Yeah, I spent an unreasonable amount of my weekend peering up at The Hollywood Theatre's screen during Noir City Portland. Do I regret it at all? Of course not; if I have any regrets, it's that I missed 3 of the 8 features, but sometimes a guy has things he's gotta do, y'know. Even so, those other priorities haven't kept me from spending a good deal of time thinking about and craving more noir and film noir related highs. For instance, after skipping out on the third feature on Saturday night, I still ended up streaming Gun Crazy at home on the Warner Archive Instant service.
DEADLY IS THE FEMALE aka GUN CRAZY
I was also pleased to stumble across the film noir episode of the fairly great 1995 PBS series American Cinema on YouTube. I hadn't viewed the series since it first aired on public television, so it was great to take another look at a series that, at the time of its release, had a strong influence in reinforcing my obsession with old films.
I'll have you know there's a massive cult surrounding the legacy of Bob Marley, of which I have yet to be inducted into as a card carrying member. Chances are, you already were aware of that first fact; the latter tidbit, probably not. So how does a person who only has a single Bob Marley lp in their collection (this excellent Studio One era compilation) and a limited knowledge of his story accurately judge the new documentary about the man? Carefully, especially when it only takes about a half an hour to ascertain that this one's for the fans, not the uninitiated.
There's nothing particularly awry about Kevin Macdonald's (Touching the Void, One Day in September)Marley. The film houses an abundance of quality archival footage and photographic stills of the musical legend at work and play. And Macdonald does a fine job of blending these elements with newer interviews with close friends, family and music industry insiders, organizing the material in a coherent and strongly chronological fashion. It's just that, at nearly 2 1/2 hours in length, there's not a lot of urgency or innovation present in the way that this whale of a feature-length documentary swims.
A little more trimming or, perhaps, a structural device along the lines of what Martin Scorsese fashioned for his Bob Dylan doc, No Direction Home, framing the action around a single important event in Marley's history (like Scorsese did w/ Dylan's confrontational transition from playing acoustically to going electric), might have strengthened what feels like rather anemic pacing at times.
That's not to say that Marley is an uninteresting or unnecessary film; it works rather well as a loving portrait for the long-time fans. But, here's the rub: if, like me, you're still trying to find your footing in Marley's rather intimidatingly large discography and legacy, there's something to be said for the comforts of brevity and/or dramatic tension, either of which could have greatly improved my experience of the film.
A key moment in Luchino Visconti's (The Leopard) 1960 epic Rocco and His Brothers comes near the end when Rocco (Alain Delon) declares to his family that he dreams of one day returning to their land in Northern Italy. The film tells the story of five brothers who, along with their recently widowed mother, Rosaria (Katina Paxinou), make the transition from a rural setting to the urban environs of Milan. Although Visconti equally divides the film into a chapter per brother, the heart of the picture concerns the destructive rift that develops between Rocco and his brother Simone (Renato Salvatori), a downward spiral that Rocco (and the film itself) seems to believe has come about as a result of the move to Milan.
Rocco and Simone are torn asunder by their competition for Nadia (Annie Girardot), a prostitute who cynically hangs about Simone until he is no longer useful to her, only to be transformed by the affections of Rocco. Just when it seems possible that Rocco and Nadia's bond could neutralize their individual sorrows, Simone's violent jealousy rears its ugly head, prompting Rocco to make one of several bitter sacrifices for his callously unappreciative brother.
Visconti's film is said to have been a strong influence on the work of Martin Scorsese and Francis Ford Coppola. Both directors have made films revolving around themes similar to those present in Rocco; the destruction of familial bonds, often featuring characters with mercurial temperaments. Scorsese notes in his documentary on Italian cinema, My Voyage to Italy, that the outsized emotions on display in films like Visconti's were a revelation upon first viewing.
It's easy to draw comparisons between the quickly shifting character dynamics at play in Rocco and His Brothers and those present in Mean Streets or Goodfellas. Likewise, Coppola seems to have taken note of Visconti's drama heightening use of Nino Rota's score, borrowing the composer for his Godfather trilogy; a choice perfectly suiting the analogous tragedy befalling the Corleone family.
It's worth mentioning how difficult it is to see Rocco and His Brothers as Visconti intended it. The current U.S. dvd edition is non-anamorphic widescreen, meaning that, if you own a modern 16X9 television display, the disc will force a compromise in quality to fill the screen with the image and, even then, the film was transferred in the wrong aspect ratio. Worse yet, it's the truncated cut of the film, missing twelve minutes of footage that were excised when the film opened in the U.S. in 1961.
Fortunately, the version playing at the NW Film Center this weekend restores Rocco and His Brothers to its original 180-minute running time. It's a rare chance to see the film as it was meant to be seen, on a large theater screen with its full story intact.
The newly restored, original 180min. cut of Rocco and His Brothers will
screen at the NW Film Center's Whitsell Auditorium (in the Portland Art
Museum) on Fri., March 23rd & Sat., March 24th at 7pm and again on Sun., March 25th at 4pm.
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As of last night's home screening of Man on a Tightrope (1953), I've made it through all six of the films that are exclusive to the recently released Elia Kazan Collection dvd boxset (one of which is the documentary A Letter to Elia, narrated and co-directed by Martin Scorsese).
Man on a Tightrope was released just one year after Kazan testified before the House Committee on Un-American Activities (HCUA) in 1952. His testimony, which included the giving up of names of former colleagues in the Group Theater to the committee, has in retrospect significantly tainted the reception of his art to the public at large, making it difficult to address the films without at least some acknowledgment of the political actions of their creator.
Most audience members today will point to On the Waterfront (1954) as a prime example of Kazan (and screenwriter Budd Schulberg) grappling with his collaboration with the HCUA. But if you look at this sequence from Man on a Tightrope, I think you'll notice Kazan's social dialectics being applied to not only an examination of the story being told in the film (artists being restricted by the political landscape of communist Czechoslovakia) but also to his own history.
As for the overall quality of the film, Fredric March delivers a solid performance as Karel, the aging clown/circus ringleader who repeatedly claims he's apolitical and is only interested in practicing his trade. Gloria Grahame, playing Karel's wife Zama, is quite good but feels a bit too young and unseasoned both in the role and when balanced against March's performance. Cinematographer Georg Krause, who also shot Stanley Kubrick's Paths of Glory, brings his keen eye for strong framing that supports the sometimes outmoded dramatics of the film.
Tightrope isn't close to the best film exclusive to the Kazan boxset. Personally, I emotionally connected most with America, America (1963), which instantly entered my top 20 list of favorite films. The good news for fans unable or unwilling to spring for the rather pricey boxset: America, America will be getting its own standalone dvd release in February.
Also very good from the set: Wild River (1960) (hit link for clip) and, especially, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (1945).
