Archive for Michael Lonsdale

In It For the Money

Posted in FILM, literature, MUSIC, Politics with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on January 7, 2013 by dcairns

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Came back from Dublin with a rampaging Irish lurgi in my system and collapsed into bed with a fitful cough that made my head explode each time it went off. Comedies were out. I chose to watch the worst thing I could lay my hands on.

That meant the 1980s. That meant Michael Caine. Add Robert Ludlum and John Frankenheimer, during his years of alcoholic haze, and you should have a perfect storm of awfulness perfect for a state of feverish narcolepsy. But actually THE HOLCROFT COVENANT displays dim glimpses of another, better film, as if two movies were projected on overlapping scrims and the wrong scrim was to the fore.

Ludlum: “the man who ruined titles,” as a friend puts it. I have a mental image of his literature — fat volumes of inept prose — but have never read any of it so apart from the fat part I don’t know how accurate/fair that is. He does seem to have yielded very little of cinematic value, and I suspect this may be partly due to weak characterisation — the one real hit in movie terms was the Bourne series, in which the hero is a literal blank. For much of THE HOLCROFT COVENANT, Caine’s character is similarly ill-defined, though that may be partly due to his inability to suggest a New York architect called Noel Holcroft (doesn’t he play something similar in the even-more-awful BLAME IT ON RIO? And with a similar name, Hollis…) and in THE OSTERMAN WEEKEND, characterisation is largely replaced by casting.

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So much for the HOLCROFT part of the dreadful title. The COVENANT is a vast bank account of pilfered Nazi funds set up supposedly to redress the Third Reich’s crimes. We’re asked to believe that it was judged wise to keep this money hidden away for forty years (Why?), that the funds shouldn’t have simply been handed over when the Reich fell, and that Swiss banks administer Nazi funds for benevolent reasons. Obligatory Euro-thriller star Michael Lonsdale plays the Swiss banker, with Lilli Palmer adding class and Mario Adorf adding sweaty ebullience.

But why do I suggest that the film is anything more than sheer rot, with an offensively inane premise? Well, the screenplay is the work of three hands — John Hopkins, who did a lot of spy stuff including THUNDRBALL and Smiley’s People, Edward Anhalt, who did classy stuff like THE MAN IN THE GLASS BOOTH but also fun like THE SATAN BUG (which I watched the same day by sheer coincidence, mainly because I was convinced I had the titular bug) and George Axelrod, a reminder of Frankenheimer’s glory days via THE MANCHURIAN CANDIDATE.

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Axelrod tends to smuggle in humour, sometimes in so black a form it’s hard to receive it as such, and it’s his voice that predominates, or would if the film were in tune with its own best intentions. Lines about Adorf’s character having found the perfect way to conceal his Nazi parentage by becoming world famous seem to leeringly point out the absurdity of the whole story. The NORTH BY NORTHWEST device of a regular joe plunged into the mad world of espionage is entertainingly resuscitated, at least on paper.

Caine is actually very funny in his incredulity at the secret codes and meetings in public places, but his being so evidently himself (complete with blazer) wrecks all the humour the script tries to ring from him being an American fish out of water. Co-stars Victoria Tennant, Anthony Andrews and Bernard Hepton (“Mustn’t grumble”) are forced to try to be even more British than they already are in order to try to make him seem American. Or maybe it’s just that Axelrod has written them as stiff-upper-lip parodies.

(Caine’s career seemed to stagger through innumerable fatal misfires like this one, but like a zombie from RETURN OF THE LIVING DEAD, not even repeated bullets to the head could stop it.)

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Highlights of fatuity — a chase through a Berlin Carnival of Prostitution (because not only do sex workers have lots of disposable income to throw at street festivities, but the city council is keen to promote the red light district as a tourist attraction); a highly public assassination attempt on seventy-one-year-old Lilli Palmer that kills four innocent bystanders and one assassin while wiping out Palmer’s bookshop (“My shop!” she cries, oblivious to the loss of life) but misses its target; Caine constantly meeting representatives of governments and businesses away from their places of business, with no guarantee that he’s talking to the real deal (he almost never is); an eleventh-hour twist about a character’s identity which makes no difference to anything.

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The movie looks glossy and Frankenheimer seems, depressingly, committed — some of his Dutch tilts and one crash zoom on Adorf’s huge cave-in of a face are actually witty. Obviously the money ran out — the score is a pathetic synth dribble, and a series of voicemail messages early on seem to be recorded by the film’s supporting cast, doubling up as offscreen characters. One of them is Frankenheimer himself. Inspiration must have run out too — the climax reprises shots from THE MANCHURIAN CANDIDATE (much as RONIN and REINDEER GAMES would reprise the coda of THE TRAIN) and the story, finally unmasked as the great chain of piffle it is, seems beyond even Axelrod’s powers to parody.

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Lost and Found

Posted in FILM with tags , , , , on October 22, 2009 by dcairns

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Follow me over to the Auteurs’ Notebook for this week’s Forgotten flicker. This being a very busy — and strange — week, what with three lectures to give, tutorials, a screening of A MATTER OF LIFE AND DEATH, and an unexpected punch in the face from a teenage asshole in the street, I wasn’t sure if I’d get a column written in time, but I’ve managed a particularly modest effort.

“He understands machines.”

Posted in FILM, Theatre with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on May 18, 2008 by dcairns

Topol the World!

Losey’s GALILEO, closely adapted from Brecht’s play, is a piece of filmed theatre pure and simple, made for The American Film Theater, a rather high-minded body that sought to capture great plays and performances on film. In the few years they were running they did some good work. Although, as a lover of CINEMA, I sometimes suspect there’s a basic flaw in this idea. Much of the effect of theatre comes from the physical PRESENCE of the actors, the experience of being in the room with them. Even a skilfully filmed play can’t capture that.

I won’t bother protesting that filmed theatre excludes much of what cinema can do. All artists work within limitations, either imposed by circumstances or chosen for aesthetic reasons. So the limitations of the stage play need not preclude great cinema. They might make it harder

Foxy

It’s a terrific play! I had the usual alienation effect at school, where we we conned ourselves into believing Brecht was dull, but it’s a testament to the quality of the writing that the thing comes over so well in a two-hour plus film without any added “filmic” elements. Losey had a long history with Galileo, having directed, or refereed, a version for the stage starring Charles Laughton and involving the active collaboration of Brecht himself. THAT is a theatrical production I wouldn’t mind seeing captured on film. But this version has Topol, who’s tip-top, and an amazing supporting cast, including previous Loseyites Clive Revill, Patrick Magee, Edward Fox, Michael Gough…

The period and theatrical setting, and the inquisition side of things, make it at times reminiscent of THE DEVILS, also a somewhat Brechtian production. But this one is a little more sedate. Michael Lonsdale demonstrates that while a paunchy man stripped to the waist is not the most appealing sight, the effect can be enhances with a neatly trimmed beard. It’s obscene!

The Beard

Topol says it was good to have a “coherent” director for once. Topol’s teeth are like exuberant gravestones. Topol also played Professor Zarkoff. Topol is Mr. Science.

But LOOK!

 

Shadowplay

How on earth did they do THIS? You can’t get a BLACK shadow on a white wall, certainly not with other light sources around — the light bounces all over and partly fills in the shadowy bits. Yet here it is. You can see from the floor shadow and the modelling on the faces that they’re NOT being lit by one giant light at the front left, low down. Where are the shadows coming from?

Shadow Puppets

We wondered if the wall was a translucent screen and actors behind it were mimicking the actors in front, creating shadows for them (I THINK that’s what’s happening in the opening shot of Borzage’s MOONRISE). But this quickly becomes absurd — every tiny shake of the head is duplicated. Those shadows belong to those actors. It gets weirder.

Shadow Cabinet

The messenger walks in with his proclamation, casting a whopping shadow on the white wall, but no shadow on the splendid Kenneth (THE DEVILS) Colley, standing right behind him. Colley seems to shimmer out of the shadow, as if emerging from a rippling black pool.

I *THINK* I know what’s going on. The white wall was really a blue screen. In the lab, a high-contrast matte was created that reduced the actors and scenery to silhouettes. This new image was shifted up and to the left and inserted in where the blue screen was. Now everything that protrudes beyond the back wall of the set has a very sharp black shadow…

Except, damnit, the shadows show the characters at a slightly different angle to the camera (in the second image, the kneeling actress on the right has a thinner neck in her shadow image, because the light is hitting her from below). The shadow IS being projected from a low angle. So maybe the shadow has been optically enhanced, maybe it was a blue screen and all they’ve done is take a real shadow on it and bump up the contrast to stark b&w? Or else it’s just a real shadow produced with a special magic light on a special magic wall?

It’s driving me NUTS, I tells ya!