Archive for the Painting Category

The Whit Sunday Intertitle: Crossing Delaunay

Posted in FILM, Painting with tags , , , , , , , , , , on May 24, 2015 by dcairns

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Marvelous Mary came back from the Sonia Delaunay exhibition at the Tate, clutching the catalogue and full of enthusiasm. I was totally unable to procure the Delaunay-designed 1926 movie LE P’TIT PARIGOT, a clip of which had entranced Mary, so we settled for Marcel L’Herbier’s LE VERTIGE, costumed by Delaunay the same year, which the IMDb doesn’t even know she did (sharing screen credit with Jacques Manuel).

LE VERTIGE is pretty slow and dull dramatically, but the production design by a team including top architect Robert Mallet-Stevens and Delaunay’s husband Robert, is really striking. Sadly, there aren’t many of the striking patterns she made her name with. L’Herbier’s lover and star Jaque Catelain does turn up with a nice robe at the 105 minute mark, and there’s a Mexican stand-off at the end by two men both attired in fabulous scarves, but that’s your lot.

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Compare with the designs for LE P’TIT PARIGOT ~

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Or this stunning set of jammies modeled by architect Erno Goldfinger (whose name inspired the Bond villain) ~

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If I owned a set of jim-jams as stylish as that, I wouldn’t think twice about detonating a nuclear device in Fort Knox either.

Still, LE VERTIGE has something else: a storyline which seems closely connected to Hitchcock’s similarly-titled 1959 necrodrama. The movie opens at the height of the Russian revolution. The jealous General Mikhail (Roger Karl) shoots his rival Jaque Catelain in full view of his straying spouse, Emmy Lynn. Then the revolutionaries burst in and bayonet the prone philanderer. So he’s dead, right? Shot in the heart and bayoneted by the entire Russian revolution, he’s dead. Rumours of his death are not only NOT exaggerated, we can say they don’t go nearly far enough.

So imagine Emmy’s surprise when Catelait turns up on the Cote D’Azur years later, alive, smirking and driving a speedboat. The same smile, the same lipstick, the same guyliner. Positively the same Catelait.

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She now attempts to recreate this passionate affair with the doppelganger of her lost love, and it works pretty good too, from what one can gauge between passionate fadeouts, but she still has that jealous husband.

“Did Hitchcock see this?” asked Fiona. We agreed it was possible, but perhaps more likely that Boileau et Narcejac, the writing team behind the novel D’entre les Mortes, Hitchcock’s source, saw it. In VERTIGO, Both Kim Novaks are the same character. In LE VERTIGE, there are two Catelains, their resemblance coincidental. Jimmy Stewart’s vertigo is a literal acrophobia, but it’s also a spiritual terror, a fear of falling out of one’s place in time, into the past, and a desire to do so. That feeling is already present in LE VERTIGE, and accounts for all Emmy Lynn’s swooning fits, I guess.

More Sonia Delaunay to enjoy — in colour! (And with the promised intertitles.)



Sunday without Intertitles

Posted in FILM, literature, Painting with tags , , , , on April 26, 2015 by dcairns

No intertitles here, in the only surviving fragment (that we know of) from THE PORTRAIT (1915), a Gogol adaptation attributed to the great Ladislas Starewicz (though the IMDb knows nothing of this). Echoes of Cocteau and RINGU.

It’s proper terrifying. The projector whirr it comes fitted with is annoying though, so I suggest muting this video, setting it to full screen, but in another window playing Aaron Copland’s Grohg, which is here. Watch it alone after dark, and stuff will happen to you.

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It’s interesting to see a Starewicz film (if that’s what this is), or part of one anyway, that’s deliberately scary. Most of his children’s animations are creepy without seeming to intend it. Even his other Gogol adaptation is more humorously grotesque than sincerely spooky, to my mind.

Lenny Borger informs me that Starewicz’s producer was Louis Nalpas, who went bankrupt with his 1929 MONTE CRISTO. As his finances failed and he traded the film industry for the yoghurt industry (People Will Always Need Yoghurt), Nalpas gifted Starewicz’s films back to him, a kindly gesture which seems to have resulted in nearly all of them surviving (although who knows how many fell through the cracks of film history like this one?).

Fair and Lovely on the Campaign Trail

Posted in FILM, Painting, Politics, Television with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on April 7, 2015 by dcairns

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In THE CANDIDATE (1972), Michael Ritchie does such a good job of surrounding golden boy Robert Redford with grotesques, ugly Americans, non-WASP imperfect specimens of ordinary humanity, that the overall effect is similar to Heironymous Bosch’s painting of Christ Carrying the Cross, thronged and taunted by gurning Semitic caricatures. The once-dapper Melvyn Douglas is used to particularly unsightly effect, seemingly serving his aging kisser up happily to curdle our blood with a lot of sinister, wet grinning. Also Allen Garfield’s ebullient bulbousness, Peter Boyle sporting a Mr. Upside-Down-Head full beard, even a young Michael Lerner, every part of whom seems to be wider than it is long.

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This is one I had to watch pan-and-scan in an off-air recording, which seems a terrible gap in the historic record. You’d think Redford was well enough known for there to be a DVD somewhere. I’d suggest an Eclipse box set to compliment Criterion’s excellent DOWNHILL RACER — “Winning and Losing with Michael Ritchie” — it could have SMILE, THE CANDIDATE, DOWNHILL RACER, THE BAD NEW BEARS and maybe The Positively True Adventures of the Alleged Texas Cheerleader-Murdering Mom. And does anyone rate SEMI-TOUGH? Still, this would have to come after René Clemént’s “Occupation and Resistance,” which is top of my wish list.

What shall it profit a Malibu blond? It’s the age-old tale of the idealist who loses his way — Ritchie and editors Richard A. Harris (regular collaborator) and Robert Estrin shape Jeremy DRIVE HE SAID Larner’s script so that the path to hell has plenty of missing paving stones, forcing us to fill in the blanks, mentally. There are great transitions and elisions, and for once the principles Redford starts with actually sound like principles — pro-choice, pro-bussing, anti-pollution. Most political dramas, from MR SMITH GOES TO WASHINGTON to House of Cards, contain sub-homeopathic doses of politics. Watching Redford get whittled down to nothing by his campaign managers is both depressing and grimly satisfying. Also, it’s a very good portrayal of how awful campaigning must be: an utterly moronic process designed to trap intelligent adults into humiliating situations.

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The movie anticipates Robert Altman’s excellent TV series Tanner ’88, which Altman considered his best work, in many ways, not least the use of real politicians and journalists playing themselves. And once again, Redford’s manner of heroism looks oddly off-kilter, a kind of behaviour we wouldn’t find noble anymore — he’s petulant and passive-aggressive. We aren’t convinced he’s really struggling to hang onto his integrity, and maybe that’s the point. But the whole thing also works as a depiction of the cult of celebrity, and how frightening and degrading it must be to experience from the inside. Redford once said that when he first saw his portrait on the cover of Time with the caption Robert Redford: Actor, he was convinced for a second it said Robert Redford: Asshole. That’s showbiz.

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