Archive for Laurence Olivier

The Sunday Intertitle: Drinks on Pete

Posted in FILM with tags , , , , , , , , , , on May 27, 2018 by dcairns

In THE GREAT LIE (1941) — it’s not that great — Bette Davis and George Brent demonstrate their domestic happiness by making a home movie starring their kid. This featurette is a big-budget Hollywood affair, featuring its own intertitles, illustrated in a Norman Z. McLeod manner (i.e. crappy stick-figures), presumably by one parent or the other. It also manages to act as a metanarrative on race in Hollywood, caricaturing Hattie McDaniel in broader terms than the surrounding film itself.

 

The filmmakers attempt to simulate a projector malfunction by having the film weave off its sprockets, and then mysteriously come back with the image reversed. It would take a pretty fancy projector to achieve that, but I suppose it’s possible that George spliced the baby close-up in upside down (the big dope) and it was his rotten splice that caused the sprocket problem.

Rather than superimposing the movie afterwards using splitscreen double exposure, director Edmund Goulding and his team have done things for real, or almost: I think the movie is being rear-projected on a translucent screen embedded in the set wall, while the projector operated by Brent is merely a prop, giving a much dimmer light. But having a real image allows Goulding to move the camera, have actors block off part of the screen, etc, so it’s much more convincingly part of the scene than the usual approach.

By coincidence, we also watched PERFECT UNDERSTANDING (1933), which has its own home movie sequence, a record of the honeymoon of Gloria Swanson and Laurence Olivier. — a surprise teaming which actually works well. Rather than Gloria doing her grande dame bit (which in fact emerges only occasionally in her silent career, in fleeting gestures like the arm flung over the face in distressed longshot), and Larry trying to keep up with arch tongue movements or putty noses, the two try to outdo each other in naturalism, and it’s a joy seeing them bounce off one another in a loose, casual manner.

Thorold Dickinson edited this, and the director was Cyril Gardiner, a former editor who had cut Gloria’s first talkie, 1929’s THE TRESPASSER (1929) — which, come to think of it, was directed by Edmund Goulding. The honeymoon sequence is full of undercranking, dutch tilts, handheld wobble, and other devices intended to suggest amateurism, a far cry from the lavish production values of George & Bette’s polished effort.

Upside-down again! But this is used as Olivier’s POV after the home movie shows him drinking a large glass of beer. Larry and Gloria, far more sophisticated characters than George and Bette, are creatively mucking about with the technical possibilities of their cine-camera and film language. Not content with a nostalgic recreation of silent movie-making, they eschew intertitles but go full Georges Melies.

The footage is incorporated into the action in a much less ambitious way — we simply see it embedded in a screen within the screen, or rather the mere OUTLINE of such a screen. But I like how the reverse angle is shooting straight into the projector beam, a perfect Ozu-like 180º cut.

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The Shakespeare Sunday Intertitle: You cataracts and hurricanoes!

Posted in FILM, Television, Theatre with tags , , , , , , , on July 23, 2017 by dcairns

Last week’s intertitle from an Italian KING LEAR of 1910 was in English, so it makes just as much sense that this week’s, from 1909 American adaptation of the same play, is in German.

An interesting contrast, in other ways: while the Italians enacted their arm-waving al fresco, the American film is wholly studio-bound. Though even shorter than the Italian abridgement, it packs in more of the plot, so we get Gloucester and his sons in their subplot, complete with sleight-of-hand blinding. And this one rightly considers the storm a key set-piece, something you can’t just leave out and replace with your lead actor talking to  a rock. They break out the special effects kit to give us interior rain and lightning-bolts. In this case, the SFX equipment seems to consist of a wire brush to produce multiple diagonal scratches on the negative (rain) and a scalpel to etch in little S.S. style symbols (lightning). The backdrop also lights up from behind, and the FX “team” seems to change their style of thunderbolt as the film goes on. The top image shows a long, thin fellow zapping in from top right, whereas the frame-grab below has a chubby little fellow aiming right at Lear’s head (well, he did ask for it).

Oddly, the interior filming makes this one seem a lot less sophisticated than last week’s. Even the beards are inferior. Maybe it’s just that transferring a play to scenic settings feels more “cinematic” than doing it on cheap sets? If so, that’s really just an illusion.

The megalithic backdrops put me in mind of the Granada TV version with Olivier, whose Stonehenge chic look always seemed rather kitsch. I slightly prefer the Elizabethan approach of Jonathan Miller’s rival BBC production, but both approaches unavoidably raise questions, since Shakespeare is never consistent about period (bad Shakespeare!). Maybe the best way to build a world for Lear would be a mix-and-match design.

William V. Ranous stars and co-directs with J. Stuart Blackton. The IMDb credits are wondrously woolly, with two Gonerils and two Regans credited and one woman playing both. Thomas H. Ince and Maurice Costello are supposed to be in it too, but we don’t know what as.

Google translates:

Because Gloster helped the King Lear, his eyes were cut off and he was driven away.

The Sunday Intertitle: Burning Blue Soul

Posted in FILM with tags , , , on March 5, 2017 by dcairns

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Finally watched all of William Wyler’s THE STOLEN RANCH, which I mentioned a while back.

Wyler’s claim that, during his days churning out B-westerns, he spent sleepless nights trying to think up new ways of showing a man getting on and off a horse, is borne out slightly by this one — particularly when the hero mounts his steed with an impressive sideways leap that almost topples the poor creature ~

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The story is pretty childish, dependent on the villains conducting all their covert business in a room adjoining the kitchen where they KNOW the hero works. Everything is overheard, and without the need for a “wire tapp.”

Faced with such generic and fatuous material, and probably a pretty tight schedule, Wyler does pull off a few nice angles, particularly when he makes use of the actors’ dorsal views — it’s something he continued to exploit in later films — CARRIE springs to mind (not the Spacek) where he exploits Olivier’s ability to express strong emotion with his back to the camera. The intense relationship between two men which SHOULD be at the heart of the story is swiftly diverted by the addition of twin romantic interests (and the obligatory, unconvincing misunderstanding), but not before we’ve had this ~

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