Jean Marais meets the Thompson Twins from TINTIN?
I promised you more Dutch tilts, and Christian-Jaque’s VOYAGE SANS ESPOIR has them. Also: huge fog-shrouded sets with miniatures in the distance (tiny light-house with working beam!); rogue’s gallery of shifty sailors; doomed love; cryptic coppers; waterfront dives; desperate fugitives; shimmering light and crushed shadows.
At The Forgotten. Now GO!
A wild west Christmas tree from LES PETROLEUSES.
I hate lists, generally — too much film writing is based on the list structure, and at this time of year, “best of” lists proliferate horribly. But if I’m honest, the reason I never participate in them is I can never remember whether I saw something in the last year or the year previous. Or the year before that.
However, the idea of a list of neglected Christmas movies did seem potentially worthwhile — if you have access to nay of the below, or they turn up on TV, they might plug an otherwise unproductive gap in your schedule as you lie replete with turkey and pudding, or might even unite homicidal family members in yuletide bliss for ninety minutes. Anyhow, they’re all films I like, and many of them can be explored further on this site or elsewhere — links will be provided.
REMEMBER THE NIGHT — the first Christmas edition of The Forgotten focussed on this lovely genre-twisting 1939 charmer from screenwriter Preston Sturges and director Mitchell Leisen. What begins as a contrived screwball comedy, with assistant DA Fred MacMurray saddled with jewel thief Barbara Stanwyck over the holidays, dips a toe into rustic tragedy, settles into bucolic sentiment, then takes a side-swerve into near-tragedy. While Sturges typically pulled tonal shifts out of a seemingly bottomless hat and shuffled them like playing cards, here the film sticks to each emotion long enough to settle, which makes the mood swings all the more surprising, but also effective. And it captures some of the authentic family experience — good and bad.
L’ASSASSINAT DU PERE NOEL — not as iconoclastic as it sounds. Christian-Jacque directs this snow-bound murder mystery, with Harry Baur as a definitive Santa. The opening titles, where he lumbers, Frankenstein-like, out of darkness, sets a disquieting tone otherwise eschewed in favour of the peculiar cosiness a good whodunnit so often generates. An air of magic fringes on Cocteau territory, the feelgood fuzziness of the ending is accompanied by the funniest wrap-up to a mystery I ever saw.
LYDIA — Julien Duvivier’s not-exactly-remake of his own CARNET DU BAL doesn’t come on strong as a Xmas flick, but there’s enough studio-bound sleigh-ride romance to make it qualify. You may NEED to shed those tears, this time of year — otherwise you’ll be lugging them around in your ducts like ballast for another twelve months. No movie with Merle Oberon and three suitors sitting around with great wads of latex all over their heads should have any claim on our emotions, but this one does.
THE UMBRELLAS OF CHERBOURG — I like it when the Christmas spirit ambushes you, leaping from behind an Esso station and slugging you across the skull with a sack of presents when you’re least expecting it. And said spirit includes a fair share of melancholy, right? Of course, not every film with snow at the end is a Xmas film — I wouldn’t make that claim for FAHRENHEIT 451, although come to think of it, that red fire engine is kind of festive.
THE PHANTOM CARRIAGE — the concentration is on New Year’s, an even more tragic and melancholy time than Xmas, but this still counts. The Sjostrom version is a true classic, but the Duvivier remake deserves more love too — it has Louis Jouvet, and amazing constructed snowscapes, and the same morbid, redemptive storyline: it’s a little like Scrooge, only he has to die.
Stuff I saw on TV as a kid which I haven’t revisited recently enough — Chuck Jones’ A Cricket in Times Square and its sequels, the Harry Alan Towers production of CALL OF THE WILD (with an epic, emotive Mario Nascimbene score), and the Richard Williams animation of A Christmas Carol.
Your own suggestions, please!
Finding this clip on VousTube (the French Youtube), I quickly realised several things.
1) There was a French spaghetti western (an escargot western?) directed by Christian-Jaque, director of glossy French commercial cinema since the ’30s (and until the ’80s!).
2) The film starred Brigitte Bardot and Claudia Cardinale, a double-billing of pulchritude almost too dazzling to contemplate.
3) The film sets its leading ladies to fighting and ripping each others’ clothes.
I was overcome with respect for C-J’s generosity towards the squalid perverts comprising his audience. The fact that he thought to provide such a scene for our benefit! What a good man! What a kind man!
Otherwise, the film entertains with a combination of high fashion (it is above all a French western) —
— shameless voluptuousness, and stupidity (all the male characters are mentally about ten years old, and so is the film). The sexagenarian director proves spry and likely to zip-pan off onto nothing at the drop of a stetson. Michael J. Pollard attempts to prove himself a leading man. Hmm.
I love BB’s expression in this one.
Shadowplay
shadowplay 