Criterion Corner-DVD/Blu-ray Reviews
Entries from March 2016
“THE CROWN JEWEL OF
ITALIAN NEO-REALISMâ€
By Raymond Benson
The
Criterion Collection released the wonderful Bicycle
Thieves on DVD in 2007 and now finally presents a marvelous new 4K digital
restoration of the Academy Award-winning picture (1950, Honorary Award for
Foreign Language Film) on Blu-ray. The movie was known in America for decades
as The Bicycle Thief—but the literal
translation of the Italian title is plural, and this also makes more sense in
the context of the film’s story. There is
more than one bicycle thief, and the revelation of the second one’s
identity is what gives De Sica’s picture its emotional power.
Italian
neorealism was a movement that lasted from 1945 to about 1952, and it was
highly influential for filmmakers around the world. There would not have been a
French New Wave in the early 60s had Italian neorealism not served as a
stylistic and thematic launching pad. Film scholars generally acknowledge
Roberto Rossellini’s Rome, Open City (1945)
as the first true Italian neorealist picture, for it presented a striking
naturalistic depiction of life among the lower class and the poor in post-World
War Two Italy. Strict realism had been attempted previously by other European
filmmakers (e.g., Jean Vigo’s L’Atalante),
but nothing had prepared the world for the harsh, yet affective, truthfulness
of Italian neorealism.
Stylistic
traits of the movement include working with extremely low budgets; shooting on-location
in the streets of war-torn cities often with hand-held cameras, creating a
documentary-like visual style; avoiding artifice in editing, camerawork, and
lighting in favor of a simple “style-less†presentation; using non-professional
actors in many cases; and adapting conversational, non-literary dialogue.
Thematically, the films focused on the plight of the poor and lower class as
they struggled to climb out of the horror that the world war had brought; a new
democratic spirit with emphasis on the value of “ordinary†people; a
compassionate point of view; humanism; and a focus on emotions rather than
abstract ideas.
Bicycle Thieves is an exemplary entry
of the movement; it is indeed the crown jewel. The story is simple—Antonio, a
poor man, finally gets a job that will pull his family, which consists of his
wife, his son Bruno (around eight or nine years old), and newborn baby, out of
poverty. But the job requires a bicycle that would enable Antonio to move
around Rome. All goes well for a day or so, until a thief steals the bike. For
the rest of the film, a desperate Antonio and Bruno scour the streets of the
city looking for the thief and the stolen bicycle, encountering a variety of
characters who try to help (or hinder) him. Yes, Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure was an homage of sorts to Bicycle Thieves.
De
Sica cast a shoe factory worker, Lamberto Maggiorani, as Antonio. For a
non-actor, his performance is exceptional. However, the real find was Enzo
Staiola as Bruno, who delivers arguably one of the greatest performances by a
child actor in the history of cinema. In many ways, the story is seen through
his eyes, and it is Bruno’s outlook of the world around him that defines the
film.
The
direction is masterful, as is the script, which was written primarily by De
Sica and frequent collaborator Cesare Zavattini, who was responsible for the
screenplays of several important Italian neorealism pictures. De Sica presents
the characters’ poverty with a matter-of-factness that ultimately hits home
when Antonio’s impulsive actions nearly result in tragedy. It may be a
depressing film, and one that will cause the viewer to shed a tear or two, but
in the end there is a statement of humanity that each of us will recognize.
The
new Blu-ray looks terrific, as is the gold standard for Criterion. The film
contains an uncompressed monaural soundtrack. The disk supplements from the
original DVD are ported over with nothing new added. They include: Working with De Sica, a fascinating
collection of interviews, including one with Enzo Staiola, who is now an old
man—and yet he still looks exactly like little Bruno!; Life As It Is, a piece on Italian neorealism with scholar Mark
Shiel; and a documentary from 2003 on screenwriter Zavattini. There is an
optional English-dubbed soundtrack. The booklet contains an essay by critic
Godfrey Cheshire, plus reminiscences by De Sica and his collaborators.
Bicycle Thieves is truly one of the great motion pictures. I screen it every semester for my Film History
class at the College of DuPage in Glen Ellyn, Illinois. The picture is required
viewing for anyone interested in world cinema and the movements that shaped
modern filmmaking.
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By Jeremy Carr
In light of his artsy, unaffected, at times entirely
improvised trilogy of “road moviesâ€â€”Alice
in the Cities (1974), Wrong Move
(1975), and Kings of the Road
(1976)—Wim Wenders considered The
American Friend (1977) to be his riskiest film to date. Fortunately, the
gamble paid off and this picture, more than any of his prior efforts, placed
him prominently on the world stage, garnering him international attention and critical
acclaim. While Patricia Highsmith’s source novel, Ripley’s Game, was not his first choice of her work to bring to the
big screen (it was, in fact, not yet published), the end result is a satisfying
thriller enveloped in a morally ambiguous milieu of existential drama.
Stricken with a blood disease, workaday picture framer
Jonathan Zimmermann (Bruno Ganz) encounters disreputable forged art dealer Tom
Ripley (Dennis Hopper) at an auction, where the former is wise to the fakery
being peddled by the latter. When Ripley extends a hand to Zimmermann, who
ignores the gesture and rebukes the criminal with a dismissive, “I've heard of
you,†the snub rubs Ripley the wrong way. Based on this seemingly innocuous
slight, he and shady collaborator Raoul Minot (Gérard Blain) scheme to get
Zimmermann involved in a murderous plot. Playing off the threat that his
ailment has grown increasingly terminal (thanks to some fraudulent documents),
Ripley and Minot arrange for Zimmermann to take out a fellow gangster target. He
would be an unassuming figure for a murder anyway, with no connection to
Ripley, Minot, or the victim, and for his efforts, he would financially secure
his wife and young son in the wake of his death.
The initial catalyst of the forged painting, as well as the
ensuing personal deceitfulness, are indicative of the film’s primary theme, that
of the complex nature of mistaken and/or assumed identity. Early in The American Friend, when Ripley
ruminates, “I know less and less about who I am or who anybody else is,†it is
an explicit expression of this thematic thread. As the film plays out, he and
Zimmermann both embark on a profound journey building upon fluctuating ideals
and actions, sometime out of necessity—to adapt and stay alive—and sometimes just
for the pretense.
In any case, having done the deed, the oblivious yet
earnestly considerate Zimmermann (considerate for his family, that is, if not
the man he murders) evolves from an innocent amateur to an ethically problematic
criminal in his own right. The full weight of the abrupt shift to unscrupulous
behavior is made all the more disconcerting after he realizes no immediate consequences
for the assassination. First he is surprised and obviously pleased by the lack
of judicial punishment, then his joy borders on disturbing exultation. The man
who is at one point described as “quiet and peaceful†has now become a cold
blooded killer for hire. Just as with Highsmith’s most famous Ripley novel, The Talented Mr. Ripley, appearances here
can be deceiving and easily deceived. As the proliferation of illicit activity
runs far and wide in The American Friend,
the film frequently questions character authenticity and the uncertain true
intentions of those involved. To therefore say the ensuing bond between
Zimmermann and Ripley is an unlikely and unsteady one would be quite the
understatement, and however much the two grow comfortable with one another,
even trusting of each other, nothing about the collaboration ever settles
enough to be solidified as a mutual partnership. Even if the characters let
their guard down momentarily, the viewer is continually primed to expect a
deadly turnabout.
Zimmermann’s potentially fatal flaw, then, is that he
fails to realize that in this world of treachery and viciousness, where others
are playing the same ruthless game he is, one has to assume they too are
capable of violence. In a 2002 commentary track with Hopper, as well as in a
more recent interview, both of which are included on the new Criterion
Collection release of The American Friend,
Wenders states his reluctance toward taking on an amoral character like Ripley.
But what becomes clear is that Zimmermann is the one with whom the audience is
more disappointed. Ripley and his cohorts are what they are and we expect
nothing less; Zimmermann, on the other hand, should have been above such
misdeeds. His desire to provide for his family is laudable enough, and the
prospect of quick cash would be tantalizing, but his decision to ultimately go
through with the murder makes him a most problematic protagonist.
Continue reading "REVIEW: WIM WENDERS' "THE AMERICAN FRIEND" (1977) STARRING DENNIS HOPPER AND BRUNO GANZ; CRITERION BLU-RAY SPECIAL EDITION"
“A THRILLER FOR
ELECTION YEARâ€
By Raymond Benson
John
Frankenheimer’s 1962 political thriller, based on Richard Condon’s 1959 novel,
is more relevant today than it has been in the intervening years since its
original, timely release. Back then, we were in the midst of the Cold War and
treading treacherous waters with the Soviet Union. The picture originally hit
the theaters during the thirteen-day
Cuban Missile Crisis of October, so it served as a cautionary tale, a
propaganda piece, and a scary, suspenseful nail-biter. After the Cold War
ended, The Manchurian Candidate maintained
its reputation as an excellent piece of cinema, but its political ramifications
diminished. Now that seems to have changed with the cantankerous, mistrustful
climate of this year’s U.S. presidential election shenanigans. Candidate currently speaks volumes.
Captain
Marco (Frank Sinatra) and Sergeant Shaw (Laurence Harvey) head up an army
platoon during the Korean War. They are captured by the Soviets, drugged, and
taken to Manchuria, China, where they are brainwashed. Shaw, in particular,
becomes a deadly sleeper-assassin for the Communists. A crack shot with a
sniper rifle, Shaw is programmed to obey any command after he views a queen of
diamonds playing card, usually presented to him during a game of solitaire. The
platoon is released with the false memories that Shaw saved their lives. Back
home, the other members from the platoon suffer from recurring, debilitating
nightmares they don’t understand until Marco—now a major—decides to do
something about it. Meanwhile, Shaw is under the control of his domineering
mother (Angela Lansbury), who is determined to get Shaw’s step-father, a
seriously right-wing, conservative McCarthy-like senator (James Gregory), the
nomination for president.
What
makes the movie so caustic today is that the hateful rhetoric spouted by the
fictional Republicans in the film is frighteningly similar to what we’re
hearing in the current election cycle. It’s a familiar tune: pick a
scapegoat—any scapegoat (in the picture’s case, Communists)—and exaggerate the
threat to scare an ignorant public for a political advantage. The campaign
climate of hate and finger-pointing depicted in the film hits uncomfortably
close to the contemporary atmosphere.
Frankenheimer
co-produced the movie with screenwriter George Axelrod, and it stands tall in
the director’s body of work. The story is told with a tense, underlying sense
of dread that perfectly captures the paranoia of the era—and today. Frankenheimer’s depiction of the brainwashing
demonstration to the Soviet and Chinese delegates is surreal. The soldiers
believe they’re sitting at a floral garden party in which proper old ladies are
discussing horticulture, when in fact the women are uniformed, male Communist
agents. The bizarre incongruity and parallel editing of the scene is masterful
(the picture received an Oscar nomination for Film Editing as well).
Sinatra
is very effective as the “straight man†of the tale, and Harvey is suitably
creepy as the brainwashed killer, although the actor’s Britishness is sometimes
difficult to ignore. The movie-stealer, though, is Lansbury, who was nominated
for a Supporting Actress Oscar for her performance. “Mrs. Iselin†is a mother
worthy of Hitchcock, a true villain of Cruella de Vil proportions, and Lansbury
makes her very chilling indeed. Interestingly, the actress was only three years
older than Harvey, but we have no problem believing she’s his mother.
Two
other glamorous blondes appear in the film. Janet Leigh looks fabulous as Marco’s
love interest, but in the overall arc of the story, hers is a somewhat
unnecessary character. The scene in which Sinatra and Leigh meet on a train is
the only eye-roll-producing bit in the picture, for she’s gives out her address
and phone number within minutes of meeting this obviously disturbed guy who
can’t even light a cigarette himself. The other beauty is Leslie Parrish, who
plays Harvey’s girlfriend. She is sparkling,
and certainly warrants more screen time. While Parrish made many movies, she is
mostly known for a trove of 1960s television work in such shows as Star Trek, The Man from U.N.C.L.E., and Mannix.
Criterion’s
new special edition features a restored 4K digital transfer of the film with an
uncompressed monaural soundtrack. There’s an audio commentary by Frankenheimer from
1997. Supplements include a new interview with Lansbury, who is amusing and
candid with her memories of making the film; a new interview with filmmaker
Errol Morris, a fan of the movie, talking about its strengths and influences; a
new interview with historian Susan Carruthers about the brainwashing scene; a
vintage filmed conversation between Sinatra, Frankenheimer, and Axelrod from
1987; and the trailer. The booklet contains an essay by critic Howard Hampton.
The Manchurian
Candidate is
one of the best thrillers from the 1960s. Considering what’s going on in
America now, you might want to pop the disk into the Blu-ray player instead of
watching the latest presidential candidate debate. You’ll assuredly find it
much more entertaining.
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