as the 20-minute “I’m Born in a Trunk” sequence which takes the film to intermission is simply breathtaking, brilliantly edited where Garland’s initial song turns into flashbacks of new songs, new set pieces, all revealing the autobiographical story of her long and arduous career before she was ever recognized in show business.  Garland’s voice is heard throughout the sequence belting out one tune after another, including “Swanee,”  “I'll Get By,” “You Took Advantage of Me,” “Black Bottom,” “The Peanut Vendor (El Manicero),” and “Melancholy Baby,” constantly changing her appearance and her costumes along with new rhythm and tempos, much of it very jazz-like, as it feels extremely stream-of-conscious when she finds herself in everchanging set pieces.  It’s a supreme expression of her talent where the art production behind her actually matches the excellence of her performance, an unbelievable moment in film musicals, where some feel it’s the greatest musical number ever filmed.  Of interest, many film historians don’t even think it’s the best musical sequence in the film.  The most famous is Cukor’s one-take shot of Garland singing “The Man That Got Away” HD 1080p "The Man That Got Away" Judy Garland - A Star Is ... YouTube (4:38) in an intimate, after hours setting that smolders with searing emotional poignancy.  It’s a scene that only Garland could deliver so perfectly, as again the theme has such personal relevance.  That’s what stands out in this film, as these lyrics become her life story.  Every word she sings, she’s lived.  After you see this film, you will be unable to get her out of your thoughts.        

Garland plays Esther Blodgett, a singer like many others that performs as a warm up act for greater stars.  She has the distinguished misfortune of trying to save a famous Hollywood legend, James Mason as Norman Maine, from making a fool of himself as he wanders drunk onstage in the middle of a live performance, where she amusingly makes him part of the act, including cleverly getting him off the stage.  Later tracking her down to the after hours joint where he hears her sing “The Man That Got Away,” he’s completely confident that she has what it takes to be a star.  So after introducing her to a few important people, namely his movie producer Oliver Niles (the great Charles Bickford), officially changing her show business name to Vicki Lester, she does indeed become that star, which she proves in the “I’m Born in a Trunk” sequence, after which she’s a bonafide movie star.  But as fate would have it, her star power is rising as Maine’s is declining even more rapidly, continually making a drunk spectacle of himself, ruining those once-on-a-lifetime moments in her life.  Despite his obvious faults, and that he’s a good generation older than she is, she loves him anyway, thinking her love will make him whole, as she’s forever grateful that he opened the doors for her.  One of their happiest moments together is when she comes home from work and delivers an impromptu song and dance routine on the material she’s been working on all day, “Somewhere There's a Someone,” a raucous satire on MGM musicals, but also her intimate rendition of “It’s a New World” that she quietly sings on their honeymoon, another tour-de-force moment, as the song has a poignant reprise late in the film. 

Garland was born Frances Ethel Gumm, and one of the initial scenes that was cut was an early number from “I’m Born in a Trunk” that she sang as a kid with her father onstage, “When My Sugar Walks Down the Street,” a song Garland actually sang as a member of the Gumm Sisters.  Lost forever are scenes of Garland and Mason planning their life together, including the building of their dream house, and a montage of leading role scenes from Norman Maine’s movie career.  One of the previously lost sequences that was wonderfully rediscovered was the wedding proposal which was amusingly caught by microphones during the playback of her song “Here's What I'm Here For,” another is “Lose That Long Face,” a bewilderingly jubilant and effervescent number that she sings and dances as a gamin before and after a heart-rendering sequence about the deteriorating state of her marriage where she breaks down in a dressing room before a masterful segue throws her back in front of a camera, songs that certainly add depth to their developing relationship.  At the premiere of Harver’s film restoration which took place at Radio City Music Hall in New York City in 1983, the audience started applauding when the lost numbers appeared.  Similarly, when I saw this film at the Music Box Theater in Chicago, the audience erupted in applause as soon as Garland’s name appeared in the opening credits, and then again at her first appearance onscreen.    

Despite the length, the pacing of the film never slows, no doubt due to Garland’s appearance and voice which are constants throughout this film.  But mostly what stands out is the genuine effort and dramatic intensity she puts into every scene.  There are very few secondary characters, where Bickford plays a gruff but fatherly producer and Jack Carson plays his typically cynical and personally sneering Hollywood publicity agent.  Tommy Noonan plays Garland’s piano playing lifelong friend, a guy that tells it to her straight.  Other than that, the entire picture belongs to Garland and Mason, whose solid presence driving his Packard convertible likely added a certain stability to Garland’s performance, as in the end, her character’s devoted stand-by-your-man love for him remains her reason for being.  Their beach house on the cliff overlooking the ocean filled with artworks is an architectural masterpiece with one stunning view actually shot in Laguna Beach.  The film is loaded with local Los Angeles landmarks, from film openings at Grauman’s Chinese Theater, award ceremonies and several live performances at The Shrine Auditorium, to shots of the Coconut Grove Night Club, the Santa Anita Park racetrack, even the Beverly Hills Church of the Good Shepherd, as well as various Warner Brother’s backlots.  But certainly this is a timeless film that has been beautifully enhanced by Blu-Ray, as the color saturation on CinemaScope has never been more subtle and boldly luminous, very much appreciated in a musical-sequence-driven film like this, where powerful performances are mixed with small moments of personal intimacy, the kind that come alive in the lyrics of a song.  Despite her professional triumphs, Garland battled nerves and personal problems throughout her entire career, which spanned nearly half a century.  Told at a young age by studio execs that she was unattractive, given amphetamines as prescription weight loss medication while still a teen, this deteriorated her self esteem and left her battling with drug and alcohol addiction nearly her entire life.  Garland died of an accidental drug overdose at the age of 47.  She ranks as one of the greatest stars to ever come out of Hollywood, where her voice alone and song interpretive ability make her singularly unique, but her performances never diminish over time, as despite the sterile artificiality of performing before a movie camera, her intense screen vulnerability makes her a genuine star, as gifted a performer as we’ll ever see, one who has always struck a nerve with the audience.