Directors: 
Fritz Lang, Pablo Larraín, David Lean, Ang Lee, Lee Chang-dong, Spike Lee, Mike Leigh, Sergio Leone, Barry Levinson, Val Lewton, Richard Linklater, Ken Loach, Kenneth Lonergan, Ernst Lubitsch, Sidney Lumet, David Lynch
 

 

Labaki, Nadine

 

WHERE DO WE GO NOW? (Et maintenant on va où?)        C                     70

France  Lebanon  Italy  Egypt  (100 mi)  2011  ‘Scope

 

While this is a joint cultural exchange project, a feel good mix of East meets West, it’s largely a Lebanese version of MAMMA MIA! (2008), but with bouncy Lebanese music instead of ABBA, much like this:  Hashishit Albe Song's Clip –  YouTube (1:21).  The film attempts to make light of the stark historical rift between Lebanese Christians and Muslims, leaving out the root of the problem that was most exacerbated when Lebanese Christian militias committed massacres and other atrocities against Palestinian refugee camps in a long protracted Civil War between 1975 – 1990 that resulted in a quarter of a million fatalities, another million wounded in a country of only 4 million people, where there was a mass exodus of nearly one million people.  This film attempts to patch over the differences with humor and song, largely seen as a female empowerment fantasy, supposedly a feel good movie where they attempt to trick the men in order to stop the continual animosity between the two sides.  Unfortunately, the breezy, lighthearted vein makes everyone look stupid, especially the men, who are relentlessly browbeaten by the women, mocking the whole idea of cultural differences through a make believe battle of the sexes farce.  What it lacks is any subversive political element, so prevalent in the films of Elia Suleiman, whose Palestinian and Israeli border farce DIVINE INTERVENTION (2002) is drop dead hilarious, while The Time That Remains (2009) reflects a more autobiographical view on the insufferable losses that have mounted in the past half century, where chronic fatigue syndrome doesn’t begin to describe it.  Labaki, who co-writes and stars in the film, shoots at a gorgeous mountainside location where the fictitious Lebanese town is evenly divided between Christians and Muslims, yet despite the religious differences and occasional arguments that break out into fights, the women and children all seem to get along, where the hope is that when these children grow up they will as well.    

 

One prevailing theme anywhere in the Arab world is the communal funeral processions, where all dressed in black, friends, family, and neighbors share in the burial and mourning process.  Labaki uses an opening music video effect as all-female mourners walk in a choreographed manner set to music, where they all move in unison, suggesting their common bond.  Despite their overbearing demeanor to keep their men in line, on their own, petty disputes between the men lead to a neverending cycle of escalated altercations, where friends quickly turn to foes, usually separated by their wives who have to keep the peace.  In the manner of many Arabic films, Youssef Chahine for instance, especially CAIRO STATION (1958) or DESTINY (1997), it is not uncommon for films to break out into a musical number right in the heart of the dramatic action, but while Chahine’s choreography rival Bollywood, often providing the manic energy for the storyline, Labaki’s are utterly lackluster, using songs without dance numbers, instead attempting to incorporate the music as an element of the storyline, like the thoughts of the characters.  In this manner, Labaki loses an opportunity to enhance her films with more depth, but instead keeps it airy and superficially lightheaded, where characters often yell hysterically at one another in an over-the-top, melodramatic manner.  Labaki herself stars as one of the central characters, and is probably onscreen as much as anyone else, yet none of the characters stand out or are ever really developed, which is one of the central problems of the film.  If all the characters are forgettable, then so is the film, as this kind of film experience has no weight or sustenance and is instantly forgettable.  Supposedly the People’s Choice winner at the Toronto Film Festival in 2011, it’s hard to fathom film-wise, though the film certainly meets the thematic brotherhood (or sisterhood) of man criteria.          

 

While many may love the premise of the central scene, where the women of the town conspire to literally drug and trick the men, concocting a secret formula in their food while bringing in a horribly out of place group of bored Ukrainian strippers (aka:  belly dancers) to aid them in their scheme, this is supposedly the climactic high point of the film, yet it never materializes, as it doesn’t go far enough in the satirical exaggeration, where the food bit barely registers, perhaps afraid to offend censors, and the film shows little choreographic or dramatic involvement in the undeveloped dance sequences.  So the director really mishandles her opportunity here, as she spends almost half the film setting up this sequence with the wayward Ukrainian girls, but rather than use them as a feature attraction, their sequence actually becomes a set-up for yet another plot device.  So it’s a bit confusing that the most melodic musical number in the film, written and composed by none other than the director’s husband, Khaled Mouzanar, heard when all of the women in town happily conspire against the men, leads to a crescendo that gets undermined and lost as a lead-in to something else.  The song itself is wonderful, but the way it’s eventually used is unfortunately anticlimactic.  Many may just be happy with the air of blissful ignorance that is so prevalent throughout this film, where character development or lack of dramatic tension may be the least of their concerns.  It delights in showing empowered Muslim women, a group in real life routinely denied basic rights, taking matters into their own hands by resorting to deception of their husbands in an attempt to stabilize the region.  If only life were this simplewhere in this film, women routinely perform fake religious miracles.  Perhaps because of the preposterous nature of the movie itself, the entire film is framed by a narrator as a bedtime story. 

 

Village Voice [Alison Willmore]

If women were in charge, there'd be peace in the Middle East—or at least that's what's suggested by Where Do We Go Now?, the second film from Lebanese director and actress Nadine Labaki. Like her 2007 debut, Caramel, it's driven by a deep faith in female friendship, though here the stakes are higher, and war lurks at the edges. The film follows the women of a remote village in Lebanon as they try to keep their menfolk from joining in the sectarian violence erupting around them by burning newspapers and sabotaging the only working television. When the refuge of blissful ignorance fails, they turn to other distractions, falsifying religious miracles and hiring a group of Russian strippers. The film's flights of fancy (including a scattering of musical numbers) waver between actually charming and overly cute—and don't meld with the undercurrent of anguish that sometimes erupts, including in a wrenching monologue from Labaki herself, breaking up a fight among her café customers by howling, "You think we're here just to mourn you?" Like the hashish-laced pastries the ladies make to sedate the male population, the film feels like it has been dosed with sugar to mask its distressingly bitter taste.

Time Out New York [Keith Uhlich]

Tensions are simmering in a remote Lebanese village where Muslim and Christian neighbors have struck an uneasy truce. The mosque and the church may stand side by side, but a fight is likely to erupt over the smallest thing (such as which channel to watch on the communal outdoor television). It’s mostly the men who come to near-blows; the women, who are more apt to break into song and dance, do their best to distract the alphas with everything from feigned miracles to a bused-in gaggle of Russian erotic dancers. But when an unexpected death threatens to tear the village apart, what are these headstrong, harmony-inclined ladies to do? Why, put on Sectarian Violence: The Musical!

Director-cowriter Nadine Labaki—who also stars as one of the beleaguered dames—displays an assured hand with her performers, especially saucy first-timer Yvonne Maalouf, who’s an absolute delight as the mayor’s wisecracking wife. But the filmmaker’s grasp on this inherently uneasy material is much less confident: The tone swings awkwardly between endearingly light-comic (a whimsical romantic subplot between Labaki’s character and a hunky handyman) and confrontationally mournful (the accidental killing of one character becomes an audience-hectoring ploy). And by the time the film takes a glib turn into role-switching farce—as Muslims become Christians and Christians become Muslims—the overall toothlessness of the satire becomes damningly apparent.

Film-Forward.com [Nora Lee Mandel]

Where Do We Go Now? is about as feel-good a fable set in the Middle East as can be imagined. Infused with music and magic realism, a female narrator introduces it with “I’m going to tell you a little story” as a large procession of women in black sway and stomp like an active Greek chorus, reflecting the Aristophanes’ Lysistrata-like resonance in the tale. When they reach the village cemetery, they split into the Christian and Muslim sections to clean up gravestones with photographs of too many young men and boys. This locale is similar to the unspecified, yet Lebanon-like war-torn country of Denis Villeneuve’s far more grim Incendies from last year.

Back in the village, bounded by a mosque and a church, the men are hanging around the tavern. The only guy working hard there is the handsome Muslim painter, Rabih (Julien Farhat). The most beautiful Christian woman in town, the waitress Amale (director and co-writer Nadine Labaki), can’t help but notice him. Both bound by tradition, they can only be discreetly romantic in a lovely musical number dancing together, but only in their imaginations. (The terrific rhythmic music is by Labaki’s husband, Khaled Mouzanar.)

The village boys scamper around, setting up satellite TV that links the village to the outside world. They also smuggle goods along a precipitous path to avoid the hidden land mines that wandering goats occasionally set off. This limited contact is enough to bring in hints that the civil war has once again broken out, and the women spontaneously decide that the key in keeping their male population safe is to block out news of the renewed fighting. From first burning newspapers to blocking channels, their efforts  humorously escalate to emphasize the men’s foibles, including hiring imported sexy Russian dancers as a distraction.

As the outside dangers are brought home by injuries to the daring boys, the dancers see that the photographs on the graves are the same ones that fill shrines in each home, and, in female solidarity, they help the women stage the ultimate strike against religious differences to prove that people really are the same. Female-centric like Labaki’s first film Caramel (2007), it’s as rich in sympathetic, individual characters, but funnier, albeit a bit over the top and satirically absurd, (there’s a fake religious miracle). Labaki demonstrates that there is hope to look beyond endless conflict, even if it is wishful thinking about an uncertain future.

EyeForFilm.co.uk [Lindis Kipp]

Nadine Labaki's new film Where Do We Go Now? explores the impact of religious warfare or at least the threat thereof on family life in Lebanon. The story follows a group of women in a small Lebanese village, who go to extreme lengths to prevent their men fighting like everybody else in the country. The village is a pretty even split of Christians and Muslims and normally everybody gets along. But with news of conflict pouring in from the outside world, the men get restless and the women have to come up with new ways to keep them occupied.

Everything from intentional arguments and Ukranian prostitutes to a hash-laced smorgasbord in the village hall are fair game when it comes to keeping the peace. The film oscillates between the hilarious and the heartbreaking, putting the audience thoroughly through the wringer and highlighting the real, day to day impact of senseless conflict. Many of the tactics employed by the women and especially their dialogue while implementing them are highly comical, which makes the drop into despair when a young man is accidentally killed that much harder.

Young Nassim is killed in a gun fight away in town and his mother Afaf decides to hide his body to avoid the conflict sparking up in their village. She tells everybody that Nassim has mumps – a ruse her friends quickly see through – and there is a heartwrenching scene where one of Nassim's friends apologises to him through the closed door of his bedroom, while Afaf stands by, not able to cry. Another poignant scene is when director Labaki's character Amale breaks down and rages at the arguing men in her café, asking them “Do you think we're only here to mourn you?”. In the final twist of the story, all the women make a tremendous sacrifice to show their men the futility of their arguments. Only after their grand gesture is there enough peace between factions to lay Nassim to rest.

The large cast are all fantastic and the audience really gets a feel for Lebanese village life. Even without knowledge of Arabic, the mannerisms and intonation make it very clear that in its original language, the film is full of regional jokes and Lebanon-specific dialogue. Thankfully, this translates rather well. The bleak, dry landscape that the remote village is set in provides a strangely beautiful backdrop for the colourful characters in the village.

One thing that particularly struck me is how palpable it was that this film had been made by a woman. Labaki manages to get across a view of life that is not predominant in cinematic stories, without making it seem like an agenda. Many of the underlying issues and tensions are portrayed through quiet actions and little gestures rather than dialogue and the fantastic, slightly disquieting opening scene is a prime example of this. The film leaves the audience feeling like they might understand the bittersweet everyday reality of armed conflict a little better and shows that no matter what, life has to go on. It's just that sometimes, sacrifices have to be made in order for that to happen.

Where Do We Go Now? | Film | Movie Review | The A.V. Club  Tasha Robinson

In the classic Greek play Lysistrata, the women of Greece, tired of losing their men in battle, decide to withhold sex from their partners until the Peloponnesian War ends. The increasingly desperate female protagonists of Where Do We Go Now?, Lebanon’s top-grossing Arabic-language film and its official 2012 Oscar submission for Best Foreign Language Film, would probably admire the intention of that ploy, but disapprove of its bluntness. Their attempts to wangle the men of their village away from clashes over religion are often subtler and sneakier, though no less intense. The no-sex option is never on the table, but it’s just about the only idea they don’t consider in trying to keep the peace in their small town. In spite of their efforts, though, the same conflicts keep reasserting themselves. For the men, it’s a war of sectarian pride. For the women, it’s a war of creativity against entrenched habits and knee-jerk aggression.

Director Nadine Labaki, following up her poignant but more conventional 2007 drama Caramel (another Lebanese Best Foreign Language Film contender), heads up an ensemble of colorful characters as a Christian whose café seems to be the only non-denominational gathering place in her tiny countryside village. Her hometown, surrounded by land mines and connected to the world only via a crumbling stone bridge, is so isolated that all trade with the outside world is handled by two intrepid teenagers with a motor scooter. When the local youngsters rig up a hilltop antenna capable of bringing in a few grainy stations on the town’s one working TV, it’s such a momentous event that the whole village gathers on the hill to watch a few shows together, and the mayor makes a speech about their first collective steps into the 21st century. But when the news comes on, with its inevitable grim stories of sectarian clashes, the women spring into action in a instantaneous, practiced way, picking loud, meaningless fights with each other to drown out the newscasters. It’s clear they’ve been engaging in different forms of this practice for a long time, shouting whatever lies are necessary to drown out the contentious voices of the outside world.

Their reaction to external influences is a form of provincialism, but it’s a well-intentioned one, and an increasingly necessary protection in a divided world. Before long, the village’s Christian and Muslim men are clashing over offenses both real and imagined, with the first squabbles rapidly escalating to dramatic back-room plotting and a war of attrition. The women are forced to step up their peace campaign to match. Much of Where Do We Go Now? is taken up with the struggle to keep the men’s minds off conflict. Sometimes it’s via direct, dramatic confrontation—when Labaki follows one flare-up with a furious tirade delivered to her café customers, there’s a vicious personal edge to her question “Is this what it means to be men?” as if the question is coming from the director as much as from her character. But most of the gambits are surreptitious, imaginative, and openly funny, whether the women are hiring Ukrainian strippers to invade the town, or faking a religious miracle. To Labaki’s credit, she manages to take the film between tonal extremes credibly and without dulling the impact of either the humor or the horror. It’s rare for a film to cover a child’s death and a mother’s subsequent agony, then later successfully wring giggles out of an over-the-top group song about the peace-keeping uses of hashish surreptitiously introduced into food.

The songs, composed by Labaki’s husband Khaled Mouzanar, are one of Where Do We Go’s stranger conceits. The film opens with a funeral march that becomes a beautiful, swoony dance, as the village’s black-clad women express their emotions with their bodies instead of their voices. A later romantic interlude where Labaki and Muslim contractor Julian Farhat fantasize about each other takes on the outsized emotions of a Bollywood number. In these moments, the film overtly declares the fairy-tale nature that otherwise manifests more indirectly, though the shape of the story. In spite of its serious themes and its roots in grim conflict, Where Do We Go isn’t meant to be taken at face value. It’s unabashedly a fantasy: It takes place in a generic place inspired by Lebanon, but with location and era identifiers deliberately omitted. There are no class clashes, even though there are clearly class differences. The religious strife is broad and undefined, based more on a simple, broad us-vs.-them dynamic than on any disagreement about a given belief or custom. There’s little sense of the town’s history, in terms of specific grudges or personal conflicts.

It’s also significant that while the village’s key women have detailed personalities, the men are generally more generic, distinguished largely by their social or story roles. None of them are drawn in close detail; it’s more like the women are trying to hold back a rolling wave of national intent than like they’re fighting a specific battle against individuals. Even the village’s priest and imam are fundamentally indistinguishable, good-natured men united in their desire for concord, to the degree that they’re both willing to compromise their pride and even their faith if a lie here or there will keep their followers calm. Religion isn’t an evil in Where Do We Go, and religious men aren’t inherently blinkered. Every aspect of the film is designed to isolate the religious war from other aspects of life, and to generalize it into iconic status without miring it in real issues that might divide audiences.

But what the film lacks in specificity and interest in taking sides, it makes up for in style, authentic emotion, and terrific performances, particularly from Claude Baz Moussawbaa as a mother willing to make tremendous personal sacrifices for the women’s cause, and Yvonne Maalouf as the mayor’s wife, who carries the dignity of her wealth and station, but is willing to let herself be ridiculous if necessary. Between the two of them, they accomplish a great deal of the difficulty of getting the film smoothly between its dramatic and comedic poles. For a movie about religious war, Where Do We Go is surprisingly funny; at times, it veers almost into caper territory, as its protagonists work their way through scheme after outsized scheme.

And that makes the film a much riskier proposition than a simple drama about women fighting to keep their families from fighting. Satire is a risky proposition; satire of serious subjects is even more so. In turning such a vast conflict into a comedic romp, Where Do We Go Now? sometimes feels like it’s cheating or cheapening its subject matter. Its scattered musical interludes and intermittent playfulness threaten to throw its gravity off balance, and its insistence on symbolically splitting up humanity by gender—turning all women into peacekeepers, even though it doesn’t correspondingly turn all men into warmakers—may be off-putting to some viewers in its simplicity and generalization. But Labaki’s premise goes beyond simple sexual conflict. In her allegorical world, the men stand in for all people with power, and the women for all people who can only use craft and creativity to counteract the implacability of that power. Her clever, sweet film is just another creative solution to a complicated problem.

Review: 'Where Do We Go Now' - Nadine Labaki - Movieline  Stephanie Zacharek

 

Where Do We Go Now? - Entertainment - Time Magazine  Mary Pols

 

Where Do We Go Now? - Filmcritic.com Movie Review  Chris Barsanti

 

Filmleaf [Chris Knipp]

 

The Wrap [Alonso Duralde]

 

Cairo360 [Yasmin Shehab]

 

Hollywood Jesus [Darrel Manson]

 

Battleship Pretension [David Bax]

 

Where Do We Go Now?  Fionnuala Halligan at Cannes from Screendaily, May 16, 2011

 

Slant Magazine [Nick Schager]

 

Shared Darkness: Where Do We Go Now?  Brent Simon

 

ReelTalk [Donald Levit]

 

Fr. Dennis at the Movies [Dennis Kriz]

 

IONCINEMA [Nicholas Bell]

 

Movie Review - 'Where Do We Go Now?' : NPR  Mark Jenkins

 

CompuServe [Harvey Karten]

 

Daily Film Dose [Alan Bacchus]

 

'Wish' Granted: A Jewel, About Kids - The Wall Street Journal  Joe Morgenstern

 

Reel Film Reviews [David Nusair]

 

Black Sheep Reviews [Joseph Belanger]

 

Entertainment Weekly [Owen Gleiberman]

 

The Hollywood Reporter [David Rooney]  at Cannes, May 16, 2011, also seen here:  Where Do We Go Now? (Et Maintenant on Va Ou?): Cannes 2011 Review 

 

Variety Reviews - Where Do We Go Now? - Film Reviews - Cannes ...  Alissa Simon

 

What to do when war breaks out? Bring on the ... - The Globe and Mail  Rick Groen, May 25, 2012

 

The underdog is the people's choice. Just ask ... - The Globe and Mail  Rick Groen, May 24, 2012

 

Village women take on sectarian strife in 'Go' - BostonHerald.com  James Verniere

 

Review: Where Do We Go Now? - Reviews - Boston Phoenix  Peter Keough

 

Where Do We Go Now movie review. 2.5 stars - Chicago Tribune  Mark Olsen

 

Chicago Sun-Times [Roger Ebert]

 

Where Do We Go Now? - Movies - The New York Times  Stephen Holden

 

Labrune, Jeanne

 

SPECIAL TREATMENT (Sans queue ni tête)             C-                    69

France  (95 mi)  2010

 

This is another Isabelle Huppert vehicle, which by itself offers promise, but there’s nothing special or remotely interesting about this film, as it features people who are continually bored with themselves.  Without exploring the origins of this ennui, the director instead chooses a dry, lighthearted attempt to show unhappy professionals, call girls and psychiatrists, who have outgrown all interest in their professions, where Huppert as Alice is in a midlife crisis as an expensive call girl with a taste for the finer things in life, but a growing disinterest in her often ridiculous clientele.  Huppert has played prostitutes before, but brings nothing new to the role, as initially the focus of attention is on the eccentricities of her clients, which is mildly amusing, but also stereotypical.  When one of her johns decides to play rough, she goes into a crisis mode afterwards wondering why she’s even willing to put up with this nonsense.  In a simultaneously told parallel story, Xavier, a bored therapist (Bouli Lanners) sits and listens endlessly to people who have little or nothing to say, again a stereotypical depiction where fortunately the patients shown are not seriously disturbed, as the therapist isn’t listening anyway.  And to make matters worse, his wife, Hélène (Valérie Dréville), a fellow therapist, has lost all interest in her husband, forcing him to find alternate accommodations.  Within this set up, the director who also co-wrote the script decides to play musical chairs with the storyline possibilities. 

 

Advancing the story through small vignettes, much of it shown through repetitious set pieces where Alice and Xavier are both aloof, going through the motions of the same routines in life, growing bored and disaffected, where they barely know themselves anymore, each decides drastic measures need to be taken.  With Xavier’s marriage in trouble, he decides he needs to spice up his ordinary love life, so why not a call girl, while Alice thinks the right shrink may help her open new doors of discovery.  Their scenes together never generate much of a spark, as each detests themselves too much, where they can’t shake the feeling of self-loathing.  The truth of the matter is there’s not much to this movie, as it’s not really about anything.  Richard Debuisne has co-written and also acted in each of Labrune’s last 3 films, where he plays a hospital psychiatrist dealing regularly with the mentally ill.  But even in this setting, there’s an underlying lightness to the subject, but Debuisne is excellent, appropriately serious and slightly offbeat in the role.  What we really see is Huppert go through a series of costume changes, as she’s an actress who makes herself right at home in the wardrobe department, much like Jonathan Winters or Robin Williams finding humor with any available props.  She makes any role her own, and this one’s no different, adding an existential air of detachment and even sadness, where besides one fellow working girl (Sabila Moussadek), she has no close friends.  There’s nothing daring or original in this film, no great scenes, but there are excellent upscale production values and an icy cool musical score from André Mergenthaler that accentuates the coldness of the character’s interior worlds.  While there’s always a hint that more could be lurking under the surface, this is more a comedy of manners than a serious drama.  

 

Special Treatment Review. Movie Reviews - Film - Time Out London  Geoff Andrew

A very fertile conceit – the film both gradually brings together and rhymes the skills and experiences of two very different disenchanted individuals whose work might be seen as therapeutic (a psychoanalyst with a troubled marriage, and a high-class prostitute who specialises in role-playing) – is given real substance by Isabelle Huppert’s predictably superb turn as the call-girl considering calling it a day. Lent strong support by Bouli Lanners as the morose shrink, she wrings each and every subtle nuance out of a character that in other hands might have slipped into caricature – though whether (pace the LFF booklet’s claims) the film also serves as a commentary on Huppert’s own career is another matter entirely.

Reel Film Reviews [David Nusair]

The latest film from French filmmaker Jeanne Labrune, Special Treatment follows a slick prostitute (Isabelle Huppert's Alice) and an unhappy therapist (Bouli Lanners' Xavier) as they unknowingly help one another solve their respective problems following a chance encounter. There's little doubt that Special Treatment's disastrously uninvolving opening half hour is exacerbated by Huppert's mere presence, as the actress is effectively playing the exact same role that she's played on so many occasions before (ie doesn't she get sick of playing cold, calculating women?) The film's episodic structure ensures that the viewer's interest tends to run hot and cold throughout the proceedings, with the number of compelling interludes (ie Alice explains exactly how she works and what she charges to Xavier) almost entirely equal to the number of less-than-enthralling segments (ie Xavier visits an almost comically sordid sex club in which a pig makes an appearance). The increasingly prominent emphasis on subplots of a decidedly needless nature certainly contributes to the film's hopelessly uneven atmosphere, and it's ultimately clear that the rambling narrative diminishes the strength of the surprisingly conventional endings for the two central characters.

Film in Pictures: Huppert Elicits Erotic Urges in Labrune's ...  Eric Lavallee from Ion Cinema

Toasted by the Pialats, Godards, Chabrols, Hanekes and Claire Denis, almost in her fourth decade in front of the camera, in my opinion, Isabelle Huppert is perhaps the most versatile actress in film today. By the looks of the first set of stills below, I'd say there is no typecasting her. Special Treatment is being released in France at the end of the month of September, and just prior, is receiving a world premiere showing at TIFF. Directed by writer-director Jeanne Labrune, this stars the always peculiar Bouli Lanners in the co-lead. A domestic deal seems unlikely, unless this really goes off the deep end.

Co-written by Labrune and Richard Debuisne, Sans Queue Ni Tête centres on Alice (Huppert), an independent prostitute who is tired of her job and plans to undergo psychoanalysis to find the strength to change her life. Meanwhile, psychoanalyst Xavier (Lanners) has just been left by his wife and is weary of listening to his clients’ monologues. He decides to call on a professional to satisfy his erotic urges. The two characters thus meet, but this is not the start of a romance, just the first stage in a difficult journey which, through conflicts, ordeals and disappointments, leads them both to rediscover themselves. They come across a third character (Debuisne), whom they will lean on in order to make a fresh start.

Flickfeast [Natasha Saifolahi]

Isabelle Huppert plays Alice, a forty-something high-class prostitute who has become tiresome and numbed from her unorthodox profession. She decides to start seeing a Psychoanalyst in an attempt to find the strength to change careers. Parallel to Alice’s story, the film follows Xavier, played by popular French cult actor, Bouli Lanners. He is a psychoanalyst in the midst of separation from his wife. The film is certainly not subtle in its mission of uniting prostitution and psychiatry. Alice and Xavier meet and the battle of the patient/client scenario begin.

We witness both of these characters at work- The variety of both of their clients; Alice has a client who enjoys childish fetishes so she dresses up as a youth for him. Xavier has a cross dressing foul-mouthed client, the list continues. The film lacks the sophistication we see in most French films; there is neither poetic realism here nor chic filming. However the film has a beautiful score – At times it seems random, more appropriate for a thriller / drama film but it is capturing never the less.

The most irritating part of this film is that it begins portraying Alice as a heroic, independent woman, saving these businessmen from their dull lives by making their fantasies a reality and remaining untouched through this process. However as the film progresses, this image of Alice suddenly alters. Alice appears to be fragile, the liberation of Alice has been crushed and it is unsettling to witness. Throughout the film the audience expects to get to know Alice more – We are told through her meeting with another psychoanalyst that she studied History of Art at college and we already understand she has a passion for antiques.

The film shies away from the lead female character; instead on focusing on getting to the core of Alice, the focus remains shallow and meaningless only giving us hints of her vulnerability. The humour is also very flat; Special Treatment lacks any solid substance. Having said this, Huppert does give a brilliant performance; her witty comments engage the audience even if it is for a little while. The theme of role-play in both Psychiatry and Prostitution is also tackled well however it does start to wear thin towards the end of the film. The problem with Special Treatment is that the screenplay and characters have not been developed enough – There is no destination with these characters and themes, perhaps that was an attempt to develop the film’s charm? Error. It’s all very shallow despite dealing with serious and interesting issues.

Cinephile [Matthew Thrift]

 

Variety Reviews - Special Treatment - Film Reviews - - Review by ...  Boyd van Hoeij

 
LaBute, Neil
 
IN THE COMPANY OF MEN                     A-                    94
USA  (97 mi)  1997
 
A powerful, uncompromising, hilarious and unrepentant film about men’s angry and childish underbelly, in this case cast against corporate America where it speaks the unspeakable, thinks the unthinkable, but is terrific drama and is shocking just how far the artifice is stripped, almost to the point of being a horror thriller.  Chad, Aaron Eckhart, is the blond, handsome, smooth-talking, womanizing car salesman style of guy who’ll tell you anything to get you to do what he wants you to do, and lying is simply his chosen profession.  Howard, Matt Malloy, is his counterpart, an insecure, easily misled nerd of repressed self-hatred.  Both decide to charm a young, deaf secretary in the firm, to date her and dump her, just for the superior male thrill of it all, paying back all the personal rejection they both feel in the love game.  This is a brilliant, unrelenting nightmare where love is a commodity than can be cajoled and coerced and bullied out of someone, where bold humiliation is imposed on the young interns, where every kind of human indignity is fair game in this ruthlessly competitive corporate world of job-fearing, middle-class white guys.  “You can kill somebody just once.  But in work, you can torture them every day of the week.”

 

IN THE COMPANY OF MEN  Steve Erickson from Chronicle of a Passion

 
NURSE BETTY
USA  (110 mi)  1999

 

Nurse Betty   Philip Kemp from Sight and Sound

Fair Oaks, Kansas. Waitress Betty Sizemore, who dreams of becoming a nurse, is a fan of the television hospital soap A Reason to Love, whose lead character is Dr David Ravell. Unknown to her, her car-dealer husband Del is running drugs. Two hitmen, Charlie and Wesley, pay Del a visit, during which the car salesman is killed. Witnessing his murder, Betty is shocked into a fugue state; believing herself the ex-fiancée of Dr Ravell she sets out for California to find him, driving a Buick containing the drugs the hitmen are after.

While Sheriff Eldon Ballard and reporter Roy Ostrey investigate the murder, the hitmen set off after Betty, with Charlie increasingly fascinated by his quarry. In LA, Betty lucks into a hospital job by saving an accident victim, and finds lodgings with his sister Rosa. At a ball attended by the stars of A Reason to Love, Betty meets George McCord who plays Dr Ravell and starts treating him as her lost love. George, imagining she's improvising, gets her a part in the soap. Confronted by cameras, Betty is shocked out of her fugue.

The hitmen track Betty down to Rosa's house, ahead of Eldon and Roy. While Wesley holds the others at gun point, Charlie discovers Betty knew nothing of the drugs. A gun battle erupts: Wesley is killed and Charlie wounded. The police arrive. Betty, who has seized Charlie's gun, returns it so he can die with dignity. Betty lands a role in the soap.

Review

Neil LaBute has been widely accused - not without reason - of revelling in misogyny, misanthropy and cruelty. Given this, Nurse Betty may come as a surprise. True, some fairly unpleasant things happen, but mostly to characters who deserve them: the repellent Del Sizemore gets scalped and shot dead for being not only a used-car salesman, drug-dealer and abusive husband, but for sporting a hideous mullet. It's surely no coincidence that he's played by Aaron Eckhart, who took the role of chief predator Chad in LaBute's first film In the Company of Men. LaBute has said that letting Chad get away with his loathsome behaviour in that film made it "more potent"; having Del meet his comeuppance so decisively signals that we're in a rather different kind of movie.

For although LaBute can't resist injecting the occasional acidic squirt, his latest film ends up as a fair simulacrum of a romantic comedy-thriller where the good end happily and the bad unhappily - this being, as Oscar Wilde reminded us, the definition of fiction. Which is appropriate enough, since Nurse Betty repeatedly zeroes in on the crossover point where fiction shades into fantasy, television-fed fantasy in particular. Knowingly scripted by ex-stand-up comedian John C. Richards and music editor James Flamberg, the film at once mocks and purloins the narrative conventions of daytime soap. When, in the final shoot-out, Charlie reveals that his fellow hitman Wesley is his son, it's precisely the sort of melodramatic bombshell soaps depend on; but it also makes sense dramatically, for why else would the professional Charlie put up with hot-headed Wesley?

Throughout, Nurse Betty plays this kind of juggling game. The central plot conceit of Betty's fugue - which Reneé Zellweger's waitress is shocked into when she witnesses the murder of husband Del - is a latter-day take on amnesia, that reliable old standby of soap writers; and more than once, as we're about to chortle at some especially crass line of dialogue, it's revealed to be a quote from the soap-within-the-movie, A Reason to Love. Following soapland's penchant for providing running updates for new viewers, the film's characters constantly define each other in neat encapsulations: Charlie talks of Betty as "sort of a wholesome Doris Day figure" and describes himself as "a garbage man of the human condition".

Where the film most clearly locks into LaBute's former preoccupations is that people's assumptions about each other are shown to be essentially unreliable. Betty's grasp of the supposed love of her life Dr Ravell, the character played by actor George McCord in A Reason to Love, has as much depth as the life-size cut-out of him she totes around, while George admiringly tells her "You're so real" just when she's most deeply mired in fantasy.

With more than one nod to The Wizard of Oz (Betty quits drab Kansas for West Coast Neverland, with Ravell/McCord as her phoney wizard), Nurse Betty seems to suggest that most of us end up creating our own delusional refuge from reality, and that finding it in a soap is no worse an option than most. Adopting a more fluid camera style than usual, courtesy of DP Jean Yves Escoffier (Good Will Hunting), LaBute draws nuanced performances from his cast, giving Greg Kinnear his best role yet as McCord, while Zellweger keeps a shrewd rein on the ditziness. But while Nurse Betty proves that LaBute has more than one string to his bow, you can't help thinking that he makes more memorable cinema when revelling in misanthropy.  –Philip Kemp

NURSE BETTY   Steve Erickson from Chronicle of a Passion

 

POSSESSION
USA  Great Britain  2002
 
Possession  Charlotte O’Sullivan from Sight and Sound

Roland Michell (Aaron Eckhart), an impoverished US academic working in present-day London, discovers a letter which sheds light on the life of Victorian writer Randolph Ash (Jeremy Northam). Apparently happily married, Ash, it turns out, was obsessed by the poet Christabel LaMotte (Jennifer Ehle). Roland shares this insight with feminist scholar Dr Maud Bailey (Gwyneth Paltrow), who is Christabel's great- great-great grandniece. They go to Christabel's family home, where they find love letters exchanged by the writers. Meanwhile a number of rival scholars have realised that the pair are on to something. Maud and Roland retrace Ash and LaMotte's journey to Whitby, hoping to flnd out what became of the relationship. In the meantime their rivals try to buy the love letters from Christabel's family, then decide to go off to France on a new trail. Maud and Roland beat them to it. They discover that Christabel became pregnant, but that the baby mysteriously disappeared and that Ash believed she'd killed it.

Ash was buried with a box containing an unopened letter from Christabel. Back in England, Maud and Roland find out that the other academics plan to rob Ash's grave. There's a confrontation at the cemetery. Roland and Maud open the box and realise that Christabel's child was brought up as her niece, which makes Maud the great-great-great granddaughter of Christabel and Ash. A blonde plait in the box reveals that Ash met his daughter as a little girl.

Review

Neil LaBute is great at hate. In his three previous features (In the Company of Men, Your Friends & Neighbors and Nurse Betty), falling in love is generally a big mistake, and the assertion of independence both safe and thrilling. You wonder, then, what possessed him to adapt A.S. Byatt's novel, because for all that book's deconstructive wit, what it celebrates is the attempt to share. Love isn't easy for either of its central couples - whether the Victorian poets Randolph Ash and Christabel LaMotte, or the present-day academics obsessed with them, Roland Michell and Maud Bailey - but it's a risk worth taking. The irony is that LaBute (revising a screenplay by Laura Jones) has added syrup to the romances and drained out the danger. The result? A film that's faithful neither to Byatt's vision nor to his own.

Byatt's novel, among other things, challenges our beloved notion that the Victorians were sexually repressed and 'we' are uninhibited. But the film restores the status quo. Take the scenes in Whitby, where both couples end up staying in the same hotel. In the book, Christabel prepares for sex by getting into bed in her nightie; having made love to her, Ash realises that, despite her virginity, she was already sexually experienced, thanks presumably to her live-in companion Blanche. In the film, a masterful, excited Ash slowly unloosens Christabel's corset - shorthand for her lust being unlocked for the very flrst time. Meanwhile Maud and Roland, who in the book bond chastely over their love of single 'virginal' beds, now share a double at the hotel because of a mix-up. Needless to say, sexual tension ensues.

The worst betrayal, however, concerns the character of Roland himself. Byatt's dark, British smudge of a loser is lower class, stuck in a rut of academic mediocrity, friendless, chained to a bitter girlfriend and oppressed by a horrible landlady. In other words, he is everything Maud - beautiful, upper-class and critically lauded - is not. In the movie though Roland has become an attractive, confident Yank (played by LaBute regular Aaron Eckhart) who's determined to stay single because his "antics" hurt someone in the past (subtext: he's a heartbreaker!). He's also a man of action, solving the historical puzzle by stripping off, Mr Darcy style, and diving into a lake. The character, in effect, has been bumped up the Darwinian chain, thus undermining one of the central points of the story, which is that in the present day it's possible for a man to feel completely inferior to a woman: Roland is to Maud as Christabel was to Ash. Just as importantly, this undermines the idea that a woman could be drawn to such a 'weak' flgure. Instead, the film promotes the age-old idea that what women want is a man who knows what he wants.

On the other end of this equation is Maud, who should be the film's trump card. Gwyneth Paltrow is just right as a woman resigned to her perfections, but LaBute doesn't want his heroine to be too much in control, so he's given her a heap of neurotic ticks. She frets over the state of her relationship with Roland like a common-or-garden Bridget Jones. One woman, though, does escape the film's dead hand. Blanche is the painter/lover/friend Christabel leaves behind, and Lena Headey plays her to perfection. Neither a repressed Mrs Danvers flgure nor a moppet, she has hardly any lines, but her face says everything about what it means to be rejected. When Blanche drowns herself, her walk into the lake is filmed in a smoky blue light. She has given up on romance in life; all her creativity and sensuality are being poured into death.

Meanwhile Jennifer Ehle's Christabel, who's been merely arch and simpering up to this point, also gets a chance to shine as a result of the tragedy. She and Ash meet at a séance where she screams, "You have made a murderess of me!" It's a horrifying moment (Ash thinks she's talking about their child). And maybe that's what got LaBute excited. You believe in Christabel's desire to hurt Ash; you can even believe that she did kill her child. This is the one point where the film and book chime. Byatt uses up a lot of words to convey the cold madness Christabel is plunged into when she travels to France to have her baby; Ehle's pinched face gets you there in an instant.

The modern scenes, by comparison, are constantly disappointing. Indeed, they get positively farcical. Maud and Roland's declarations of love at her flat ("I want to know if there's an us in you and me"); the gathering of the forces for good to defeat the wicked American academic Cropper; the fist-flght in the cemetery... It's almost impossible to believe LaBute was in the building when these scenes were shot.

But maybe there's method to this madness. Throughout Possession, the usually subtle Eckhart wears a permanent 'aren't-I-cute?' grin. We recognise the look: it's the same one he wore for In the Company of Men. Did LaBute wish to suggest that Roland's fairytale virtue was just that - too good to be true? Maybe LaBute originally planned a cemetery scene in which pushy Roland reveals he's been on Cropper's side all along. Ridiculous? At least this scenario would have had a demonic energy. The one LaBute has plumped for has no life at all.

THE SHAPE OF THINGS                          B                     85
USA  France  2003
 
The Shape of Things   David Jays from Sight and Sound

Evelyn (Rachel Weisz) and Adam (Paul Rudd) are college students in California. They meet when Adam, working as a museum security guard, tries to stop art student Evelyn from defacing a sculpture. Chubby, gauche Adam is surprised when she agrees to go on a date. They begin a relationship, and under Evelyn's guidance, Adam loses weight, gains in style and confidence, and has a nose-job. The gradual transformation startles his friends Jenny (Gretchen Mol) and Philip (Frederick Weller), who are engaged to be married. Adam and Jenny, previously too shy to act on their feelings, kiss; in response Evelyn kisses Philip. She also asks Adam to prove his love by severing contact with his friends, and he reluctantly agrees.

They all meet again at the public presentation of Evelyn's thesis project. Her project was the transformation and manipulation of Adam, an experiment in human will. Jenny and Philip, who have broken off their engagement, leave in disgust. Adam, humiliated, hears Evelyn catalogue his increasingly extreme decisions, which culminated in a recent marriage proposal. Evelyn, claiming that her project illustrates our obsession with surface, maintains its artistic validity.

Review

"Please, just refer to me as 'It'," says Adam at the end of this film. "Or 'Untitled'." We have seen him, a student at an unnamed US college, shuck his gawky unease, his greasy hair, shapeless brown corduroy and hamster cheeks and become a handsome, assured but compromised figure. What he doesn't realise is that this radical transformation is the subject of an artwork by Evelyn, whom he thought was his girlfriend. What he did for love, she did for art; she documents his cosmetic and ethical choices (having cosmetic surgery, dumping his friends), and displays his klutzy old clothes and videos of them having sex.

After flawed excursions into comedy and costume drama (Nurse Betty, Possession), Neil LaBute revisits his distinctive earlier territory. In the Company of Men (1997) and Your Friends & Neighbors (1998) inhabited a vindictive world where heterosexuality played out in corrosive rituals. Although The Shape of Things has been described as a gender-reversed take on Company (where two embittered men seduce and dump a female colleague), what makes this film more interesting is the opacity of Evelyn's motives for much of the film and her uncompromisingly abstract vindication. We learn nothing about her past - even the scars on her wrists, which she previously claimed as badges of experience "like rings on a tree", were merely "another project". She admits to only one genuine remark, whispered during an early scene - but we couldn't hear it so it lies beyond the finished project.

Rachel Weisz's brilliantly layered performance as Evelyn - barbed, vehement and oddly sorrowful - keeps all options open. She retains a breathless ingenuity even when everything is revealed - having displayed Adam's transformation, the camera homes in on Evelyn's inscrutable expression, challenging us to prise at her artistic integrity. The opening scene shows her infuriated by a fig leaf added to a statue: she is a fiery despoiler of faux-innocence. At the same time, she is monstrously indifferent to anything beyond her project - when Adam, taken aback by her apparent jealousy when he kisses another woman, mentions Desdemona's strawberry handkerchief, she merely turns away, saying coldly "I don't know that reference." Although LaBute's work has often been accused of a forensic impulse (he, like Evelyn, might be producing an exercise in Applied Theory), he also suggests that Evelyn's work may, like her Mao badges and Che Guevara screenprint, be mere retro radicalism on a placid smalltown campus.

LaBute's Mormon upbringing has been much discussed, and allegorical underpinnings are clear here. He previously traced the scorched trail of free will in his triptych Bash (filmed in 2000), in which a character (played by Paul Rudd, who takes the role of Adam here, justified queer-bashing as a defence of Eden. This new film's Adam and Eve test out temptation through juicy little choices that barely register as transgression. No wonder Evelyn's initials spell 'EAT', which Adam has tattooed by his crotch. The Pygmalion myth also shadows the story, and Adam recalls that he helped Evelyn find a tape of The Picture of Dorian Gray - another cautionary tale of authenticity stifled by self-fashioning.

The film is based on LaBute's own 2001 stage play. With its original stage cast and minimal changes - moving the action from the midwest to rural California - the work emerges far more keenly than it did in a London stage premiere compromised by hype. It retains a heightened, hermetic austerity - just four characters displayed in vivid semi-theatrical settings (Evelyn's remorseless scarlet-and-white installation; the deceptively airy white-and-apple-green reception at the cosmetic surgery). LaBute, borrowing video-art procedures, frequently separates his speakers - the bifurcated dialogues resemble a split-screen installation, and reinforce the abstracted isolation.

Elaborate prosthetic and costume changes make Adam's transformation far more dramatic on screen - with the added irony that as he becomes increasingly svelte and smart, he increasingly 'becomes' the appealing and familiar Paul Rudd. He also stops biting his nails after years of his fingers looking "like raw meat", though Evelyn's acts of remote butchery prove equally devastating. His former roommate Philip thinks he looks like a battered wife after his nose-job, and his friendship with Philip and perky Jenny, and the couple's engagement, are casualties of Evelyn's artwork.

Evelyn presents her work in a meticulously staged final episode. Adam is horribly visible in a sky-blue shirt, cringeing as the audience follows his makeover from first vegetarian meal to recent marriage proposal. Evelyn, backed by blood-red curtains, describes her "human sculpture", created with "two very pliable materials of choice - the human flesh and the human will", using "manipulation as my palette knife". She claims that Adam's dubious moral choices reflect our obsession with surface - with "the shape of things". Weisz looks directly into the camera as she insists, "Only indifference is suspect." The Shape of Things makes indifference difficult, and suggests that LaBute's future lies not in broadening his territory, but delving deeper. As Evelyn remarks of Adam's progress, "You've gotten cuter and stronger and more confident - and craftier."

LAKEVIEW TERRACE                                          B                     87

USA  (110 mi)  2008  ‘Scope

 

A nasty little film about bigoted role reversal where a snarky black cop next door becomes the worst nightmare for the interracial couple moving into the house next door who literally becomes obsessed with making their lives miserable.  Not quite the horror story of DISTURBIA (2007), which featured an actual demented neighbor, this is instead a picture of relentless psychological torment inflicted upon another.  Samuel L. Jackson, of course, has no peers when it comes to displaying this kind of bullying obstinacy, a man who backs down to no one, not even death while in the line of duty as one of LA’s finest, or his two children who are forced to live under a house of endless daddy’s rules, as he’s a strict single parent after his wife died three years earlier.  The couple next door does not fare so well, as they repeatedly play into his hands, Patrick Wilson as the targeted white guy and Lisa Washington as his lovely black wife.  Their chemistry is questionable throughout, as they behave like this is the first time their racial differences have been put to the test.  Of course, that’s utter nonsense, as there’s simply no way a couple would not have faced a universe of setbacks before they were ever married, giving them a foundation upon which to draw upon in dealing with this latest nightmare.  Certainly part of race baiting or taunting is knowing how to act and when, as sometimes the best thing to do with bullies is simply ignore them and refuse to give them the pleasure of a response, as otherwise they feed off your anxieties like a shark attack. 

 

Samuel L. Jackson is a revelation in this film, a force to be reckoned with, perhaps the most powerful performance he’s ever given, as he’s disturbingly complex, not completely hateable, showing a profound array of emotions not the least of which is a smart alecky attitude towards liberal whites, as he’s able to stand them down and make them uncomfortable in an instant simply by challenging where they come from, as they’re not the streetfighter he is and don’t stand a chance against him in a fight, even a verbal one.  But Jackson registers this same belligerence towards blacks or other minorities in the line of duty as a twenty year cop in South Central where he grew up, where he inflicts his own home grown street cred into highly volatile situations which includes enlightening the offending party with a little psychological mindfucking of his own, basically going mano a mano when someone’s life is on the line.  The man is a beast, in the best sense of the word, as he puts it all out there to serve and protect.  But his unorthodox methods get him in trouble within his own department, where a series of police brutality lawsuits cool his heels off the force temporarily for an indefinite duration.  During this time, Jackson seethes in hostile resentment, but also has moments of remorse and reconciliation, where one gets a hint at the kind of sacrifices he must have made in his life to earn where he is today, while the new yuppie upstarts next door sail breezily into their new home as if it’s something that’s always belonged to them, like a birthright. 

 

Without ever directly referring to it, this film takes place in the upscale suburban neighborhood of LA where Rodney King was brutalized by the police who were eventually exonerated by a jury of their peers, where Wilson early on meekly utters King’s famous line “Can’t we all get along?” initially seen by millions of TV households while his face was battered and beaten to a pulp.  My guess is that most in the audience will not draw this connection and will instead see this exclusively as a police thriller, a good cop turned bad, but that is where the film is most suspect.  From the outset Wilson and Washington don’t have a chance in a bad blood game of ever intensifying disagreements with a strong armed cop, where the most minor infractions escalate from simple misunderstandings to gross offenses with wild and reckless retaliation until all bets are off.  Not sure why in each instance Wilson has to go it alone to face Jackson while his wife stays behind, as the results might have been different had she participated, but of course, he was protecting her from the ugliness that instantly developed each time they conversed, usually with snide remarks, character assassination, veiled threats, and a general contempt for his mere presence.  Jackson has simply never been better at channeling this particular type of racial bitterness, as he pulls it off with such distinctively contemptuous sarcasm that it overshadows his obvious charm, intelligence and wit.  Up until the final turn, Jackson alone carries this film on his back, as his performance is simply electrifying.  Unfortunately, no one else rises to his level of intensity and the film is undermined by such an obvious visual reference as James Baldwin’s metaphor, The Fire Next Time, using computer graphics to create the illusion of an out-of-control fire raging through the LA community destroying people’s homes, coming too close for comfort to the suburbs at the end when the film reaches its trite, all too Hollywood finale. 
 
The Onion A.V. Club review 

What more does Neil LaBute have to teach us about humanity that wasn't already apparent in his caustic 1997 debut feature, In The Company Of Men? There's nothing wrong with a filmmaker having a misanthropic worldview, but LaBute's is an unusually narrow one, predicated on the notion that men are engaged in alpha-male one-upmanship and women are, if anything, even more diabolical. Films like Your Friends & Neighbors and The Shape Of Things intend to reveal human needs and motives at their basest, but they're rigged for maximum shock value, and say more about an artist with an exceedingly sour point of view than they say about the foibles of modern man. So when LaBute pulls the grenade pin on racism and interracial relationships in Lakeview Terrace, viewers should know to duck and cover.

LaBute's nasty provocations are really the only thing that separates his overheated treatise on race and masculinity from run-of-the-mill home-invasion thrillers like Unlawful Entry or Pacific Heights. The misconceptions start with Samuel L. Jackson as a single police officer whose strict law-and-order mentality carries over into how he disciplines his two children and how he patrols his own neighborhood. His concern for morality and security, particularly as they relate to his children, might make him sympathetic—or at least understandable—but Jackson quickly morphs into a vicious caricature when a white man (Patrick Wilson) and his black wife (Kerry Washington) move in next door. Jackson makes his objections to their lifestyle and their relationship known immediately (by way of introduction, he fake-carjacks Wilson), and the hatred escalates from there.

Working from a screenplay by David Loughery and Howard Korder, LaBute supplies plenty of tense exchanges and even some insight into the difficulties interracial marriages face from within and without. But ultimately, Lakeview Terrace isn't about race so much as it's about being a man, which has been LaBute's fallback theme from the start. Jackson represents black power and dominance, Wilson is the epitome of white ineffectuality, and the situation goads Wilson into asserting himself and protecting what's his like Dustin Hoffman in Straw Dogs. Though LaBute picks at some intriguing contradictions in Jackson's persona—how his hectoring moral tone doesn't keep him from, say, hosting a stripper-filled bachelor party—but in the end, he becomes a monster along the lines of Aaron Eckhart in In The Company Of Men or Jason Patric in Your Friends And Neighbors. As usual, LaBute reduces when he means to reveal.

Mike D'Angelo review

 

Race in America is such an inherently combustible subject that Hollywood rarely goes anywhere near it without using comedy as a skittish safety net. Which is pretty dumb, really, since we’re obviously hungry for movies that dare to acknowledge and explore the many fissures still compromising the country’s melting pot. How else could a film as blatantly awful as Crash gross $55 million and win the Oscar for Best Picture? No less incendiary, but far more incisive and controlled, Lakeview Terrace, the latest effort from noted provocateur Neil LaBute (In the Company of Men, The Shape of Things), speaks so frankly and provocatively to and about Obama Nation that it’s like a dash of cold water thrown in your face, repeatedly. Because the film ultimately takes a disastrous nosedive into standard-issue stupid-thriller nonsense, it’s likely to take a beating from critics and garner poor word-of-mouth. Don’t be dissuaded. There are certainly better movies out there right now, but good luck finding one half as trenchant.
 
Sporting his angriest glare but speaking in a maddeningly imperturbable tone, Samuel L. Jackson plays Abel Turner, a self-righteous LA cop who is none too happy to see interracial couple Chris and Lisa Mattson (Patrick Wilson and Kerry Washington) move in next door. “Welcome to the neighborhood; observe all parking regulations,” reads the fake ticket Abel places on the windshield of their moving van, sticking out a few feet beyond the driveway—just the first sally in a campaign of intimidation that will gradually escalate from veiled threats to vandalism and beyond. All the while, a symbolic wildfire moves closer and closer to the hill abutting this affluent cul-de-sac—a bit heavy-handed, to be sure, but not significantly more so than, say, Spike Lee setting Do the Right Thing on the hottest day of the year.
 
[Something]-from-hell thrillers were commonplace in the early ’90s, and Jackson’s role here is functionally equivalent to Robert De Niro’s in Cape Fear or Michael Keaton’s in Pacific Heights ... except that Lakeview Terrace stubbornly refuses to treat Abel like a generic bogeyman. Indeed, the movie opens not as you’d expect, with sympathetic Chris and Lisa packing their belongings or arriving at their new starter home, but with a portrait of widower Abel as martinet dad. We first see the new couple on the block through his suspicious eyes, which means (by the dictates of film grammar) that they’re implicitly coded as intruders. Wilson, perhaps the WASPiest actor in Hollywood, is practically the only Caucasian in sight; the movie subtly but audaciously unfolds as if white people were the minority, complicating our responses at every turn. Abel even has legitimate reasons to dislike Chris and Lisa, who on their first night proceed to have noisy sex in the pool, witnessed by Abel’s kids.
 
As a writer, LaBute tends to be brutal to the point of absurdity, but here he sticks closely to the sharp screenplay, written by David Loughery and Howard Korder. Every time Lakeview Terrace heads into conventional-thriller territory, it quickly retreats to plausibility and behavioral nuance; even late in the film, a scene of Abel attacking Chris through the fence with a chain saw (not as Leatherface as it sounds) is followed by a scene in which Abel buys Chris a drink at the local bar and sincerely tries to make amends. Chris and Lisa’s relationship, too, feels thoroughly lived-in, skirting melodrama at every turn—when Chris complains that being married to a black woman makes him feel like he’s “always on the front line,” Lisa’s gently incredulous reaction shows up Crash as the hyperbolic piffle it is. Which is why it’s such a letdown when Lakeview Terrace finally succumbs to genre dictates, transforming its well-wrought characters into clockwork morons for the sake of a rousing slam-bang finale. Difficult questions become fatuous answers. It’s a real shame.
 
The Village Voice [Scott Foundas]

Earlier this year, when I found myself assigned to jury duty on a drug-related trial at the Los Angeles Superior Court, our jury foreman turned out to be a blond, blue-eyed reality-TV producer from the bedroom community of Altadena. During the jury-selection process, when the judge asked if we had any particular positive or negative feelings about the police, the producer responded that he was very pleased with the work of the LAPD, who had helped to rid his neighborhood of some unsavory characters prone to "smoking marijuana and listening to hip-hop" at unconscionable hours of the day and night. This, in turn, elicited rolled eyes and an audible huff from a young African-American man also seated in the jury box. Lakeview Terrace is a movie that lives in such moments.

At first glance, it may puzzle followers of dramatist and occasional filmmaker Neil LaBute (In the Company of Men, The Shape of Things) that the American stage's crown prince of psychosexual power plays and the post-coital mindfuck has opted to follow his universally mocked 2006 remake of The Wicker Man by working as a director-for-hire on a yuppies-in-peril thriller that seems about two decades past its freshness date. But peer beneath Lakeview Terrace's lurid, exploitation-movie surface and you will find a vintage LaBute proposition: a taut three-hander that explores the space between surface appearances and realities, between what people say and what they really think.

Set in the titular suburb of Los Angeles's San Fernando Valley—the one where Rodney King was assaulted by police in 1991—the movie is about the troubles that arise when a newlywed interracial couple moves in next-door to a widowed African-American cop with three decades of service under his belt. There goes the neighborhood.

Lakeview Terrace begins with a shrewd moving-in scene, during which LAPD officer Abel Turner (Samuel L. Jackson) glances out his window at the new arrivals over the septic tank and briefly mistakes Chris Mattson (Patrick Wilson), the jocular, white husband of an alluring, well-dressed black woman (Kerry Washington), for one of the movers. A bit later, they meet-cute in the driveway—Chris smoking a covert cigarette behind the wife's back while rap music blares from his iPod, until Abel taps on his car window, flashlight in hand. "You can listen to that noise all night long, but when you wake up in the morning, you'll still be white," the cop says before uttering a forced chuckle. Things only get more Pacific Heights from there: Turner's megawatt security lights illuminate the Mattson bedroom like a football field; air-conditioner wires are not-so-mysteriously cut in the dead of summer; tires are slashed. When someone breaks into the young couple's garage in the middle of the night, Chris arms himself with his college lacrosse stick before running downstairs to investigate. Can you get any whiter than that?

Because it's being marketed as a run-of-the-mill psycho-cop romp, Lakeview Terrace will likely be evaluated solely on those terms. And as a suspense picture, it's only ho-hum, LaBute being the sort of director—much like his fellow playwright-filmmaker, David Mamet—who possesses only the most rudimentary know-how concerning the tools of cinema. (When he really wants to emphasize something, he cuts to a close-up and adds a musical sting on the soundtrack.) But like a lot of better genre fare, Lakeview Terrace uses its predictable premise to mount a stealth attack on the audience's sensibilities. Written by David Loughery and Howard Korder, this may be the perfect movie for the political moment, in that it's about people's latent prejudices—the ones they don't admit to in mixed company, and perhaps can't even acknowledge to themselves. Wilson, in particular, is very good as the Chicago native who went to Stanford on an athletic scholarship and, despite fancying himself an open-minded liberal, gives off an air of smug WASP privilege. He moves across the screen with the blissful self-confidence of someone who's never known what it means to be glared upon with innate suspicion. Watching him, we understand how an Abel Turner might take umbrage.

Lakeview Terrace never quite realizes when enough is enough, hunkering down the narrative with an overly symbolic brush fire that threatens our picture-postcard suburbia, giving Jackson's character a wholly unnecessary backstory, and culminating in an over-the-top finale full of ethereal light and crucifix poses. But along the way, it's one of those rare American movies about race in which things are shades of gray. Rather deftly, there's even a car crash or two, though that doesn't bring any of the movie's characters closer to a shared understanding. Can't we all just get along? LaBute doesn't deign to pretend like he knows the answer.

Lakeview Terrace  JR Jones from the Reader

 
CompuServe [Harvey Karten]
 
PopMatters (Cynthia Fuchs) review
 
eFilmCritic.com (Erik Childress) review [3/5]
 
ReelViews (James Berardinelli) review [2/4]
 
The New York Sun (Grady Hendrix) review
 
Combustible Celluloid (Jeffrey M. Anderson) review
 

The New Yorker (Anthony Lane) review  (Page 2)

 
Pajiba (Ranylt Richildis) review
 
eFilmCritic.com (Peter Sobczynski) review [3/5]
 
Film Freak Central Review [Walter Chaw]
 
Slant Magazine [Nick Schager]
 
eFilmCritic.com (Rob Gonsalves) review [1/5]
 
eFilmCritic.com (Mel Valentin) review [3/5]
 
filmcritic.com (Chris Cabin) review [1.5/5]  also seen here:  Reel.com review [1/4]  Chris Cabin
 
Screen International review  Brent Simon in Los Angeles
 
The Flick Filosopher (MaryAnn Johanson) review
 
Film Journal International (Doris Toumarkine) review
 
FilmJerk.com (Brian Orndorf) review [C-]
 
The Globe and Mail (Liam Lacey) review [2.5/4]

 

Austin Chronicle (Josh Rosenblatt) review [2/5]

 

Seattle Post-Intelligencer review  Paula Nechak

 

San Francisco Chronicle (Mick LaSalle) review [3/4]

 

Los Angeles Times [Robert Abele]

 

Chicago Sun-Times (Roger Ebert) review [4/4]

 

The New York Times (A.O. Scott) review

 
La Cava, Gregory
 
THE HALF NAKED TRUTH

USA  (77 mi)  1932

 

Lee Tracy  Mark Harris from Patrick Murtha’s Diary

 

Lee Tracy, too little known today, is one of the all-time great comic actors and a personal favorite of mine. He was the original Hildy Johnson in The Front Page on Broadway and although his major films are not numerous, each is a delight. Blessed Event with co-star Dick Powell and Bombshell with co-star Jean Harlow are gems long beloved by Thirties film buffs, but even they may not have seen The Half-Naked Truth, which is a pure jolt of the Lee Tracy magic. His physical and vocal presence are uniquely and unmistakably his: the lankily elastic body, the whirling-dervish energy, the sarcastic tone, the long fingers that always seem to be jabbing in someone's direction. There's not another screen actor I can think of who has quite the manic joie de vivre of the young Tracy. In The Half-Naked Truth, he plays a carnival barker and theatrical promoter who will go to any insane lengths to hog headlines (a very contemporary figure for us!). He's paired with Lupe "Mexican Spitfire" Velez, who proves to be an extremely apt partner for him; you believe in these two together, and that makes their final scene surprisingly emotional. (Tracy's magnetism definitely has its romantic aspect; watching Bombshell, an audience can be driven to heights of frustration waiting for Tracy and Harlow to realize that they are, in fact, perfect for one another.) The wonderful ending of The Half-Naked Truth also crystallizes the Tracy credo in a single line: "What good is life if you don't get some fun out of it?" You can have some of that fun by watching this film.

POSTSCRIPT: When I say that Tracy and Harlow are "perfect for each other" in Bombshell, I mean within the context of the film, that ends when the film is over: you can't actually imagine a future for them, but they demand to be paired by the 90 minute mark. Oddly, you can just about imagine a future for Tracy and Velez in The Half-Naked Truth (which is one reason its final scene is so good).

Tracy, a talent who takes a back seat to no one, pissed away his career, literally, in 1934. He had been cast in the film Viva Villa! (imagine Wallace Beery as Pancho Villa!), which was filmed partly on location in Mexico City. Bad boy Tracy pulled a prank by standing on the balcony of his hotel room and urinating on a passing military parade. This created quite a scandal. He was fired from the film and, although he did not stop working thereafter, he found himself increasingly relegated to second-tier productions.

Tracy did continue to appear in theater and, later, television, and had a bit of a comeback playing the President in Gore Vidal's The Best Man both on Broadway (he was nominated for a lead Tony) and film (he was nominated for a supporting Oscar). But his moment was really that 1925-1935 decade, both on stage in New York and on film in Hollywood.

 
STAGE  DOOR

USA  (91 mi)  1937

 

Stage Door  Dan Callahan from Slant magazine

 

Fuck All About Eve. The real masterpiece about women and theater is Gregory La Cava's Stage Door, a film which casts Katharine Hepburn, Ginger Rogers, Eve Arden, Lucille Ball and many other RKO women of the era as out-of-work actresses in a theatrical boarding house called The Footlights Club. Excitingly feminist, marked by the Depression, and obsessed by the sound of women talking, yelping, singing and generally whooping it up, Stage Door, though well-loved by many, has never garnered a big reputation, probably because La Cava himself has been overlooked in studies of major directors of the period.

Like Leo McCarey, La Cava didn't like to stick to a script, and he took his improvisational methods radically far in Stage Door. For two weeks, he had his actresses rehearse on the Footlights Club set, and he engaged a stenographer to take down what they said during breaks. This loose chat was then incorporated into the film (Arden often took the lines no one else would touch). La Cava had no use for the source material, an anti-Hollywood play by George S. Kaufman and Edna Ferber which preached the superiority of the legitimate theater, and so he started from scratch and used what he had: his one-of-a-kind cast.

Stage Door is the defining film about the 1930s working girl. However, the women who lounge around the Footlights Club don't do all that much working, which means that money is always tight. When snooty Linda (Gail Patrick) sweeps into the main room in the opening scene, Rogers' Jean Maitland marches in and peels the silk stockings right off her legs. "I didn't go without lunch to buy you stockings," she says, and when Linda calls her a "little hoyden" and a "guttersnipe," Jean gives her a shove. The other girls watch this catfight jubilantly, throwing out the first of an endless series of bright remarks.

As James Harvey points out in his book Romantic Comedy, it isn't what they say that is important but the way that they sound. The sound design of Stage Door and its overall aural chaos is enough to make your head spin, with overlapping dialogue that might throw even Robert Altman. It's as if these girls are terrified of silence, and if someone isn't pitching in a one-liner, another girl will laugh, sing, or simply throw out a nonsense noise. Harvey says that watching Stage Door is like "going to wisecrack heaven." Hell, it's a wisecrack symphony. And Stage Door is a truly democratic movie: every girl gets a shot at a crack, not just the stars.

When Hepburn's stage-struck heiress Terry Randall enters the club, everyone regards her suspiciously (just as flighty Hepburn herself was usually an iffy proposition for audiences). Terry is a serious, lyrical type, and the girls immediately think that she's a rich phony who will never fit into their world of wised-up badinage. Jean zeroes in on her and lets off one zinger after another, continually getting laughs from the girls. "Evidently you're a very amusing person," says Terry, arrogant yet vulnerable.

When the owner of the club, Mrs. Orcutt (Elizabeth Dunne), shows Terry around and tells her about her own theatrical career, she is cut off by down-on-her-luck Grande dame Catherine Luther (Constance Collier). "Mrs. Orcutt played with all the stars," says Miss Luther, leading Terry away. "She supported me in lots of my shows, didn't you dear?" La Cava gives Mrs. Orcutt a memorable close-up in response, a wounded, nearly servile look at Miss Luther that speaks volumes about their relationship and about the eternal relationship between stars and supporting players, a line of demarcation that Stage Door itself erases.

"Don't you ever take anything seriously?" high-minded Hepburn asks the girls after dinner. "After you've sat around for a year trying to get a job, you won't take anything seriously either," says Lucille Ball's Judy. Ball's line readings are swift and sour, but she's wet behind the ears compared to the great Arden, who has a white cat draped over her shoulders for most of the film. The inflections Arden gives to her oddball lines are sometimes quite stupefying and certainly inimitable. When Hepburn asks if she may continue discussing Shakespeare, the way Arden says, "No, go right ahead, I won't take my sleeping pill tonight," enshrines her as the Queen of Sarcasm.

Though Hepburn eventually emerges as the star of the movie, Rogers is the touchstone of its style. Her Jean Maitland is guarded, touchy and extremely anti-social. When powerful producer Anthony Powell (ratty Adolphe Menjou), sees Jean trying out a dance routine with her pal Ann Miller, he stares at her legs and asks her what she's doing. "We're just getting over the DT's," Jean snaps, and taps away from him. When Jean warily goes to his penthouse, she gets very drunk indeed. He tells her that her name will soon be in bright lights on a big sign. "It's got to be big enough to keep people away," says Jean, in her most revealing remark.

Stage Door has a rather conventional tragic heroine, desperate Kaye Hamilton (Andrea Leeds), a sweet-faced type who loses the part she needs to Terry. Leeds can be a bit too much, but La Cava handles her suicide superbly. As she walks up a staircase, La Cava takes the chattering women sounds that we've been hearing all through the movie and begins to distort them. This white noise dissolves into opening night well wishes, and then vociferous applause. As Kaye walks past the camera to her death, La Cava cuts to a girl singing downstairs: "Just give me a sailboat, in the moonlight, and you...." and then there's a scream: another girl has found Kaye, dead. This sequence shows La Cava's talent for counterpoint, and it makes what could him been hokey into something visceral and moving.

In rehearsals for Powell's show Enchanted April (based on Hepburn's 1934 Broadway flop The Lake), Terry is stiff and defensively unemotional (a take-off on Hepburn's amateurishness when she first started out). Talking to an apoplectic Powell, Miss Luther wonders, in the film's funniest line, "Could you possibly see an older woman in the part?" But on opening night, Terry, not so much cold as inexperienced, is transformed by the news of Kaye's death. Terry becomes an actress, and, more importantly, she finally wins the love of the girls at the club. This is a classic Hepburn role, and La Cava understands what works for her, just as he knew better than anyone else how to handle the problematic Rogers.

In the end, there are no men to fall back on for these women (though Judy does get married). They're tough, and they ridicule each other mercilessly, but they're in this together. Kaye's death doesn't keep them teary-eyed for long, but in the last scene, the girls' frivolous talk has a gravitas that it didn't have before. La Cava shows that life goes on, and even repeats itself, as a new girl shows up at the club. She might be a new Terry, or perhaps a new Kaye. For these girls, the food will always be bad, the Depression will never be over, and men are their last option. If you listen closely to Stage Door—and some have made a religion of it—you might be surprised to find that underneath the wisecracks and snarky camaraderie of these extraordinary women lies the wintry humor of Samuel Beckett.

 
LaChapelle, Dave
 
RIZE

USA  Great Britain  (86 mi)  2005

 

Rize  Michael Sicinski from the Academic Hack

How do you fuck that up? LaChapelle has successfully turned in the worst possible documentary "feature" (it barely clocks in) that could be generated from inherently compelling subject matter -- L.A.'s krumping / clown-dancing scene. Rize begins with a disclaimer that states that none of the footage in the film has been sped up. And yeah, the krump is a pretty vigorous, body-shaking affair, but come on. It's not super-human or anything, and the disclaimer encapsulates everything that's wrong with Rize. LaChapelle is both a wide-eyed ethnographic gawker trying to "bring back" the krump for (presumably) white delectation, and is given to shameless hype and hucksterism in doing so. At the 30-minute mark, the film features a horrid montage sequence in which these savvy street kids from Watts and South Central are shown practicing in their driveways; this footage is intercut with ethnographic scenes of painted tribal Africans dancing in the bush. Even though one of the dancers claims his talent comes from a kind of black atavism ("I didn't have to learn this. It's in me."), LaChapelle is under no obligation to follow this slippery slope. Later on, Rize will attempt to tie krumping to the emotive gesticulations of the charismatic wing of Christianity. At one point the dancers insist that L.A.'s "ghettos" are their home and aren't as dangerous as white people like to pretend, but later the film depicts life in South Central as one long tragedy, a never-ending drive-by. Even the second half-hour, built around a "Battle Zone" competition between clown-dancers and krumpers is utterly incoherent. We can tell there's a battle, the film keeps an onscreen scorecard, but virtually none of the dance sequences are shown in their entirety, and we never actually get to compare the performances of the two battlers. What the hell is LaChapelle trying to say? It's not as though whole traditions of sports movies, black-kids-overcoming-poverty docs, and dance movies weren't available to LaChapelle as a roadmap. What we have here, I think, is an exemplary symptom of the digital age, wherein all a budding "artist" needs to do is get a DV camera, follow some interesting subjects around for a year or two, and cobble it all together in the editing room. Guess what? Doesn't always work.

Lacombe, Julien and Pascal Sid

 

BEHIND THE WALLS (Derriere les murs)

France  2011

 

Behind the Walls (Derriere les murs): Cannes Review  Jordan Mintzer at Cannes from The Hollywood Review, May 12, 2011

Billed as the first French horror movie in 3D – and definitely the only one centered around a Laudanum-addicted femme writer in the 1920s – Behind the Walls (Derriere les murs) is a bizarre attempt to insert frights into an otherwise classic, and rather depressing, tale of provincial abandon. Novelty interest should accompany film’s July local release, followed by the usual ancillary action.

Model turned actress Laetitia Casta (The Island) stars as Suzanne, a Parisian novelist who, following her daughter’s death from illness, decides to isolate herself in a country manor to work on a new book. Haunted by visions of the dead child, which are heavily abetted by her nightly cocktail of pastis and liquid opium, Suzanne’s hallucinations begin to take on frightening (at least for her) proportions, while her novel starts resembling Jack Nicholson’s opus in The Shining.

When she’s not flipping out at home, Suzanne makes acquaintance with some creepy country folk, including a perverted shopkeeper (Jacques Bonnaffee) who likes to beat his wife to show Suzanne how much he digs her. She also takes interest in a local girl, Valentine (Emma Ninucci), who’s a stand-in for her deceased daughter. When Valentine and another village girl go missing, Suzanne goes truly bonkers, and only her brawny new boyfriend (Thierry Neuvic) can perhaps save the day.

There’s practically nothing eerie about freshman duo Julien Lacombe’s and Pascal Sid’s psychologically-bent story, which provides a tad too many Renoir-esque strolls through the countryside to ever feel menacing. When the filmmakers try to play their horror hand, they resort to predictable tactics like rats scampering across the floorboards or the ghostly presence of little girls (see The Shining, again), while 3D adds zero intensity.

Despite its many drawbacks, the film is somewhat sustained by Casta’s credible performance as a grieving, tortured mother, and one ultimately wonders if Behind the Walls would have been worked better as straightforward drama, sans scares but with a few more narrative snares.

Lafosse, Joachim
 
PRIVATE LESSONS (Élève Libre)

Belgium  France  (105 mi)  2008

 
Private Lessons (Élève Libre)  Lee Marshall at Cannes from Screendaily

Reunited with the same co-writer, the same crew and many of the same themes he explored in his 2006 Venice competion entry Private Property (Nue Propriete), buzzy Belgian auteur Joaquim Lafosse crafts another original, disturbing work which fails however to scale the same dramatic heights as that impressively tight chamber piece.

Once again, volatile male adolescence and adult irresponsibility react together in a claustrophobic hothouse environment. But here the story of the unhealthy relationship that develops between a sixteen-year-old boy and the thirty-something family friend who agrees to tutor him through his school-leaving exams is less controlled, both visually and structurally; it also feels ethically muddy in its half-fascinated, half-condemnatory portrayal of what in most people's books would count as sexual abuse of a minor.

This said, it's not necesarilly a less commercial film; although uncomfortable to watch at times, it emerges in the end as a coming-of-age fable with an almost happy ending, and there are moments of dour comedy. The frank sex-talk and sexual activity that peppers the film will stir debate and media interest, along the lines of Ma Mere – though it should do so without censorship problems in most territories, as although the adult-adolescent couplings here are upfront enough to disturb, the camera knows its limits.

Jonas (Bloquet) is an athletic and not particularly academic sixteen-year-old schoolboy who wants to become a tennis pro. But he doesn't quite have what it takes; and in the meantime, his school reports are disastrous. With divorced parents and a mother who spends most of her time away in the south of France, Jonas is adopted by a trio of older friends whose realtionship with each other, and with Jonas, is at first left deliberately unclear. One, the affable Pierre (Zaccai), takes Jonas' education in hand, coaching him as an outside student for the all-important school-leaving exam. But the teacher-pupil relationship is complicated by a climate of growing sexual complicity, which is encouraged by another adult couple with an open rapport, Pierre's friends' Didier (Renier) and Pascale (Coesens).

Private Pupil is about various brands of immaturity. The three adults that act as Jonas' surrogate parents treat his sexual education as a kind of game, though Jonas is clearly embarrassed by their frankness. His own immaturity consists in trying to act too grown-up, thus failing tell his irresponsible elders where to get off (something that Jonas' more self-assured girlfriend, Delphine, doesn't hesitate to do). As the game becomes more disturbing, interior scenes dominate and DoP Hachame Alaouie's palette veers into darker territory.

OUR CHILDREN (A Perdre La Raison)

Belgium  Luxembourg  France  Switzerland  (112 mi)  2012

 

Our Children  Fionnuala Halligan at Cannes from Screendaily

Our Children is called A Perdre La Raison in France, and viewers can quickly make the connection when its opening shots depict four small coffins being raised onto a plane bound for Morocco as a mother weeps in her hospital bed. It’s immediately clear that Joachim Lafosse is about to tackle one of cinema’s, and society’s, last taboos, the increasing numbers of parents who murder their own small children.

Much like the old people in Michael Haneke’s Love, infanticide is a problem society can’t quite face in the eye, and many will prefer to pass on Our Children for just that reason. Those brave enough - this is without a doubt an emotional racking - will witness an intelligent and responsible treatment from Belgian director Lafosse, a deeply moving performance by Emilie Dequenne, and a devastating look at a young woman come undone. Our Children is not a film to be undertaken lightly, but it does nonetheless deserve to be seen. Re-teaming A Prophet’s Niels Arestrup with Tahar Rahim may pique interest, but ultimately the only thing that will lure audiences to Our Children is critical support. It should be forthcoming.

Inspired by a real-life case in Belgium - although there are many similar stories worldwide that Lafosse could have chosen from - Our Children isn’t simply a story of a mother with post-natal depression. It’s much more oblique, and, like any family, complicated than that. Lafosse ratchets up the domestic drama to slowly force his principals into a position where the denouement - which is thankfully never depicted onscreen - is at least approaching a point where it can be understood. That’s in no small part due to Dequenne’s (Rosetta Stone) believably tragic performance as Murielle, a carefree young woman from a relatively poor background who falls for Tahar Rahim’s charming Mounir.

Lafosse’s camera discreetly observes Murielle and Mounir as they make love and marry - the director is working at their level, making his camera complicit in what transpires throughout. Moroccan-born Mounir is devoted to Dr Pinget (Arestrup), who has housed and brought him up, and, it is later made clear, also married Mounir’s sister in order to give her residency papers. It’s an uneasy, avuncular role that Arestrup underplays, and Lafosse holds back from making Dr Pinget alone culpable for what ultimately happens - although he holds all the financial and emotional cards.

Mounir and Murielle move in with Dr Pinget, but it’s a comfortable life that comes at a price. The autocratic Pinget and Mounir are obsessed with each other, although it’s not an overtly sexual relationship. They are the “we” in “Our Children”. While they easily accommodate Murielle at the onset of the marriage, the claustrophobic set-up won’t tolerate the four children she delivers in a short space of time. She’s trapped by the incessant demands of her babies and toddlers, by Mounir’s growing indifference, by her own doubts of her abilities as a mother (reinforced by the casually-bullying Pinget) and a crushing depression which he, as her family doctor, medicates.

Music plays a strong part in Our Children, most notably in Scarlatti’s baroque operas, and Haydn’s strings pull and peck at a 26-year-old woman and mother as she goes about her increasingly-sad life, cleaning and tending and buckling under the strain until the audience wants to look away, but Lafosse has made it his mission not to let that happen - this time.

Our Children: Cannes Review - The Hollywood Reporter  Jordan Mintzer, May 22, 2012

Family tragedy intermingles with gender politics in a strong showing from Belgian auteur Joachim Lafosse

Turning a gruesome real-life incident into an arresting portrait of one woman¹s gradual slide towards the unspeakable, Our Children (A perdre la raison), an Un Certain Regard film, represents another tightly wound study of domestic malaise from Belgian auteur Joachim Lafosse (Private Property).

Featuring a riveting lead turn from Emilie Dequenne as a young mother caught between two men (A Prophet stars Tahar Rahim and Niels Arestrup) in a claustrophobic nightmare, this gloomy and penetrating psychological drama should receive steady art house play.

Inspired by events which took place in a distant suburb of Brussels in 2007, the script – co-written with Thomas Bidegain (Rust & Bone) and Matthieu Reynaert – sticks to many of the facts in the case of Genevieve Lhermitte, who turned herself into the police after coldly and clinically murdering her five kids with a kitchen knife (the film reduces the number to four, but who’s counting?). While such an act may ultimately be inexplicable, the various reasons posited by Our Children very much fit in with the oeuvre of the 37-year-old Lafosse, whose previous films (Private Property, Private Lessons) explored the effects of perversely close-knit relationships on a handful of characters.

In this instance, the story of Belgian schoolteacher, Murielle (Dequenne), and Moroccan immigrant, Mounir (Rahim), starts off on a rather upbeat note with them falling madly in love and deciding to live together in the home of Mounir’s surrogate father, Doctor Pinget (Arestrup). But as Murielle quickly learns, the physician casts a paralyzing shadow over his young ward, whom he brought over to Belgium years earlier, while also marrying Mounir’s sister for visa purposes.

When Murielle gives birth to a first and then a second child, life for the young couple seems more or less satisfying, even if Pinget tends to micromanage the household, from which he also runs a medical practice where Mounir works as his secretary. But when a third child arrives, the burden it places on the two parents is exacerbated by the doctor’s increasingly guru-like sway over Mounir, who has no means to support his family and relies on Pinget nearly every step of the way (a sexual background between the two is suggested at one point, though never confirmed).

There’s a part of Murielle that constantly urges her husband to distance himself from the authoritarian doctor, and another that welcomes the man’s presence, at least financially speaking. Indeed, as Pinget himself cynically explains, the two lovebirds – soon with a fourth child en route – would have a hard time surviving on their own, and he quickly bats down their pipedream of moving to Mounir’s homeland with the contempt of a seasoned colonialist. (“Do you know what life is like in Morocco?” he barks at his native-born protégé.)

Beyond such underlying commentaries on immigration and class status, Lafosse constantly reveals how the doctor’s good deeds are really used to dominate the couple both economically and emotionally, bringing them to a state of social asphyxiation. And as Murielle gets further sucked into the oppressive homestead, her various escape routes – including visits with a psychiatrist (Nathalie Boutefeu) and a brief but pleasant sojourn at the home of Mounir’s mother – slowly dry up, driving her towards the final, horrific act (for which Lafosse thankfully spares us the gritty details, confining things to a chilling off-screen space).

In one of her strongest leading roles to date, Dequenne (The Girl on the Train, Rosetta) does a remarkable job depicting Murielle’s wavering psychological states as she heads for oblivion, and an extended sequence-shot where she drives home while singing a Julien Clerc song is particularly unforgettable. If her character’s motivations are never fully understandable – some may wonder why the well-educated Murielle doesn’t just grab the kids and leave – the feeling that the walls are constantly closing in around her is extremely well illustrated.

Reteaming to play a duo similar to the one in A Prophet, Rahim and Arestrup maintain the film’s tense and sinister tone – the former providing a convincing mix of fragility and machismo, and the latter looking and acting more and more like Brando in the latter half of his career.

Widescreen cinematography by Jean-Francois Hensgens (Dark Tide) constantly uses objects or characters to blur a portion of the frame, as if the truth about the events could never be completely brought into focus. Decors by regular P.D. Anne Falgueres are comprised of tidy bourgeois living quarters where the curtains are always drawn and the family seems to be on permanent house arrest.

LaGravenese, Richard
 
FREEDOM WRITERS                                B-                    82

USA  Germany  (123 mi)  2006

 

Hillary Swank reprises the Michelle Pfeiffer role in the 1995 film DANGEROUS MINDS, where a gutsy white female teacher finds a purpose in attempting to rehabilitate the emotionally damaged and forgotten lives of unwanted racially mixed freshman year high school kids who are targeted to be drop outs by the time they are juniors, so the school refuses to spend any money on resources or books, believing with these kids that’s a lost cause.  What doesn’t work is the casting of goody two shoes Ms. Swank as a young twentysomething Erin Gruwell, known as Ms. G, whose artificial girl scout smile greeting them at the classroom door is just waiting for someone to wipe it off her face within minutes.  What does work is the casting of previously unknown actors as the kids, who make up the four racial groups, blacks, white, Latino and Cambodian, each of which wrestle with their racial identity.  Based on the experiences of a real life teacher in Long Beach, the film opens with the kid’s angry, explosive negativity to Ms. G’s white race, resentful of all the advantages her “whiteness” allows while they are forced to live inside a war zone, protective of what little turf they have, claiming she couldn’t begin to fathom what they have to go through just to get to school each day.  So she decides to give them each notebooks and let them tell their own stories.  Much of the film’s narrative comes from the actual writings, which lends a voice of poetic authenticity to the otherwise formulaic story of whites encountering trouble in the inner city classrooms, then having to rise to overcome insurmountable odds by identifying and then helping the kids overcome the negative stigmas standing in their path.

 

April Lee Hernandez is terrific as Eva, the angry Latina girl whose dad is rotting away in prison for something he didn’t do, or Jason Finn as Marcus, a boy who’s living anonymously in a hidden cubbyhole on the street, but the lives of others in the classroom are equally as compelling, including Jaclyn Ngan as a Cambodian girl who is all attitude but barely says a word, or moments with kids who are so invisible, other kids in the class couldn’t even recall seeing them before.  All are given a collective voice, which tends to unify their experience, seeing through each other’s racial barriers in a somewhat utopian vision of what integration could and should be.  Unfortunately, it’s a feel good, overly optimistic representation, an all or nothing process that shows a complete turnaround in the kid’s attitude and enthusiasm, instead of the struggle it must have been day by day to earn these kid’s respect, which would hardly come overnight.  In this film, it was unity through the teachings of Anne Frank and the Holocaust, a teenager who faced even greater horrors in her lifetime, whose voice still speaks for all those kids who are needlessly lost at such an early age, nowadays typically to gang violence which ravages their young lives. 

 

In an interesting twist, the film casts the daunting severity of Imelda Staunton as the head of the English department, Swank’s boss, who feels discipline, not learning, is what these kids need.  Her racial bias, along with that of other white teachers, blames integration for actually ruining what was otherwise a terrific all-white school, where their test scores once soared, but now remains tarnished by the academically challenged minority, who they’d just as soon get rid of anyway, so they actually push them out sooner rather than later, as it makes their test scores overall look better.  Staunton is just as persistent in her negativity as Swank is in her optimism, so there’s an interesting dynamic at play which is idealistically resolved by Swank simply going over her head, which causes continual conflict.  In the real world, this teacher would probably be gone very quickly, as despite her enthusiasm, she represents a threat to the typically entrenched mindsets of the others who don’t reach into their own pockets to supply what’s needed, but have learned to live within the school’s depleted means. 

 

The film overreaches but does not patronize, allowing the intensity of the kids to remain the focal point of the film, an interest that is sustained throughout.  The film builds to an inspiring sequence, where all, including Staunton, are a bit overwhelmed at the maturity and respect these kids finally earn for themselves through their writings, but then bogs down afterwards through unnecessary relationship issues and needless bureaucratic hagglings which only takes attention away from the lives of the kids, much of which is heartbreaking.  When they remain onscreen, the film bristles with energy and intensity which is immediately lost when the story veers in other directions.  Even so, the film is uplifting and inspiring, but one becomes a bit sick of white saviors of the racially deprived and underprivileged in the movies, a theme that refuses to recognize the interest and imagination that is coming from within the minority community itself, whose role models continue to be overlooked in favor of movie star white heroes.       

 

Freedom Writers   JR Jones from the Reader

Screenwriter Richard LaGravenese (The Fisher King, The Bridges of Madison County) was inspired by a 1998 PrimeTime Live segment to script and direct this movie about Erin Gruwell, a fledgling teacher at Long Beach's Woodrow Wilson High School who got her students to deal with their racial conflicts by writing journals and reading great works of literature. Hilary Swank gives a characteristically overpitched performance as Gruwell, and her story, which takes place shortly after the LA riots, sticks to the well-worn grooves of the inspirational teacher genre. Luckily LaGravenese has incorporated some of the real students' piercingly honest diary entries and rounded up an engaging cast of unknowns and young actors (April Hernandez, Kristin Herrera, Hunter Parrish) to channel their anger and hopelessness. PG-13, 123 min.

The Village Voice [Rob Nelson]

 

Neither Half Nelson nor all bad, this white- teacher-uplifts-poor-kids- of-color drama aims to favor the students' stories, which are based on those of real-life Cali high schoolers who wrote their way out of oppression and anonymity in the mid '90s. But those diary entries too often take a backseat to the film's "Ms. G.," played by two-time Oscar winner and Chad Lowe survivor Hilary Swank, who makes instantly credible her character's preference of work over marriage to a boring man-behind-the-woman (Patrick Dempsey). Our eager-beaver heroine suffers the kids' sarcasm, fails to earn their respect by bringing in a Tupac tape, then wins them over in a crucial scene that, fact-based or not, rings as false as anything in Dangerous Minds. Reaction shots of the class's befuddled white boy are played for cheap laughs, but writer-director Richard LaGravenese otherwise keeps it real by recruiting cinematographer Jim Denault from Indieville High and Imelda Staunton—here playing Bitchy Old Department Head.

 

FILM REVIEWS   Scott Foundas from the LA Weekly

 

For those who found Half Nelson a bit too gritty for their palates, here comes Hilary Swank as a first-year high-school teacher who doesn’t look like she’s ever paid a bill late, let alone lit up a crack pipe. As 23-year-old Erin Gruwell, she’s a prim idealist in polka dots and pearls — a very white knight cast into the “voluntarily integrated” combat zone of Long Beach’s Woodrow Wilson High School in the wake of the L.A. riots. Based on The Freedom Writers Diary, the 1999 book consisting of journal entries written by Gruwell’s students, Freedom Writers the movie is about how this wet-behind-the-ears teacher taught her racially diverse bunch of dangerous minds to stand and deliver, all the while combating the fussbudget administrators (including one played by Swank’s former Oscar rival, Vera Drake star Imelda Staunton) who seem to have never met a student of color they didn’t fear. It all sounds like a recipe for the most noxious liberal jerk-off movie since Crash, but in the hands of writer-director Richard LaGravenese, Freedom Writers turns out to be a superb piece of mainstream entertainment — not an agonized debate over the principles of modern education à la The History Boys, but a simple, straightforward and surprisingly affecting story of one woman who managed to make a difference. (As fanciful as it may seem, Gruwell really did break through to her class by teaching them The Diary of Anne Frank, culminating in a classroom visit by Frank’s protector, Miep Gies.) LaGravenese is smart enough to see Gruwell’s story as the exception and not the rule, and his casting of Staunton as Swank’s chief antagonist is an inspired stroke — their bitchy exchanges may lack the raucous fury of Cate Blanchett and Judi Dench’s full-on catfight in Notes on a Scandal, but they still seem to be having a grand old time going at it. If only LaGravenese had taken one additional page from the Dangerous Minds playbook and left Gruwell’s tepid personal life (a troubled marriage with Patrick “Dr. McDreamy” Dempsey that pads out the movie’s running time by a good 20 minutes or so) on the cutting-room floor.

 

The Onion A.V. Club [Nathan Rabin]

With her Marge Simpson pearls, toothy grin, and unshakable belief in the essential decency of human nature, Hilary Swank cuts a decidedly anachronistic figure in Freedom Writers, Richard LaGravenese's fact-based inspirational-teacher drama. Set in the mid-'90s, the film takes place in the sort of crime-ravaged Southern California war zones immortalized in NWA's music and movies like Menace II Society. But Swank animates her dogged positivity with an old-school combination of indefatigable '50s optimism and '60s civil-rights activism.

Playing yet another iron-willed true believer, Swank stars as an idealist who takes a job at a tough inner-city school where apathy and cynicism reign, and withering contempt for humanity is a widespread occupational hazard. Swank's Pollyanna pluck initially just earns her insolent glares from burnt-out teachers and students alike, but her persistence eventually wins her the loyalty and affection of shell-shocked pupils unaccustomed to teachers driven by an almost messianic sense of purpose. Swank ignites her pupils' imagination by getting them to write about their lives in cathartic personal journals, and by drawing parallels between their dangerous adolescences and the harrowing travails of Anne Frank. Patrick Dempsey co-stars in the thankless role of Swank's long-suffering husband, who pops up at regular intervals to complain that Swank's job is swallowing her life and their marriage.

Like its do-gooder protagonist, Freedom Writers doesn't have a hip or knowing bone in its body. It's so doggedly square that even the faintest hint of irony or sarcasm would probably shatter it, especially once it dives headfirst into the heavy emotional terrain of the Holocaust. Yet thanks to LaGravenese's empathetic writing and direction, and Swank's titanic force of will, Freedom Writers' unabashed earnestness proves unexpectedly powerful: Its heart-on-its-sleeve humanism batters down viewers' defenses just as diligently as Swank wears down her students'. Though the film seldom strays from formula, there's something strangely moving about Swank's conviction that, in spite of everything, people are really good at heart.

Teresa Budasi from the Chicago Sun-Times (link lost):  http://www.suntimes.com/entertainment/movies/197803,WKP-News-freedom05.article

Any film with an earnest message about education automatically gets moved to the head of the class, and from there can only get moved back by earning demerits for indiscretions like bad acting, implausibility and gooey sentimentality.

"Freedom Writers," which has a lot to say about education and the flaws in the American public-school system, gets high marks -- for effort and for merit. So much could have gone wrong here. It's as formulaic as any of its predecessors -- "Stand and Deliver," "Lean on Me," "Dangerous Minds" and the granddaddy of them all, 1967's "To Sir, With Love" -- where a teacher placed in a classroom of "unteachables" must use unorthodox methods to get them in line and make them want to learn. But where a couple of those stories went astray, the highly inspiring "Freedom Writers" manages to maintain the integrity of its message.

Writer/director Richard LaGravenese, best known for his screenwriting ("The Fisher King," "The Bridges of Madison County," "The Horse Whisperer," "Beloved"), can take much of the credit. "Freedom Writers" is LaGravenese's first major feature film in almost a decade. His 1998 gem, "Living Out Loud," which starred Holly Hunter, Danny DeVito and Queen Latifah, proved he could direct a multifaceted cast, and he lives up to that potential here.

Two-time Oscar winner Hilary Swank leads a first-rate cast of veterans and unknowns in her role as the young, idealistic teacher Erin Gruwell, who on her first day at Woodrow Wilson High School in Long Beach, Calif., shows up sporting a crisp business suit, a string of pearls and the enthusiasm of a dozen cheerleaders. It takes less than a day to shock her into the reality that it's going to take a lot more than spirited determination to get through to kids who may only be freshmen but who've experienced a lot more of life than they should have at such a young age

Erin gets little support from her colleagues and superiors, who view her efforts as a waste of time and resources. They fondly remember the days before the school was integrated and resent the minority students for altering the staid landscape upon which they had hoped to ride out their tenure. Erin's department head (Imelda Staunton) refuses to let her use new books in her classroom, even though they sit unused, collecting dust in a storage room.

Where most would be inclined to engage in petty argument and rebellious tactics in such a situation, Erin takes two part-time jobs so she can buy the new books herself, take the class on field trips and bring in guest speakers -- all of which inspire the students. But the class activity that makes the most profound difference in their lives is a writing project. Erin, or Ms. G., as the students call her, gives each student a blank notebook. She requires that they write in it every day -- no matter if it's prose, poetry, songs or drawings. And she lets them decide whether to allow her to read them.

Some critics may see as a flaw that the troubles the kids face outside the classroom are somewhat downplayed. We see snippets while hearing voiceover readings from their journals -- stories of domestic violence, drugs, gangs, neglect, incarceration, discrimination -- but they're a bit overshadowed by the educational aspects of the story, which is the larger point of this film. LaGravenese does well balancing it all, including the hip-hop score, which easily could have been overplayed to emphasize grittiness but instead creates an understated, poignant ambience.

A couple of supporting roles should be noted: April Lee Hernandez as the tormented Eva, who admits out loud her hatred for whites, and Jaclyn Ngan as Sindy, who barely has a speaking part but whose expression, attitude and body language convey more than any line of dialogue could.

Patrick Dempsey and Scott Glenn also turn in nice performances as the men in Erin's life. Dempsey plays Erin's husband, Scott, who slowly moves outside the fray of his wife's newfound purpose. He's proud and admiring of how much she's accomplished, but he has no way to connect to it and seems unwilling to try.

Glenn plays Erin's father, who initially has some reservations about his highly intelligent and driven daughter's decision to teach at Wilson. He ultimately tells her, "You have been blessed with a burden ... and I envy you." That "burden" is her passion, and finding one's passion in life is a gift -- one that Erin receives through her unlikely career choice.

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Laine, Marion

 

A MONKEY ON MY SHOULDER (À coeur ouvert)                 C-                    68

aka:  An Open Heart

France  Argentina  (87 mi)  2012

 

Not sure how this project ever came to light, filmed by French director Marion Laine in her second feature, her first being an adaptation of a Flaubert short story in A SIMPLE HEART (2008), so her area of expertise apparently is in matters of the heart.  Adapted by the director from a Mathias Énard novel Traveling Up the Orinoco, she took certain liberties, especially in reconceiving the end, where the initial interest was from Argentinean actor Édgar Ramírez, from CARLOS (2010), who asked Juliette Binoche if she’d consider playing opposite him.  They switch roles from the book, which features a French leading man and a South American woman, but both play successful doctors working at the same hospital.  Given a narrative structure that resembles A Star Is Born (1954), initially it’s Ramírez as Javier who receives all the acclaim as a leading heart surgeon, with Binoche’s Mila playing a more supportive role in the operating room.  Married for ten years, they are a somewhat sophisticated couple, balancing career and home life, where they both work well together with the steady hands of skilled surgeons while also having a freely uninhibited sex life at home.  But Javier ignores the hospital’s warnings about his excessive drinking until they revoke his privileges, slowly at first, but when he continues to flaunt his rebellious streak against their authority, he’s basically out of a job, having a position in name only.  Utterly humiliated, his pride takes a beating, which only leads to more drinking, where his sanctimonious behavior is pretty deplorable (much like the final episode of CARLOS), where one wonders how Mila could survive his wildly aggressive and often violent mood swings, but she is a believer that love cures all ills.  What changes her mood is to learn surprisingly that she is pregnant, where in typical French behavior, she only takes birth control some of the time, believing that’s enough. 

 

Mila prepares to have an abortion, as both never intended to have children, until Javier changes his mind.  Since he’s not working anyway, he thinks a baby may alter his mental outlook, so being the devoted wife, Mila agrees to sacrifice her career and move to South America to make him happy, hoping it might jump start his deteriorating self-esteem.  Well, lo and behold, it doesn’t, where this turns into a wretched display of drunken behavior, accentuated by self loathing, growing worse by the minute, where the free-for-all of detestable mistreatment of one another, especially during Mila’s pregnancy, is revoltingly pathetic and hard to watch, as a good portion of the film is spent fighting and screaming at one another, where a good deal of the set is destroyed in the process, where multiple takes must have been fun.  The melodramatic overreach is utterly predictable, where halfway in viewers may think enough is enough, as the miserablist tone rarely changes, making this a one-note movie.  Laine does exhibit a surrealistic flair for dream sequences by the end, however, which are actually set in the magnificent Iguazu Falls of Argentina, but this comes way too late to rescue an already sinking ship.  There isn’t an ounce of credibility that either Binoche or Ramírez are doctors, but the French have a way with love scenes.  In the end one of the characters suffers an accident and falls into a coma, expected to never revive, where in the book the character dies and the partner performs the autopsy, labeling each body part in meticulous detail, which one must admit is a thoroughly horrid finale.  The film leaves the ending open ended, where the picturesque dream sequences finally scream with life. 

 

A coeur ouvert / Marion Laine / film  Films de France

Mila and Javier are two heart surgeons who have been married for ten years.  They have two passions in their life: their love for one another and their work.  When Mila becomes pregnant the couple’s harmonious relationship is threatened, aggravated by Javier’s liking for alcohol...

Cannes Market Watch: A Monkey on My Shoulder | Film Comment ...  Robert Koehler

The promise of Juliette Binoche and Edgar Ramirez paired as a passionate, volatile couple made writer-director Marion Laine’s A Monkey on My Shoulder about as essential viewing as any new French film premiering in the Cannes Market. It would also surely be a reasonable example of a French film with major stars and considerable Cannes pedigree that nevertheless had very likely been seen and rejected by the festival.

In this case, the absence of a Binoche-Ramirez pairing in the official selection is all too clear: Laine’s drama, based on Mathias Énard’s novel, Remonter L’Orénoque (Traveling Up the Orinoco), ends up being a royal mess, an emotional tennis match with the two actors volleying and proceeding to rip down the net.

Ramirez’ Javier is his hospital’s top heart surgeon, while Binoche’s Mila is his immediate second. (The film’s French title translates, in an unfortunate pun, as “Open Heart.”) His skills on full display in the opening sequence, Javier is at the same time on the hospital’s blacklist due to his raging alcoholism. Lusty as bunnies when they get back home, via motorcycle, Javier and Mila tend to be people who throw their entire beings at whatever task is at hand, whether it’s sex, work, or habitually breaking into the local zoo to frolic with, yes, the monkeys.

There turns out to be a whole lot of business with those monkeys, all of it increasingly laughable. But what undoes this Monkey is the movie’s obsession with pitting the two actors against each other in an endless string of domestic squabbles in which Ramirez is allowed to literally tear down the scenery. (His doctor makes Hugh Laurie’s House look positively sane.) The actors, at least, surely had a ball.

A Monkey On My Shoulder | Review | Screen  Lisa Nesselson from Screendaily

Intense, earnest and perilously close to over-the-top, A Monkey On My Shoulder (A Coeur Ouvert) is a frustratingly uneven Days of Wine and Roses meets open heart surgery. Juliette Binoche and Edgar Ramirez (Carlos) deliver feral, unbridled performances as lusty, playful husband-and-wife heart surgeons who specialize in transplants although he’s a hopeless alcoholic.  

At first the melodrama holds together reasonably well even though the tug of Love and Death is laid on with a trowel. But as their buoyant relationship deteriorates, one does want to shout at the screen: “Physicans! Heal thyselves!”

One of at least 10 films in the French release schedule this summer that happens to have been scripted and directed by a French woman, Marion Laine’s sophomore feature is watchable but not satisfying.

“We eat too much, drink too much, screw too much and don’t get enough exercise,” says Mila (Binoche). She and Javier (Ramirez) are heart surgeons by day, renegade skinny dippers by night. When they’re not doing transplants (several docu-style close-ups are not for the squeamish), they’re cavorting like teenagers despite a decade of marriage. They’re truly, madly, deeply smitten and can’t keep their hands off each other.

Mila - who, like many a heart surgeon, has a monkey tattooed astride one ear - is unconditionally in love. No words or actions, however harsh, can dent her deep-seated complicity with Javier for long. As his alcohol habit eats away at his judgment centers, Javier is increasingly prone to jealous, possessive and irresponsible imaginings.

Although he’s as brilliant as ever - he’s the one who set up the transplant unit - and his hands are still steady, co-workers file complaints. Javier is banned from operating, which gives him more time to drink.

Like many medical specialists, Mila seems to have forgotten where babies come from. When she offhandedly complains to the staffgynecologist that she’s been plagued by nausea, the lady doc asks “Have you been taking the pills I prescribed?”  “Most of the time,” says Mila.

Mila schedules an abortion. She and Javier never wanted kids to disrupt their carnal idyll. But Javier now wants the child - or thinks he does. Wearing rose-coloured blinkers, Mila is prepared to make radical sacrifices to boost her beloved’s fragile self-esteem.

Laine was keen to work with Ramirez and it was he who suggested Binoche. Are they convincing as eternal lovebirds? Yes. As heart surgeons? Not really, although both leads are conscientiously acting up a storm while endeavouring to dodge overly spelled out symbolism.

Mila’s attitude toward her accidental pregnancy is one of the more original aspects of the tale.  She sees her condition as a mistake to be rectified pronto. Although she saves lives for a living, she couldn’t care less about creating a dependent life form of her own. Dream-like sequences in the final stretch have visual oomph but feel closer to a cop-out than a gutsy narrative solution.

A Monkey on my Shoulder (A Coeur Ouvert): Film Review - The ...  Bernard Besserglik from The Hollywood Reporter

 

Lalli, Maarit

 

ALMOST 18 (Kohta 18)                                         B                     85

Finland  (110 mi)  2012

There were five of us guys… I think we all had normal families. Normal problems. Normal feelings. There was nothing we couldn’t overcome. And then one year, for some reason, everything started going to shit.                      Joni (Ben Thompson Coon)

A big winner at the 2013 Finland Jussi Awards, winning Best Picture, Best Director, and Best Original Screenplay, yet despite the acclaim, there are plenty of drawbacks to this film, where the sketchy portraits often feel isolated and lead nowhere, never really connecting the dots to an overall dramatic theme.  While it’s the coming-of-age saga of five male friends who are about to turn 18, a major step in one’s life as it’s symbolic of young adulthood and possibly moving away from home, the film is divided into five twenty-minute segments highlighting each kid, sarcastically narrated by the oldest who has already turned 18, Joni (Ben Thompson Coon), seen in the opening segment in family therapy acknowledging he’s never really had a single happy moment with his family.  While there is plenty of humor, not the least of which is the self-effacing Finnish take on their nation’s inept hockey team that perpetually loses to both Sweden and Russia, the individual segments highlight the family dysfunction which at times can get dramatically serious and overly involved, where at times the parents troubling behavior seems destined to drive their kids out of the house, a feeling they already shamefully regret even though it hasn’t happened yet.  Written by the director and her son, Henrik Mäki-Tanila who plays Karri, seemingly the most well adjusted kid, seen getting often hilarious driving lessons from his mother, Elina Knihtiä, the star of The Good Son (Hyvä poika) (2011), who knows her son’s habits well, ordering him out of the car to take a breath test after he’s been out drinking all night, but they’re the happiest together, as they continually poke fun at one another with good-humored sarcasm.  If the rest of the film was as good as this segment the film would be highly recommended.  It’s easily the most intimately personal of the bunch, as without a father in the home, these two really care about each other.  Nonetheless, he’d much prefer hanging out with the guys, who at one point or another celebrate each others 18th birthday in style, seen during the summer jumping off a rock cliff into the sea, where there’s a youthful enthusiasm usually enhanced by typical adolescent experiences with alcohol and smoking pot. 

 

While girls are present, they don’t really figure prominently in the film, which is a bit surprising, as you’d think sex would be all these guys think about.  Pete (Anton Thompson Coon), yes, real life brothers with the actor playing Joni, does have girlfriend problems of his own, caught up in the abortion dilemma, comforting his girlfriend after she takes an abortion pill.  His biggest surprise, however, is reserved from his parents who happily inform him on his 18th birthday that his mother is pregnant.  Pete goes into a deliriously self-centered extended rant on the woes of being a teenager, railing against his parents, where he literally curses them out for acting like kids who ought to be ashamed of themselves.  His parents, meanwhile, sit there quietly holding hands just waiting for him to conclude his tirade, glad that he’s taking it so well.  Easily the most poignant sequence is André (Karim Al-Rifai), seen picking up his little brother at daycare when his mother, who’s rarely at home, has forgotten.  The relationship between the two brothers beautifully expresses brotherly tenderness, even with the youngest crying out for attention, usually inappropriately, as he’s continually left alone, where André is the only real parent he knows, so he constantly bargains for more time together.  André struggles with juggling his own life, including schoolwork, buying groceries, preparing food, putting his brother to bed, calming him afterwards when he has nightmares, and after finally getting him asleep, having to greet his loud and heavily intoxicated mother when she arrives at the door around midnight with a lecherous guy on her arm.  His mother (Mari Perankoski) is easily the most despicable character in the film, suggesting a reversal of roles, where it’s the parents that act more childishly irresponsible than their fairly well behaved children.         

 

Perhaps the most bizarre cultural reflection of Finnish child-rearing is the absent alcoholic father, where Akseli (Arttu Lähteenmäki) spends the weekend with his grandparents, who politely disappear when his non-verbose father arrives, inviting his son into the woods to go hunting, where his father continually drinks beer and the two of them sit there in an elevated wooden hunter’s nest without uttering a sound.  It’s only fitting they have a Finnish sauna where his father jumps into the freezing river afterwards while Akseli grabs a beer and quickly searches through his father’s shirt for cigarettes.  This relationship might be sad if it wasn’t so pathetic, offering plenty of dour insight into the remote emotional isolation of Scandinavia.  Joni’s segment is first and last, dressed up in an oversized, furry wolf costume at the Linnanmäki amusement park in Helsinki, where young girls love to run up to him and squeeze his soft fur, where he is seen surreally riding his bike or walking next to the sea in costume. When we meet his mother, Niina Nurminen, she appears young and vivacious, but instead of recalling what it’s like to be a moody, self-absorbed teenager, she becomes openly suspicious and hounds her son, pestering him with questions once she discovers his love of pot smoking.  His mother literally freaks out, showing a giant-sized crack in the armor of her all-controlling world, where she runs her family like a drill sergeant expecting everyone to pass inspection.  Is it any wonder Joni is drawn to the mellow, more laid-back mood of pot smoking?  And while it’s true, he’s a stone cold pothead, it doesn’t limit his prospects for the future, as he’s intelligent, socially outgoing, probably the leader of the group, and would likely succeed at anything he attempted.  At the moment, however, he takes his furry wolf outfit to all-girl parties, becoming something of a stripper and hired sex object, a nighttime job that covers his drug expenses.  Featuring plenty of naked backsides, a recurring image is seeing the group of five pilfering a sofa to sit comfortably overlooking some natural landscape, as if suspended in a state of inertia, where the film often feels more like a collection of vignettes, where what’s missing is a common thread holding it all together. 

 

Almost 18 (Kohta 18) - Cineuropa

KARRI, 17, takes his last driving lesson with his own taxi-driver mother as the teacher. She wants to discuss serious things in life. The wheel turns into the wrong direction right on the home yard. Finland loses in ice-hockey to Sweden again, and mother smells alcohol in her son's breath. PETE, 17, soothes his girlfriend who has taken an abortion pill. Guilt for killing a living being does not leave Pete in peace. ANDRÉ, 17, has to pick up his little brother from the kindergarten for the third time this week. Mother is again "working extra hours". After midnight mother comes home stone drunk and with a colleague from her workplace in her arms. AKSELI, 17, heads off to spend a weekend in the country with his grandparents who have, unbeknownst to Akseli, invited his father, an ex-alcoholic. Father and son take off deer-hunting in the forest, in a tiny hunters' hideaway where silence has to be total. JONI, 18, has a summer job at the Linnanmäki amusement park as a wolf who attracts all teenage girls to his furry arms. After hours Joni freelances as a stripper for grown-up ladies to finance his drug habits.

Nisimazine | Review: Almost 18  Theo Prasidis

Teenage family dramas have been dominating both European and American indie scenes for the last decade. With the arrival of the digital age and filmmaking becoming increasingly accessible, they have flourished, adopted new codes, developed certain genre conventions and in some cases delivered admirable low-budget gems that have been enthusiastically welcomed by the audiences (Juno, 2007) and dearly favored by critics (Winter’s Bone, 2010). Either by conducting profound studies or simply by succumbing to passing trends, modern directors are increasingly concerned about the uncharted territory of the teenage psyche. This is the case with Maarit Lalli, who appears to have become overwhelmed by their indiscreet charm.

There were five of us guys. […] I think we all had normal families. Normal problems. Normal feelings. There was nothing we couldn’t overcome. And then one year, for some reason, everything started going to shit.

The plot is exceedingly simple. Five teenage pals are reaching 18. We follow them closely in their everyday struggle with their family, their lovers and the society. They have fun, fall in love, get drunk, fight, cry, regret. We witness them maturing through their domicile misadventures. The voice-over in the beginning of the film, which was mentioned above, sets up the viewers’ anticipations right from the go. Coupled with playful hand-held camerawork and up-beat hip-hop loops, it’s all about those raging hormones. We’re clearly off for some seriously messed up situations. Well, almost…

Almost 18 is a product of pure love. It is not an accident that in her feature debut, the 48-year-old Finnish with a television background, which did not fail to show, did not only perform directorial and screenwriting duties, but was also responsible for the production, cinematography, editing, costume design and art direction of the film. Maarit Lalli is deeply in love with her characters. One notices this every time she gently touches them with the lens, every time she pads their dreamy sequences with moody acoustic strings, every time she speaks through their lines. And this is the fundamental problem of the film. Her involvement in this has somewhat clouded her judgment and has resulted in a loss of her objectivity and clear gaze.

There are many reasons why Almost 18 is an average teenage drama. There is a dominant feeling of a constant attempt to create conflict. Each individual story is floundering to reach a climax, but all eventually fail. And the reason is simply because these kids are alright. They are all strong, handsome, cool, smart and well-dressed ladies’ men. They don’t make real mistakes. Their worse behavior is drinking beer and smoking pot. Even the one who is into gigolo stuff is very much aware of the unfulfilling sense his pursuit of the fleeting pleasures offers him. They are already fully-fledged personalities which could easily give their own parents a lesson on maturity. So it plays out like a latent maternal fantasy of a perfect son. Moreover, from the obvious focus-pulling shaky photography to the predictable musical choices, it is cinematically trite. What ultimately holds the film together and prevents the final tailspin are the performances of the actors, which are at least sincere, and which arguably serve as the main directorial focus from the very beginning.

The fact that teenage dramas can be inexpensively produced doesn’t make them an easy genre to deal with. Teenage characters do not coincide with motives of the grown-up characters. Their behavior can be highly unpredictable. This is why in a genre that tends to glut, every new offering ought to be truly original, unmistakably clear and rudely daring.

Lalli's Almost 18 feature debut takes top awards at Finland's Jussis  Cineuropa 

 

Kohta 18 - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

 
Laloux, René
 
MONKEY’S TEETH (Les Dents du singe)

France  (11 mi)  1960 

 

User reviews from imdb Author: eric wobma from Amsterdam

Rene Laloux was not involved in the writing of this story, which was done by the patients of an asylum. Which immediately brings the challenges of 'automatic writing' in mind.

What is brought to us, the viewers, is a lovely tale filled with obvious and undercurrent symbolism, appealing like primitive painting and with a depth that is breathtaking.

For those who want clear cut straight run of the mill storytelling with not too much story in it ... shy away from this little gem.

For all that like everything that promises to give more than meets the eye: do not miss this short !!

(Nor the other 2 Miracles which are given as an extra on the Anchor Bay DVD-release of Fantastic Planet/La Planete Sauvage !!! That whole DVD is a Roland Topor feast; the grand artist collaborated on all titles of the DVD but this TEETH OF THE MONKEY.)

LES ESCARGOTS (THE SNAILS)

France  (10 mi)  1965

 

An extremely humorous short film that reveals a farmer’s troubles growing his crops, and after a series of clever failures, he discovers an ingenious method to make them sprout.  The problem being, giant snails appear to ravage his crops which then devour everything in sight, including entire cities.  It’s interesting that this director routinely seems to imagine giant versions of ordinary animals, suggesting a mutant threat where there would otherwise never be one, as the creatures imagined presently render no harm to anyone in the real world.  Adding to the otherworldliness, an avant-garde somewhat jazzy musical score gives this a subterranean Beat feeling.  
 
Fantastic Planet / La Plenète sauvage   Slarek from DVD Outsider (excerpt)

Les Escargots (10:43) was made in 1965 and marked an earlier collaboration with Roland Topor and Alain Goraguer, whose contributions were so crucial to the distinctive style of La Planète sauvage. A surrealistic tale of a farmer whose failing crop is revived by his own tears, then is destroyed by giant snails that subsequently go on the rampage, it inevitably shines in its artwork but is also very funny in places, not least the farmer's methods of inducing a constant stream of tears, including reading Shakespearean tragedies and a back-mounted machine for bashing himself repeatedly on the head. Quality is not bad, given the age and probable rarity of prints.

User reviews from imdb Author: Polaris_DiB from United States

This short film is included with the recent DVD rerelease of Fantastic Planet, and I have to say I like it a bit better than the feature. Laloux's earlier short is a lot less politically oriented, a lot less sensical, but because of those aspects a lot more surreal and psychedelically wonderful.

A farmer can't get his crops to grow until he discovers that they absolutely flourish under his tears. Utilizing a series of devices to ensure he can cry all over the field, he raises the plants to gigantic proportions. But just like Jack and the Beanstalk, gigantic proportions of food also equate gigantic proportions of pests, and snails eat their way through the crops until they go on a King Kong-like rampage of a nearby city, seducing pretty girls and destroying entire buildings at the same time. Once recovered from the attack, the farmer goes back and tries growing carrots this time. Which means rabbits.

The same style of animation is used here as in the later Fantastic Planet. Warm colors and colored pencil shadings create a form of cut-out animation (think South Park, but a little better at hiding the process) and character design. The focus of the feature is the snails, of course, and that's a brilliant way to keep it cheap because, well, they're snails... they don't exactly have many different ways of portraying them.

FANTASTIC PLANET (La Planète Sauvage)

France  Czechoslovakia  (72 mi)  1973

 

An animated sci-fi film that resembles the look of MONTY PYTHON or YELLOW SUBMARINE, or even the Beatles video to “Eleanor Rigby,” complete with cardboard cut out, emotionless faces.  Here humans are the prey of giant blue creatures known as Draags, calling the humans Oms.  The Oms exist in a prehistoric mindset, as they huddle together in caves, are scantily clothed, and carry spears or other primitive weapons.  Supposedly the filmmaker’s reaction to the Russian invasion of Czechoslovakia, where tanks led an occupation that attempted to break the spirit and national identity of the Czechs, forcing a foreign Soviet language and culture on a hostile nation.  The Draag ministry meetings conducted by a giant head mocks the Soviet Party hierarchy.

 

This film is set on another world where the Oms are kept as pets, but otherwise despised by the giant blueys, who find them unintelligent and smelly, periodically cleansing the neighborhood of Oms, using outlandish devices to exterminate their presence from the planet, from simply stepping on them, or employing giant vacuum sucking monsters, using poison gasses or giant balls that flatten and steamroll people.  The story follows one such pet whose life was saved only to become enslaved by the giant community, placing an electric collar around his neck to demand immediate compliance.  But over time, he learns the ways of the Draags and attempts to use that information to save his own people.  Eventually the Oms become more resistant, using more sophisticated weaponry, and a bit of the imagery resembles Gulliver’s capture by the Lilliputians.  By stealing the Draags technology, called their listening devices, the Oms are able to access a means to fight back, initially hiding in exile in a deserted part of their world, eventually travelling to another planet to escape.  But strangely, the Draags show up there as well, which turns this into an intergalactic dispute.  The jazzy electric guitar-laced musical score by Alain Goraguer feels strangely like it’s from another era, allowing us to recall a time in our lives when psychodelic imagery was the rage, from comics to Pop Art.  This film is an exquisite representation of thinking completely outside the moment, using one’s imagination to initially flee, then take up arms against an invading nation.  Thirty years later, with our own occupation in Iraq, our own nation’s actions have come to resemble that of the blue giants.  It’s hard to know what side we’re on anymore.

 

Time Out

 

Are you ready for the struggle of the Oms against their oppressive masters, the 40-foot Draags? Something of a revelation to anyone who thinks animation extends only as far as Fritz the Cat, Roland Topor's graphics create a world reminiscent of two of the greatest artists of the fantastic, Bosch and Odilon Redon. He sketches a menacing landscape full of womb-like passages, intestinal plants, strange phallic and vaginal shapes, and extraordinary posthistoric monsters.

 

DVDBeaver   Gary W. Tooze

 

René Laloux's mesmerising psychedelic sci-fi animated feature won the Grand Prix at the 1973 Cannes Film Festival and is a landmark of European animation. Based on Stefan Wul's novel Oms en série [Oms by the dozen], Laloux's breathtaking vision was released in France as La Planète sauvage [The Savage Planet]; in the USA as Fantastic Planet; and immediately drew comparisons to Swift's Gulliver's Travels and Planet of the Apes (both the 1968 film and Boule's 1963 novel). Today, the film can be seen to prefigure much of the work of Hayao Miyazaki at Studio Ghibli (Princess Mononoke, Spirited Away) due to its palpable political and social concerns, cultivated imagination, and memorable animation techniques.

Fantastic Planet tells the story of "Oms", human-like creatures, kept as domesticated pets by an alien race of blue giants called "Draags". The story takes place on the Draags' planet Ygam, where we follow our narrator, an Om called Terr, from infancy to adulthood. He manages to escape enslavement from a Draag learning device used to educate the savage Oms — and begins to organise an Om revolt. The imagination invested in the surreal creatures, music and sound design, and eerie landscapes, is immense and unforgettable.

Widely regarded as an allegorical statement on the Soviet occupation of Czechoslovakia, Fantastic Planet was five years in the making at Prague's Jiri Trnka Studios. The direction of René Laloux, the incredible art of Roland Topor, and Alain Goraguer's brilliantly complementary score (much sampled by the hip-hop community) all combine to make Fantastic Planet a mind-searing experience.

 

The Onion A.V. Club [Joshua Klein]

Animation became big business again in the late '80s, and ever since, it's become less and less likely that there'll be another full-length animated feature quite as weird as René Laloux's underground 1973 French classic La Planete Sauvage (Fantastic Planet). Drawn with sharp details in warm pastel colors, the movie is just the kind of hippie allegory—and trippy visual experience—that the '60s often produced. Fantastic Planet, adapted from a novel by Stefan Wul, was inspired by the invasion of Czechoslovakia by the Russians in the late '60s. On the planet Ygam lives a race of giant, alien beings called Traags. These Traags, who are prone to hallucinatory bouts of group meditation, keep the oddly human-like Oms as pets, often treating them with the sadism and perverse maternalism humans frequently inflict upon their own pets. Never underestimate the ingenuity of an Om, though: When one absconds with one of the Traags' knowledge devices, he uses the tool to foment a wild Om uprising against his captors. Available for the first time in years and now presented in widescreen, Laloux's film, which won the 1973 Cannes Grand Prix Prize, is a welcome respite from slick Disney product and countless shoddy imitators. Started in Prague but completed, due to political pressure, in Paris, Fantastic Planet uses an accessible medium to show the evils of propaganda and express the need for individuality. Laloux's vision of a Dali-meets-Krazy Kat alien landscape populated by twisted creatures is quite striking, even if the film's psychedelic elements haven't exactly aged well. As an added bonus, the DVD edition comes with three earlier Laloux shorts—1960's Les Dents Du Singe (Monkey's Teeth), 1964's Les Temps Morts (Dead Times), and 1965's Les Escargots (The Snails)—that are respectively thoughtful, haunting, and funny.

digitallyOBSESSED.com (Dale Dobson)

 

Fantastic Planet (original French title: La Planete sauvage) is a 1973 animated science-fiction film directed by Rene Laloux with design by Roland Topor, based on Stefan Wul's allegorical novel Oms en serie. The film began production in Czechoslovakia at the Jiri Trnka studio, but moved to Paris to escape political pressures—the story was inspired in part by Czechoslovakia's invasion by the USSR in the late 1960's. Laloux's finished film won the Grand Prix Award at the 1973 Cannes Film Festival.

The story concerns the Oms, a race of Earth-origin humans living on a planet where they are dominated and kept as pets by the Traags, giant (by comparison) blue aliens who see the "animals" as an amusement until they observe signs of intelligence and organization among the tribes of un-domesticated "wild Oms." An orphaned Om named Terr is raised by Tiwa, a young female Traag who allows him to listen in on her lessons—after he escapes, his education proves valuable.

Fantastic Planet successfully implements the elusive sense of other-worldliness so many live-action science-fiction films fail to pull off. The film's look is unique even among animated features—it uses a sophisticated combination of cut-out and cel animation, allowing for Winsor McCay-ish artwork with detailed cross-hatching and pastel shading while avoiding the obvious "joints" of conventional cut-out animation (a la South Park.) The background and character designs fit together organically, without the hard lines and flat colors that separate the two in cel animation. Character movement is sometimes limited by this approach, but the film benefits greatly from Laloux's technical risks—its consistent stylization lends a credible alien quality to its fantasy world.

Laloux's film is also solid from a storytelling perspective—its gently-paced, literary feel drives its message home without becoming preachy. The script wisely avoids facile good-vs-evil themes, building its impact through bits and pieces, words and images that add up to a fully-realized portrait of two cultures in conflict. The exquisitely original look of the film is backed up with mature philosophical substance. Forget Titan A.E., Heavy Metal and half of the anime you've seen—Fantastic Planet is animated science-fiction at its finest.

Village Voice (Gary Dauphin)

 

Twenty-five years after it won the Grand Prix at the Cannes Film Festival, Rene Laloux's animated oddity Fantastic Planet is humming back into theaters, a theremin-toned time capsule from the trippier precincts of toontown and science fiction. If you've never caught it during a cable-TV binge, it should still provide the giddy buzz of arty weirdness that has long made it an object of cult veneration, a sci-fi starter drug that turned many a budding fan on to Stanislaw Lem, Tarkovsky flicks, and old-school Heavy Metal comics.

Based on a novel by Czech fantasist Stefan Wul, Planet opens on an unselfconsciously ominous note: a ragged woman clutching a baby runs through a thorny wilderness, sharp Yellow Submarine­ish squiggles and spikes raining onto her path. The cause of her trouble is soon revealed when a giant blue hand appears, casually flicking her about until her small body lies in a broken heap. The hand belongs to a child of the Draag race, hundred-foot-tall, azure-skinned, and blank-eyed beings who brought the little Oms (a play on hommes, i.e., us) to their home planet centuries ago, alternately keeping them as pets and decrying them as fast-breeding vermin. The Draags don't think the Oms are very intelligent but they do learn tricks and fit into dollhouses, so a kindly Draag girl named Tiwa takes the orphaned baby in. She names him Terr and he grows to learn the ways of the Draags, eventually escaping to a "wild" Om community and becoming a cockroach-sized freedom fighter.

French director Laloux enlisted the services of Czech animators for Planet, and their spare but vivid images reflect period psychedelia and the globular, hypnotically repetitive fancies of Pop Art. The film tosses off sci-fi flourishes like rocket ships and cybernetic teaching devices, but its heart is in the psychological and druggily inexplicable, as in the repeated Draag meditations where their souls (or something) are transferred to spheres which casually float to their moon. Although the visuals are worth the ticket alone, Fantastic Planet also crackles with emotional and political resonance: Terr's status as plaything is as viscerally humiliating as the Draag's "de-Om- inization" gassings of wild humans are matter-of-factly genocidal. Fantastic Planet is fairly transparent in its allusions to the bureaucratic horrors unfolding behind the Iron Curtain in 1973, but credit Laloux and his team for a vision that's outlasted the particular conditions that informed it. It's not every fancifully encoded cautionary tale that can survive the demise of its historical villains, and it's not every stoner midnight movie that can stand a second viewing in the sober light of day.

Senses of Cinema (Chris Justice)

 

not coming to a theater near you (Ian Johnston)

 

Fantastic Planet / La Plenète sauvage   Slarek from DVD Outsider

 

DVD Times  Anthony Nield

 

Electric Sheep Magazine  Virginie Sélavy

 

Film Court (Lawrence Russell)

 

Turner Classic Movies   Nathaniel Thompson

 

Twitch [Jasper Sharp] 

 

Eye for Film (Anton Bitel)

 

SF, Horror and Fantasy Film Review   Richard Scheib

 

Twitch   Ardvark

 

FANTASTIC PLANET  Gerry Carpenter

 

Read the New York Times Review »   Howard Thompson 

 

TIME MASTERS (Les Maîtres du Temps)

France  Switzerland  Germany  Hungary  (78 mi)  1982

 

User reviews from imdb Author: Patrick Mezard from Paris

"Les maîtres du temps" is as good as french animation movies are rare. Designed by Moebius (Fifth Element...), inspired from a novel of Stephan Wul (french science fiction writer) "L'orphelin de Perdide", it remains one of the most powerful animation movie I have ever seen.

Evidently, It is pretty old and the animation cannot be compared to today's movies, but the rest is very impressive. Characters are mature and have interesting personnalities, the design of ETs and plants is original and the scenario is full of surprises. This movie is different from all others and it is a real victory to be better than the book it has been taken of.

User reviews from imdb Author: zetes from Saint Paul, MN

Animation is the perfect medium for sci-fi. Unfortunately, few animated sci-fi films have lived up to their potential. French animation master René Laloux is definitely one who let his imagination run amok in his medium. He is best known for his 1973 film Fantastic Planet. He must have had a difficult time getting funded for other projects, because he only ever made two more features. He died just a year ago. Time Masters is his second feature (he made another in 1988, called Light Years). The animation is very primitive, and not in the inventive primitiveness of Fantastic Planet. But, what it lacks in animation, it more than makes up for with its imagination. It's simply wonderful to behold. I especially love those two little telepathic creatures, referred to as "gnomes". The story is good, if not great. The ending is quite clever. I was wishing that it had gone on for at least a half an hour longer, but I won't complain, given the limited amount of material Laloux was able to produce in his lifetime.

User reviews from imdb Author: Sturgeon54 from United States

I do not know the first thing about animation, and in fact the only animation I have experience with is a few Disney movies and Saturday morning cartoons. Watching this quirky piece of animated science-fiction, I came to the realization that animation opens up an entirely new universe of possibilities for the genre. I have read many science fiction short stories and novels, wondering how they could possibly be translated into film, but using animation, the portrayal of complicated conceptual ideas from sci-fi novels seems much more possible than in traditional live-action. In fact, I'm tempted to say that science fiction and animation naturally complement one another.

This movie is like a funhouse of outrageous otherworldly ideas, one after the next. For a mere 80 minute running time, the filmmakers have packed an amazing amount of material here. If anything, the movie is actually too short, and it seems to gloss over a great deal of important plot points. It is almost like watching a drawing board conceptualization of a longer, more ambitious film, rather than the film itself. As such, character development is at a minimum here, as in the work of George Lucas. But also like Lucas' films, much of that is made up by the wealth of creativity. What is here is fantastic - a story filled with warmth and humor that can resonate with both children and reasoning adults. The startling elliptical ending is intriguing but abrupt. I recommend this for more adventurous filmgoers who want to try something unique.

User reviews from imdb Author: Itamar Katz (itamarscomix@gmail.com) from Israel

Designed by the great graphic novelist Jean Giraud - AKA Moebius – Time Masters is a fascinating piece of animated sci-fi from France, that is well recommended for lovers of the genre and of the artist. Though the animation looks somewhat primitive by today's standards – though not for 1982, it looks quite better than any American cartoon of the time save Disney's, and don't forget that it wasn't a corporate effort like G.I. Joe or Transformers but an independent film with limited budget – but quickly enough you can learn the look past the rather bulky movements and simplistic faces of the characters and find yourself amazed at Moebius' amazing, seemingly endless imagination and creativity. The film is directed mainly at younger viewers – so it's not as liberated and wild as his more independent comics work or his contributions to Heavy Metal magazine – but his incredibly original vision is all there, in the out-of-this-world designs for the landscapes, the structures and the alien characters. Every minute of the film is a complete innovation in terms of design.

Plot-wise, there's not that much to be said for it; it's an intelligent but simplistic sci-fi story with a nice twist ending, which will, I think, appeal mainly to younger viewers. The characters are mostly simplistic and cartoonish, and largely unconvincing. These are the only reasons why I couldn't give Time Masters full marks; but these flaws take very little away from the pleasure of this film. As long as it focuses on the child character Piel, who is largely unaware of what goes on in the larger picture and is therefore touching and interesting, and not on the flat characters of Jaffar (good and brave for the sake of goodness and bravery), Matton (bad and greedy for the sake of badness and greediness) and the other adults; then it manages to be beautiful and gripping. And when any of the alien races are on screen, be they cute and cuddly or bizarre and frightening, you won't be able to look away. Time Masters is essential viewing for any lover of Moebius' work, and is well recommended for fans of science-fiction and of classic animation, and will surely become a treasured favorite for any of these.

Oggs' Movie Thoughts 

Time Masters is the second Stefan Wul novel ("L'Orphelin de Perdide") director René Laloux adapted. The first one being "Oms En Serie" which Laloux turned into the now classic The Fantastic Planet (1973). It certainly feels like Laloux's cinematic style is compatible with Wul's tales of otherworldly lifeforms, civilizations, and struggles. Laloux breezes through the planet of Perdide with its interesting landscapes and living curiosities, while accomodating a storyline that invokes a gripping twist in the end; a twist that all of a sudden turns the tale into an involving temporal puzzle.

The plot follows a troupe of space mercenaries in a race against time trying to rescue a little boy who is left alone in the wilderness of Perdide. The boy, who is merely kept alive by an intergalactic radio (from which he receives information and company from the space mercenaries) he, by his youth and innocence, thinks of as a friend called "Mike."

Time Masters feels a less serious effort compared to The Fantastic Planet. Unlike the latter film wherein adult themes surface from the planetary rebellion by the little aliens against their blue-skinned humanoid masters, Time Masters is pretty much a straightforward rescue film wherein the heroes jump in and out of problematic scenarios and try to arrive in Perdide before the boy gets devoured by locust-like creatures. There are scenarios wherein Laloux seems to be pushing a certain theme --- the troupe lands in a deserted planet inhabited by faceless angel-like creatures. These creatures would kidnap visitors and through a ceremony turn them into "puppets" just like them. The scenario feels like a commentary against organized religion (especially with the utilized imagery of angels, the ceremonial baptism to a common ideology). The scenario being a mere point within the entire film betrays the depth of the commentaries for narrative ease and straightforwardness. It feels like Laloux is kept from truly exploring these alien environs by his adherence to storytelling; something i never felt while watching The Fantastic Planet.

Time Masters marks the first collaboration between Laloux and comic book artist Jean Giraud. Giraud is most famous for co-creating The Silver Surfer, and would later on work on as concept artist for films like Alien (Ridley Scott, 1979), Willow (Ron Howard, 1988), and The Fifth Element (Luc Besson, 1997). This is perhaps the reason why there is such a huge difference between the designs of The Fantastic Planet and Time Masters. The Fantastic Planet's art is grotesque, surreal, and at times, downright disturbing. Time Masters feels much more cartoon-y and friendly. Giraud is responsible for the sketches, and there is indeed a comic book feel to the film. There is very minimal movement, and more often than not, Laloux bathes the film in sedentary moments; giving us the opportunity to examine and enjoy his and Giraud's collaborative art.

The animation is not smooth, which shouldn't pose a problem, especially when one is already used to Laloux's cinema. Time Masters seems to be confused of its classification; whether or not it is a children's film or an adult-centered animated film. Most of the alien designs are clumsily conceived (especially if compared to the dangerous flora and fauna of The Fantastic Planet), on the verge of being silly in the level of those Hanna-Barbara cartoons. Yet at times, it's quite fantastic and the level Laloux infuses these made-up alien landscapes with real ecosystems and cycles is just compelling.

DVD Outsider  Slarek

 

Twitch   Ardvark

 

Film Threat, Hollywood's Indie Voice   Ron Wells

 

A Nutshell Review  Stefan S

 

Electric Sheep Magazine  Virginie Sélavy

 

HOW WAN-FÔ WAS SAVED (Comment Wang-Fo Fut Sauvé)

France  (15 mi)  1987

 

User reviews from imdb Author: matthewscott8 from United Kingdom

This animated short has been included as an extra on the R2 DVD of Laloux's Fantastic Planet, released by Eureka in their Masters of Cinema series. It is without doubt sublime. In fact although Fantastic Planet was superb it is almost overshadowed by this 15-minute short.

In it we have Wang-Fo, a supreme master of painting in medieval China. Reality is portrayed in his paintings even more beautifully than it actually is, in fact once one has seen the work of Wang-Fo, one scorns reality. In one part he paints the narrator's wife, who then falls out of love with her and in love with her portrayal in the paintings. One's glee is aroused when one realises the reflexivity involved. You are yourself witnessing animation that is so good that you are in danger of falling out with reality yourself (especially as regards the unreal landscapes in the film, highly influenced by Oriental art).

Without wishing to give away the plot too much I will say that Wang-Fo's skill incurs the Emperor's displeasure. His work is portrayed as being tantamount to sacrilegious because of its tendency to diminish reality. The Emperor orders Wang-Fo's mutilation, and it is how he is saved (the title points to this being the key to the riddle) that really makes the movie transcendent.

What makes me happiest about this movie though is the profound sense of ambivalence engendered. One feels both sides of the argument, that great art is at once transcendent and a perversion. Is Wang-Fo a criminal or an angel (and there are certainly parts where his skill is portrayed as very sinister)? This is a topic that has always fascinated me, having always buried myself in books and images and ideas, steadfastly avoiding subsequently dimmed reality.

Henry Fuseli, a painter of Gothic fantasy commented (to misquote him from memory) that the lover of fantasy will forever be disappointed by reality. Laloux leaves the viewer room to make up their own mind about whether such decadence is worth the price it demands.

This animated short based on a short story by Yourcenar, itself taken from Lafcadio Hearne who retold a tale of more ancient origin, was apparently considered by Laloux to be his finest work.

Oggs' Movie Thoughts  Ogg’s Movie Thoughts

Watch René Laloux's animation now with eyes trained to detect the individual strands of fur in a character or the realistic human-like movements of digitized children and your bound for disappointment. Laloux's animation is not about emulation of what's real. Animation is after all a means to release the restrictions of reality. Laloux's most popular feature The Fantastic Planet does not have anatomically accurate beings; it is sci-fi and its world is populated by blue skinned aliens, little humanoid creatures, a host of bizaare fauna, and a compelling environment that stretches the boundaries of human imagination. Laloux has made only three feature length films in his career; most of his other works are short films. How Wan-Fô Was Saved is his favorite among his works. Adapted from a short story of Marguerite Yourcenar, which is also rewritten adaptation of a Chinese parable, How Wan-Fô Was Saved is told in a simplistic yet thought-provoking manner that is quite absent from the mainstream animated cinema of today which seems to be more interested in mundane details than adept storytelling.

The animation is coarse. Laloux is not interested in smooth movements. His characters are limited in their mobility; most of the action is suggested by the narration which supplies a level of psychology to the immobile artworks. Yet with the little movement that is portrayed, the accuracy of human experience is felt. The air of alcohol intoxication is portrayed with deliberate accuracy by Laloux using the most economic of details. From the point of view of the narrator, the apprentice of master painter Wan-Fô, the entire tavern feels alive in a drunken man's perspective. Movement is slower; laughter is louder; visual points of interest are more profound (a lady roasting a pig; his master's fingerpainting spilled wine; personal musings of the depth of art).

With less than fifteen minutes, Laloux was able to manipulate a story to serve his philosophical interests. He details the master and his apprentice's capture and delivery to the emperor of the Han kingdom. He emotionally paints a background tale on the pale-skinned emperor; his character design establishes himself as a heartless villain, but his back story tells otherwise. He plants an indefatiguable sense of loyalty in the apprentice's character for his master and his master's craft, to the point of lethal jealousy for his beautiful wife. In a sense, the characters of How Wan-Fô Was Saved are as alien as the humanoid citizens of The Fantastic Planet, despite being grounded on an exotic yet real Chinese culture, with their warped psychology that befits the constructs of its narrative genre.

The ending is even more brilliant. The apprentice is punished for loyally defending his master; the palace guards behead the defensive apprentice and Laloux does not shy away from the portrayal of violence. He nonchalantly depicts the beheading as mere background noise --- a thud accompanying the animated fall of the headless body. Wan-Fô is ordered to complete a painting that has been bothering the emperor since his childhood days. Again, Laloux insists on immobility. Bystanders and the emperor staticly watch the master complete the painting of a vast ocean; then the painting bursts with life, a little boat inches closer and closer to rescue the old master from his fate. Laloux, before he did his first animated short film, worked for a psychiatric ward and has opted to describe his cinema as schizophrenic. In a sense, Laloux achieves an unfathomable excellence in planting imaginative unrealism in his animated works; he allows us to lose ourselves in our imagination and join the old master in his escape from the clutches of a tyrant who misunderstands the value of art.

THE CAPTIVE (La Prisonnière)

France  (7 mi)  1988  co-director:  Philippe Caza

 

User reviews from imdb Author: mcfloodhorse from Denver and Copenhagen and wherever

This short animated film from Rene Laloux opens with a distant, almost alien narrator informing us that "we've discovered a bizarre story...of two orphans who flee a world stricken by war and death...across an ash desert...to reach a city whose inhabitants have become guardians of silence" "Noise is chaos" says one of the so-called priests of this city, and "silence is order and harmony".

The meditative, atmospheric, percussive qualities of the soundtrack complement the mystical disappearing/reappearing figures of this city, which presages similar elements and moods found in 'Spirited Away'.

The animation style is comparable to that of Laloux's 'Gandahar', although some of the more psychedelic and primitive artistic qualities are more reminiscent of his 'La Planete Sauvage'.

Laloux's trademark disjointedness or "schizophrenic" style of cinema is still in tact, leaving things nicely open for interpretation. A few stunning sequences also appear, as a brilliant snowfall sequence set against the ebb and flow of some fantastic foreign ocean soon transitions into a surreal scene involving a beached whale and the erotic mysteries dwelling therein.

With the full moon shining brightly and the tide rising quickly, the two orphans are accompanied by the city's shadowy prime-mover/prisoner as they sail away at dawn. "Fortunately, order and silence don't always prevail in the end"...

GANDAHAR

aka:  Light Years

France  North Korea  (83 mi)  1988

 

Chicago Reader

 
This 1988 animated SF feature by Rene Laloux (Fantastic Planet) tells the epic tale of a civilization wiped out and reborn as a consequence of its technological experimentation. The animation is by Philippe Caza; the dubbed English dialogue is by Isaac Asimov. With the voices of Christopher Plummer, Glenn Close, Paul Shaffer, Jennifer Grey, and David Johansen. PG, 83 min.

 

User reviews from imdb Author: arsenick from Paris, France

It is a very good anticipation movie. The part describing the lovely and environmental gandahar is wonderful. While renewing a 70's vision of sex, nature and happiness, the colors, sounds and pictures (a young girl offering her breast to a new born invented animal who looks like a tapir, born out of a grown plant). The story: mixing future and past, threatening the present by having itself created in the past, the elements that will be dangerous in the future. It is also a huge criticism of the liability of the human being regarding its evil habit to master the nature, the human body and science. In the end, scientific rubbish saves the human beings from a great scientific discovery they made years ago. Happiness is conditioned by assuming one's mistakes. A great philosophical tale. The blue skinned woman with head-wings is very impressive, as well as the very beautiful nude females.

Oggs' Movie Thoughts

Gandahar is probably the closest René Laloux ever came in replicating the level of sophistication he gave alien civilizations in The Fantastic Planet (1973). He opens the film with an overview of a seaside community: blue skinned humanoids living life in utter simplicity. Laloux presents the planet of Gandahar as a utopian paradise where everything is in joyful order; nature and civilization coincide like connecting puzzle pieces (a plant gives birth to a pet, the pet is then taken care of by a female Gandaharian by breastfeeding it). The supposed peace is disrupted when laser rays start targetting the peaceful Gandaharians, turning them into stone.

Laloux cuts to the capital of Gandahar, Jasper. Beneath the carved bust of a female Gandaharian, the council of elders is debating on who to send to uncover the mysterious enemies of Gandahar. Sylvain is chosen; and is sent to the vast ocean to learn more about Gandahar's attackers, an army of metal men. On the way, he discovers an underground civilization of deformed Gandaharians (botched experiments of Jasper who were completely forgotten), and an oversized brain (again, another botched experiment of Jasper thrown to the sea when it was getting too big to destroy).

It's an interesting concept, sprawling in its seemingly unlimited area of creation; which is perfect for the highly imaginative Laloux. Laloux eats up the concept, and populates the alien world with a civilization that becomes too advanced (probably not industrially; but the scientific experimentations to turn nature into a tool for advancement cannot relate Gandahar as naturally perfect), too selfish and perfectionist (the deformed Gandaharias have turned into a mere tall tale; and instead of turning them into a distinct class, Gandahar has totally forgotten them (class structures cannot exist in a utopian society)), and too complacent that it is almost powerless to any external struggle. The plot relies on time travel for its movement; Sylvain seems to be the chosen one to enact the prophecy but the prophecy's cyclical syntax connotes an impetus for salvation. I suggest that the sudden appearance of the Gandaharian dinosaur-like creature that saves Sylvain and love interest Airelle from their egg-shaped cell as the impetus; Sylvain thought that the dinosaur as extinct; I thought that the dinosaur is one of those Gandaharian creatures that have escaped Gandahar's god-like machinations and is therefore the proper turning point (it being pure from Gandahar's "sins against nature") that could enact the cyclical prophecy and in turn save Gandahar.

Gandahar is released in the United States as Light Years. The plot remains relatively unchanged except that the script was revised by Isaac Asimov, the music is modified to include generic sci-fi melodics and sound effects, the director's credit shamelessly grabbed by Harvey Weinstein70s-Fashion-Brands-Revival . Asimov's translation turns Laloux's film into an unexciting talkfest; Asimov delights in several voice-over narrations, suggests a maternal relation between the Gandaharian queen Ambisextra and Sylvain, lightens the romantic angle between Sylvain and Airelle. Asimov's screenplay is also riddled with hyphaluting wordplay, which somehow lessens the natural transition of Laloux's original film --- the result is a disorienting flow, a boringly sexless characterization, and an inevitably less enjoyable film. Harvey Weinstein does employ several actors and actresses to provide voice talents for the characters (Glenn Close as Ambisextra, Christopher Plummer as Metamorphis the evil oversized brain). However, the delivery remains flat; presumably because of Asimov's distancing semantics.

Seeing both versions, I cannot deny that Laloux's final feature film is indeed a worthy feature; still miles away from his masterpiece The Fantastic Planet, but definitely up and above Time Masters (1982). Even with Weinstein's mutated Light Years, you can still observe Laloux's undeniable artistry and imagination in cooking up an alien civilization complete with its social and governmental structures, and biological make-up.

DVD Outsider  Slarek

 

Electric Sheep Magazine  Virginie Sélavy

 

Twitch  Ardvark

 

The SF, Horror and Fantasy Film Review  Richard Scheib

 

Joel Mathis  Bad Movie Night

 

Badmovies.org review  Andrew Borntreger

 

Washington Post [Richard Harrington]

 
Lam, Ringo
 

Lam, Ringo   Art and Culture

 

You might not know it, but you've already watched one of his movies: "Reservoir Dogs" is a note-perfect rendition of the Chow Yun-Fat vehicle that was Ringo Lam's first big hit, "City on Fire." The original thriller is the story of an undercover cop who finds honor among jewel thieves. Stories of honor under fire and brotherhood-in-arms have inspired Lam over and over again.
 
"City on Fire" was just the beginning of a series of arsonist delights. "Prison on Fire," "School on Fire," and "Prison on Fire 2" set that same macho story in a number of locked-down settings. Maybe that's why he's been called "One of the darkest visionaries of Hong Kong cinema," and why Jean-Claude Van Damme says that Lam has "the flavor of Scorsese." While Lam clearly aims to unearth the deep conflicts at the heart of contemporary society, it's fair to say that, even more, he's aching to stage huge, bloody mayhem.
 
Lam is a product of the "Let's do the show right here" school of Hong Kong filmmaking. In a typical move, when he couldn't get permission to shoot a car chase on a busy street, he shot it anyway. (The fear in the onlookers' eyes is real.) That forceful personality tends to get him in trouble with his actors. He fell out with Tony Leung on the set of "The Adventurers" (1995), and, on the set of "Maximum Risk" (1996), he told Van Damme that he "couldn't act for shit."
 
All of this might explain why Lam hasn't been able to follow John Woo into the limelight of the American market place, even though he uses the same actors and plotlines, and has the same delight in the old ultraviolence. (Just try "Full Contact" to see the similarity.) Instead, he's still working the Hong Kong grind and watching his films fall into the black hole of the Chinese-cinema circuit. Still, he's used to lulls in his fortune, and to bouncing back. Maybe that Hollywood breakthrough is just around the corner.
 
Double Damme   from the September 19-25, 1996 issue of Metro
 
CITY ON FIRE (Lung fu fong wan)

Hong Kong  (101 mi)  1987

 

TotalFilm

Ringo Lam’s hardboiled Hong Kong crime thriller was a major ‘inspiration’ for Reservoir Dogs. In fact, with its colour-coded crims, post-heist warehouse setting and fledgling friendship between a deep-cover undercover copper (Chow Yun-fat) and a jewel thief, it’s pretty much a blueprint for Tarantino’s classic. Naturally, it lacks the verbal dexterity, while the cop/robber doppelgänger theme is better explored in John Woo’s The Killer. But Yun-fat is brilliant.

Time Out

 

The inspiration for Reservoir Dogs, this 1987 crime movie is a good example of the thriller HK-style ('style' being the operative word). Social and psychological nuance is out. Designer shades are in. Hong Kong's biggest movie star, Chow Yun Fat (The Killer, A Better Tomorrow, Hard-Boiled) is the epitome of Esquire cool, more playful than Clint, more intense than Mel, much better looking than Arnie or Sly. Here he's an undercover cop, Ko Chow, who works his way into a gang of jewel thieves at the cost of his fiancée and, perhaps, his own integrity. This is straight-cut, fashion-plate pulp. Tarantino fans will note the familiarity of the set-up. In fact, Reservoir Dogs is an elaboration on the the climax of Ringo Lam's film: after the heist goes wrong, the gang hole up in a warehouse, where bullets and recriminations start to fly. There's none of Tarantino's formal inventiveness, none of the finesse or the wit, just a gut-wrenching dramatic situation ready to explode.
 
LoveHKFilm.com (Calvin McMillin)

Chow-Yun Fat goes undercover, joining a band of hoods and befriending jewel thief Danny Lee along the way. For Chow, it all comes down to a question of honor versus justice in a movie that Quentin Tarantino liked so darn much, he remade it as Reservoir Dogs.

What's more important, loyalty or justice? That's the dilemma facing undercover cop Ko Chow (Chow Yun-Fat) in Ringo Lam's excellent crime drama City on Fire. The film is a definite must see for HK enthusiasts, if for no other reason than to witness what a Ringo Lam movie was like before he became Jean Claude Van Damme's director of choice.     

Like Donnie Brasco and other films of its kind, City on Fire explores the internal ethical struggle for a policeman who get too close to his prey. The plot: after a fellow cop is knifed to death in the streets, detective Ko Chow is put on the trail of some jewel thieves by his world-weary superior, Inspector Lau (Sun Yeuh). Chow, however, has deep reservations about the assignment. "I fulfill my duties?" Chow complains, "But I betray my friends!" Despite his protests, Chow agrees to the job and attempts to befriend head crook Lee Fu (Danny Lee). After a few tense situations, Chow is eventually accepted into the Fu's confidence and asked to join in on the crew's next big score. As the two strike up a friendship, Chow's personal ethics are put to the test as he finds himself genuinely liking Fu, the very man he's supposed to arrest. Later, the climactic jewelry heist goes terribly wrong with bullets flying everywhere and bodies littering the streets. In the end, Chow is forced to make a definitive, but not surprising, decision on where his loyalties reside…with fatal results.      

There have been many comparison made between this film and Tarantino's "re-imagining" (An unfortunate buzzword that emerged after Tim Burton's Planet of the Apes debacle. But I digress). Though similar in theme, City on Fire and Reservoir Dogs are dramatically different in execution. Whereas Quentin Tarantino's debut film had a sleek look and crackling dialogue, City on Fire does not—and that's not necessarily a criticism of Lam's flick. Tarantino's world is a kind of hyper-reality in which common thugs can riff on pop culture; Ringo Lam's domain seems a tad bit more realistic. The criminal element depicted in City on Fire operates in a grim, gritty underworld that's only shred of romanticism lies in the immutable loyalty between brothers. Same idea, different methods—but both pretty damn cool movies. (Sanjuro 2002)

City on Fire  Michael den Boer from 10kbullets

 
When an undercover agent with evidence that could lead to the arrest of a group of jewelry thieves is murder while trying to contact his superior Ko Chow (Chow Yun-Fat), is brought in reluctantly. Ko wants to marry his long time girlfriend Huong (Carrie Ng), but is forced to wait because of his latest assignment which only pushes her farther away. Ko poses as an arms dealer and he becomes friends with Fu (Danny Lee), the group of jewel thief’s accept him and ask him join in on their next job. After a botched jewel heist Ko starts to lose his way as he begins to sympathize with Fu.
 
Ringo Lam may not be as well know John Woo in America His films since coming to Hollywood have been varied failing to live up to his Hong Kong films, still most of us have seen some of his Hollywood films like Maximum Risk and In Hell. Lam like most directors from Hong Kong their films haven’t translated to well to American as the Hollywood system dilutes their visions until they are no longer recognizable. In City on Fire Lam teams up once again with Chow Yun-fat who he had worked with before on Full Contact, Prison on Fire and Prison on Fire 2. Quentin Tarentino was heavily influenced by City on Fire using a few of the films elements in his film Resevoir Dogs.
 
Chow Yun-Fat is mesmerizing in City on Fire as he covers a wide range of emotions and he is obvious comfortable in Ko Chow skin as he effortlessly captures the characters essence. Danny Lee is also very good and he perfectly helps balance the relationship between his character Fu and Chow Yun-Fats Ko Chow. They make a great team and one of City on Fire’s strongest attributes is the interaction between their two characters. Screenwriters Tommy Sham’s contribution to City on Fire is often overlooked even though his script is filled with intriguing characters and plot that is a notch above most films in this genre. It is a shame that he didn’t write more Heroic Bloodshed scripts instead of writing primarily with in comedies and martial arts genre’s. Ringo Lam also co-wrote the script he direction in City on Fire excellent as scenes move along as a nice pace. Lam is more interested in showing his audience the relationship between the characters. There are plenty of action set pieces that are always exciting as Ringo Lam builds tension up to a fever pitch. Teddy Robin Kwan’s unforgettable jazzy score the features prominently a saxophone and electric piano weeps in the background that lends itself flawlessly to Lam’s Vision. City on Fire came at the beginning of the Heroic Bloodshed genre and Lam injects fresh ideas into the formula without ever becoming to stale something that plagues many films the came later near the end of this genre’s popularity.

 

Asian Cinema Drifter  Tuna (link temporarily lost)

 

City on Fire  Winnifred Louis

 

DVDTown [John J. Puccio]

 

DVD Monsters and Critics [Andy McKeague]

 

Future Movies [Matt McAllister]

 

Montreal Film Journal (Kevin N. Laforest)

 

A Better Tomorrow (Peter A. Martin)

 

InsidePulse [Robert Sutton]

 

HKCuk.co.uk

 

Apollo Movie Guide [Ryan Cracknell]

 

TRIANGLE (Tit Samgok)                                      C+                   78

Hong Kong  China  (100 mi)  2007  ‘Scope        co-directors:  Ringo Lam and Johnny To

A trilogy of Hong Kong directors (Tsui Hark, Ringo Lam, and Johnny To) contribute to a single storyline that unfortunately feels overly convoluted from the outset, like it’s offering more than it can handle, and remains indifferent and nearly incomprehensible throughout.  There is no break between the sequences, with separate writers for each director and one editor and cinematographer throughout, but the focus of the story changes with each passing of the baton.  Tsui Hark opens the film in an adrenaline rush where three near cartoonish characters commiserate over their money woes and are easily lured into a get rich quick scheme to cover their debts, where the police and the underground mafia seem to infiltrate their every move.  With this set up, it’s always hard to distinguish who the players are or tell the good from the bad, as it’s all a blur.  While Tsui establishes a dark, menacing mood that foreshadows a completely immoral universe, the characters are never fleshed out and feel like a bunch of bumbling idiots who have gotten themselves in over their heads in some lamebrained heist that goes awry. 

Ringo Lam shifts the attention to a deeply troubled couple, where the wife Ling (Kelly Lin) suspects her introverted and supposedly impotent husband Lee Bo Sam (Simon Yam) of foul play, of trying to poison her after possibly killing his first wife, but she’s excessively paranoid to the point of being delusional, claiming she’s pregnant as she slinks under the protection of boyfriend police officer Wen (Lam Ka Tung), forming another triangle.  In keeping with the film’s double-crossing motif, characters switch sides with the ferocity of whiplash, as the cop nails the husband red-handed with the loot, but as the husband is a former race car driver, he soon turns the tables and through daredevil driving techniques quickly has the cop in handcuffs, luring his wife to the scene, an abandoned warehouse where she immediately swears her allegiance to her husband.  In perhaps the most peculiar moment in the movie, out in the middle of nowhere he mysteriously plays an LP record, which turns into an exotic dance between the husband and wife, both armed to the teeth, in what appears to be a dance of death, as her face switches to that of his previous wife who actually died in a horrific car crash.  The question remains:  which one is going to die?  But rather than turn on one another, as is assumed, they are quickly hoodwinked by another corrupt cop, who himself is soon the object of an underworld manhunt. 

By the time Johnny To arrives on the scene, the film starts to resemble a farce, as the entire cast is brought together in pursuit of the loot, which is wrapped in newspaper like THE MALTESE FALCON (1941), then carried around in a non-descript, white plastic bag.  To choreographs several all-important shoot out scenes, one at a local bar where the lights continually go on and off, where several white plastic bags are inexplicably exchanged in the chaos, where our thieves try to make a run for it but are trapped by a crazed amphetamine pill-popping man (Suet Lam) who flattens all four of their getaway car tires, luring everyone into a vacant field where all the principles meet followed mysteriously afterwards by a traffic cop on a bicycle (Yong You) who somehow feels its his obligation to bring order into this chaotic universe, as all hell breaks loose in a blaze of gunfire.  To turns this anarchy into a bloodless ballet of shots in the dark and bodies falling in the high grass one by one, all with a great deal of ironic humor, with the original thieves outmaneuvered and left to observe empty-handed on the sidelines like a disillusioned Greek chorus, completely indifferent to who wins or loses, as it’s all the same to them, as they’re inevitably losers.  While the sleek look of the film is always beautifully shot by Siu-keung Cheng, from the opening scenes in the rain filled with shadows and solitary images of emptiness and vacuousness, to a murky atmosphere of unresolved romantic tension mixed against the impending threat of underworld connections, to a few unusual Johnny To set pieces.  But overall, it lacks depth and never rises above a standard entertainment piece of Hong Kong style over substance, which suggests after a brief passage of time, it’s forgettable. 

Time Out London (Trevor Johnston) review [2/6]

Okay, Hong Kong crime flick fanboys, can you really tell your Tsui Hark from your Ringo Lam from your Johnnie To? That’s the challenge in this cinematic game of pass-the-parcel, where a single storyline traces recrimination between thieves with a corrupt cop on their tail, but each half-hour is shot by a different director without any indication whose segment is which.

In the event, aficionados will peg that Hark’s staccato rhythms make a complex set-up even more opaque, Lam’s surprisingly restrained mid-section restores an even keel (though there’s a bit of hairy stunt-driving too) and To’s climactic showdown blends wry humour and poised compositions, while lagging short of his best work. Little of it however, is genuinely striking enough to suggest a welcome reception beyond the already converted.

NewCity Chicago   Ray Pride

A gangster film “exquisite corpse” from three leading veteran directors of Hong Kong action movies, “Triangle” (Tie San Jiao, 2007) is directed in a “tag team” style by Tsui Hark (”Once Upon A Time in China”), Ringo Lam (”City on Fire”) and Johnnie To (”Election,” “Triad Election”), who together concocted the story of three down-on-their-luck drinking buddies who go on a get-rich quest for a lost treasure. To sets the theme of the movie well: “What price do you pay for your desire and obsession?” Like the best of the trio’s work, “Triangle” is a visual delight from its first fog-shrouded images of gleaming Central Hong Kong and the smoky spaces of near-empty pubs, where lonely men hatch plots. Visual continuity of the rich selection of urban space is provided by using a single cinematographer, Cheng Siu Keung. The Hong Kong industry faces pressures unknown in its 1980s-90s heyday, but “Triangle” feels as fresh as today, and not at all nostalgic for that era. It’s potent entertainment. With Louis Koo, Simon Yam, Sun Hong Lei. 100m. 35mm. U. S. theatrical premiere.

The Screengrab   Mike D’Angelo

Not to be outdone by a piker like myself, Hong Kong cult favorites Tsui Hark (Once Upon a Time in China), Ringo Lam (City on Fire) and Johnnie To (Election) have devised a wack experiment of their own. I'd assumed that Triangle, to which each director contributed one leg, would be an omnibus effort in the tradition of recent films like Eros and Three.Extremes; instead, they've adopted the "exquisite corpse" approach, in which story and characters pass baton-like from one artist to the next. If you're thinking the inevitable result would be a movie featuring no real emotional investment from anyone involved, all I can say is ding ding ding ding ding ding ding! A hopelessly convoluted tale of three down-and-out buddies (Louis Koo, Simon Yam and Sun Hong Lei) and their attempt to unearth an ancient ceremonial robe, Triangle begins in a hyperactive Tsui frenzy, passes through an overwrought Lam interlude, then goes completely haywire in the manner of To's occasional collaborations with Wai Ka Fai. Asian action fans will no doubt have fun trying to pinpoint the exact points at which the film changes hands (there are no designated chapters or other indications); for the casual viewer, however, there's nothing in store but mounting frustration at the narrative's apparently random skips and lurches, coupled with a dawning awareness that three drivers heading in three different directions will collectively arrive exactly nowhere.

Ignatius Vishnevetsky from Cine-File:  http://cine-file.info/list-archive/2009/AUG-09-3.html

Ringo Lam, Johnnie To and Tsui Hark decided to play a game of exquisite corpse. It's one of those great auteurist experiments. From a production standpoint, TRIANGLE is a "Johnnie To movie": made through his company, Milkyway Image, starring his regular actors (Simon Yam, Louis Koo, and Kelly Lin), shot by his cinematographer, Siu-keung Cheng, and cut together by his regular editor, David M. Richardson (those who believe the quality of a film's editing depends on the editor should look no further than Richardson's resume; the man who works on the brilliant editing of To's films is the same one who edits Uwe Boll's movies). The plan: Hark will begin a story—a heist gone wrong—which Lam and then To will continue. Hark's episode is full of clever conceits and twists; Lam jettisons the heist in favor of its results: the loot and fear, both equally dangerous. So if Hark imprisons the characters and Lam shows us how they imprison themselves, it's up to To, then, to set them free. For To, the essence of a person, maybe their soul, is visible in what they choose to do when compelled to do nothing, in the choice they make when they can just run away or betray. It's no surprise that, like James Gray's WE OWN THE NIGHT, it all ends in reeds and fog. It's the sort of emotional wilderness that brings To closer to André Téchiné than either of his two co-directors here. (2007, 93 min, 35mm)

Cinema Autopsy (Thomas Caldwell) capsule review [3.5/5]  Melbourne International Film festival

The point of interest behind this Hong Kong heist film is that it was made in three different parts, by three different directors and production teams, with each part continuing from where the previous part had left of. Tsui Hark sets the story off with his trademark frenetic and often bewildering style where the audience has to keep up with him in order to follow what is going on. However Hark nicely sets the scene of desperate men planning to steal a mysterious artefact, a cop who is sleeping with the wife of one of the men and a trio of impatient Triads who are waiting in the wings. Ringo Lam then continues the story in the most sophisticated section of the film where he sets up a complex web of torn loyalties, betrayals, double crosses and secret agendas. Finally Johnny To finishes things off by stylishly bringing a degree of farce and fun absurdity into the proceedings. The divides between the three sections are not marked but anybody familiar with the three directors should be able to spot the divisions. Triangle would have perhaps been more successful if either all three parts remained consistent with each other or if they all radically differed. Instead, Hark and Lam’s segments are very close to each other in style and tone while To takes the film off onto a completely different tangent. What To does would have been highly entertaining in its own right but in this case it is slightly frustrating that To’s chose to deviate so much away from the groundwork laid out by Hark and Lam.

User comments  from imdb Author: Simon Booth from UK

A novel idea, originating in Tsui Hark I believe, to make a film based on the old game of incremental story-telling, passing the baton between 3 of Hong Kong's (once) top directors (they should have swapped Johnnie To for John Woo and called it "The Victims of Jean-Claude Van-Damme Rehabilitation Project"). The result is, sadly, almost as incoherent as a nay-sayer might expect it to be.

The first third of the film (Tsui) is kind of scatter-shot, throwing ideas out there for the other directors to pick up on, centred around a heist movie setup with 3 main protagonists (Simon Yam, Louis Koo and Sun Hong-Lei) - setting up a triangle that clearly hints where he really wants the movie to go. This section does suffer from that amphetamine-high lack of focus that sometimes afflicts Tsui Hark when he has too many ideas for a movie, and can't decide which ones are really important.

Ringo Lam takes over just before 30 minutes in, and the mood shifts - he evidently wants to create a psychological horror instead of a crime movie, and shifts the focus more to the characters played by Kelly Lin and Gordon Lam. This part is eerie and oblique, a little surreal at times but much more focused.

Then Johnnie To comes in for the final act, and decides that the film should really be... a farce! Perhaps it's his way of commenting on the baby he has been left holding. Every character that's been introduced so far is brought back into play, along with a couple of new ones (notably Lam Suet), and the plot plays itself out in an elaborate comedy of errors hinged upon a series of entirely implausible coincidences. The finale is a gun battle vaguely reminiscent of those in THE MISSION or EXODUS, but with a more comical coating. It's a bit Shakespearean, but falls short of The Bard's wit.

The shifting of tones, and the diverting focus of the narrative, is exactly the sort of problem you'd expect a movie with three directors and three script-writing teams to have. Perhaps that was the point, and each director deliberately took the movie into their own favourite territory when they took the reins. I guess that's how it usually happens when people play the game amongst themselves (I forget the name of it, never really saw the appeal), but they perhaps failed to factor in that the game is more fun for the people playing it than for somebody who simply gets handed the end result. The production process may be interesting to talk or think about, but probably makes for a less enjoyable film than a more conventional collaboration would have.

I did enjoy Ringo Lam's section though - hopefully it's a sign he's going to be doing more work in Hong Kong again!

User comments  from imdb Author: K2nsl3r from Finland

Fear not: the juicy premise of putting three masters of HK violent cinema in one movie delivers one of the most entertaining action movies of 2007.

The film is a palpable thrill-ride, with an air of unmistakable cool and sheer brassiness of style. With scarcely time to slow-down, the silly and initially confusing but heavily entertaining and ultimately straightforward plot runs through a hundred twists and turns on its way to the seat-gripping finale that is the last third of the film.

The three segments directed by Tsui Hark, Ringo Lam and Johnny To (apparently in that order, although it was not indicated in the film) are distinct in style and mannerism, but near-seamlessly integrated into a single experience. Not only did they use three directors, they also used multiple script-writers. Do not expect any section-markers here, though: it is not three stories, but one story told in three consecutively more elaborate segments which represent the vision and prowess of one director each - without, however, appearing needlessly patched-together or unfocused. So, to compare this to that other Asian 3-in-1 package, the excellent Three Extremes (with Takashi Miike, Fruit Chan and Park Chan-Wook), is to miss the point. Here we are dealing with a unitary experience, one not divisible by three.

Fans of each director will find much to comment on the stylistic differences between each section. Best known perhaps for his kung-fu productions (at least in the West), the multi-talented Tsui Hark delivers a cool, crafty ambiance in his piece. Ringo Lam, a long-line police action-drama director, likewise carries the torch with a surprisingly mellow and tactful show-of-hands. It is really the last segment of the film, under the steady hand of the miracle-worker Johnny To - the brilliant director of gems such as Election I & II and Exiled - that really puts this work in the category of must-see cinema. It would be impossible to describe just what makes the last act so good without giving something away, but suffice to say the success lies in its mixture of suspense, action and black humour in a dazzling tour-de-force. And yet, To's section makes sense only in the context of the whole; it would not be possible to appreciate the finale without going through the first and second acts. The third act is the charm, but only because the first two acts lead to it and suggest it with force and clarity. By its combination of three geniuses, the impeccable thrill of the film gets multiplied by three, making the end result something greater than the sum of its parts.

The actors are adequate and the chemistry between them works well. This is not an especially 'deep' thinking-man's movie by any stretch - character-development especially is among the real weaknesses of this movie - but for what it's worth, the characters deliver their lines and express their emotional range quite convincingly (with a few notable exceptions). The fraternal chemistry between the main characters saves much of the hapless script. But really, this film is about action, violence, crime, morality and love - the stuff of entertainment. Maybe not serious or tight enough for some, the over-the-top story proves highly entertaining as a backdrop for the stylish visual work emanating from the three great directors.

I'm willing to forgive this movie its obvious shortcomings: its unexplained plot-ends and side-tracks, its focus on action and shine over drama and substance, its use of three writers in the seemingly impossible task of writing a single storyline. Bottomline: It works! Sometimes heckling about details seems petty when what is iffy in ideation is saved in execution. Minor script is turned into a major movie.

Absolute entertainment, with a touch - or two, or three - of genius.

Cinematical   James Rocchi

Triangle is hard to explain -- you could call it the Hong Kong action equivalent of Grindhouse -- but it's three directors, not two, and it's all one story, not two separate ones. Directed by Tsui Hark, Ringo Lam and Johnny To, Triangle is about three friends -- antiques seller Mok (Sun Long Hei), young ne'er-do-well Fai (Louis Koo) and tightly-wound realtor Sam (Simon Yan) who, one night at their local bar, are offered a unique opportunity by a stranger who overhears their discussions of money problems. Help me, he says, and you won't have any problems anymore ... and then he gives them a single antique gold coin, with the implied promise of more. Triangle doesn't open quite that cleanly, though, and it doesn't stay simple; it's a snake's nest of debts, crimes, secrets and duplicity that moves like a rocket, and any fan of Hong Kong Action will adore it.

Hark, Lam and To have all made great Hong Kong action films -- movies that have more spirit than most Hollywood action flicks, and on a far lower budget. And Triangle may feel scattered -- there's a lot of plot points and ideas that fall by the wayside, and some of the characterization is a bit sketchy -- but it never feels schizophrenic. Hark, Lam and To each directed a separate third of the film, each working with a separate set of writers -- but while a connoisseur would probably point out sequences and moments that are very To or Lam-style or Hark-sian, the movie for the most part feels like a coherent whole. Which is surprising, considering all the elements in the mix beyond our three friends and their possible heist, the movie also includes Fai's debt to some local mobsters, Sam's strained relationship with his wife Ling (Kelly Lin) and her affair with bent cop Wen (Lam Ka Tung), who soon gets a sense of the trio's plans and wants to wet his beak more than just a little. This isn't mentioning all of the character's individual arcs -- some of which are explored, and some of which are just for fun; the second you see the photos suggesting Sam's past as a rally car driver, you sit back in your seat smiling in anticipation of the chase scene to come.

Triangle isn't about pure action, though; Sam, Fai and Mok aren't kineticized supermen, just regular guys. As in most good heist films, Triangle focuses more on the crew and less on the score; When the great whatsit goes missing, Fai quizzes Mok about how well they really know Sam. Mok's matter-of-fact: He doesn't really know Sam. "I don't know you all that well, either; sometimes, I don't even know myself." There's a little bit of clumsy storytelling about the resolution of the love triangle between Sam, Ling and Wen -- apparently, getting bounced off the grill of a four-door sedan at high speed is a cure for marital discord -- but it's nothing like the muddled misogyny of many Hong Kong action films, where women are either set dressing or entirely irrelevant. The leads are for the most part terrific -- Koo's Fai is a bit too broad, but Lam and Lei get to put a few shades onto their characters. And there's more than a few laughs in Triangle, too - from a runaway score to an ecstasy-addled tire salesman with a unique business model. Triangle wouldn't be a good film to show an initiate to Hong Kong action -- To's 2006 Exiled, which also played Cannes, would be a good film for that, actually -- but any fan who can tell Anthony Wong from Andy Lau will find worth watching for more than just the three-directors approach.

Twitch (Todd Brown) review  at Cannes

 

Triangle (Tsui Hark / Ringo Lam / Johnnie To, 2007)  Ignatiy Vishnevetsky at Mubi, August 14, 2009

 

d+kaz [Daniel Kasman]

 

Twitch ("The Visitor") review  2-disc Hong Kong Edition DVD, also seen here:  The Storyboard  Guo Shao-hua

 

Electric Sheep Magazine  Joey Leung

 

Oggs' Movie Thoughts

 

Critic After Dark  Noel Vera

 

A Nutshell Review  Stefan S.

 

hoopla.nu  Stuart Wilson

 

TRIANGLE  Facets Multi Media 

 

Film4 [Saxon Bullock]

 

Variety.com [Derek Elley]

 

DVDBeaver dvd review  Pat Pilon

 

Johnny To bio  Andrew Grossman from Senses of Cinema, January 2001

 

Tsui Hark bio   Grady Hendrix from Senses of Cinema, June 2003

 

Ringo Lam bio  Hong Kong Film

 
Lambert, David
 
BEYOND THE WALLS (Hors Les Murs)

Belgium  Canada  France  (98 mi)  2012

 

Beyond The Walls  Allan Hunter at Cannes from Screendaily

Charting the rise and fall of a love affair from giddy beginnings to rueful afterglow, Beyond The Walls (Hors Les Murs) marks an accomplished first feature from writer/ director David Lambert. An intriguing storyline, confident execution and charismatic performances from the lead actors carry the film through some unexpected plot developments that push it towards more stereotypically anguished gay movie romances. The first half comes closer to the tone of Andrew Haigh’s award winning Weekend and might give the film a shot at a similar audience. Further Festival appearances and interest from specialist gay distributors seems guaranteed.

Beyond The Walls begins in similar fashion to Weekend with the consequences of a drunken evening where Paulo (Matila Malliarakis) has caught the twinkling eye of bartender Ilir (Guillaume Gouix) who winds up carrying him home over his shoulder and giving him a bed for the night. Ilir avoids temptation but there is an obvious spark of attraction and they see each other again. Once Paulo’s suspicious girlfriend has dumped him he boldly arrives at Ilir’s flat with all his worldly goods.

Malliarakis’s Paulo is all Bambi-eyes and puppy dog devotion as he clings to Ilir like a lifesaver in stormy seas. Initially, the character is as endearing as he is annoying. The older Ilir is more guarded and wary of turning a few lighthearted encounters into something more meaningful. Over the course of the film events conspire to reverse their early roles with Paulo emerging as the stronger of the duo and Ilir the more needy.

The first half of the film is easily the most charming. The two actors make a cute couple and there is a good deal of relaxed humour and warmth in the screenplay as the characters open up to each other and a relationship develops. Shopping for supplies in a sex shop or belligerently demanding condoms from a corner shop are amongst the funniest moments in the film.

The second half is more melodramatic and downbeat with events placing the relationship under unbearable pressure. Lambert is economical in the way he prunes back the narrative, dispensing with the need for lengthy explanations of what happens to Ilir and how this changes his life and his easygoing manner. It tells us just what we need to know to keep the focus on the ebb and flow of the ties that bind the central couple.

Lambert’s greatest talent may lie in creating characters that we care about and developing a film that brings a few fresh twists to an old familiar tale of whether love can conquer every obstacle in its path. On that basis, Beyond The Walls fulfills the promise of his previous work as a screenwriter and short filmmaker.

Domenico Laporta at Cannes from Cineuropa

When you ask David Lambert about the intention behind his first film, recently selected for the Critics' Week at the 65th Cannes Film Festival, the Belgian filmmaker simply replies that he wanted to remake The Umbrellas of Cherbourg, telling the tale of the disenchanted reunion of two lovers, who were passionately in love before a terrible event separated them. The screenplay of Beyond the Walls [trailer, film focus] follows these three phases - love, absence, reunion - in the lives of Paulo and Ilir, respectively played by Matila Malliarakis and a rising star in French cinema, the excellent Guillaume Gouix (Jimmy Rivière [trailer], Nobody Else But You [trailer]) whose phosphorescent charisma persists on screen even after the projector has been turned off.

Paulo is a young pianist who meets Ilir, an Albanian bass player. It's love at first sight for both men. From one day to the next, Paulo leaves his fiancée to move in with Ilir. On the day that they promise to love each other for the rest of their lives, Ilir leaves town and doesn't return. Beyond the Walls is, in a way, a disillusioned report from a generation who has been promised that love changes the world, but who often has to decide to give it up, simply because it's too difficult being two. The issues at stake in this story are coiled up in the intimacy of a couple, at the antipodes of hedonism, but they are still universal and have nothing to do with homosexuality, which is decidedly not the theme of the film. The film could suffer from an arbitrary categorisation by an audience with little ambition, but this would be missing a one-off meeting with characters whose story immediately feels like it is very personal and precious to its author. In fact, Beyond the Walls prolongs the emotions and wounds related in the director's short film Vivre Encore un Peu..., for which he garnered attention at several international festivals in 2010.

Here is a first film with a very intelligent understanding of mise-en-scene, complemented by the dense photography of Matthieu Poirot-Delpech (With a Friend Like Harry...) and, especially, very tight editing that gives the film, at times, a very fresh elliptic rhythm. David Lambert trusts in the spectator to understand both the more obvious (what happens inside the walls, what is boiling in Ilir's wet eyes when the story ends) and the less essential (music which, at the beginning, is the interest that the two characters have in common), and he keeps these moments few to better focus on the sequences of emotion, whether the euphoria of love (a very beautiful scene of the two lovers arm wrestling), the break-up (during the visiting room scenes), or the uninhibited humour of a situation involving an unusual object bought in a sex shop, but which symbolises so many things for Paulo (sex, alienation, the impossibility of going forward without relief). Believing in life after absence shouldn't be any less profound than believing in life after death, as both are equally traumatising events in the journey of a human being. How to survive our youth's love affairs and separations is a question that Charles Trenet already posed back in 1942, and that was then central to Jacques Demy's film in 1964. David Lambert now brings it back, and each spectator who sees his film will ask: What remains of our first loves?

Beyond the Walls is a co-production between Belgium (Frakas Productions), France, and Canada, and should be out in cinemas from June 2012.

Lamorisse, Albert

 

WHITE MANE

France (47 mi)  1953   

 

THE RED BALLOON

France  (34 mi) 

 

The Dryden Theatre -- The Red Balloon and White Mane

(LE BALON ROUGE, Albert Lamorisse, France 1956, 34 min., 35mm)

In Lamorisse’s bittersweet classic for all ages, a lonely youngster (Pascal Lamorisse, son of the director) finds his ideal playmate in a frisky and lively inflated toy. Told entirely without dialogue and thrillingly filmed on location in Paris, The Red Balloon is must-see cinema. Followed by WHITE MANE (CRIN-BLANC, Albert Lamorisse, France 1953, 47 min., 35mm) In the rugged Camargue region of Provence, French cowboys hunt for wild horses, but the one they cannot tame is their leader, White Mane. Winner of the Cannes Grand Prix for short film and “one of the most beautiful films ever made” (Pauline Kael), White Mane will be shown with a new English narration soundtrack. New 35mm prints!

Program Notes

The Red Balloon & White Mane

While Albert Lamorisse is best remembered for these two fable-like short films, he began and ended his career as a documentary filmmaker. Appropriately, influential French film theorist and critic André Bazin described White Mane (1953) and The Red Balloon (1956) as “documentaries of the imagination.” The two films tell similar stories about young boys and the possibilities of friendship. On the surface, the films are quite simple. White Mane, set in the Camargue region of southern France, is about a young fisherman, and his attempts to befriend and liberate a hunted stallion. The Red Balloon, set in the Paris neighborhood of Menilmontant, is about a boy (played by the director’s son, Pascal Lamorisse) who finds a balloon that follows him everywhere.

While inherently simple, the films are also complex allegories of the human search for comfort and affection in the face of life’s difficulties. While traditionally considered children’s films, Albert Lamorisse renders the pursuit of dreams in the world around us as something meaningful and heartbreaking, and the films have endeared filmgoers of all ages. Furthermore, the films have become traditional texts for film theorists and students, prompted by André Bazin’s celebration of the films in his famous essay, “The Virtues and Limitations of Montage.”

Bazin especially championed The Red Balloon because of its minimal use of editing. Bazin claimed, “The Red Balloon is a tale told in film, a pure creation of the mind, but the important things about it is that this story owes everything to the cinema precisely because, essentially, it owes nothing.” Since Lamorisse shows the balloon’s interactions clearly in the same frames as the boy without editing tricks, Bazin claims the film is “essential cinema.” With minimal editing, the film comes closer to reality, even if it is an obviously imagined one, causing the viewer to be more actively engaged in the world of the film.

In addition to the poetic narratives, the films are respected for their beautiful cinematography. White Mane, shot in black and white, is a noticeably bright film. By emphasizing the beautiful whites within the scenery, Lamorisse appropriately blinds us with the wildness of the stallion and the vast rural landscape. Soon after the release of White Mane, Lamorisse took a job as a cinematographer on an experimental color documentary about Guatemala. This experience convinced him to use color for the The Red Balloon. The switch to color allowed Lamorisse to emphasize the vibrant balloon against the dull Paris streets.

The films were great successes around the world, finding an international audience thanks in part to their minimal dialogue. In America, they were particularly popular on the educational circuit, showing for decades in public schools and on public television. Both won the Palme d’Or for short subjects at the Cannes Film Festival. Additionally, The Red Balloon, even with its minimal dialogue, won an Oscar for Best Original Screenplay, making it the shortest film ever to win this distinction.

A former photographer, Lamorisse turned to directing short subjects in the late 1940s, soon acquiring an international reputation for the poetic quality of his short and medium-length films. By the 1960s, he started making complex travelogue documentaries. Frustrated with the vibrations that accompanied shooting from a helicopter, Lamorisse was instrumental in the development of “Hellavision,” a camera mount built especially for helicopter shoots. Sadly, in 1970, while shooting a commissioned piece on Iran, he died in a helicopter crash.

~John Klacsmann and Alice Moscoso, L. Jeffrey Selznick School of Film Preservation

Lancaster, Burt – actor

 

Lancaster, Burt  essay by Gerald Peary, April 2000

It would be lovely to affirm that the wonderful actor Burt Lancaster was actually the gracious artist-performer we probably imagine him to have been, someone who, because he didn't break into movies until he was 32, listened obediently to his directors and passed on to the less experienced on the sets his craft and wisdom. 

Such a scenario did happen occasionally, as on the Scottish set of Local Hero (1983), where Lancaster and filmmaker Bill Forsythe clicked, and where the American star, available to every minion in the cast, entertained with glorious Hollywood tales. Most of the time, as author Kate Buford shows persuasively in her well-written, well-researched biography, Burt Lancaster - An American Life (Alfred Knopf), the actor who charmed the world with his wide, toothy, friendly grin, was a screaming, intimidating bastard.

He bullied and disrespected even his best directors - John Frankenheimer for The Birdman of Alcatraz (1962), Louis Malle for Atlantic City (1980), as examples. Though he was a life-time political liberal who fought McCarthyism, gave to civil rights causes, protested the Vietnam War, and was an early anti-AIDs spokesman, he was fearful all those years of personal intimacy, and put up a wall between himself and his several wives and children, and also other performers.

Born in 1913 in the slums of New York, Lancaster remained as scrappy and venomous as his powerful Irish-American mother had been, forever an alienated, paranoid outsider in LA whose best (and only?) actor friend was the ex-Bronx Jew, Tony Curtis, and whose most meaningful love affair in Hollywood was with another Eastern-based Jew, Shelley Winters. His closest pal by far was a high-school chum, Lancaster's acrobatics partner during lowly barnstorming years with one-ring circuses.

The press for decades liked to write of the off-screen friendship between Lancaster and his frequent co-star, Kirk Douglas, but Buford's book makes clear that it was Douglas alone who was desperate to make their amity real, that he was jealous of Lancaster, that he wanted to be Lancaster.

And Lancaster? He played hurtful, disdainful jokes on Douglas, such as hiding Douglas's lifts just before an important "macho" scene in Gunfight at the O.K. Corral (1957). In turn, Lancaster was jealous of Marlon Brando.

He'd wanted to play Stanley on stage in Streetcar Named Desire, and he begged Coppola for naught to arrange a Don Corleone audition for The Godfather.

Is it reasonable to say that Lancaster could have executed either role above? There are equivalent parts which Lancaster played smashingly: the muscular truckdriver in the movie of Tennessee Williams's The Rose Tattoo (1955) and the Italian nobleman-patriarch in Luchino Visconti's The Leopard (1963). If there was ever a film to demonstrate the almost-mystical charisma of the Hollywood Star, it's the latter. What on earth is more compelling and moving than beautiful, elite Burt Lancaster on screen lording over this great, feudal, foreign-language picture?

Not every Hollywood biographer possesses aesthetic taste. Credit Kate Buford with realizing which Lancaster pictures are the really good ones, the lasting ones, not only the obvious choices such as From Here to Eternity (1953) and his Academy Award-winning Elmer Gantry (1960) but The Sweet Smell of Success (1957), Ulzana's Raid (1972), and Go Tell the Spartans (1978). Happily, Buford makes a strong case for a flawed, disparaged movie which, with years passing, is being rediscovered as a stirring near-masterpiece: Frank Perry's The Swimmer (1968), from a Cheever short story, in which Lancaster, barechested and in trunks, travels swimming pool from swimming pool across his Connecticut burb, a quixotic journey against conformity and for his being (impossible!) ever-youthful, ever-vigorous, sexual forevermore.

The photo on the back of the bio is from The Swimmer, Lancaster bare-assed about to make the plunge.

Shame on the publisher Knopf for not identifying the picture, because it looks like a clandestine snapshot from Lancaster's real life. By innuendo, this homo-looking photograph becomes a visual support for Buford's shaky speculation that he-man Lancaster was probably bisexual. Wouldn't Burt Lancaster - A Life have been just as successful without a protagonist who swings gay? Buford certainly doesn't prove it with her Hollywood Babylon-like rumors herein of Lancaster orgies with Rock Hudson and bevies of U.S. Marines.

For an honestly gay, Knopf-published show-biz saga, there's Arthur Laurents' spill-the-seed autobiography, Original Story - A Memoir of Broadway and Hollywood. See Laurents' bit on scripting Alfred Hitchcock's Rope (1948), a fictionalization of the Leopold-Loeb murder. Laurents remembers Hitchcock desiring to cast Hollywood's two most famous closeted actors, Cary Grant and Montgomery Clift, as his closeted homosexual criminal leads, but they refused. Too close to home? So the principals were lesser-known gay actors, John Dahl and Farley Granger. Laurents wrote Rope specifically for Granger, his long-time off-screen partner, who starred again in Hitchcock's Strangers on a Train (1951).

Landis, John
 
THE BLUES BROTHERS

USA  (133 mi)  1980  extended version (148 mi)

 

Qwipster's Movie Reviews [Vince Leo]

The Blues Brothers ranks among my favorite films of all time -- not the best, just a favorite.  With inspiration that never remotely comes close to ceasing, Landis' (The Kentucky Fried Movie, An American Werewolf in London) film is more an experience than a conventional movie.  It's a mix of loving homage to rhythm and blues, scattershot comedy, on-the-spot musical, and the most outrageous car chase film ever put to celluloid.  It's a laugh-a-minute destruction derby that defiantly refuses to conform to standard rules of moviemaking, frequently transcending the simple story of a band reuniting with religious overtones, wanton destruction, and one of the finest soundtracks to a movie ever. 

The film starts out with Jake Blues (John Belushi, Animal House) being released from prison, picked up by his brother Elwood (Dan Aykroyd, Trading Places) in a used cop car turned "Blues Mobile".  They make good on a promise to visit the orphanage they grew up in, only to find it is in danger of being shut down due needing $5,000 in tax money owed.  With only days to go before it is too late, the Blues Brothers are inspired by a vision from God to save the orphanage, which they plan to do by reuniting the band they played in.  This proves to be a tough task, as all of the members have moved on to other occupations.  Not only this, but along the way, they manage to piss off the police, the Illinois Nazi Party, and just about everyone else they come across in their bid to make enough money to deliver the money they need.

Exuding just the perfect amount of comic cool, Belushi and Aykroyd strut their stuff with confidence, giving oodles of personality to the characters they created during their stint on "Saturday Night Live" in the 1970s.  The band is quite a talented cover band in their own right, demonstrating their love for the music and attitude of blues and soul, and also the artists responsible for the continued popularity of the genres.  Strong cameo appearances are a major strength, with some fantastic musical numbers by James Brown (performing Gospel), Aretha Franklin, Ray Charles, John Lee Hooker, Cab Calloway, and of course, The Blues Brothers themselves. 

The comedy is so off-the-wall you can't help but laugh.  The Blues Brothers go on their comic odyssey in deadpan fashion, almost literally leaving behind every stop destroyed, and yet, they seem almost oblivious to it all.  Just when you think the madcap nature of the film couldn't possibly get any more silly, Landis ends the film with almost a half hour of the most expensive, elaborate, and destructive chase sequences ever put on film.  Cars speed down the streets of Chicago, get dropped from tall heights, crash in and out of buildings, and pile up on top of each other dozens of times. 

The Blues Brothers is far from a perfect comedy, and can be uneven in spots, but these momentary lapses are very difficult to remember when it's all over.  By the time the credits roll, you'll most likely have added many fond memories to add to your favorite movie-watching experiences.  Easily one of the most entertaining films of its era, The Blues Brothers is a time capsule worthy collection, not only in irreverent comedy, but also in its reverence for some of the best music of the 1960s and 70s.  It's a beautiful thing.

-- The Collector's Edition DVD features 18 minutes of additional material cut from the theatrical release.
-- Followed in 1998 by a needless, and unfunny, sequel, Blues Brothers 2000.

Movie Vault [John Ulmer]

 

There's something funny about the actual Blues Brothers, Jake and Elwood. You don't even have to hear them say anything particularly funny to laugh at the sheer sight of the wacky duo lined up against one another, wearing the infamous clothing and sunglasses. And since their appearance on "Saturday Night Live," and then later in their milestone feature film, they have infiltrated society.

"The Blues Brothers" (1980) is, and will remain as far as I see it, the funniest "SNL" skit adaptation to ever hit the big screen. The problem with adapting characters from 5-minute skits on "Saturday Night Live" is the fact that they are just that -- 5-minute skits -- and are not substantial enough to merit any type of further focus. Backdrops are not needed -- all we need are quirky characters with distinguishing traits or gestures that will make us laugh.

"The Ladies Man," "The Coneheads," "A Night At the Roxbury," and "Superstar" are all examples of material stretched too far -- basically just skits multiplied by their original running length some 15 or so times. In fact, there are really only two or three feature length movies with "SNL" characters that are any good.

I love "Saturday Night Live," but even I have to admit that some things are not meant to be turned into a movie. I'd rather see a compilation of the character's best moments on the show hit the big screen as opposed to a weak plot-driven film about them doing many unfunny things a quarter as funny as anything on the television program.

"The Blues Brothers" has a great plot (considering it's an "SNL" film) and a great pair of characters. Jake Blues (John Belushi) has just been released from prison, greeted by his taller (and more slender) brother Elwood (Dan Aykroyd). They visit the old Catholic home where they were raised as children by "The Penguin," and are instantly thrust into a mission to save the orphanage by raising a ton of money before it is due to close.

How will they do this? Reunite their old band, of course! But it won't be easy, because in the process they get entangled in the affairs of a Neo-Nazi and a heavily armed woman (cameo by Carrie Fisher). They also get entwined in a bunch of musical sequences with blues legends such as James Brown, Aretha Franklin, and Ray Charles. (John Candy also stars in this film, and in John Hughes' masterpiece "Planes, Trains and Automobiles," he did the "mess around" to Ray Charles' song on the radio while driving an awful car.)

It's all in the name of fun, of course. Oh, and in the name of God. Quoting Elwood, "We're on a mission from God." Not exactly a laugh-out-loud line of dialogue, but the more you think about it, the funnier it becomes.

All my readers are probably aware of the fact that I absolutely love "Saturday Night Live" and all its actors. (Well, most of them.) Especially the older posse of actors such as Bill Murray, Chevy Chase, Dan Aykroyd, Steve Martin (frequent guest host), John Belushi, et al. They're like dear old friends and every time I see them on old reruns of the television show I get instant nostalgia.

When you become a fan of "Saturday Night Live," you enter a sort of small group of friends you've never even met. You just somehow feel very close to the actors and their friends. John Landis, the film's director, was one of those close friends of Dan Aykroyd like Harold Ramis.

The Blues Brothers are two of the best characters to ever come out of "Saturday Night Live." We've seen a lot of characters like Mango and Mary Katharine Gallagher lately, but the best characters are the fondest -- Wayne and Garth, The Lounge Singer, The Coneheads, The Cheeseburger Guy, The Blues Brothers. And just about any character Steve Martin plays.

I can't explain why I enjoy "Saturday Night Live" so much -- is it the humor? the acting? the familiarity feel? -- but I can say that I DO love it, and I love "The Blues Brothers."

Sequels can become nasty things or splendid things, and "The Blues Brothers 2000," which reunited Aykroyd and Landis (the director), was a failure. A compilation of musical sketches and a terribly recycled plot, it was a sure sign that The Blues Brothers themselves worked not only because of Elwood but also because of Jake, and "The Blues Brothers" the movie worked not because of a recycled plot but because of an original one. (And here's advice for the filmmakers: never, ever replace John Belushi with John Goodman ever, ever again.)

I am sure that anyone who enjoyed "Ghostbusters" or any type "SNL"-alumni film will absolutely adore "The Blues Brothers." I mean, this is the stuff legends are made of. Jake and Elwood Blues, two of the most familiar faces of all time. How can you not laugh at this film? It's impossible. Yes, it's a bit long, and yes, you have to sit through some blues music; but they're The Blues Brothers. What else would you expect?

 

Blues Brothers   Bad Boys Make Movie, by Doug Eisenstark from Jump Cut

 

DVD Times  D.J. Nock

 

Film Freak Central [Travis Mackenzie Hoover]

 

FilmFanatic.org [Sylvia Stralberg Bagley]

 

Celluloid Heroes [Paul McElligott]

 

filmcritic.com  Pete Croatto

 

digitallyOBSESSED.com (Rich Rosell)

 

DVD Talk [Scott Weinberg]

 

DVD Verdict [Dan Mancini] - 25th Anniversary Edition

 

DVD Town - 25th Anniversary Edition [John J. Puccio and Justin Cleveland]

 

Walter Frith

 

Cinema Blend   Margaret Williams

 

Roger Ebert, Chicago Sun-Times

 

The New York Times (Janet Maslin)

 
Lang, Fritz

Fritz Lang Information  biography from Silent Era Personalities

Fritz Lang began his career as a scriptwriter, but soon moved on to directing. Many of his scripts were co-written with novelist Thea von Harbou, who he married in 1924. Lang, fled Germany in 1933. Thea von Harbou stayed in Germany, where she later wrote and directed films for the Third Reich. Lang and Harbou were divorced in 1934.

Many, if not most, of Lang's silent films are dominated by powerful visual design, and are either pure fantasy films, or include strong fantastic elements in their plotlines.

The Spiders, a two part serial produced in 1918-1919, dealt with a mysterious multinational criminal society seemingly bent on plundering the world's treasures. Inspired by the thrilling serial of Feuillade, the first episode of The Spiders offers exotic locales, a hidden treasure trove, poison gas, a heroic princess, a message in a bottle, and a secret meeting of the Spiders in their secret underground headquarters. Part Two, unfortunately, offers repetition of scenes and themes from the first story rather than develop and expand the tale's mythos. The two parts for The Spiders were released several months apart.

One of Lang's most influential silent films was Destiny (1920). Inspired by Griffith's multi-story film Intolerance (1916) and Richard Oswald's Uncanny Tales (1919), Destiny established the omnibus form as a method for presenting short horror tales. The film itself is a fantasy, concerning a young woman who visits Death in his great castle to plead for the life of her husband. Death presents her three tales of love through the ages to show her the uselessness of her request. Paul Leni would later build on Lang's film for Waxworks (1924), and Richard Oswald used the template for his own omnibus films. This type of film reached it's greatest popularity in the 1970's with a sub-genre of British horror films inspired by the success of Tales from the Crypt (1972).

Lang returned to the serial thrills of The Spiders for Dr. Mabuse, the Gambler (1922). Dr. Mabuse, a criminal mastermind, employed hypnosis to expand his power in the instable environment of post-WWI Europe. Like The Spiders, Dr. Mabuse was a two-part tale. Unlike the earlier films, the two episode of Mabuse were intended to be presented on consecutive nights.

Most of Lang's silent films were epics. The two-part adaptation of Wagener's Die Nibelungen, Metropolis, and Woman in the Moon were all big-budget voyages into fantastic worlds beyond where any previous filmmaker had ventured. The results were mixed. Metropolis cost over 5 million marks to produce, and bankrupted its studio. Some of the scenes from Metropolis, however, are among the most memorable visions in cinema history.

Lang fled Germany in 1933. By 1936 he was in Hollywood, where he would direct films for the next 20 years.

Metropolis and Fritz Lang  Introduction from the German-Hollywood Connection

The man born Friedrich Christian Anton Lang in Vienna in 1890, claimed to have studied art and architecture in Vienna, Munich, and Paris. But according to biographer Patrick McGilligan (Fritz Lang: The Nature of the Beast), this was part of the Fritz Lang legend that the director carefully cultivated over the years. Lang actually dropped out of Vienna's Technische Hochschule (technical college) after only two years. At the age of 21 Lang ran away from home and family for his traditional Wanderjahre (“wander years” — a type of coming-of-age period), or so the legend went. In fact, he seems to have returned home several times and not to have traveled as extensively as he claimed. He did spend time in Paris, but a contemporary has said that the budding artist was more interested in women than painting. About six months after the outbreak of war, in 1915, Lang enlisted and served in World War I as an artillery officer and was wounded at least three times. It was during the last year of the war that he met Erich Pommer—who would later produce films directed by Lang and others. In less than a year after the war, Lang was working in Berlin as a film director.

Following Metropolis, the Lang-von Harbou team went on to make another science-fiction movie for Ufa in 1929. Less successful than Metropolis (partly because it was silent just as sound was coming in), Frau im Mond (“The Woman in the Moon” - now on DVD) was also based on a story written by von Harbou. The film is probably most notable for inventing the rocket launch countdown. With the advent of sound, Lang made the classic M, probably his best film. M featured the Austrian actor Peter Lorre in the role of a big-city child molester and murderer. Both the film's camerawork and sound technique were remarkable, especially considering it was Lang's first “talkie” and that one of Lang's most notable quotes is, “To begin with, I should say that I am a visual person. I experience with my eyes and never, or only rarely, with my ears—to my constant regret.”

After the Nazi rise to power in Germany and the banning of some of his films, Lang left for Hollywood via France in 1933—despite an offer from Joseph Goebbels to work in Nazi film production. Lang's wife, von Harbou, got along famously with the Hitler regime, and she remained in Germany (after divorcing Lang), working for the Nazi-controlled Ufa of the 1930s.

Although he made several respectable films in Hollywood, Lang felt stifled and frustrated by the studio system there. Being blacklisted in the McCarthy era (for his work with Bertolt Brecht and some other communists) didn't help. His U.S. film work, including Fury (1936), Western Union (1941), Ministry of Fear (1944), Rancho Notorious (1952), and The Big Heat (a classic 1953 film noir work), ended in 1956 when he left for India to do a picture that was never produced. After a brief return to Germany in the early 1960s, where he made a few more films, Lang spent his retirement in Hollywood until his death there in 1976. His Metropolis cameraman, Karl Freund (1890-1969), a fellow Austrian who had left Germany years before Lang, was very successful in working behind the camera on countless Hollywood productions, including Dracula (1931) and Key Largo (1948).  

Film Reference  Charles L.P. Silet

Fritz Lang's career can be divided conveniently into three parts: the first German period, 1919–1933, from Halbblut to the second Mabuse film, Das Testament des Dr. Mabuse; the American period, 1936–1956, from Fury to Beyond a Reasonable Doubt; and the second German period, 1959–60, which includes the two films made in India and his last film, Die tausend Augen des Dr. Mabuse. Lang's apprentice years as a scriptwriter and director were spent in the studios in Berlin where he adopted certain elements of expressionism and was imbued with the artistic seriousness with which the Germans went about making their films. In Hollywood this seriousness would earn Lang a reputation for unnecessary perfectionism, a criticism also thrown at fellow émigrés von Stroheim and von Sternberg. Except for several films for Twentieth Century-Fox, Lang never worked long for a single studio in the United States, and he often preferred to work on underbudgeted projects which he could produce, and therefore control, himself. The rather radical dissimilarities between the two studio worlds within which Lang spent most of his creative years not surprisingly resulted in products which look quite different from one another, and it is the difference in look or image which has produced the critical confusion most often associated with an assessment of Lang's films.
 
One critical approach to Lang's work, most recently articulated by Gavin Lambert, argues that Lang produced very little of artistic interest after he left Germany; the Cahiers du Cinéma auteurists argue the opposite, namely that Lang's films made in America are superior to his European films because the former were clogged with self-conscious artistry and romantic didacticism which the leanness of his American studio work eliminated. A third approach, suggested by Robin Wood and others, examines Lang's films as a whole, avoiding the German-American division by looking at characteristic thematic and visual motifs. Lang's films can be discussed as exhibiting certain distinguishing features—economy, functional precision, detachment—and as containing basic motifs such as the trap, a suppressed underworld, the revenge motive, and the abuse of power. Investigating the films from this perspective reveals a more consistent development of Lang as a creative artist and helps to minimize the superficial anomalies shaped by his career.
 
In spite of the narrowness of examining only half of a filmmaker's creative output, the sheer number of Lang's German movies which have received substantial critical attention as "classic" films has tended to submerge the critical attempt at breadth and comprehensiveness. Not only did these earlier films form an important intellectual center for the German film industry during the years between the wars, as Siegfried Kracauer later pointed out, but they had a wide international impact as well and were extensively reviewed in the Anglo-American press. Lang's reputation preceded him to America, and although it had little effect ultimately on his working relationship, such as it was, with the Hollywood moguls, it has affected Lang's subsequent treatment by film critics.
 
If Lang is a "flawed genius," as one critic has described him, it is less a wonder that he is "flawed" than that his genius had a chance to develop at all. The working conditions Lang survived after his defection would have daunted a less dedicated director. Lang, however, not only survived but flourished, producing films of undisputed quality: the four war movies, Man Hunt, Hangmen Also Die!, Ministry of Fear, and Cloak and Dagger, and the urban crime films of the 1950s, Clash by Night, The Blue Gardenia, The Big Heat, Human Desire, and While the City Sleeps. These American films reflect a more mature director, tighter mise-en-scène, and more control as a result of Lang's American experience. The films also reveal continuity. As Robin Wood has written, the formal symmetry of his individual films is mirrored in the symmetry of his career, beginning and ending in Germany. All through his life, Lang adjusted his talent to meet the changes in his environment, and in so doing produced a body of creative work of unquestionable importance in the development of the history of cinema.

 

Biography Jeffrey Scheuer's entry in the Dictionary of American Biography on Fritz Lang from BFI Screen Online (link lost)

Fritz Lang (Dec. 5, 1890 - Aug. 2, 1976), Austrian-American film director, was born in Vienna, the son of an architect, Anton Lang, and Paula Schlesinger Lang. Working first in Berlin during the silent-film era of the 1920's, and later in Hollywood, Lang used cinema to explore a personal fascination with, in his words, "cruelty, fear, horror and death." His film-making style is characterized by grandeur of scale, striking visual compositions and sound effects, suspense, and narrative economy -- including the minimalist techniques for enlisting the audience's imagination to evoke horror. A progenitor of the film noir of the 1960's, Lang was preoccupied throughout his oeuvre with the dark side of human nature: vengeance, violence, and the criminal mind. His heroes are brought down by injustice, bad women, or the iron laws of fate.

As a youth, Lang studied architecture for a while at the Technische Hochschule (Technical High School) in Vienna. At age 20 he left home and travelled throughout the world, including North Africa, Asia Minor, Russia, China, Japan, and the Pacific, support- ing himself by selling drawings, painted postcards, and cartoons. In 1913 he settled in Paris in order to paint, and he had an exhibition there in 1914. At the outbreak of World War I, Lang returned to Vienna and was conscripted into the Austrian Army. Wounded four times, he was discharged as a lieutenant and began writing screenplays while convalescing for a year in a Vienna hospital.

After the war Lang worked in Berlin with the producer Erich Pommer, as a script reader, writer, and eventually director of films for the Decla Bioscop Company, before forming his own film production concern. His directorial debut was "Halbblut" ("The Half-breed") in 1919, the first of many Lang films in which a man is destroyed by his love for a woman; in 1920 he married popular writer Thea von Harbou, who collaborated on his German screenplays.

Lang's first successful effort was "Der müde Tod" ("The Tired Death," 1921, released in the U.S. as "Between Two Worlds"), which inspired Douglas Fairbanks Sr.'s 1924 feature, "The Thief of Baghdad." It was followed by "Dr. Mabuse, Der Spieler" (1922), a two-part portrait of a master criminal, and "Die Niebelungen" (1924), released in the United States in two parts, "Siegfried" and "Kriemhild's Revenge," based on the 13th-century Siegfried epic, and intended to restore pride in Germany's cultural heritage.

"Metropolis" (1926), a powerful expressionistic drama about a futuristic slave society, was a stunning technical achievement; despite its simplistic message it remains a classic. The production nearly bankrupted the UFA studio, and Lang formed his own product- ion company for his next film, "Spione" ("Spies," 1928). It was followed by "Woman in the Moon" (1929); and "M" (1931), starring Peter Lorre as a compulsive child-murderer. "M", the first German sound film, remains the acknowledged masterpiece of Lang's German period, and was his personal favorite.

"If Adolf Hitler had never existed," wrote the critic Andrew Sarris, "Fritz Lang would have had to invent him on the screen." Lang, who was not Jewish, used a madman in an asylum to espouse Nazi doctrines in the 1932 film "Das Testament des Dr. Mabuse" ("The Last Will of Dr. Mabuse"). After it opened, he was summoned by Joseph Goebbels, Hitler's Propaganda Minister, and invited to supervise Nazi film production. Instead, Lang fled Germany for Paris the same day, leaving behind a personal fortune and a vast collection of primitive art. In 1933, Thea von Harbou divorced him, and joined the Nazi movement. After making one film in France in 1934 ("Liliom," starring Charles Boyer), Lang signed a one- picture contract with David O. Selznick of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer and moved to Hollywood, where for the next twenty years he worked in such various genres as thrillers, war and crime dramas, and Westerns.

Although naturalized in 1935 as a United States citizen, Lang retained for some years his monocle and a Continental formality of bearing. But he developed a strong penchant for the American West -- living for weeks at a time on Indian reservations -- and for American slang. His Hollywood debut, "Fury" (1936), a study of mob violence starring Spencer Tracy and Sylvia Sidney, was a huge commercial and critical success. It was followed by "You Only Live Once" (1937); "You and Me" (1938); two Westerns for the Twentieth Century-Fox studio, "The Return of Frank James" (1940), and Western Union" (1941); and a series of war films, thrillers and melodramas, including "Hangmen Also Die" (1943), which Lang wrote in collaboration with Berthold Brecht; "The Ministry of Fear" (1944); and "The Woman in the Window" (1944) and "Scarlet Street" (1945), both starring Edward G. Robinson. The later films, mostly crime dramas, included Clifford Odets's "Clash By Night" and "Rancho Notorious," a Western starring Marlene Dietrich, in 1952; "The Big Heat" and "The Blue Gardenia" (1953); Human Desire (1954); "Moonfleet" (1955), a costume drama; "Beyond a Reasonable Doubt" (1956); and "While the City Sleeps" (1956).

The distinctiveness of Lang's European and American periods reflects an extraordinary adaptation: to a new country, language, and studio environment, as well as to cinematic sound and color. Critics have never been able to reconcile the two phases. The early German films, which gained him a wide international following, were brilliantly innovative but self-conscious to the point of didacticism, relying heavily on interior sets, monumental architecture, and expressionistic devices such as painted backdrops and stylized action. The American movies, on the other hand, reflected a more mature style, and the resources (as well as the commercial influences) of Hollywood. Forced to make shorter, tighter films for a mass audience, Lang earned further recognition for his visual and thematic craftsmanship, but he chafed at the limitations of the studio system, favoring lower-budget films over which he could exercise artistic control.

A tall, physically imposing figure, and a perfectionist by nature, Lang could be a temperamental and dictatorial presence on the set. His differences with producers ultimately prompted his departure from Hollywood in 1956. He directed two low-budget films in India, and in 1959 returned to Germany, where he directed his final film, "The Thousand Eyes of Dr. Mabuse," in 1960. In 1963 he portrayed himself in the film "Mopris" by Jean-Luc Godard, released in the United States as "Contempt." Lang was awarded the French Officier d'Art et des Lettres. He died in Beverly Hills, California on Aug. 2, 1976, at the age of 85.

A Fritz Lang Website

 

Fritz Lang 2000  Robert E. Haller edits a compilation of articles and personal anecdotes by Martin Scorsese, Kenneth Anger, Jonas Mekas and others

 

Lang, Fritz   Art and Culture profile

 

Fritz Lang: Master of Darkness  BFI Tribute to Fritz Lang

 

The Permanent Magic   extensive biography from BFI Screen Online

 

All-Movie Guide  Joseph Ankeny

 

TCMDB  bio from Turner Classic Movies

 

Lang, Fritz at VideoArtWorld.com  The Masters Series: Fritz Lang, by Christophe Le Choismier

 

Brain-Juice | Biography of Fritz Lang

 

Fritz Lang  biography from GermanFlicks.com

 

Fritz Lang Biography - The Free Information Society  compiled by Jonathan Dunder

 

Fritz Lang Biography  from Biography Base

 

Fritz Lang Criticism (Vol. 20)  bio page from e-notes

 

Fritz Lang @ Filmbug  brief bio

 

German 43: Resources: Biographies: Lang, Fritz  brief bio info

 

Fritz Lang  very brief bio from filmportal.de

 

Fritz Lang   Daniel Shaw from Senses of Cinema

 

Kitsch, Sensation - Kultur und Film  Michael Koller from Senses of Cinema   

 

The Permanent Magic of Fritz Lang   Rob White assesses Lang’s career from Sight and Sound 

 

Fritz Lang: The Illusion Of Mastery  Thomas Elsaesser from Sight and Sound

 

The Films of Fritz Lang - by Michael E. Grost  Michael E. Grost’s extensive analysis on the Films of Fritz Lang

 

Metropolis and Fritz Lang  Page one bio and introduction piece from German-Hollywood Connection

 

The release of Metropolis  Metropolis Film Archive 2007, phenomenal website compiled by Michael Organ, Australia, which includes translated German reviews and a scathing review in 1927 by H.G. Wells in the New York Times
 
introduction  extensive article on Rudolf Klein-Rogge and his relationship to Thea von Harbou (2nd wife) and Fritz Lang (undated)

 

Fritz Lang's Diagonal  Fritz Lang’s Diagonal Symphony, by Barry Salt from Starword (undated)

 

Brigitte Helm, 88, Cool Star Of Fritz Lang's 'Metropolis'  Robert Mcg Thomas Jr from the New York Times, June 14, 1996

 

The Truth Twister  Stanley Kauffman reviews Fritz Lang: The Nature of the Beast, by Patrick McGilligan (548 pages), from the New York Times, July 20, 1997

 

washingtonpost.com: Fritz Lang: The Nature of the Beast   Chapter One of Fritz Lang : The Nature of the Beast, by Patrick McGilligan  

 

Fritz Lang: The Giant Who Today Goes Unseen  David Hay from the New York Times, September 30, 2001

 

Fritz Lang  The Fascination of Fritz Lang, an overview by Chris Fujiwara from the Boston Phoenix, Jan 31 – Feb 7, 2002

 

Bright Lights Film Journal Article  Fritz Lang’s Assumption Factory, by Robert Castle, November 2002

 

Article: Crucified to the Machine: Religious Imagery in Fritz ...  Crucified to the Machine: Religious Imagery in Fritz Lang's Metropolis, by David Michael Wharton from Strange Horizons, January 6, 2003

 

Cineaste Article (2005)  The Testaments of Fritz Lang, by Chris Fujiwara (2005)

 

16:9  16:9 in English: The Artist and the Killer: Fritz Lang’s Cinema of the Hand, by Joe McElhaney (June 2006)

 

Martin Scorsese on Fritz Lang  Fritz Lang Birthday Tribute by Martin Scorsese, December 2006

 

Kammerspielfilm, Part 1: M by Fritz Lang  Gautam Valluri from Broken Projector, July 26, 2007

 

DVDS; Fritz Lang, Trailing Nazis   Dave Kehr from The New York Times, May 15, 2009

 

Fritz Lang's Metropolis: Complete at Last  Larry Rohter from The New York Times, May 4, 2010

 

Lang, Fritz   They Shoot Pictures, Don’t They

 

1967 BBC Interview by Alexander Walker  also seen here:  LANG, Fritz
 
Fritz Lang: The Lost Interview / In the summer of 1972, the ...  Lloyd Chesley and Michael Gould interview Lang for Moviemaker magazine, February 10, 2004

 

Johns Hopkins University Press | Books | Fritz Lang  Fritz Lang: Genre and Representation in His American Films, by Reynold Humphreys (230 pages)

 

The religion of director Fritz Lang  from Adherents

 

DREAM CHAMBER 22 (Fritz Lang)  interesting Lang-based visual graphic art

 

Lang Movie Posters

 

posters from Metropolis  Edition Panorama Berlim

 

Gravity's Rainbow - Thomas Pynchon  original movie posters for Metropolis and Frau im Mond

 

Filmography

 

Fritz Lang / films / director / biography  filmography and various film reviews from FilmsdeFrance 

 

The silent and sound German expressionist films of FRITZ LANG  brief reviews of early films

 

The Dark Worlds of Fritz Lang - Harvard Film Archive  brief feature and reviews from a retrospective

 

The 21st Most Influential Director of All Time (2002 MovieMaker Poll)

 

Survey of Filmmakers: Top 25 Directors (2005 poll by The Film Journal)

 

501 Movie Directors: A Comprehensive Guide to the Greatest Filmmakers

 

Jean-Pierre Melville's 64 Favourite Pre-War American Filmmakers (Cahiers du Cinema, October 1961)

 

Chris Fujiwara's Top 10 Directors

 

Photographers Gallery - Photographs by Fritz Lang  nice black and white gallery

 

AHC Digital Fritz Lang Papers  Nineteen of the twenty motion pictures Lang shot on 16mm film from 1938-1953 as he toured around the American Southwest (ranging from .14 to 10:33)

 

Fritz Lang - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

 

THE HALF-CASTE (Halbblut)

Germany  1919

 

There are no existing prints of this film.

 

THE SPIDERS PT 1 (Die Spinnen)

aka:  The Golden Sea

Germany  (130 mi)  1919

 

User comments  from imdb Author Snow Leopard from Ohio

This first episode of Fritz Lang's "The Spiders" is an entertaining adventure story, and it is particularly notable for its imaginative settings and visuals, and for the way that each sequence leads smoothly into the next. The story is far-fetched, of course, but Lang tells it quite well, and it makes for enjoyable viewing.

The basic setup of the sinister organization of "Spiders" involves some of the themes that Lang used in more detailed form in his Dr. Mabuse movies. Here, the story is strictly for entertainment purposes, and as such it works well. Ressel Orla is suitably elegant as the leader of the "Spiders", and she usually makes the best of her opportunities.

The opening message-in-a-bottle scene sets the tone, establishing tension and mystery right away. From there, Lang builds up the story nicely, as the characters learn about the hidden treasure and compete with each other and with other adversaries to find it. His style here is similar to that in some of the best of contemporary action movies, such as the Indiana Jones films. Most of the scenes work well in themselves, and once it gets going, each scene also moves the story ahead immediately to the next scene, without letting you pause for breath.

Lil Dagover also adds a lot in her role as the priestess. Carl de Vogt is adequate as the hero Hoog, but he does not have a lot of presence or charisma, and most of the energy level in the characters comes from the female leads.

This episode got "The Spiders" off to a good start, and it is the best of the two segments that Lang actually filmed. It does not have the deep themes found in Lang's best movies, but as entertainment it works quite well.

The Onion A.V. Club [Scott Tobias]  Scott Tobias looks at Pt’s 1 and 2

From the silent era to sound, from Germany to Hollywood, and from one genre to the next, Fritz Lang's varied and tumultuous career extended over five decades, yet his paranoid vision never wavered. No matter the period or locale, Lang always found a sinister undercurrent at work, a conspiratorial force that's far-reaching and immensely powerful, yet well-organized enough to stay out of the public eye. An auteurist's dream, his trademark themes on the nature of evil surfaced again and again in his darkly expressive films, a fact evidenced by a pair of reissues separated by 41 years: 1919's two-part serial Spiders and his final film, 1960's 1,000 Eyes Of Dr. Mabuse. Modeled too closely after Louis Feuillade's superior 10-part classic Les Vampires (1915), Spiders emphasizes exotic adventure over intrigue, but the numerous similarities between the two don't favor Lang, who hadn't yet come into his own as a director. Like the Feuillade serial, the title refers to an underground ring of black-cloaked thieves—in Spiders, the villains pointedly include top businessmen and public figures—behind a crime spree that leaves the police confounded. The first episode, "The Golden Sea," is by far the strongest, a breathlessly paced treasure hunt with one action setpiece barreling into another as unflappable hero Carl de Vogt hangs from a hot-air balloon, wrestles an asp, and saves nemesis Ressel Orla from being sacrificed to the Incan sun god. The adventure continues in "The Diamond Ship," which sticks to rote formula, again involving a ruthless quest for jewels and adding swordplay, tigers, secret compartments, collapsing walls, and a few grossly stereotyped Chinese crooks. As a formative effort, Spiders anticipates the elaborate architecture in Lang's later work (particularly 1926's Metropolis) and his preoccupation with densely organized schemes, but he wouldn't hit his stride until after the German expressionist movement broke out the same year. By the time he closed his career with 1,000 Eyes Of Dr. Mabuse, Lang had been through the harrowing experience of WWII—his wife divorced him and joined the Nazi party, and he fled Germany under cover of night—and refined his technique on low-budget American genre films. The last in a trilogy that began with 1926's Dr. Mabuse, The Gambler and 1933's The Testament Of Dr. Mabuse—the latter of which had its final reel excised by Goebbels—1,000 Eyes shrewdly updates Lang's omniscient, Hitlerian mastermind for the dawning media age. A rash of unsolved crimes leads detectives to the Luxor Hotel, where the unseen Mabuse monitors the rooms with hidden cameras and microphones and dictates orders through a vast network of nefarious thugs. The labyrinthine plot has satisfying elements of police procedural, whodunit, and old-fashioned melodrama, delivered with the no-nonsense punch of a good American B-picture, but it's the idea of Mabuse that leaves a lasting impression. For Lang to revive a character that originally echoed the Nazi movement, so long after the war had ended, serves as a potent warning that evil is ever-present among the powers-that-be, even during peacetime.

The Spiders Part I: The Golden Sea  Michael E. Grost from Classic Film and Television

 

Kitsch, Sensation - Kultur und Film by Michael Koller from Senses of Cinema

 

Nitrate Online (Eddie Cockrell)

 

HARAKIRI

Germany  (80 mi)  1919

 

User comments  from imdb Author: FerdinandVonGalitzien (FerdinandVonGalitzien@gmail.com) from Galiza

At the beginning of the 20th century in Japan, O-Take-San, a Japanese young lady, falls in love with an American official. This relationship will be filled with social and religious impediments that will threaten the couple's happiness.

This is one of the minor films (with difference) of the German moviemaker, Fritz Lang. Inspired by John Luther Llong and David Belasco's "Madame Butterfly", "Harakiri" is above all, the triumph of the art direction that shines specially in this Nippon fable in a majestic and suggestive way. "Harakiri" it is not any big and lost Fritz Lang's masterpiece. Thanks to its discovery our idea about the evolution of the posterior career of the German filmmaker has been destroyed. However, this film confirms us Lang's control of story telling, his talent for the construction of narrative and, above all, to validate in a manner, the extraordinary themes consistent in his work.

We encounter in this movie a more naturalist visual conception of the cinema, rather than those works of his contemporaries. The scenery never tries to overlap reality, but in a certain way, tries to remake it. This film was particularly eulogized for the critics of that time for the detail of the nature and the recreation of the Japan of that time. Lang had the invaluable help of the Ethnographic Museum of Berlin, and thanks to this, and on the fact that the director knew by heart oriental civilizations, at the end the result was this film that has to be taken in account as an early Lang.

It is possible to find as well in "Harakiri" certain features very recognizable in his later works, like the theme of love fighting against the external circumstances that try to obstruct its success ("Der Müde Tod" as a perfect example). In this film, love is jeopardized by the social conventions which find their confirmation into the figure of Bonzo; adding another aspect, the religious one, to those dangers that hunt the main characters.

And now, if you'll allow me, I must temporarily take my leave because this German Count must considerer putting into practice those strange and peculiar Japanese customs, that is to say, "Harakiri" due to the remaining days of Christmas preparations.

THE SPIDERS PT 2 (Die Spinnen)

aka:  The Diamond Ship

Germany  (81 mi)  1920

 

User comments  from imdb Author Snow Leopard from Ohio

This second part of Fritz Lang's "The Spiders" is a solid follow-up to the first part. This segment is not quite up to the level of the opening episode, but it is also entertaining, and it features some new and interesting material. As with the first part, the story has many far-fetched elements, and neither the plot nor the characters should be taken too seriously.

This part opens with a somber, determined Hoog determined to bring down Lio Sha and "The Spiders", and it then proceeds through a variety of adventures as the adversaries continue trying to outwit each other. Some of the settings are again imaginative and interesting, particularly the underground Chinese city, and these are the main strength of the movie.

Ressel Orla is again good as the villainness, but this time the story does not give her quite as many opportunities. Carl de Vogt has to carry more of the load this time, and while he is adequate in the action scenes, he does not have enough charisma to get the most out of the material. There was an opportunity for some real sparks between him and Orla, but they don't materialize.

Several of the sequences are quite good in themselves, and there is again lots of action. This story of "The Diamond Ship" does not fit together quite as tightly as did the first story of "The Golden Sea", and that, plus the absence of Lil Dagover, are the main things that make this one a cut below the first episode. It's still worth seeing, though.

The Spiders Part II: The Diamond Ship  Michael E. Grost from Classic Film and Television

 

FOUR AROUND A WOMAN (Vier um die Frau)

Germany  (52 mi)  1921

 

User comments  fro imdb Author: FerdinandVonGalitzien (FerdinandVonGalitzien@gmail.com) from Galiza

The merchant Yquem buys his dear wife a beautiful jewel with matching earnings in a place where the city's underworld trades in fake and stolen jewelry. By chance, Yquem spots a man with whom his wife had an affair in the past. Yquem follows him to a hotel where he will write him a letter imitating his wife's hand writing. The letter invites the man to a public place where Yquem can spy on them and try to discover whether there is still something between them.

This early Fritz Lang film, "Vier Um Die Frau" (Four Around a Woman) was found by chance some years ago at the "Cinemateca De Sâo Paulo", a great present for the German aristocracy and even for the longhaired moviegoers, because it prefigures much of "Dr. Mabuse", (corruption in the upper class-a very habitual practice-unscrupulous upstarts, blackmail, low class criminals, social tension.) and in the opinion of this German aristocrat, provides one of the most outstanding titles of Lang's first period. This film has excellent editing that gives vigour, speed and emotion to a story of an underworld rife with treachery and betrayal as well as a complex tale of unrequited love. The film builds to a crescendo of narrative strength that reminds one of episodes of "Die Spinnen" made by Herr Lang a year before.

The acting is exceptional and the performers resist the temptation to overacting that might be expected in such melodrama. As the heroine, Carola Toelle is especially good and admirably conveys the doubts, secret desires and frustration that her character suffers. An excellent counterpoint is provided the character of her friend and confidant, a perfect vamp, who provides bad advice and is without scruples, quick to use flirting to build up her social position... Rudolf Klein-Rogge has to be mentioned, as his performance makes one recall the exceptional character Dr Mabuse, that he will immortalise two years later. The excellent main actors are given equally good support in the minor roles.

It is worth mentioning as well the great photography of Otto Kanturek and the film production by Ernst Meiwers and Hans Jacoby. The importance of "Decla-Bioscop"'can be seen in the first rate production values that are so abundant in the film (great manors, hotel lobbies, the stock exchange, etc) and on the other hand the realistic depiction of less auspicious surroundings: ragged and wretched slums streets filled with the kind of characters you might expect in such places. A minor point but also a real curiosity is the inclusion of a poster for another "Decla Bioscop" production that can be glimpsed in a theater lobby.

And now, if you'll allow me, I must temporarily take my leave because this German Count is realizing how in tonight's soirée's there are four aristocrats around a fat German heiress with almost the same perverse intentions of those of this Herr Graf towards her.

DESTINY

aka:  Between Worlds

Germany  (114 mi)  1921

 

Time Out   Tony Rayns

 

Lang's first major success was inspired by the Intolerance device of mixing parallel settings and cultures. Death gives a young girl three chances to save her lover's life, in old Baghdad, in 17th century Venice, and in mythical China. The tone ranges from baroque melodrama to eccentric whimsy, and the plotting is full of digressions and asides, but Lang's design sense and use of architectural space gives the film a basic consistency. And the plentiful special effects still look amazingly inventive.

 

Apollo Movie Guide [Scott Renshaw]

 

Contemporary viewers may have come to expect grand melodrama from silent films, but there’s a moment early in Fritz Lang’s Destiny (Der Mude Tod) that provides a beautiful emotional subtlety. A pair of lovers (played by Lil Dagover and Walter Janssen) is sitting in a horse-drawn coach, sharing their ride with a goose. As the young man prepares to kiss the woman, he ties a scarf over the goose’s eyes to protect her modesty. It’s a sweet, playful and – perhaps most surprising – small moment.

Those who know Lang best from the awesome visual spectacle of Metropolis may not expect such a deft human touch, but that touch is what elevates Destiny. The narrative actually develops into a sort of epic fantasy, as the young woman in the aforementioned pair of lovers eventually begins a strange journey. At a tavern in a small town, Death (Bernhard Goetzke) comes calling on the young man, leaving the woman heartbroken and desperate. She eventually comes face to face with Death, and pleads with him to return her fiancée to the living. The Reaper then offers her a challenge: If she can save any one of three lives that are about to be snuffed out, the young man will be returned to her.

That challenge sends the film to three exotic locations – Persia, Venice and Imperial China – where Dagover and Janssen play the principal characters in three different stories of lovers torn asunder. The three sequences are splendidly staged, boasting elaborate sets and costumes, quaint but effective optical effects and a vivid sense of place. They are also, unfortunately, the least compelling part of Destiny on a dramatic level. As impressive as they look, they don’t allow a real connection with the lovers and their fate.

Elsewhere, however, Lang combines his remarkable visual sensibility with a hook into his characters’ pain. Nowhere is this talent more impressively demonstrated than a scene in which Death is shown in his garden, a tiny figure framed against a massive wall. As Death eventually reveals himself to be a sympathetic figure, isolated and haunted by his grim charge, Lang’s ability to convey those emotions visually takes on tremendous resonance.

And that’s the real surprise of Destiny, particularly for those whose experience with silent film is limited. As broad as some of the performances may be, there’s a genuine sense of feeling and consequence behind them. The final act of the film becomes particularly chilling, as the young woman dashes through the town desperately seeking a soul to substitute for that of her lover’s, even considering sacrificing an infant. Lang makes grief tangible in Destiny, a feat even more impressive than re-creating Imperial China. Yet even in those lesser location segments, he can manage a delicate image like two lovers surreptitiously linking fingers while prostrate at the Emperor’s feet. Over and over again, Lang negates the clichés of silent cinema by never forgetting to keep his epic stories human – and small.

 

Cinepassion.org  Fernando F. Croce

 

Death is the implacable entity at the center of Fritz Lang's deterministic traps, yet here the Grim Reaper is a melancholy executioner, as much of an entrapped player in the cosmic design as his victims. (The Weary Death is the original German title.) Unsmiling Death (Bernhard Goetzke) materializes by the side of the road and hops a stagecoach into the nearby hamlet, "some time, some place." Sweethearts Lil Dagover and Walter Janssen share a drink at the tavern with the dour stranger, a skeleton shadow falls across the table as a glass of beer melts into an hourglass; when Dagover next spots her beloved, he's a phantom marching with the other souls, disappearing behind an endless wall. The bereft frau is desperate to join her lover, a gulp of apothecary poison does the trick -- an overlap-dissolve transports her into Death's austere-Gothic realm, a climb up the stairway leads her to the caped, doleful figure, to whom she begs for the return of her beau's life in a stupefying, iris-encircled close-up, a Dreyer image before Dreyer. Moved, Death shows her the chamber where lives are long, skinny candles that putter out once God so decides: a flame is levitated, which dissolves into a newborn baby, then into nothing, while a cut locates a mother sobbing over the lifeless child. The job is a burden, Death yearns to be conquered, so the maiden gets three chances to reclaim her man by saving a life from being snuffed out in other parts of the world -- Orpheus, with detours for Scheherazade, Shakespeare, and Taiping Guangji. Arabian nights, Renaissance Venice, and folkloric China provide Dagover with a trio of incarnations and the director with a thousand opportunities to explore cinema's possibilities, while opening the eyes of Buñuel, Hitchcock, Bergman, Argento, et al. A tear streaks down the face of a statue and the heroine is back in the present, with the clock ticking for her to find one life for Death; even the wretched wish to hang on to theirs, however, so she finds transcendence in Lang's purifying blaze and a final sublime stroll, forward and heavenwards. Written by Lang and Thea von Harbou. With Rudolf Klein-Rogge, Max Adalbert, and Hans Sternberg. In black and white.

 

User comments  Unusually compelling imdb Author marquis de cinema from Boston, MA

Der Mude Tod/Destiny(1921) was the film where Fritz Lang began sharpening his trademarks of emotional and visual motifs. Focuses on themes Fritz Lang obsessed over in film and life. For instance, the conflict between love and death is faced by many protagonists(male or female) in numerous Fritz Lang pics. From Destiny(1921) to the director's final film, 1000 Eyes of Dr. Mabuse(1960), Fritz Lang was occupied in his work by philosophies on death, life, love, notion of the after life, and redemption. The visual brilliance of Lang's later Silent films can be traced to this feature.

Figure of death is a compelling and sympathetic Lang character whose task is not an easy one. The character of death in Destiny(1921) does what is required of him without any subjective bias on the people he has to collect. Bernhard Goetzke puts on screen with his performance the most fascinating portrayal of death in a motion picture. The figure of death in Destiny(1921) is a lonely and sad figure whose wish is to do something else. The title of the film refers to death's inability to move outside of his destiny.

Der Mude Tod/Destiny(1921) was influential to directors of the silent and sound eras. Luis Bunuel was impressed by its amazing visual and sad qualities(thus the film became an influential force in most of Bunuel's work). It wouldn't be surprising that Destiny(1921) also influenced Ingmar Bergman especially with The Seventh Seal(1957). Other filmmakers influenced includes Enzo G.Castellari, Mario Bava, Roger Corman, and Terry Gilliam. The film's influences can be looked at in films as Lisa and the Devil(1972), Masque of the Red Death(1964), Keoma(1976), and Brazil(1985).

Candleroom sequence is a moment of floating beauty and surreal grace. The candleroom is an extraordinary visual set with a great deal of imagination put into it. The Candleroom is symbolic of the place where the Grim reaper watches over to see whose candle(life) will be put out. An excellent effect involves a candle glow dissolving into a baby. The Candleroom sequence has some terrific visual effects that blow away the CGI of today's motion pictures.

Contains a slateful of extraordinary visuals typical of a German Expressionistic film of that time. In films such as Destiny(1921), Fritz Lang used an aura of expressionistic imagery to display different emotions from his main characters. Visual use of the camera reaches its climatic level during the three tales. An example of why silent films where for the most part a great visual experience compared to many sound pictures. Destiny(1921) matches the astonishing imagery of Die Nibelungen(1924), Metropolis(1927), and Dr. Mabuse Der Spieler(1922) with excellent visuals of its own.

Out of Sympathy for a woman whose beloved died, the grim reaper gives her a chance to save one of three lives as exchange of return of beloved. Tale one takes place in Persia with forbidden love affair between Arab woman and Western adventurer. Tragic tale that benefits from director's imaginary use of Persian locations. The female protagonist attempts to save the adventurer to no avail. Least interesting of the three tales and most slow moving.

Second tale involves a love triangle with the city of Venice as the story's backdrop. The woman of this tale is promised to a man of well known prestige who she doesn't love. Her love is to someone who is not popular and the opposite of her finace. Includes an ingenious death plot that is similar to a situation in Marquis De Sade story, ERNESTINE:A SWEDISH TALE. Her plans ends up in a manner that the woman least hoped for.

The Imperial China tale is the third and best of the three tales. Magnificent camera effects gives it a mythical quality that creates a feel for the spectacle. An astonishing effect and maybe the director's most amazing effect in his silent films involves the creation by a magician of an army of toy sized soldiers. Deals with the Emperor of China who wants the magician's female assistent who is loved by the male assistent. Magical feeling of the amazing and bizarre is what makes the third tale something fantastic.

"Love is Stronger than death" is a good title for a potential documentary of the life and film works of Fritz Lang. More than any other line in a Fritz Lang film, "Love is Stronger than death" represents a summary of Fritz Lang's filmography. "Love is Stronger than death" deals with Fritz Lang's ideals about metaphysical love that goes beyond the confines of the mortal world. Destiny(1921) deals with this notion with use of abstract and metaphysical imagery. "Love is Stronger than death" can also be applied to the films of Mario Bava because of his similar fatalistic take on the topic of love.

After watching it for the first time, I consider Destiny(1921) among the director's finest silent films. An act of courage is performed by the heroine thus making her a tragic figure. Acting from the cast shines with moments of expressionistic beauty. Magificently envisioned by a master of expressionistic filmmaking. Destiny(1921) shows Fritz Lang's growth as an artist and his capabilites to become a legendary film director.

Destiny  Michael E. Grost from Classic Film and Television

 

Destiny  Michael Koller from Senses of Cinema

 

Apollo Movie Guide [Scott Renshaw]

 

The SF, Horror and Fantasy Film Review  Richard Scheib

 

digitallyOBSESSED.com (Mark Zimmer)

 

Epinions [Stephen O. Murray]

 

DR. MABUSE:  THE GAMBLER

Germany  (242 mi)  1922           restored version (297 mi)

 

Kim Newman from 1001 MOVIES YOU MUST SEE BEFORE YOU DIE:

 

This two-part epic was a major commercial success in Germany in 1922, doubtless because of its everything-including-the-kitchen-sink approach, scrambling thrills, horrors, politics, satire, sex (including nude scenes!), magic, psychology, art, violence, low comedy, and special effects. Whereas the escapades of the Fantômas (and even Fu Manchu) belong to that netherworld between the surreal and the pulpy, Dr. Mabuse was intended from the outset not merely as flamboyant thriller but as pointed editorial, using the figure of master-of-disguise supercriminal to embody the real evils of its era.

 

The subtitles of each of the film’s two parts, harping on about “our time,” underline the point made obvious in the opening act, in which Mabuse’s gang steals a Swiss-Dutch trade agreement—not to make use of the secret information, but to create a momentary stock market panic which affords Mabuse (Rudolf Klein-Rogge), in disguise as a cartoon plutocrat with top hat and fur coat, to make a fast fortune. He also employs a band of blind men as forgers, contributing to the sense German audiences at the time felt that money was worthless (Mabuse sees this coming and orders his men to switch over to forging U.S. currency since even real marks aren’t worth as much as counterfeit dollars).

 

The film’s eponymous villain shuffles photographs as if they were a deck of cards, selecting his identity for the day from various disguises, but it is nearly two hours before his “real” name is confirmed—which time, we have seen Mabuse in several other disguises, from respected psychiatrist to degenerate gambler to hotel manager. In Part 2, he appears as a one-armed stage illusionist, and finally loses his grip on the fragile core of his identity to become a ranting madman, tormented by the hollow-cheeked specters of those he has killed and, in a moment which still startles, by the creaking-to-life of vast, grotesque statues and bits of machinery in his final lair. Director Fritz Lang, and others, would return to Mabuse, still embodying the ills of the age—notably in the early talkie Das Testament von Dr. Mabuse and the 1961 hi-tech surveillance melodrama The Thousand Eyes of Dr. Mabuse. 

 

Time Out  Tony Rayns

 

Lang's introduction to Mabuse is typical of his early work in being disorganised and erratically paced as a narrative, but shot through with flashes of inspiration. The master criminal (taken from a pulp novel by Norbert Jacques) is presented as an overlord of the contemporary social chaos in Berlin: he profits from the ills of the time, and adopts countless disguises to instigate new varieties of exploitation. Lang has said that he intended the film as a kind of social criticism, and his sprawling plot does take glimpses of night-life decadence and themes like economic inflation in its stride. But overall the grasp of social reality is as shaky as the plotting, and the film's interest - certainly by comparison with the later Testament of Dr Mabuse - remains basically historical.

 

Fritz Lang Bibliography (via UC Berkeley Media Resources Center)  Thomas Elsaesser, Fritz Lang: The illusion of mastery, from Sight and Sound Jan 2000

 

The writer argues that Fritz Lang's Dr. Mabuse trilogy is a radical critique of surveillance culture, demonstrating that the three films are metaphors not of political power but of rebellion against power. The three films emphasize the idea of a looking glass world, in which sight is not only the sense most easily deceived but also the one most easily seduced. They also investigate what such an idea implies for the political function of cinema as an instrument of social control. In the films, it appears as if the direct look is not a look at all, at least not in the sense that it gives access to power. Mabuse's downfall occurs because the further he rises, the more the look he relies on reveals its underside, namely of being a look borrowed from the technologies of vision--technologies that are themselves blind. Lang's Mabuse films are essays on the social symbolic represented by the new technologies of surveillance as dissembling machines at once frightening and fascinating.

 

Slant Magazine [Keith Uhlich]

 

All appearances and hypnotic suggestions to the contrary, identity is Dr. Mabuse's (Rudolf Klein-Rogge) wager of choice. It is what allows him to move effortlessly between class-restricted social circles, from obscenely bourgeois gambling dens to seedy proletarian establishments. One night he is a young nouveau riche possessed of an ingratiating and fresh-faced eagerness, the next an elderly man of the world whose Chinese spectacles (wriggled in conjunction with a particularly memorable incantation: "Tsi-Nan-Fu!") can mesmerize even the most stalwart state's prosecutor (Bernhard Goetzke). Psychoanalysis is Mabuse's voodoo science: whatever his disguise, his ultimate goal (be it power, money, or—his undoing—love) is predicated on getting deep inside his opponent's head. As played by Rudolf Klein-Rogge in Fritz Lang and Thea von Harbou's two-part adaptation of the Norbert Jacques novel, Mabuse is a true bogeyman, a hollow shell of surface tics with a terrifying dead-eyed stare. Some have seen him as myth personified (a precursor, in ways, to Adolf Hitler), though I would say that only comes across in the hindsight of Lang's sequel The Testament of Dr. Mabuse (a much better film, to my mind). This Mabuse has only pretensions to myth; he's as mortal as they come and Lang's film slowly (very slowly) leads him down a Fibonacci-spiraled path to the one true salvation—insanity. Only there, in that post-psychological headspace, does he become God. Until then he's just a showman and, indeed, appears most alive while cloaked in his copious succession of highly theatrical guises. When masquerading as the hypnotist Sandor Weltmann (whose cruel gaze makes even an attempted suicide play as rousing populist entertainment), Mabuse seems a precursor to the mastermind Haghi, also played by Klein-Rogge, from Lang's Weimar-era masterpiece Spies, but when forced to act the tortured romantic in his pathetic pursuit of the sleepy-eyed Countess Dusy Told (Gertrude Welcker), Mabuse loses his edge and so does the film, already bogged down by its indifferently rendered police procedural narrative (so close to, if not actually Dada that one can see, as critic Dave Kehr has noted, why the Surrealists held Lang's film in such high esteem). The ghosts of conscience that torture Mabuse in the film's final scene, like most of the plot particulars, make little sense with what's come before (the character is so resolutely amoral that one doubts he'd ever be plagued by such easy guilt), but the image that this confrontation precedes and heralds is one for the ages: a stirring piece of black-and-white moving portraiture (not to mention slyly coded satirical agitprop) entitled—for all eternity—"The Man Who Was Mabuse."

 

digitallyOBSESSED! DVD Reviews  Mark Zimmer

 

Mah-BOO-zah. Say it with me. Mah-BOO-zah. The name may not mean much in the US, but in Germany the name 'Mabuse' is as much a household name of horror as Dracula or Frankenstein. Based on a novel by Norbert Jacques, a total of 12 canonical movies about the evil Dr. Mabuse and his spiritual successors have hit the screen. Here, for the first time on DVD, is Fritz Lang's original film that started it all.

The picture opens with Dr. Mabuse playing solitaire with a deck of cards that is most unusual: each card represents a different face and identity of the Doctor! Selecting one at random, he proceeds with a tour de force opening sequence in which he derails the German stock market and manipulates investors with suggestion and false information. But where Mabuse is happiest is at the gambling tables that plagued Weimar Germany. There the profiteers and nouveau riche frittered away millions while working men and women were barely able to keep up with inflation enough to keep food on the table. Mabuse takes advantage of the idle rich through hypnosis and mental control, as well as arranging fortuitous meetings for them with women of questionable morals. Pitted against the many-faced doctor and his elaborate machinations is State Attorney Norbert von Weck (Bernhard Goetzke), who on occasion resorts to disguise himself in order to attempt to identify the criminal mastermind who is wreaking such havoc in all aspects of the teetering German economy.

Klein-Rogge (best known as Rotwang in Lang's Metropolis four years later) gives a suitably intense portrayal to the doctor. The various disguises are often far over the top, but he brings a presence to the role that causes us to disregard that fact just as do his potential victims. Goetzke makes for a believable hero as well, even though Lang cleverly sets the audience up to believe that handsome Paul Richter, as Edgar Hull, one of the first victims of Mabuse, will be the hero of the piece. Instead, he is swept away and dispatched by Mabuse in a veritable afterthought that shows just how beneath notice Mabuse considers the rest of the public. Only von Weck, who is able to resist Mabuse's mental control with difficulty, is a suitable adversary.

The sets are mostly naturalistic when indoors. However, once outside in the alleyways and shadowy streets of the unnamed city, German Expressionism takes over with wild angles and sharp contrasts of light and dark. Another tactic borrowed from Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1919), which Lang had originally been scheduled to direct, is the use of animated text on screen. This is used primarily in the hypnosis sequences to visually represent the hypnotic suggestion echoing in the mind of the victim. It's quite effective and well done here.

Well before Battleship Potemkin, we find Lang using montage and meaningful cuts in Mabuse. On numerous occasions, a question will be posed at the end of a scene, and the visual of the next succeeding scene will answer the question. This is highly effective even today, and must have been truly startling in 1922.

As usual for a David Shepard-produced silent disc, the film is run at visually correct speed rather than at sound speed. This makes the two parts of the film (which were released independently, even though neither can stand on its own) quite lengthy, but the time spent is well worth it. The intertitles unfortunately appear to be new and digitally rendered; their digital appearance contrasts unfavorably with the age of the film and draws away unnecessary attention, especially when overlays are used to cover text on the screen. I would have much preferred removable subtitles for this aspect of the presentation.

Much as is the case in a revenge story, the fun is in seeing how Mabuse's plans are revealed bit by bit. We as junior Mabuses get a little frisson of delight in seeing them unspool just like clockwork, especially when the victims of Mabuse's crimes are not terribly sympathetic. The moral ambiguities inherent in the Mabuse and von Weck characters make this a fascinating picture that holds up very well over the decades.

 

User comments  Authoritative imdb comments by Author Bob Hunt (conn24h@talk21.com) from St Albans, England

In this review I refer to the Transit Film DVD edition from the F W Murnau Foundation (or Stiftung, if you understand German!). This 2 DVD set is an excellent restoration of this(these?) movie(s). At three and a half hours, some may argue that it is a little daunting for the uninitiated silent film viewer, but in my humble opinion it is so well made (by Fritz Lang) that it still stands up today as a masterpiece of "gangster cinema". Shot between November 1921 and March 1922, the film was made only a couple of years after Lang's directorial debut (Halblutt - 1919), and five years before Metropolis - perhaps Lang's masterpiece. It can be argued that it represents the start of a 'series' of gangster/crime related movies by Lang, and parallels can be drawn to Spione (Spies) of 1927/28, and M (1931 - Lang's first talkie), and of course, The Testament of Dr Mabuse (1932/33). There was also a final addition from 1960, The Thousand Eyes of Dr Mabuse, but that is obviously of a different era. It is interesting to observe that Lang/von Harbou clearly were attempting to create a screen detective character something like Sherlock Holmes in the form of Commissioner Lohmann, (superbly played by Otto Wernicke) for it is he who is the detective in both M and Testament. However, I digress. Where both M and Testament concern themselves with the work of the police in an almost documentary fashion (especially M), Der Spieler is almost exclusively concerned with the working of the criminal mind. Mabuse is played by Rudolf Klein-Rogge, one of Lang's favourites - though one wonders what Klein-Rogge made of Lang - Thea von Harbou, the screen-writer, married Lang in 1921, after divorcing Klein-Rogge! He gives a masterful performance as Mabuse, and dominates the film. Even when not on the screen, his omnipotence pervades the entire proceedings. Whilst I wouldn't go so far as to describe the picture as 'gripping', it still has the power to hold the attention for most of its mighty three and a half hours. For me, at least, this is aided in no small measure by the magnificent new soundtrack by Aljocha Zimmermann, whose use of leitmotif (in true Teutonic style) adds immeasurably to the overall enjoyment of the film. I strongly recommend this picture, not only to serious students of German Silent Cinema (they'll have seen it anyway!) but to anybody who enjoys a good gangster/crime story. If you have a hang-up about silent movies, then in all honesty this isn't going to change your mind - but give it a try. I think its worth the effort in the end. Trivia: Although made in Berlin, and the numerous vehicles all drive on the right as one would expect, they are without exception, all right hand drive!

Cineaste Article (2005)  The Testaments of Fritz Lang, by Chris Fujiwara (2005) ), also seen here:  Fritz Lang's Mabuse films

 

Not Coming to a Theater Near You [Ian Johnston]

 

DVD Journal  Mark Bourne

 

dr mabuse  from leninimports, which includes a biography and filmography here:  fritz lang

 

DVD Times  Noel Megahey

  

Dr. Mabuse, Der Spieler  Michael E. Grost from Classic Film and Television

 

Dr Mabuse, der Spieler (1922)  James Travers from FilmsdeFrance    

 

DVD Savant review  Glenn Erickson

 

Reel.com DVD review [Tim Knight]

 

Epinions [metalluk]

 

DVD Talk (John Sinnott)

 

VideoVista  Tom Matic

 

The SF, Horror and Fantasy Film Review  Richard Scheib

 

Combustible Celluloid (Jeffrey M. Anderson)

 

CineScene.com (Chris Dashiell)

 

DVDBeaver.com - Review [Gary W. Tooze]

 

DIE NIBELUNGEN:  SIEGFRIED

Germany  (97 mi)  1924 restored version (143 mi)

 

Fritz Lang Bibliography (via UC Berkeley Media Resources Center)  From Iron Age Myth To Idealized National Landscape: Human-Nature Relationships and Environmental Racism in Fritz Lang's Die Nibelungen, by Susan Power Bratton from Worldviews: Environment, Culture, Religion (November 2000)

 

From the Iron Age to the modern period, authors have repeatedly restructured the ecomythology of the Siegfried saga. Fritz Lang's Weimar film production (released in 1924-1925) of Die Nibelungen presents an ascendant humanist Siegfried, who dominates over nature in his dragon slaying. Lang removes the strong family relationships typical of earlier versions, and portrays Siegfried as a son of the German landscape rather than of an aristocratic, human lineage. Unlike The Saga of the Volsungs, which casts the dwarf Andvari as a shape-shifting fish, and thereby indistinguishable from productive, living nature, both Richard Wagner and Lang create dwarves who live in subterranean or inorganic habitats, and use environmental ideals to convey anti-Semitic images, including negative contrasts between Jewish stereotypes and healthy or organic nature. Lang's Siegfried is a technocrat, who, rather than receiving a magic sword from mystic sources, begins the film by fashioning his own. Admired by Adolf Hitler, Die Nibelungen idealizes the material and the organic in a way that allows the modern ''hero'' to romanticize himself and, without the aid of deities, to become superhuman.

 

Combustible Celluloid (Jeffrey M. Anderson)
 
The underrated Fritz Lang earned belated critical recognition for his personal stamp included on his many claustrophobic crime pictures. This DVD release of Die Nibelungen opens an entirely new chapter in Lang's career.
 
By 1924, Lang had already mastered the two-part epic, a lengthy film released in theaters in two different sections. Following up his masterful Dr. Mabuse, the Gambler, he turned his skills to this astonishing, five-hour fantasy.
 
Part One follows the adventures of Siegfried, a hero who slays a dragon, bathes in its blood and becomes an (almost) invincible warrior. Part Two follows Siegfried's widow Kriemhild, who marries Attila the Hun in order to avenge her late husband's death.
Both parts feature jaw-dropping art direction, but part two is distinctly darker and more elaborate, especially in its fiery climactic battle sequence. Die Nibelungen as a whole is much clearer than Dr. Mabuse and much more entertaining than Lang's more famous Metropolis. It's an essential masterpiece.
 
Once again, Kino has done a spectacular job with this 2-disc set. The picture is better than anyone could have hoped, the score is very well done, and the extras include footage of Lang on the set, sketches, essays and more.
 
About.com [Jurgen Fauth]

 

In 1924, years before Metropolis and M, director Fritz Lang created a silent epic based on the quintessential German legend: Die Nibelungen, the ancient folk tale of heroism and revenge that also served as basis for Richard Wagner's Ring cycle of operas. Lang's tale is broken into two movies which together clock in at close to five hours. Conceived as a monumental spectacle at Berlin's Ufa studios, Die Nibelungen is the Lord of the Rings superproduction of its time; its images and larger than life emotions still have the power to astound.

Part one, Siegfried, begins with the exploits of the Germanic hero. In lavishly decorated sets that recall art nouveau rather than the expressionism fashionable at the time, Siegfried (Paul Richter) robs a treasure, slays a dragon, and wins the hand of a queen. But jealousy, deceit, and court intrigue lead to murder. In the second film, Kriemhild's Revenge, Siegfried's widow marries Attila the Hun and manipulates the knights into a tragic bloodbath.

By today's hectic standards, individual shots in Die Nibelungen could be tightened to make for a more streamlined movie. But there is no extraneous scene; every boiling emotion and outrageous plot twist still resonates over eighty years later. The glittering of the treasure on the bottom of the Rhine, the plumed helmet of one-eyed assassin Hagen von Tronje, Attila's mad hatred after his son is murdered, the infernal conflagration that seals the fate of the Nibelungs--for anybody willing to delve into the early history of film, Die Nibelungen offers a wealth of stunning sights.

The two-disc DVD edition by Kino Video comes with a handsome set of special features, including footage of Fritz Lang on the set, design sketches, a comparison of the dragon-slaying scenes in Siegfried and The Thief of Bagdad, the original 1924 score, an essay by a film scholar, photo galleries and behind-the-scene images.

Die Nibelungen: Siegfried (1924)  James Travers from FilmsdeFrance

Having completed his apprenticeship to a blacksmith, Siegfried, son of Siegmund, king of the Netherlands, sets out for the court of King Gunther of Burgundy at Worms.  On the way, he encounters a fearsome dragon, which he slays with his sword.  Bathing in the blood of the dying dragon, Siegfried makes himself invincible - apart from one spot on his back which is covered by a leaf.   The dwarf Alberich leads him to the treasure of the Nibelung people, which he claims for himself, along with Alberich’s cloak of invisibility.   Arriving at King Gunther’s castle, Siegfried asks for the hand in marriage of Gunther’s sister, Kriemhild.  Gunther agrees, providing Siegfried helps him win his bride, Brunhild, the warrior queen of Iceland.   Brunhild will only marry Gunther if he can defeat her in three athletic tests.  This he does, with the help of Siegfried’s magical powers.   The royal weddings take place, but shortly afterwards Kriemhild and Brunhild get into a violent argument, with the latter discovering how she was tricked into marrying Gunther.  Enraged, Brunhild persuades her husband that Siegfried must be killed.   Hagen, Gunther’s faithful vassal, performs the terrible deed, having tricked Kriemhild into revealing his weak spot.  Over Siegfried’s corpse, Kriemhild swears that his death will be avenged...

Arguably the artistic pinnacle of Fritz Lang’s filmmaking career is his ambitious adaptation of Das Nibelungenlied, an epic thirteenth Century Germanic poem of heroism, betrayal and revenge.  The poem, whose author is unknown, was first performed in Austria in around 1200 AD, and is derived from folk legends stretching back to the 6th Century, having its factual basis in the fall of the Royal House of Burgundy in the 5th Century.  It was the inspiration for part of Richard Wagner’s celebrated opera of 1876, The Ring, although this differs significantly from the original text.

Fritz Lang’s film version of Das Nibelungenlied ran to five hours of screen time, across two films, known together as Die Nibelungen.  The first part, entitled Siegfried , deals with the death of the hero Siegfried; the second part, Kriemhilds Rache, tells the story of Kriemhild's bloody revenge.  It was one of the most expensive productions made by the pre-eminent German film company UFA, requiring a seven month shoot at a time of great economic strain (during Germany’s period of hyper-inflation).

The screenplay was written by Thea von Harbou (Lang’s wife, a successful author), who co-operated with Lang on many of his early films.  Lang intended the film to be a nationalistic work, promoting German culture.  Unfortunately, the film’s nationalistic subtext made it an obvious mascot for the newly formed National Socialist German Workers Party - aka the Nazis - who even borrowed some of the film’s design ideas.

Die Nibelungen is both a visually stunning example of German expressionist cinema and an exciting fantasy adventure with wide appeal.   The lavish sets combine a strangely magical Gothic romanticism with a very sinister kind of expressionism - with misty forests, creepy underworld lairs, a forbidding island, and shadowy fairytale castles.

The first of the films features two of most iconic sequences of expressionist cinema.  The first is an animated representation of a dream in which two stylised black eagles attack a white falcon, a portent of Siegfried’s death.  The second is where a tree in blossom gradually morphs into in to a skull, a powerful visual metaphor for the brevity of life.

There are also some remarkable special effects, including some very effective and ingenious use of superposition.  The film’s highpoint is Siegfried’s fight with the dragon.  Even by today’s standards, the realisation of the dragon is impressive - a huge full-size mechanical prop, so convincing that in most of the shots it really does look like a living creature.

Strikingly different to Lang’s other films of this period, distinguished by its sense of old world poetry, Die Nibelungen is one of the supreme triumphs of the silent era of cinema, a beautiful, compelling and highly imaginative reinterpretation of one of the earliest works in German literature. 

Die Niebelungen  Michael E. Grost from Classic Film and Television

 

Bright Lights After Dark: Kill Hagen! - Lang's Kriemhild And Her ...  C. Jerry Kutner

 

How did "Siegfried" get to be such a Popular German Name? THIS is How!  JediKermit from Epinions

 

Movie Vault [Friday and Saturday Night Critic]

 

FilmFanatic.org

 

Movierapture [Keith Allen]

 

DVD Talk [John Sinnott]  reviewing Die Nibelungen Pt’s I and II

 

Turner Classic Movies   reviewing Die Nibelungen Pt’s I and II

 

Epinions [Stephen O. Murray]  reviewing Die Nibelungen Pt’s I and II

 

CRITIC'S CHOICE  Jonathan Rosenbaum from the Reader reviewing Die Nibelungen Pt’s I and II (capsule)

 

DIE NIBELUNGEN:  KRIEMHILD’S REVENGE

Germany  (129 mi)  1924           restored version (144 mi)

 

Levin, D.J.: Richard Wagner, Fritz Lang, and the Nibelungen: The ...   Richard Wagner, Fritz Lang, and the Nibelungen: The Dramaturgy of Disavowal, by David J. Levin (207 pages), also seen here at Princeton University Press:  PUP

This highly original book draws on narrative and film theory, psychoanalysis, and musicology to explore the relationship between aesthetics and anti-Semitism in two controversial landmarks in German culture. David Levin argues that Richard Wagner's opera cycle Der Ring des Nibelungen and Fritz Lang's 1920s film Die Nibelungen creatively exploit contrasts between good and bad aesthetics to address the question of what is German and what is not. He shows that each work associates a villainous character, portrayed as non-Germanic and Jewish, with the sometimes dramatically awkward act of narration. For both Wagner and Lang, narration--or, in cinematic terms, visual presentation--possesses a typically Jewish potential for manipulation and control. Consistent with this view, Levin shows, the Germanic hero Siegfried is killed in each work by virtue of his unwitting adoption of a narrative role.

Levin begins with an explanation of the book's theoretical foundations and then applies these theories to close readings of, in turn, Wagner's cycle and Lang's film. He concludes by tracing how Germans have dealt with the Nibelungen myths in the wake of the Second World War, paying special attention to Michael Verhoeven's 1989 film The Nasty Girl. His fresh and interdisciplinary approach sheds new light not only on Wagner's Ring and Lang's Die Nibelungen, but also on the ways in which aesthetics can be put to the service of aggression and hatred. The book is an important contribution to scholarship in film and music and also to the broader study of German culture and national identity.

Die Nibelungen: Kriemhilds Rache (1924)  James Travers from FilmsdeFrance

After the death of her husband Siegfried, Kriemhild appeals to her brother Gunther to have his killer, Hagen, executed.  When Gunther refuses, Kriemhild allows herself to be married to Etzel, the king of the Huns.  After Kriemhild provides Etzel with a son and heir, she asks him to invite her brothers to his court.  Despite Kriemhild’s pleas, Etzel refuses to harm his guests - until Hagen kills his baby son.  A violent conflict suddenly erupts between the Niberlungs, loyal followers of Gunther, and the Huns.  Kriemhild is determined to have her revenge, even if it means sacrificing her brothers...

 

Kriemhilds Rache is the dramatic conclusion to Fritz Lang’s epic two-part film Die Nibelungen, based on a famous Germanic poem from Medieval times.  In the first part, Siegried, we saw how Queen Kriemhild was tricked into betraying her husband Siegfried, allowing her evil sister-in-law Brunhild to have him killed.  The second part is concerned with Kriemhild’s revenge on her husband’s killer, the vassal Hagen Tronje - and a bloody affair it is too.

With an enormous budget, Lang was able to realise some of the most spectacular sequences ever seen in cinema up until this point - including some truly ambitious battle scenes involving many hundreds of extras.  This is a triumph of German cinema in the 1920s.  The sets were some of the most extravagant ever to have been assembled in UFA’s Berlin studios, and give the film its extraordinary scale and darkly expressionistic feel.

There are two plausible interpretations of this film.  The first is that revenge is something which ennobles the human spirit; it is cowardice or folly to let an act of evil go unpunished.  The avenger is a hero, someone who must be prepared to sacrifice everything so that retribution may be arrived at.  Kriemhild is not only morally justified in what she does, she stands as an emblem of divine justice.  This is hardly a Christian view, but it is probably how many German people, watching the film in the 1920s, would have felt.  In the humiliating aftermath of the First World War, the nationalistic sentiments of the film would have been readily picked up, nourishing thoughts of revenge against those who had brought a great nation to its knees.

The second interpretation, which is more evident today, is that revenge is a terrible thing, something which brings only devastation and misery, and resolves nothing. It is a conduit by which evil may enter the world and wreak mayhem.  Notice how, in the course of the film, Kriemhild becomes increasingly fanatical in her desire to avenge the death of her husband.  She loses all trace of humanity and is transformed into a single-minded automaton, strangely reminiscent of the Maria android in Lang’s later film Metropolis (1927).  She becomes almost oblivious to the death and destruction that happens around her, and even sanctions the murder of her elder brother in order to fulfil her revenge.  This descent into fixated madness is horribly prescient of what would happen to Germany under the Third Reich in the decade after the film was made.

 

Chicken Soup for the Revenge-Minded Soul... MMM-MMM Good ...  JediKermit from Epinions

First of all, if you haven't read my "Siegfried" review yet, you may want to do that....just because this movie, "Kriemhild's Revenge" is a sequel to "Siegfried." But you'll probably figure out what's going on from this one. So there it is, right out in the open...no one's ashamed.

There have been times in my life I've wanted revenge. A full, sweeping revenge that carries up all I want destroyed and leaves behind only wreckage. The kind of revenge that would make me turn from Anakin Skywalker into Darth Vader at the drop of a helmet.

There have even been times that my feelings of revenge have been justified...times that "get over it" just isn't good enough. Justice must be done.

For Kriemhild, the heroine of "Kriemhild's Revenge," this is one of those times. At the end of the previous film, her husband Siegfried was killed by her own brother and uncle to assuage her sister-in-law Brunhild's jealousy. After having the entire court and her entire family telling her to "get over" her husband's murder, Kriemhild decides to leave Burgundy and marry Atilla (yes, THAT Atilla) and move east....all after Atilla's right hand man promises to help her in her quest for revenge.

What follows are a series of traps and battles that Kriemhild sets for her own flesh and blood; to celebrate the birth of her child with Atilla they invite the entire Burgundian court to join their Blessed Event. No one gets out alive.

This is an amazingly chilling film for audiences like us, who are used to some measure of a happy ending...for Kriemhild, there is no peace, there is no happiness, there is no love...in her own words, "You killed my heart when you killed Siegfried," and this puts us in a difficult position.

On the one hand, what was done to her was wrong...very wrong. And yet, remembering that her own actions in fact ultimately led to Siegfried's murder...you wonder what exactly is going in in that Braided Teutonic head of hers. Is it displaced guilt? Is it just the completion of her revenge? And why does she choose to take so VERY MANY with her?

Kriemhild is played by Margarete Schoen, and is played very well...although my brief description above would lead you to think she's a one-note character, she plays Kriemhild with a depth of emotion, and a ...fullness of hate that is rarely seen, and certainly wasn't conveyed in many silent films. She's not just cold and bitter...she HATES. She SEETHES. And yet, she's not evil. She just wants vengeance.

I've come to think of this as the ultimate, iconic tale of revenge...her patience as she waits for years to avenge Siegfried's death...her cunning planning, involving not only her husband and his court, but the people who are going to themselves die at her hands (all unwitting)...and then her resolve to see this thing through to the end. Even when her own brothers beg her for mercy, she doesn't give in.

Fritz Lang, who would later direct "Metropolis," "M," and other early film classics, did his usual wonderful job with "Kriemhild's Revenge," but with the exception of a few battle scenes and effects sequences, this one isn't as visually impressive as "Siegfried" was. The elements of magic died with Siegfried, and this is a much grittier, more human tale.

I recommend seeing this movie to anyone, especially those interested in early film or in German history...but everyone would be able to appreciate the pain Kriemhild feels, and you'll be both impressed and shocked at what she'll do to save her own soul and the memory of her husband. You should watch "Siegfried" before watching this, it's concludes the story of the Niebelungen in a spectacular conflagration that will leave you breathless. It's well worth your time...check it out.

FilmFanatic.org

 

The SF, Horror and Fantasy Film Review  Richard Scheib

 

Fritz Lang - Die Nibelungen - 1924 - Siegfried - Kriemhild's ...   from Michael Organ’s website

 

Movierapture [Keith Allen]

 

Combustible Celluloid (Jeffrey M. Anderson)

 

DVD Talk [John Sinnott]  reviewing Die Nibelungen Pt’s I and II

 

Turner Classic Movies   reviewing Die Nibelungen Pt’s I and II

 

Epinions [Stephen O. Murray]  reviewing Die Nibelungen Pt’s I and II  

 

CRITIC'S CHOICE  Jonathan Rosenbaum from the Reader reviewing Die Nibelungen Pt’s I and II (capsule)

 

METROPOLIS

Germany  (124 mi) 1927

 

Kin Newman from 1001 MOVIES YOU MUST SEE BEFORE YOU DIE:

 

Originally clocking in at over two hours, Fritz Lang’s Metropolis is the first science-fiction epic, with huge sets, thousands of extras, then-state-of-the-art special effects, lots of sex and violence, a heavy-handed moral, big acting, a streak of  Germanic Gothicism, and groundbreaking fantasy sequences. Bankrolled by UFA, Germany’s giant film studio, it was controversial in its day and proved a box-office disaster that nearly ruined the studio.
 
The plot is almost as simplistic as a fairly tale, with Freder Fredersen (Gustav Frölich), pampered son of the Master of Metropolis (Alfred Abel), learning of the wretched lives of the multitude of workers who keep the gleaming supercity going. Freder comes to understand the way things work by the saintly Maria (Brigitte Helm), a pacifist who constantly preaches mediation in industrial disputes, as well as by secretly working on a hellish ten-hour shift at one of the grinding machines. The Master consults with mad engineer Rotwang (Rudolf Klein-Rogge), who has created a feminoid robot he reshapes to be an evil double of Maria and unleashes on the city. The robotrix goes from dancing naked in a decadent nightspot to inciting a destructive riot, which allows Lang to get the most value out of the huge factory sets by blowing them up and/or flooding them, but Freder and the real Maria save the day by rescuing the city’s children from a flood. Society is reunited when Maria decrees that the heart (Freder) must mediate between the brain (the Master) and the hands (the workers).
 
Shortly after its premiere, the expensive film was pulled from distribution and reedited against Lang’s wishes:  this truncated, simplified form remained best-known, even in the colorized Giorgio Moroder remix of the 1980’s, until the 21st century, when a partial restoration—with tactful linking titles to fill in the scenes that remain irretrievably missing—made it much closer to Lang’s original vision. This version not only adds many scenes that went unseen for decades, but also restores their order in the original version and puts in the proper identities. Up to that point rated as a spectacular but simplistic science-fiction film, this new-old version reveals that the futuristic setting isn’t intended as prophetic but mythical, with elements of 1920’s architecture, industry, design, and politics mingled with the medieval and the Biblical to produce images of striking strangeness:  a futuristic robot burned at the stake, a steel-handed mad scientist who is also a 15th-century alchemist, the trudging workers of a vast factory plodding into the jaws of a machine that is also the ancient god Moloch. Frölich’s performance as the hero who represents the heart is still wildly overdone, but Klein-Rogge’s engineer Rotwang, Abel’s Master of Metropolis, and, especially, helm in the dual role of saintly savior and metal femme fatale are astonishing. By restoring a great deal of story delving into the mixed motivations of the characters, the wild plot now makes more sense, and we can see it is as much a twisted family drama as an epic of repression, revolution, and reconciliation.  

 

Fritz Lang Bibliography (via UC Berkeley Media Resources Center) Scientific Gazing and the Cinematic Body Politic: The Demonized Cyborg of Metropolis, by Jill Clark from Intertexts Fall, 1999

 

My article explores the images and metaphors relating to space in Fritz Lang's 1926 film, Metropolis (remade in 1984 by Georgio Moroder). Using a primarily Marxist interpretive framework, I analyse the spatial layout of the filmic city of Metropolis, divided into three levels, one above ground and two underground, as metonymic of the class divisions in the urban society that are represented in the film. The article also examines the architecture of Metropolis as representing social values and conflicts. It then proceeds to investigate the film's gender dynamics as revealed in the two figures of the robot Maria and the real Maria, and concludes that the film's gender and class ideology is remarkably conservative.

 

Metropolis  from Kino Film

Perhaps the most famous and influential of all silent films, Metropolis had for 75 years been seen only in shortened or truncated versions. Now, restored in Germany with state-of-the-art digital technology, under the supervision of the Murnau Foundation, and with the original 1927 orchestral score by Gottfried Huppertz added, Metropolis can be appreciated in its full glory. It is, as A. O. Scott of The New York Times declared, "A fever dream of the future. At last we have the movie every would-be cinematic visionary has been trying to make since 1927."

Metropolis takes place in 2026, when the populace is divided between workers who must live in the dark underground and the rich who enjoy a futuristic city of splendor. The tense balance of these two societies is realized through images that are among the most famous of the 20th century, many of which presage such sci-fi landmarks as 2001: A Space Odyssey and Blade Runner. Lavish and spectacular, with elaborate sets and modern science fiction style, Metropolis stands today as the crowning achievement of the German silent cinema. Kino is proud to present the definitive, authorized version of this towering classic, at a length over one-third longer than any previous release, for the first time on DVD and VHS.

Fritz Lang Bibliography (via UC Berkeley Media Resources Center)  The Star on C.A. Rotwang's Door: Turning Kracauer on its Head (an analysis of Fritz Lang's film, the 'Metropolis') by Peter Dolgenos from the Journal of Popular Film and Television, Summer, 1997

The half-Jewish film director Fritz Lang rejected propaganda minister Joseph Goebbel's offer of a top position in the newly Nazified German film industry and left the country to be one of Hollywood's leading directors of leftism and anti-Nazi films instead. One of Lang's controversial films, 'Metropolis', is criticized as portraying an overly simplistic message when examined from a political point of view. The film's plot is compared with the confusing activities of the National Socialist Party. Rotwang, the film's villain, is observed to possess several Jewish traits.

According to Joseph Goebbels, it was when he and Hitler went to see Metropolis in a small-town cinema that Hitler declared that Fritz Lang "will make the Nazi film." One can shed light on the ideology of Metropolis by comparing it with that of the National Socialist Party. The Nazis offered a critique of the industrial/capitalist civilization of their time, which bore roughly the same relation to a standard socialist critique as Metropolis does to a standard leftist film. Whereas the socialists spoke for those at the bottom of urban society, the Nazis, and ultimately Lang in this one film, spoke for those who were altogether outside society looking fearfully in. In the 1920s, the Nazis' support came disproportionately from rural areas, especially from people who distrusted modernization and urbanization and feared becoming proletarianized. To them, Metropolis--filled with futuristic architecture that the party rejected along with all modern art--might have seemed real as a projection of their worst fears about the city.

Metropolis and Fritz Lang  Page two look at METROPOLIS from German-Hollywood Connection

 
The silent classic Metropolis was created in Germany in 1925-26 by the Austrian director Fritz Lang in collaboration with his wife, Thea von Harbou (1888-1954). This science-fiction film, so admired today, was not even a big box-office success in its time and the production costs almost put the Ufa film studios out of business. But Fritz Lang's Metropolis continues to fascinate viewers today, and for over seven decades it has influenced Hollywood and world cinema — from music videos to films such as Blade Runner and Robocop. Lang himself went to Hollywood in 1933, where he continued to work until 1956.
 
The first real science-fiction film was based on a story written by Fritz Lang's wife, Thea von Harbou, although some claim it actually stems from Georg Kaiser's 1920 “Gas Trilogy.” But Metropolis is really more memorable for its fantastic imagery than its story, which is a bit vague and confusing, at times plain silly. Lang's cinematic vision of the city of the future has influenced the look of later sci-fi films such as Blade Runner. Even today, there is something fascinating about the futuristic scenes shot by the camera team of Karl Freund and Günther Rittau — a fascination that even led Madonna and Queen to include Metropolis clips in their music videos. Ironically, in light of the respect accorded the film today, Metropolis nearly bankrupted the Ufa studios (the legendary German film production company). In production for almost two years, Metropolis required vast resources — 37,633 performers, including 1,000 men (FX-multiplied by six) with their heads shaved for the Tower of Babel sequence alone. At 5.3 million marks, the film ended up being the most expensive ever produced in Germany up to that time. The mounting expenses almost closed production early, and the film failed to make money. But even the modern viewer can see where the all the money went. Some of the scenes and special effects in Metropolis are as impressive today as they must have been in 1927.
 
Erich Kettelhut's Metropolis set designs and drawings (The very first view of the city. - this is actually not a scene from the movie, but the original canvas) helped director Fritz Lang create the unique imagery of this science-fiction classic. Some critics consider the film's architecture symbolic of the power relationships — power versus oppression, freedom versus subjugation — in the story. Six months after a visit to New York City, Lang imbued his film with a vision of skyscrapers of the future.
 
The film's reception at the time of its release in various countries was mixed. The London Times and The Spectator gave generally positive reviews, but in the U.S., Time magazine's review of Metropolis ended with this unkind comment: “Ufa might better have shut the eyes of its great cameras than permit them to reflect nonsense in such grandeur.” In his later years Lang himself seemed to be one of the film's biggest detractors. In 1958 he said, “I don't like Metropolis. The ending is false. I didn't like it even when I made the film.” (This from the director who was such a perfectionist, he required three days to shoot a brief love scene in the film between Brigitte Helm and Gustav Fröhlich.) One can only speculate on how much of Lang's negativity stems from his past association with ex-wife Thea von Harbou, the film's co-writer and a big Nazi sympathizer.
 
The release of Metropolis  Metropolis Film Archive 2007, phenomenal website compiled by Michael Organ, Australia, which includes translated German reviews and a scathing review in 1927 by H.G. Wells in the New York Times

 

metropolis | movie classic, directed by fritz lang (1927)  Metropolis website from leninimports, including a biography and filmography here:  fritz lang

 

Metropolis (1926) - German film history by Thomas Staedeli  Metropolis website featuring profiles of each of the principal players

 

Fritz Lang's Metropolis  another Metropolis website by Augusto Cesar B. Areal, in Brazil

 

Rome's Metropolis-   yet another Metropolis website

 

Metropolis  Chris Fujiwara on the newly reconstructed version from Film Comment, May/June 2010

 

Metropolis  Michael E. Grost from Classic Film and Television

 

Metropolis and Fritz Lang  Page one bio and introduction piece from German-Hollywood Connection

 
Fritz Lang and Metropolis   Fritz Lang and Metropolis: The First Science Fiction Film, by Erika Hawkins    
 
Maria from Fritz Lang's 1927 Metropolis Film
 
Talking Pictures  Smearing the Urban:The Politics of Metropolis, an essay by Andrew Lydon (undated)
 
Flickhead: Christine Young's Metropolis Essay  Reflection, by Christine Young (1999)
 
Fritz Lang  Elizabeth Burton writes a 3-part series on Metropolis from Suite 101.com, (May/June 2000)

 

   Technology and the Construction of Gender in Fritz Lang's Metropolis, by Peter Ruppert from Genders (2000) [note – entire article is available]

 

   Metropolis: The Foundation of the Avant-garde, by Jason Alexander Apuzzo from Neurosurgery magazine, October 2001 (pdf)

 

Fritz Lang: The Giant Who Today Goes Unseen  On a Metropolis restoration, David Hay from the New York Times, September 30, 2001
 
A Restored German Classic of Futuristic Angst  A.O. Scott from the New York Times, July 12, 2002
 
Getting It Right, F Stop and All  on the Metropolis restoration, by Dave Kehr from the New York Times, July 12, 2002
 
Article: Crucified to the Machine: Religious Imagery in Fritz ...  Crucified to the Machine: Religious Imagery in Fritz Lang's Metropolis, by David Michael Wharton from Strange Horizons, January 6, 2003
 
About restoring 'Metropolis'  feature which includes an additional 6 articles by GREENCINE magazine
 
The official site of the new restoration
 
village voice > film > Back to the Future by Ed Halter  Fritz Lang's sci-fi masterpiece revisited, July 10, 2007
 

Metropolis: A Film Far Ahead of its Time  Gautam Valluri from Broken Projector, December 7, 2007

 

'Metropolis' finds new life  Ed Meza from Variety, December 9, 2007

 

DVD Times - Metropolis (Masters of Cinema Series)  Kevin Gilvear

 
DVD Savant [Glenn Erickson]  (January 22, 2003)  also see:  Metropolis: a theatrical review of the digital restoration (September 29, 2001)  again here:  METROPOLIS and STAR WARS
 
The Village Voice [J. Hoberman]
 
Chicago Reader Movie Review  Jonathan Rosenbaum from the Reader
 
Article - Ten Neglected Science Fiction Movies by Jonathan Rosenbaum  follow up article from DVDBeaver
 
moviediva
 
Louis Proyect
 

Turner Classic Movies   Frank Miller

 
The SF, Horror and Fantasy Film Review  Richard Scheib
 
Metropolis (1927)  James Travers from FilmsdeFrance
 
Decent Films - faith on film [Steven D. Greydanus]  One of the 15 films listed in the category "Art" on the Vatican film list
 
DVD Times  Noel Megahey
 
Film as Art [Danél Griffin]
 
Reel.com [Tor Thorsen]
 
not coming to a theater near you (Rumsey Taylor)
 
Epinions [metalluk]
 

CineScene.com (Chris Dashiell)   Tomorrowland, an essay (2004)

 

The Digital Bits   Bill Hunt

 

VideoVista review  Amy Harlib

 

culturevulture.net, Choices for the Cognoscenti   Arthur Lazere

 
The Greatest Films - Revisiting the Greatest Films Ever Made  Jerry Roberts from Musings of a Cinephile
 
The Village Voice [Ed Halter]
 

Old School Reviews [John Nesbit]  also seen here:  John Nesbit: MovieGeek review  and here:  CultureCartel.com (John Nesbit)

 
Culture Wars [Tara McCormack]
 
not coming to a theater near you [Matt Bailey]
 
eFilmCritic.com (Rob Gonsalves)
 
Ted Prigge
 
by Jonathan L. Bowen  from Orbital Reviews
 
by David Arnold  from IMDb reviews
 
Movie Reviews UK  Damian Cannon
 
The timely return of Fritz Lang's Metropolis. - By David Edelstein ...  from Slate
 

Turner Classic Movies   Sarah Heiman and Scott McGee on the film restoration

 

The New York Sun [Nicolas Rapold]

 

Cinemaphile.org (David Keyes)

 

Combustible Celluloid [Jeffrey M. Anderson]

 

Movie Ram-blings  Ram Samudrala

 

Not Another Teen Neophyte [Vadim Rizov]

 

Movierapture [Keith Allen]

 

Metropolis Walkthrough  multi-angled view of the set by Jim Pivarski

 

Lang Movie Posters  German-Hollywood Connection

 

It came from "Metropolis": The legacy of a classic  Matt Zoller Seitz from Salon, May 15, 2010

 

Guardian/Observer

 

Time Out  London

 

From Metropolis to Blade Runner: architecture that stole the show  Jonathan Glancey from The Guardian, November 5, 2009

 

The view: Why Metropolis is the real summer blockbuster  Danny Leigh from The Guardian, April 30, 2010

 

Philadelphia City Paper [Sam Adams]

 

The Boston Phoenix   Jeffrey Gantz

 

Washington Post [Stephen Hunter]

 

Roger Ebert, Chicago Sun-Times

 

The New York Times (Mordaunt Hall)

 

Fritz Lang's Metropolis: Complete at Last  Larry Rohter from The New York Times, May 4, 2010

 

DVDBeaver.com [Markus]

 

DVDBeaver.com [Gary W. Tooze]

 

Metropolis (film) - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

 

Fritz Lang- 1925 "Metropolis" Moloch  (4:56)

 

YouTube - Metropolis - 10 MINUTE Promo - Fritz Lang 

 

SPIES (Spione)

Germany  (144 mi)  1928

 

Fritz Lang Bibliography (via UC Berkeley Media Resources Center)  Spies, by Geoffrey O’Brien from Film Comment (July/Aug 1995)

 

Spies, German director Fritz Lang's first independent production, virtually inaugurated the spy genre. Made in 1927, the film features a number of bravura passages, including a stunning opening montage. The writer discusses the conventions of the spy movie.

 

Time Out   Tony Rayns

 

In its very idiosyncratic way, Spione beats Lang's three Mabuse pictures as his definitive vision of a criminal mastermind. The reason is probably that this film entirely lacks the socio-political overtones of the Mabuse trilogy: the exploits of the evil genius Haghi (Klein-Rogge) here represent criminality almost in the abstract, and plunge the movie into a delirium of disguises, deaths, double-motives, and labyrinthine tricks. The tone is somewhere between true pulp fiction and pure expressionism, and the result remains wholly thrilling.

 

Cinepassion.org  Fernando F. Croce

 

The colossal canvas of Metropolis was a tough act to follow, but Fritz Lang's breathtaking silent thriller manages to match and in some areas top that earlier milestone. Returning to contemporary Weimar without quite abandoning Metropolis' sense of futuristic entrapment, Lang structures Thea von Harbou's pulpy plot around another fate-orchestrating mastermind, Haghi (the casting of Dr. Mabuse himself, Rudolf Klein-Rogge, encourages thematic links), a wheelchair-bound, Lenin-whiskered banker bent on world domination. The one threat to his reign of terror is a government secret agent known as No. 326 (Willy Fritsch), whose repertoire of disguises ranges from scraggly bum to debonair swell -- Haghi aims for the hero's emotional Achilles' heel by sending comely spy Gerda Maurus to neutralize him, not counting on the two falling in love. As always with Lang, there's a geometric scheme to the narrative, manifested not only in the compositional design but also in the parallels drawn between the mutual love of Fritsch and Maurus and the disastrously one-sided romance between a dignified Japanese courier (Lupu Pick) and one of Haghi's minxy vamps (Lien Deyers). Even more audacious is Lang's use of ellipsis, particularly in the opening flurry of images setting stage for secret hideaways, bullets flying through windows, and suicide pills. (One stunner: the getaway to a break-in is summed up by a single, extremely low-angle shot of a grinning biker.) Though the movie's international skullduggery, gadgetry and malefic, shapeshifting Blofeld stand-in have often pegged it as a prototype for the James Bond thrillers, Lang's moral rigor is actually the opposite of that genre's audience-nudging mix of sadistic violence and unfeeling sex -- the emotional complexity leading up to Pick's hara-kiri is precisely what the 007 films trade in for degraded kicks. Cinematography by Fritz Arno Wagner. With Louis Ralph, Hertha von Walther, and Fritz Rasp. In black and white.

 

Slant Magazine [Keith Uhlich]

 

Spies opens in an orgy of excess, the visceral excitement of onscreen chaos and death paralleling the anything-goes headiness of Weimar-era Germany. While banks are robbed and bureaucrats are assassinated, the pencil-pusher working class bug their eyes and rip out their hair (as only German silent-film characters can) amid stacks of paperwork—piled floor-to-ceiling—that topple at the lightest touch. A drive-by shooting occurs so suddenly it is nearly subliminal—even now, nearly eight decades after the film was made, the audience gasps for breath. Immersed in the rush of violence and intrigue we may miss that split-second when a bullet breaks through an embassy window, silencing its target (the first of the film's many spies) with brutal efficiency. And in this most confusing of moments, as one character's query ("Who is responsible?") becomes ours, an answer comes in the form of a mocking, declarative intertitle: "I!"

This is the Fritz Lang method: pose a question, then answer it, though never in any sort of predictable rhythm. His best narratives masterfully interweave and overlap with a Teutonic precision that befits the oft-recalled image of the director as a perfectly poised, monocled tyrant, cracking a horsewhip in time with the slavish, synchronized movements of hundreds of extras. Yet Lang's is also a messily emotional cinema, obsessed with parallel love themes for women and for country. As Spies' conflicted operative Sonia, the luminous Gerda Maurus (with whom Lang, then involved with scenarist Thea von Harbou, had a passionate affair) is perhaps the most complex of the director's virginal leading ladies, caught in this film and the subsequent Woman in the Moon at an ineffable, metaphysical divide between younger and elder womanhood. The Madonna and child medallion Sonia gifts to her enemy-in-trade—later lover—no. 326 (Willy Fritsch) hints at the perverse mixture of spirit-/sex-uality inherent to Lang's female characters, mothers and whores all, but never to reductive detriment. Indeed, the tender way in which Lang offers the villainous spy-in-training Kitty (Lien Deyers) with a parodic past-from-hell straight out of Griffith's Broken Blossoms reveals his admiration for the fairer sex's many machinations, be they of loving or cold-blooded intent.

Sacrifice is a concept alien to Lang's women—they are survivalists and/or ethereal beauties, possessing the entrancing temptations of Greek sirens. They cackle from a burning funeral pyre or gaze down upon their wounded men like Mother Mary frozen in a pietà close-up. The men of Spies find their salvation and/or doom in these women: In the case of the Austrian agent Colonel Jellusic (Fritz Rasp), the lack of a literal female counterpart seems a prompt for the first of the film's four suicides—revealed as a traitor he is forced to kill himself for a clearly patriarchal fatherland. Elsewhere, the Japanese doctor Matsumoto (Lupu Pick), seduced by the aptly named Kitty into giving up an essential peace treaty, is haunted by the memories of his deceased countrymen and comrades. This leads to an extended hara-kiri sequence, set in a minimalist temple before a stoic stone Buddha, which acts as a provocative companion piece to Jellusic's quick, implicative death scene and further illustrates Lang's facility in juxtaposing various narrative incidents for maximum profundity.

And what of the "I"? The duplicitous master-of-disguise Haghi (Rudolf Klein-Rogge), the puppet master of the piece? An early blackmail-in-miniature of the opium-smoking socialite Lady Leslane (Hertha von Walther) humorously reveals Haghi's singular loyalty ("I'm richer than Ford, Lady Leslane, and I pay significantly less in taxes") and foreshadows his tempestuous relations with Sonia, who slowly tears herself away from his increasingly misguided affections. Like many a Lang mastermind, Haghi must be ruler of all he surveys, his anxiety of influence exemplified by Spies' third suicide wherein a lowly Haghi henchman, trapped by the police, swallows a cyanide capsule and calmly awaits the inevitable.

Haghi is a more streamlined (one might argue more courageous) version of that seminal Lang/Klein-Rogge creation, Dr. Mabuse, though where the latter descends into the survivalist comforts of madness, Haghi, quite sanely, makes a sacrificial political statement before a theater full of less-than-discreetly charmed bourgeoisie. Lang is thought of by some as a prognosticator of Germany's fall into Nazism, and the confrontational ending of Spies (which ranks, in this critic's opinion, as one of the greatest finales in cinema history) supports such a reading, a satirical suicide sequence filled with such audacious vigor and vitriol that—much like the film's onscreen audience—one can't help but to laugh with and applaud, even as a sobering sense of historical reality (in the proscenium-appropriate form of a theater curtain) comes crashing violently down.

 

DVD Times  Noel Megahey

 

Adrian Martin Spione   Machinations of an Incoherent, Malevolent Universe, from Rouge

 

Fritz Lang : Spione | Book Reviews | SpikeMagazine.com  Ismo Santala on the subversive pulp fiction of Lang’s 1928 silent thriller

 

Spies  Michael E. Grost from Classic Film and Television

 

filmcritic.com  Jake Euker

 

Spione (1928)  James Travers from FilmsdeFrance

 

Epinions [Stephen O. Murray]

 

The New York Times (Mordaunt Hall)

 

As Movies Began to Talk, the Effect Was Visible  Richard T. Jameson from the New York Times, November 4, 2001

 

DVDBeaver.com [Gary W. Tooze]

 

WOMAN IN THE MOON (Frau im Mond)

Germany  (169 mi)  1929

 

Chicago Reader (Dave Kehr)

 
Fritz Lang's last silent film is nothing special, looking more like the work of Lang's wife and screenwriter (and Nazi-to-be) Thea von Harbou. German industrialists, convinced that there's gold on the moon, finance a space mission; the usual conflicts arise among the crew when they find it. Nice sets, no frisson. Lang claims to have invented the liftoff countdown for this 1928 film--too bad he couldn't get it copyrighted. 104 min.

 

Time Out   Tony Rayns

 

Lang's last silent movie was planned as another giant sci-fi film in the vein of Metropolis. It didn't work out like that, partly because the design and trick-work are cramped and unimaginative, partly because Thea von Harbou's script centres on the exceedingly banal character conflicts on board the first rocket to the moon. As a result, it looks considerably more dated than other Lang silents: it's badly acted melodrama, and the sci-fi trimmings remain entirely secondary. One scene is distinguished by Lang's magnificent sense of spatial drama: the actual launching of the rocket. Otherwise, it's chiefly notable for being one of the rare Lang movies with a deliriously happy ending.

 

Slant Magazine - DVD Review  Keith Uhlich

 

After prophesying the downfall of the Weimar Republic in his 1928 film Spies, perhaps there was nowhere left for Fritz Lang to go but the moon. Woman in the Moon is the great German director's somewhat labored final silent, slave to a first hour of repetitive sub-Mabuse theatrics before an awe-inspiring rocket launch sequence that, according to some (including a Gravity's Rainbow-era Thomas Pynchon), effectively invented the pre-launch countdown. From there it's a sporadically interesting love triangle/espionage story among the stars, one that only realizes the soulful implications of the title with a superb final close-up of actress Gerda Maurus—Lang's then-mistress viewed as a typically complex amalgam of mother, angel, and whore. This is not to devalue Lang's visual accomplishments: his ragged, rocky moonscapes (credited to five art directors) update Méliès' proscenium-bound fantasies into a more three-dimensionally expressionist playground, acting (pace Siegfried Kracauer) as psychological counterpoint to the characters' individual murmurs of the heart. An unforgiving Nietzchean abyss, hidden in a gold-encrusted cave, appears to be the inspiration for a similar chasm in Explorers on the Moon, one of the Tintin adventures authored by the Belgian artist Hergé. Indeed, all of Lang's outer space imagery brought back the sense of childlike wonder I experienced when encountering Hergé's comic panels for the first time. Lang appears similarly smitten with his fantasy world, charting his emotional connection to the material through the character of Gustav (Gustl Gstettenbaur), a young teenage stowaway obsessed with science fiction magazines. Mirroring the director's own passions for fantasy literature, Gustav's youthful optimism disproves the too-superficial reading of Lang as a monocled, perfectionist tyrant. Woman in the Moon—regardless of its minor status in the director's oeuvre—shows Lang was also a kid at heart.

 

Cinepassion  Fernando F. Croce

 

After the fevered prophecies of Metropolis, 21st-century dystopia for Fritz Lang became ingrained into the here-and-now of the Weimar Republic, for, like Godard with Alphaville, the director saw the future as already happening. The outstretched arm of ambition (not the "never," just the "not yet") aims for outer space, though the picture’s journey to the moon remains at least partly an escape from the pains of the world towards a still-unpolluted orb -- typically, the space trip is orchestrated by Mabuse-lite forces, headed by a cabal of industrialists and represented by Fritz Rasp’s effete disguise-master, equipped with slicked-down Hitler mop. Rasp’s on-hand for intrigue aboard the rocket ship, not that the crew needs any more, though, with the triangle of head navigator Willy Fritsch and engaged scientists Gerda Maurus and Gustav von Wangenheim already supplying plenty paranoia to simmer well before the lunar arrival. As opposed to the furious ellipsis of Spies, the launchpad countdown does not arrive until after the midway point, Lang’s intro leisurely laying in human detail to contrast with the sense of dwarfing technology to follow -- the three-legged chair in professor Klaus Pohl’s flat or the preparation of a sandwich warrant as much attention as the dazzling revolving craters and jagged, bubbling caves of the moon. Their landing locates not just gold but oxygen and water, to say nothing of the characters’ darkening fears, greed, jealousy and assorted weaknesses; yet the journey might just as well be filtered through the eyes of young stowaway Gustl Gstettenbaur, whose love of comic-book sci-fi finds a visual nod in Lang’s childlike FX, a Méliès line tracing the rocket’s trajectory or an Eureka!-cry bouncing off walls via cartoon-titles. The interaction between humans and machines points more to 2001: A Space Odyssey or Mission to Mars than to Destination Moon or ‘50s sci-fi, culminating in one of Lang’s most hopeful endings -- a lyrical literalization of the title, the renewal of life cycle amid the barrenness. Story by Thea von Harbou. In black and white.

 

taoyue.com: Film Reviews - Frau im Mond / Woman in the Moon (1929)

 

Woman in the Moon  Michael Price from Senses if Cinema

 

Woman in the Moon  Michael E. Grost from Classic Film and Television

 

DVD Outsider  Slarek

 

DVD Times  Noel Megahey

 

Electric Sheep Magazine  Philip Winter

 

Frau im Mond (1929)  James Travers from FilmsdeFrance

 

DVD Savant (Glenn Erickson)

 

Combustible Celluloid (Jeffrey M. Anderson)

 

The SF, Horror and Fantasy Film Review  Richard Scheib

 

DVDBeaver.com [Gary W. Tooze]

 

M                                                                                 A                     100

Germany  (98 mi)  1931

 

As a youth, Lang studied architecture in Vienna, but at age 20 he left home and traveled throughout the world, including North Africa, Turkey, Russia, China, Japan, and the Pacific, supporting himself by selling drawings, painted postcards, and cartoons, eventually settling in Paris to paint, where he had an exhibition in 1914.  At the outbreak of World War I, Lang returned to Vienna and fought for the Austrian army in Russia and Romania, wounded four times, where he was eventually discharged as a lieutenant where he began writing screenplays while recovering for a year in a Vienna hospital.  Working first in Berlin during the silent era of the 20’s, and later in Hollywood, Lang used cinema to explore a personal fascination with “cruelty, fear, horror, and death.”  His style is characterized by grandeur of scale, striking visual compositions and sound effects, but also suspense, and narrative economy, utilizing minimalist techniques, often startling the viewer’s imagination to evoke horror.  One of the founding fathers of German Expressionism, he is connected to the roots of film noir, preoccupied throughout his life with the dark side of human nature, including vengeance, violence, and criminality.  In a 1995 survey of hundreds of German film critics and scholars, M was voted the most important German film of all time, though in 1931 the film received mixed reviews and generated only modest box office returns, where it was not among the top ten features.  Lang was the last major German director to adopt sound, where the German film industry was slow to make the costly transition, which couldn’t have come at a worse time, as the economic crisis of 1929 reduced movie attendance by nearly one-third while drastically cutting back the number of films made from 183 in 1929 to 144 in 1931.  Theater owners hesitated to buy and install expensive new sound projectors, while production companies were loathe to make sound films that could only be shown in a limited number of theaters.  However, reports of the commercial success of American sound films jolted the German film industry into action, as they did not want to be left behind.  UFA, the principal German film studio during the Weimar Republic up until World War II, built a state-of-the-art sound studio in 1930, which was used for Josef von Sternberg’s THE BLUE ANGEL (1930), Ufa’s first major sound release which opened with great fanfare.  The prevalent use of radio in the late 1920’s added to the acceptance of sound film, as it was assumed movie-goers were also radio listeners.  Nonetheless, it was not without great resistance that Germany, at the height of its silent film tradition, made the transition to sound films.  As late as 1929, Fritz Lang defended the virtues of silent film, arguing that the close-up in silent film allowed viewers to read gestures, along with facial and body movements to help unlock a character’s inner secrets, where silent film allowed the full expressiveness of the human face.  As Lang’s first sound film, M has been called a “silent film with sound,” as it’s a transitional film in its sparing and expressive use of sound, while occasionally maintaining silent sequences, joined by Vertov’s ENTHUSIASM (1930), Buñuel’s L’ÂGE D’OR (1930), Clair’s À NOUS LA LIBERTÉ (1931), and Dreyer’s VAMPYR (1932).     

 

The use of sound in M can only be described as radical, and light years ahead of its time in the use of natural street sounds, with the noisy honking of car horns, the rising volume level of an agitated crowd, the insistent tapping of a nail, the expressive sound of a cuckoo clock as it strikes noon, and perhaps most importantly the sound of an obsessionally whistled melody that eventually identifies the murderer, ironically recognized by a blind man.  Lang’s subjective use of sound was highly sophisticated, where the blind balloon seller covers his ears at the mechanical noise of a hurdy-gurdy player, making the sound disappear altogether, only to be heard again when he lifts his hands, helping the viewer identify with their state of mind.  Similarly, sound is identified with the killer, who is “not” able to stop the sound spinning around in his head.  Visibly agitated after losing a potential victim to her embracing mother, he sits in an outdoor café and orders a cognac, where he can’t stop the sound of Grieg’s In the Hall of the Mountain King, Fritz Lang's M - Hall of the Mountain King Whistling (Grieg ... YouTube (10 seconds) that he himself whistles unknowingly, where he can’t identify the source of the music he hears, where it must be subjective, imagined, or hallucinated as the whistling continues unabated, even after he covers his ears.  Unlike the balloon seller, the killer can’t help what he hears, as he has no power to stop it from its merciless aggravation.  Like a Wagnerian leitmotif, the whistle follows him as a sign of his subconscious identification, giving expression to his inner impulses.  Of interest, it was Lang’s wife Thea von Harbou who was whistling, as actor Peter Lorre could not whistle.  Giving the film another level of complexity, the tune is used in Edvard Grieg’s Peer Gynt Suite, which is the incidental music used to accompany Henrik Ibsen’s 1867 play.  Peer Gynt is a capricious and irresponsible character with no sense of self, saving his own life by allowing another man to drown, where the tune is associated with a terrifying scene in a dreamlike fantasy where the trolls attack the trespassing Peer Gynt character with hysterical screams of “Slaughter him, slaughter him, tear him up, tear him up.”  Similarly, M’s frenzied mob scenes with people yelling and shrieking like the trolls evoke the same bloodthirsty passions in the public as the psychopathic killer, where the familiar musical refrain becomes a haunting prelude to unspeakable violence.

 

One of the major influences of the film is newspapers and the impact they have on mass culture, which popularized serial installments of fictionalized murders to help sell newspapers, where in this film serial killing and serial fiction mirror one another, where the film opens with the mother of Elsie Beckmann preparing her daughter’s meal for her return home from school around noon.  How ironic for her to receive the latest installment of a popular serial murder story at precisely the same time that her daughter is being murdered, where Lang is capitalizing on the public’s strange fascination with murder, emphasizing how mass murder was such a popular theme in Weimar Germany, where descriptive newspaper accounts fed the public’s voracious appetite to pore over every last detail of the crime, often blurring the lines between fiction and real life, where actual serial crimes reinforced the concept of serial newspaper installments.  Lang’s film coincides with an actual serial killer, where the film is inspired by real-life serial killer Peter Kürten, known as the Monster of Düsseldorf, though the screenplay was completed before Kürten was arrested.  However, Kürten blamed the press for his killings, claiming he learned about Jack the Ripper from reading press accounts.  G.W. Pabst’s film Pandora's Box (Die Büchse der Pandora) (1928), a fictionalized and romanticized account of Jack the Ripper, opened near the beginning of Kürten’s killing spree, where Lang wanted to explore the public’s fascination with crime.  Public trust in government authority had eroded after the loss of the war, which led to a devastating rise in inflation.  German culture in the 20’s viewed violent crime as symptomatic of a failed political system, where the assassinations of political adversaries in the early 20’s led to highly publicized mass murders, where serial killing and serial culture blended into one.  Hitler’s Mein Kampf, written in prison and published in 1925, advocated the overthrow of the government, Kurt Weill and Bertolt Brecht’s The Threepenny Opera, a musical glamorizing the criminal underworld, was the biggest hit in Berlin during the 20’s, while Alfred Döblin’s city novel Berlin Alexanderplatz, published in 1929, followed the life of an ex-criminal through a labyrinth of petty criminals, prostitutes, and pimps of working class Berlin.  Berliner Morgenpost, Berlin’s newspaper, published a popular column called Der Kriminalist printing accounts of real murders side by side with serial installments of crime novels.    

 

Germany was besieged by mass murders in the 20’s, from Georg Karl Grossman, a butcher who made a living selling human flesh, after having killed and chopped up several prostitutes, who was arrested in 1921, after which he reportedly laughed when he was given the death penalty and hanged himself in his cell, to Fritz Haarmann of Hannover, the first German serial killer who was accused or murdering twenty-seven young men within a six-year period from 1918 to 1924.  It was Haarmann’s trial that introduced many of the themes raised in Lang’s film, namely the murderer’s mental capacity and his compulsion to kill, where he was in and out of prison at an early age, frequently transferred to clinics and asylums after pleading insanity, only to escape and go on another murderous spree.  Both Kürten and Haarmann had served lengthy prison terms before they became serial killers, where Haarmann was executed by guillotine in 1925, the subject (the Man in Black) of the chilling child’s nursery rhyme heard in the opening of the film (“Just you wait a little while, the evil man in black will come, with his little chopper, he will chop you up”).  Once Peter Kürten was arrested in May 1930, his story filtered through the mainstream press, shadowing the production of Lang’s film throughout.  While researching for the film Lang spent eight days inside a mental institution in Germany and met several real child murderers, including Peter Kürten, whose psychiatric and criminal investigation lasted from October 1930 through the end of January 1931, just about the time the film was ready for release.  Due to his confession, Kürten’s trial only lasted ten days in April 1931, concluding on April 22nd with a death penalty for nine murders along with seven other attempted murders.  M premiered just weeks later on May 11, falling between Kürten’s conviction and his subsequent execution by guillotine in August.  The press blamed Lang for capitalizing on the sensationalist aspects of the murders, especially introducing such a horrid subject matter, but Lang insisted he was not glorifying mass murder, but rather society’s obsession and problematic participation in what he called the “mass murder complex.”  In 1931, Lang wrote:

 

The epidemic series of mass murder of the last decade with their manifold and dark side effects had constantly absorbed me, as unappealing as their study may have been.  It made me think of demonstrating, within the framework of a film story, the typical characteristics of the immense danger for the daily order and the ways of effectively fighting them.  I found the prototype in the person of the Düsseldorf serial murder and I also saw how here the side effects exactly repeated themselves, i.e. how they took on a typical form.  I have distilled all typical events from the plethora of materials and combined them with the help of my wife into a self-contained film story.  The film M should be a document and an extract of facts and in that way an authentic representation of a mass murder complex. 

 

Made two years before Hitler came to power, this brilliant psychological thriller is a vivid portrait of the rapidly disintegrating Weimar Republic, showing a city gripped with fear and swarming with cops as a city is under siege by a child murderer.  Germany was undergoing massive unemployment, rising criminality, and massive unrest.  Lang’s original title, Mörder Unter Uns (Murderer Among Us), was changed only three weeks before the premiere, shifting the focus from a suggested sensationalist thriller to something more abstract and ambiguous, where the single letter title stands out from the rest.  It had been 19 month’s since Lang’s previous silent film DIE FRAU IM MOND (Woman In the Moon, 1928), a sci-fi melodrama where the studio insisted that he modernize the film and add a soundtrack, something he flatly refused to do, while Alfred Hitchcock, in contrast, did not hesitate to add sound to Blackmail (1929).  The famed Austrian director was a great cultural hero during the Weimar Republic after the success of DESTINY (Der Müde Tod, 1921), DR. MABUSE:  THE GAMBLER (1922), the two-part NIBELUNGEN (1924), and the German Expressionist futuristic classic, METROPOLIS (1927), the most expensive film ever made at that point, as all were internationally acclaimed critical and commercial triumphs.  His next films did not fare so well, though M, created by Lang along with Thea von Harbou, his illicit lover that became his second wife, addressed events of the time, becoming a scathing documentary of Berlin’s underworld, expressed as a modernist art film, alternating between a meticulous police procedural and an eloquent essay on the death penalty told through pure abstraction, where there was no romantic interest or leading lady to hold the audience’s interest, but Peter Lorre, initially discovered by Bertolt Brecht, seen by Lang in his production of Pioneers in Ingolstadt in 1929 (later adapted into a made-for TV film by a young Rainer Werner Fassbinder in 1971), shot to stardom as Hans Beckert, the compulsive child murderer, hunted down not only by an increasingly frustrated police force, but also, more ruthlessly, by Berlin’s criminal underworld.  Lorre gives one of the great screen performances, a chilling portrait of madness, murder, and vengeance, where the underworld and the police are both desperately on the lookout for the killer.  Hindered from carrying out their nefarious activities by the police presence, the criminals decide to take matters into their own hands, covering Berlin with a network of spies.  The film is way ahead of its time in its methodical, perfectly synchronized, psychological storytelling, offering a detailed portrayal of police procedures based on Lang’s own research at the Alexanderplatz police headquarters, while the depiction of Berlin’s prostitutes, beggars, and grotesquely respectable citizens has a documentary quality. 

        

British Film Institute Film Classics  Volume 1, edited by Rob White and Edward Buscombe, 2003

 

In M, Lang alludes to scenes well known from war films.  The raid on the basement bar, a hangout for criminals, is staged and shot like a military operation.  From extreme high angle, the camera observes columns of uniformed and armed police advancing in locked step, reminiscent of infantry marching in formation. Later, one of the gangsters surveys the scene from the same angle through binoculars, as if reconnoitering the enemy’s position. 

 

The war was still a living memory in 1931.  Lang singles out Emil Dustermann from the long line of nameless beggars as the embodiment of the classical veteran.  His wooden leg signifies that he was one of the millions of soldiers who returned from the front as invalids.  Limbs were often blown off as grenades and shells exploded, or amputated because of a lack of surgical facilities in front hospitals.  These cripples who dotted the streets of Weimar as solemn reminders of the war found themselves outsiders in a society which sought to repress the national shame of defeat and resented the financial and moral burden veterans imposed.  It was not uncommon for war cripples to end up playing the hurdy-gurdy in tenement courtyards, selling papers or balloons, or joining the ever growing army of beggars.  Emil Dustermann stands for the continuity between the trenches and the domestic front more than a decade later.  In a scene reminiscent of millions of volunteers registering for military service in August 1914, the camera captures the bureaucratic particulars of induction:  Dustermann’s name and post are meticulously recorded in a close-up of pedantic handwriting.  ‘Dustermann, Emil’ receives a carbon copy of the record.

 

Berlin in the 20’s and 30’s was filled with poverty-stricken beggars and panhandlers on the streets, comprising the underground network, as the years following World War I in Germany were, according to Lang, a period “of the deepest despair, hysteria, cynicism, (and) unbridled vice.”  Chaotic elements eroded public order, so that by 1930 Nazi paramilitary groups murdered, bombed, and sabotaged the nation while the existing governmental bureaucracy sat back in helpless ineptitude.  Lang’s film aptly reflects the horrors of the times, a carefully constructed cloistered madness, purposefully expressed in the formal beauty of the director’s shadowy expressionism, not only a link between silent and sound, but also German Expressionism and Film Noir, exploring the growing chaos through an effective blending of expressionist and realist styles, where M’s central character Hans Beckert embodies the struggle between a weakening moral order and an increase in malevolent forces, personally besieged by uncontrollable homicidal passions.  The film opens with the blending of a gruesome nursery rhyme about a real-life serial killer in Germany with the activities of a child’s mother who prepares an afternoon meal for a daughter she presumes will be arriving soon, but the camera moves back and forth between the mother and her daughter Elsie Beckmann, the only child to walk home from school unaccompanied by an adult, bouncing her ball on the street, where a policeman unsuspectingly helps her across the street directly into the hands of the killer, initially seen only as a shadow whose lingering presence hovers ironically over a reward poster for the killer’s capture, asking “Who is the murderer?”  The shadowy figure buys her a balloon while humming a distinctive melody.  But as her mother futilely cries out her name, images of that bouncing ball can be seen coming to a rest in an unnamed field, with the balloon getting tangled in the telephone wires, making Elsie Beckmann the most recent victim.  The newspaper reports announce another murder, leaving a city restless and uneasy, where citizens in a panic are shown accusing one another in a lynch mob hysteria, ready to incriminate just about anyone.  The police are led by Inspector Karl Lohmann, Otto Wernicke, who would play the same role in Lang’s next film, THE TESTAMENT OF DR. MABUSE (1933), Lang’s last film before leaving his wife behind in Germany and fleeing for Paris, eventually emigrating into the United States.    

 

While the police work round the clock, they have no significant clues, with Berlin’s criminals under threat of constant crackdowns, leaving them unable to do their jobs.  Outlaw gang leaders meet in secret to discuss what can be done, headed by the most notorious criminal, Schränker (Gustaf Gründgens), with the camera alternating between meetings of the police and the criminals, with a startling similarity between the two groups, both trying to solve the same situation.  While the police continue to raid establishments, the angry letter written by the murderer to the newspaper offers them a clue, as they’re looking for the red pencil that penned the letter, searching various apartment dwellings, questioning the residents, while the criminals plot to watch every location in the city through the army of beggars on the streets, who are able to watch without drawing suspicion.  Lang shows this shadowy network comb the streets through a montage of both groups simultaneously attempting to implement their plans, but also links them together through sound, starting a sentence in the police camp and ending it in the criminal meeting.  This crosscutting is all driven by dialogue, and while there are common visual elements, the meeting setting, the smoking room, the seating, the prominence of one leader in each group, it is the pace and character of the dialogue that sets up the parallel action to give the audience a sense of progress and the passing of time.  Interesting also that there are long periods that remain in Lang's first "talking film" with no sound whatsoever, which may catch the audience off guard.  The police in 1930's Berlin were heavily into cigars, apparently, as there's more cigar smoking in this film than any other in recollection, as characters are often covered by a cloud of smoke onscreen.  As the police attempt to develop a psychological profile of Beckert, the camera cuts to him peering into a mirror and making faces at himself, often seeing his image reflected from storefront windows, where at one point the image of a young girl appears, followed by the whistling of the tune, where he’s seen wandering through the streets of Berlin following a possible victim.  When his actions are thwarted by the child embracing her greeting mother, he’s visibly upset, thrown into a nervous panic, downing a few gulps of cognac to calm himself, but as he passes the same blind beggar where he bought a balloon for Elsie Beckmann, the vendor recognizes the tune he’s whistling and sets the beggars on his trail, where one of them cleverly bumps into him and manages to mark the back of his shoulder with the letter “M” so he could be identified. 

 

Abandoning the search for his next victim, Beckert becomes frightened when he’s boxed into a corner, shown from a vantage point high above the street, but escapes into an office building just as the employees are streaming out the doors at closing time.  Guarding the exits, the beggars contact Schränker, informing him the killer has been trapped inside a large building that has been locked down for the night.  Schränker leads an all-night search of the building, subduing a couple of watchmen and searching every possible hiding place, creating an intensive level of suspense as Beckert, who has been locked into a darkened storage room, attempts to claw his way out.  When his incessant tapping can be heard from the outside, Beckert is quickly captured and taken away just before the morning workers begin to arrive.  One of them was left behind, however, and is interrogated by the police, suggesting he may have inadvertently gotten himself involved in a homicide, which has more serious consequences, eventually tipping off the police to their plans.  But the scene of the film is the trial sequence, where Beckert is hauled in front of a jury of his peers, namely other killers and thieves that make up the underground criminal element of Berlin.  It’s here that Lorre distinguishes himself in one of his more enthralling performances, especially his final plea for sympathy that initially only elicits only laughter from this crowd when he begs for the police, as they have heard it all, as he is quickly condemned to death by the unforgiving mothers who hatefully accuse him of the most heinous acts, violating and murdering children.  Beckert is given a defense attorney who allows the accused to defend himself, where before a group of hardened convicts, Lorre evokes great sympathy in his speech before his accusers, not just because he is helpless to his sick condition where he can’t stop himself, but because after performing such hideous acts he persuades the audience to care about what happens to him.  It’s hard to believe that while appearing before Fritz Lang’s cameras in the daytime, Lorre was, at night, acting on a theatrical stage as a comedian in a farce.  I can't help myself!  I haven’t any control over this evil thing that’s inside me.  It’s there all the time, driving me out to wander through the streets.  It’s me, pursuing myself.  I want to escape to escape from myself!  But it’s impossible.  I have to obey.”  This is the heart and soul of the film, where a character you have grown to despise for his vile and despicable acts, who is essentially an evil monster, suddenly becomes sympathetic, becoming an anti-death penalty treatise, a reminder that no matter how grotesque the crime, criminals often tend to be victims of abuse in some strange and perverted way, where state sanctioned killing is an inappropriate response for what in large part are society’s ills, or at the very least a medical problem, while also eliciting a somber warning of societal fear and paranoia, often stirred up by the voices of moral authority. 

 

Lang’s work was marked by a deep streak of fatalism and paranoia, making his reputation with quasi-mythical films about master criminals and spies, featuring Rudolf Klein-Rogge in DR MABUSE:  THE GAMBLER (1922) and SPIES (1928), men who manipulate appearances and conspire to take over the city, and even the world.  In M, Lang shows us gangs of real criminals and a killer who is himself a victim, dominated by his own tyrannical urges.  In his final speech before the legions of crooks who have captured him, Lorre agonizingly evokes the forces that stalk him, that compel him to kill, just as he disrupts and terrifies the city as a whole.  This is a film about the horror within.  To show how people’s lives are dominated by powers outside their control, Lang repeatedly emphasizes scenes of off-screen action that mysteriously define what we see in each frame.  All of Lorre’s violence is committed out of sight, where he himself only slowly comes into view as the film progresses.  Much of his character anticipates the evil that he intends to carry out, but it’s defined by providing evidence of what he’s already done.  In one of the more remarkable images, he is identified at his trial before a house of convicts by a blind beggar who recognizes his whistling, who reaches in and grasps his shoulder from outside the frame.  When the criminals close in on him, we see him scurrying through the streets like a rat in a maze, and when he takes refuge in a warehouse, he becomes lost in the shadows until they methodically root him out.  The entrapped killer becomes another victim, as he has been all along, pursued from within and without.  The Mörder Unter Uns (Murderer Among Us), Lang’s original title, is also the murderer inside us, the force of the irrational, the instinctive, the obsessional, over which we have little influence.  Combining abnormal psychology with a police procedural drama, where Freud is combined with a crime documentary, Lang exposes, in the last turbulent years of the Weimar Republic, a paranoid vision through a realist framework.  Beckert’s personal chaos only aggravates the existing societal chaos and the apparent struggle between the police, who represent the authority of the Weimar Republic, and the underworld, who symbolize the rise to power of the Nazi Party.  The real struggle is between the two groups, both vying for power and control, with Beckert standing for a lack of control.  The erosion of power in postwar Germany is reflected in the growing similarity between these two organizations, which Lang artfully conveys through a masterful use of similar settings, camera angles, and mirror images of the two groups, where skillful editing binds them together.

   

The Films of Fritz Lang: Allegories of Vision and Modernity  The Films of Fritz Lang: Allegories of Vision and Modernity, by Tom Gunning (528 pages), and M, by Anton Kaes (87 pages), book review by Dana Polan, May 12, 2001 (pdf format)

 

For quite some time, Lang was not thought of as a director of modernity but as a modernist director. That is, his films were studied not as material investigations of a historical world (the world of contemporaneity), instead, attention was directed to the films' supposed investigation of deep metaphysical themes -- most of all, the existential inescapability of destiny and fate. One of the central gambits of both Gunning and Kaes is to refuse such modernist metaphysical thematics. Kaes, for instance, virtually gives no mention of the theme of destiny and when he does explicitly mention the topic (on the very last page of analysis of M), he does so to rewrite existential themes in concrete historical fashion:

 

This visual reference [in a final tableau of the film] to fate and destiny dramatises a larger tension at work in the film, a tension between the forces of modernity with their emphasis on time, discipline, organisation, seriality, law and order, and those recalcitrant counterforces -- trauma, passion, illness, loss and, finally, death --that defy reason and resist integration.

 

Indeed, what is best about Kaes's volume is his reconstruction of the social, political, cultural worlds of Weimar Germany that M responds to (less successful perhaps, because more conventional, is his scene by scene interpretation of the film). Thus, in the course of his volume, we learn about such topics as the rise of serial murders in the Weimar Republic (and public obsession with them); the increasing grip on public consciousness of new media like radio and tabloid newspapers; the increasing transformation of everyday life into an arena of discipline and a concomitant policing of society as well as a peace-time militarisation of the populace; a growing fascination with a typological understanding of criminality according to physiognomy (the portrayal of the bizarre murderer Hans Beckert by Peter Lorre enabling M, as Kaes astutely notes, to be picked up by the Nazis as a demonstration of the ostensible ties between perversity and (Jewish) "race").

 

As a typical example of Kaes's historical contextual reading, take his discussion of M as dramatisation of a disciplinary culture:

 

The film's obsession with surveillance also addresses the deep-seated fear of an expanding urban population. The ease with which Beckert was able to hide . . . must have scared the contemporary audience. Berlin more than doubled in population by the end of the decade . . . Attempts to control and discipline these masses included insistent endeavors to survey, classify, categorize and supervise them. Vision and surveillance foster discipline and control . . . For Foucault, the perfect disciplinary apparatus enables a single gaze to see everything all the time. For Lang, however, even a single panoptic gaze could not comprehend, let alone discipline and contain, the psychopathological Beckert.

 

Kim Newman from 1001 MOVIES YOU MUST SEE BEFORE YOU DIE:

 

In the early 1930’s, MGM’s production genius Irving Thallberg assembled all his writers and directors for a screening of Fritz Lang’s thriller M, then criticized them en masse for not making films as innovative, exciting, profound, and commercial as this. Of course, Thallberg admitted, if anyone had pitched the studio a story about a serial killer of children who is ultimately a tragic victim and accuses all strata of society of a corruption deeper than his psychosis, they would have been kicked off the lot immediately.

 

Whereas Hollywood first saw sound pictures as best suited to all-singing musicals and all-talking drawing room theatrical adaptations, a generation of European filmmakers understood the new medium’s potential for thrills and psychological effects. Inspired perhaps by the theme of Alfred Hitchcock’s 1927 silent The Lodger and the techniques of his 1929 talkie Blackmail, Lang—who had ended his silent film career with Metropolis (1927) and Woman in the Moon (1929), both considered costly flops before their achievements were recognized—set out to reestablish himself as a popular artist. Nevertheless, M is an unusual piece of storytelling, presenting a series of montage-like scenes (often with voice-over narration, a new device) that add up to a portrait of a German city in terror. The cause of the uproar is Franz Becker (Peter Lorre), a pudgy young man who compulsively whistles an air from Edvard Grieg’s “Hall of the Mountain King” as he approaches the children he murders (and, it is implied, molests). His crimes are conveyed by striking, pathetic images like a lost balloon floating against telephone wires or an abandoned ball. Establishing conventions still being used by serial-killer movies, Lang and scenarist Thea von Harbou intercut the pathetic life of the murderer with the frenzy of the police investigation into the outrageous crimes, and pay attention to such side issues as press coverage of the killings, vigilante action as an innocent asked the time by children is suddenly surrounded by an angry mob, and the political pressure that comes down from the politicians and hinders as much as encourages the police. In a cynical touch, the police crack down on all criminal activities in order to catch the killer, prompting the shadow society of professional crooks to track him down like an animal themselves.

 

In the powerful finale, Becker is put on trial by the underworld and pleads his case on the surprisingly moving grounds that his accusers have only chosen to commit crimes whereas he is compelled to commit them. Though the film establishes Inspector Karl “Fatty” Lohmann (Otto Wernicke)—who would return to take on Lang’s eponymous archfiend (Rudolf Klein-Rogge) in The Testament of Dr. Mabuse (1933)—and black-gloved criminal kingpin Schranker (Gustaf Gründgens) as traditional cop-and-crook antagonists, Lorre’s desperate, clear-eyed, animal-like impulse murderer is the final voice of M, forcing his persecutors (and us) to look into ourselves for the seeds of psychosis that equals his own. Creatively emphasizing the technological developments in film sound, Lang has the killer heard before he is seen (allegedly, the director dubbed Lorre’s whistling) and identified by a blind witness.      

 

M | review, synopsis, book tickets, showtimes ... - Time Out  Tom Milne

Losey's remake of Lang's most famous film was inevitably subjected to invidious comparisons when it was first released. The main problem, as Losey admitted ('I couldn't believe myself in the idea of the whole underworld ganging up against the killer') is the weak ending. Where Lang achieved a double knockout with Lorre's great speech in which he turns the accusation against his accusers - effecting a complete turnabout in sympathies, not just because we understand that he is helpless to combat his sickness, but because he has turned into a victim of persecution - Losey manages only a sucker punch because the setting is no longer Nazi Germany. This said, the first half of the film is excellent, with the Los Angeles locations wonderfully used as a strange and terrifying concrete jungle, and a remarkable performance from David Wayne that bears comparison with Lorre.

M to Magnificent Obsession  Pauline Kael

Fritz Lang's first sound film has visual excitement, pace, brilliance of surface, and feeling for detail. Above all, it has, caught in a manhunt, a small, fat man, sweating in his uncomfortable clothes-the sexual psychopath who murders little girls-interpreted by Peter Lorre with a spark of genius. It is Lorre's triumph that he makes us understand the terrified, suffering human being who murders. The film is based on the case of the Düsseldorf murderer: the police, in trying to track him down, disturbed the normal criminal activities of the city, and the underworld organized to find him, so that crime could go on as usual. Lang turns the movie into a melodramatic thriller by centering on this ironic chase-actually, on the two converging chases of the police and the underworld. The structure is so mechanical it's almost pulpy, and the film reaches for other easy effects-it's similar to THE THREEPENNY OPERA in its satirical use of beggars and criminals. But there's nothing facile about Lorre: trapped by the underworld, he screams, "I can't help myself!" Our identification with him as a psychopath is so complete it's hard to believe that while appearing before Fritz Lang's cameras in the daytime, he was, at night, acting as a comedian in a farce. With Gustaf Gründgens and Otto Wernicke; cinematography by Fritz Arno Wagner; script by Thea von Harbou and others. (The tune Lorre whistles is the theme from Grieg's Peer Gynt.) In German.

Jigsaw Lounge [Neil Young]

Seventy years on, Lang’s legendary thriller deserves its classic status – as does the performance by Peter Lorre as the psychopathic murderer around whom the story takes shape. But Lorre occupies much less screen time than you’d expect – even more surprising is the amount of humour in what should be very downbeat material. This is, after all, both the specific, straight-from-the-headlines story of the hunt for a child-killer (Fritz Haarman’s real-life exploits also inspired Ulli Lommel’s Fassbinderish In A Year With 13 Moons [1973]) and also more wide-ranging parable illustrating the fearful atmosphere which allowed the Nazis to seize power.

The Hitler figure is Schranker (Otto Wernicke), ranting leader of the criminal fraternity, never seen without his Gestapo-style leather trenchcoat. Alongside his calculating brutality, Lorre’s unnamed killer becomes an almost sympathetic figure, especially in the remarkable, climactic kangaroo-court sequence in which the killer, captive before a vast underworld ‘jury,’ desperately pleads for his life. This isn’t a restrained performance by any means, but it’s certainly effective – and the scene is all the more powerful for the occasionally plodding nature of what’s gone before.

Knowing the strength of his finale, Lang takes his time in the early stretches – we hardly see Lorre at all, instead switching (sometimes mid-sentence) between the police and the criminal fraternity as they plot the culprit’s capture. The crooks are outraged because Lorre’s antics mean an increase in police presence and activity: “A non-member is ruining our businesses!” they moan. After a lively, documentary-style opening that sets the scene (“8 victims, 4 million inhabitants, 1,500 leads…”) the pace slows as the simultaneous manhunts swing into action. You could drive a bus between some of the ponderous pauses as the cops and criminals debate their respective strategies, often in some of the smokiest smoke-filled rooms ever committed to celluloid. It doesn’t help that, in many surviving prints, the subtitles are often patchy and, occasionally, illegibly white-on-white.

But if the dialogue drags, Lang’s technical ingenuity is enough to keep us absorbed – he’ll train his camera on an empty area, which suddenly fills with a teeming throng of people, as in one startling shot of a vacant staircase that’s rapidly overrun with policemen. M repeatedly alternates between nervy silence and hysterical tumult, dramatising one of the key aspects of the encroaching totalitarian atmosphere: crowds and their power. There’s a remarkable special effect early on involving a map, and an even more jaw-dropping one-take tracking shot through a crowded bar that would be impressive today, never mind in 1930.

Westminster Wisdom  Gracchi

M is often viewed rightly as the masterpiece of German cinema and was one of the greatest films made by its great director, Fritz Lang- an overtly antinazi film it reflects upon themes of guilt and individual responsibility and this blog will no doubt turn to it again- like a great book, a great film can be reviewed as many times as one likes and still produce new insights.

M is a uniquely fruitful film though for the political enquirer because it doesn't have a conventional story- there is progress but the viewer makes few friends watching the film and many acquaintances. Characters flit across the screen to give us the impression of the terrorised city. More important than their character is their reaction to a specific situation and the combinations of attitudes makes the situation in which we are interested. Unlike most films therefore, M is truly about a community of people not inidividuals. Individuals are shown only as their actions impact upon the community.

The recent exercise in making a blog out of people's experiences of 17th October will fail as an exercise precisely because it doesn't recognise the entities out of which politics and history are fashioned. Like M, the politician and historian- and by extension the ordinary person, only recognises the individual as they intrude into the world that they perceive. Politics in some way becomes a metaphor for life- into a moment of fame the individual comes and then dodges out again- coming out of and going back into the dark just as the characters in M emerge from the shadows and then vanish back into them.

This lends the film a terrifying intensity- like politics itself the mob whirls upon the stage as if from nowhere- terrifying and scattering individuals before it. The civilised town turns hysterical thanks to the murders of little girls and innocent citizens are arrested on the streets by citizen militias for nothing more than their presence at the wrong time and wrong place. The nightmare of liberals reflected in works as various as this film and Shakespeare's Julius Caesar (see the murder of the poet Cinna Act 3 Scene 1) is realised in the dark. Literature here merely imitates life- remember the News of the World British campaign against paedophiles which ended in attacks on a man with a particular kind of neck brace and a paediotrician.Peter Lorre in his great final speech speaks of shadows following him through the streets of Berlin- these are both the shadows of his conscience, of his victims but also the shadows of the mob which emerges at the end to confront him but earlier has confronted the innocent as well.

The greatness of M therefore lies in the lack of more than one great character and in the terrors of the crowd- it lies in the ways that as the law fails to find a responsible party, the population is unleashed and a righteous crowd gathers to enact justice. M is a nightmare- in which every individual ceases focusing on himself and focuses his moral judgement on the wrongs of others, where the mob replaces the state as the organ of judgement and where a court of criminals passes a sentence of execution.

Interesting Facts on the Movie 'M' by Fritz Lang | Let's Talk Film

 

1. The tune that Peter Lorre’s character whistles is “In the Hall of the Mountain King” from the “Peer Gynt”

2. Peter Lorre was Jewish and fled Germany in fear of Nazi persecution shortly after the movie’s release.Fritz Lang, who was half Jewish, fled two years later.

3. Contrary to popular belief, Fritz Lang did not change the title from “The Murderers are Among Us” to “M” due to fear of persecution by the Nazis. He changed the title during filming, influenced by the scene where one of the criminals writes the letter on his hand. Lang thought “M” was a more interesting title.

4. Fritz Lang asserts that he cast real criminals for the court scene in the end. According to biographer Paul Jensen, twenty-four cast members were arrested during filming.

5. Fritz Lang’s cruelty to his actors was legendary here. Peter Lorre was thrown down the stairs into the cellar over a dozen times.When Lang wanted to hire Lorre for “Human Desire” over two decades later, the actor refused.

6. Based on an article Fritz Lang read about the serial killer Peter Kuerten from Duesseldorf. Details have been changed but some things resemble reality.

7. In Germany, the Nazis banned the movie in July 1934.

Premiere voted this movie as one of “The 25 Most Dangerous Movies”.

Chosen by the Association of German Cinémathèques as the most important German film of all time.

8. The use of voiceover narration was a groundbreaking new technique at the time.

The title “M” is short for Mörder, the German word meaning Murderer.

9. MGM studio head Irving Thalberg assembled his writers and directors for a private screening of this film, telling them that they needed to be making films of this power and caliber. He also admitted that if anyone had brought a story of a child killer to him, he would have rejected it.

10. Director Fritz Lang made this film in an effort to claw back his artistic standing after the double failure of his two previous films, Metropolis and Frau Im Mond.

11. Peter Lorre’s whistling was dubbed by director Fritz Lang, as Lorre was unable to whistle.

12. Two German serial killers are mentioned in the film – Georg Karl Großman (believed to have killed up to 50 young women) and Fritz Haarmann (known as the Butcher of Hannover; killed at least 24 young men in Hannover).

13. The Tegel Penitentiary in Berlin is Germany’s largest prison with about 1,700 inmates (as of 2007).

14. Alexanderplatz (the Alex) was the site of Berlin Police Headquarters.

15. Fritz Lang’s first sound film. Before making this, Peter Lorre had mainly been a comedic actor.

16. Peter Lorre’s character is introduced by the musical cue ‘In the Hall of the Mountain King’ from Edvard Grieg’s Peer Gynt Suite No. 1. This was one of the very first times that a musical theme was used to signify a character – a technique borrowed from the world of opera which is now a staple of film-making.

17. The film has a very sour vision of contemporary life in Germany. This is probably due to the fact that Fritz Lang – a Jew – was alarmed at the rapid rise of Nazism and that even his wife Thea von Harbou had become a party member.

18. Fritz Lang was convinced to make the film after reading the last scene in the script, when a mother ominously warns “You have to watch your children”.

19. Filmed in only six weeks.

20. The film was independently backed by an admirer of Fritz Lang who persuaded him to make another film when the director was thinking of giving it all up. Lang eventually agreed to make the film provided that he had no interference and had final cut.

21. It was common practice at the time for foreign language films to be concurrently shot in English too. Fritz Lang had nothing to do with the English language version of his film.

22. Josef Goebbels was said to have described the film as “fantastic, free of phony humanitarian sentiments”.

23. The film premiered in 1931 and was then banned in 1934. It was then stuck in a vault for many years. Audiences didn’t get the chance to see the film again until 1966. For its video release 30 years later, it underwent a restoration which included the addition of music and sound effects that wouldn’t have been authorized by Fritz Lang (he deliberately kept certain passages quiet) and the cutting of certain scenes. The image had also been altered to fit the 4:3 screen size. These injustices were amended in 2009 for the film’s Blu-ray release.

24. According to Lang’s biographer Paul Jensen, the director spent eight days doing field research in a mental institution.

25. Two thirds of the film was shot with sound, the remaining third was shot silent. At the time the license fees for sound equipment were quite prohibitive so this was a move to try to keep costs down. However, Fritz Lang quite liked the eerie, unnerving quality that arose from going from a sound world to one where there is no noise at all.

26. Although he was thrilled to play such a major part, Peter Lorre came to hate it later as people tended to associate him with being a child murderer in real life.

 

Big House Film (Roger Westcombe)

A Hitler doesn’t just spring up overnight, and M reveals in a frighteningly visceral way just how prepared the ground was in 1930s Germany for his ascension. M is an incredible portrait of a society at war with itself, killing itself from within. Fritz Lang’s masterpiece shows Germany’s loss of order as a society disappearing into an atomised existence of individual jungle rule. There is a complete breakdown of the social contract, paranoia in extremis - people are guilty until (dis)proven innocent, everyone is spying on everyone else – it’s a descent into madness.

In smoke-filled rooms the various levels are skillfully intercut – the executive level of cops, crime boss racketeers and big business all become indistinguishable as do the riff-raff and their street-level customers for bootleg love and hooch in the subterranean economy.

This is beautifully poignant filmmaking. M ’s symbolism as much as its absences speak volumes, especially of an alienated (stark geometric staircases shot from above) and de-personalised (empty spaces as the first child abduction is seen) world. It’s well understood now that its sound design basically writes the book on what’s possible in this art. Music is not just the hook for the plot twist but often used dramatically as mise-en-scene.

Less remarked upon is how far ahead it was in police procedural terms. Its documentary-style representations of the emerging science of fingerprinting predate by twenty years Hollywood’s by-the-numbers discovery of forensic science in postwar thrillers like the identikit portraits in 1949’s He Walked By Night and forensic profiling in Mystery Street (1950).

Viewed strictly as a thriller, a plot weakness is that there’s no false leads in its investigation phase, M being more concerned with the techniques of detection as it hones in on its suspect. But in its obsessive focus on the pursuit of ‘one’, rather than his winnowing out from the public, M denies us the vicarious relief of seeing the blameless exonerated. No one is innocent. The film’s original title, The Murderer Among Us, in the fervid environment of the time, earned Lang death threats and bans on its production from Nazi party members in the film industry.

It’s downright spooky to see motifs of Nazism deployed years before Hitler’s election as Chancellor in 1933: the rounding up of beggars, the geometric sign ‘M’ (the murderer/der mörder) chalked on the back of Lorre’s coat as the Star of David soon would be on others.

But these pale before the haunting images of the subterranean trial by the criminal element (interestingly reminiscent of the IRA court in John Ford’s 1935 The Informer), massed silently and brooding in tiered blocks of implacable institutional ‘authority’. That the State is functioning as a criminal entity has never been better portrayed.

And even though the crims do capture the child-murderer, Lang makes it plain that we are not to sympathize with these hoods, when he holds the camera reproachfully on shots of the legit security officers bound and beaten on the way to the child-killer’s capture.

Might is right, but the trial setpiece centers on debate over their right to hold him. "We are all law experts here – from six weeks in Tegal to 15 years in Brandenburg", scoffs the head crim and tribunal ‘President’, played by Gustaf Gründgens ("Our honorable President, who is wanted for three murders"), whose shaven skull and brutal demeanour make him a great ersatz Nazi, as he rebuts the defendant’s demand for a fair trail.

This President’s summing up, after Lorre’s testimony that he blacks out and does not consciously commit acts of evil (which the President twists to an ‘admission’), makes plain there is no rule of law here and this inquisition is a throwback to the dark ages. The court’s stated goal "to render you harmless, to make you disappear" is a chilling portent of The Final Solution. When the crowd chants ‘kill the beast, kill the beast’, Lang pans across closeups of their individual faces, underlining the fact that fascism is a mass movement, reliant on complicity.

In this climactic section Lang allocates not one but two strands of dialogue to highlight the conflict between free will and passive evil, comparing the killer’s inability to stop killing with both the court’s cold-blooded pronouncement of his murder and the crims choosing their life of crime. "This evil thing inside me", Lorre calls his uncontrollable driving force, prefiguring much of the postwar pulp fiction of Jim Thompson et al.

The criminals’ response to this admission echoes both the lone justice of frontier mythology and the talkback radio demagoguery of today in its desire for swift (and permanent) retribution and a wish to overlook any mitigating circumstances which might oblige mercy.

With Hitler’s ‘election’ just around the corner, the ‘volk’ would soon get their wish.

ASNE - ‘M': Fritz Lang's Dark Masterpiece, Still Shocking After ...  One of five winning entries by Stephen Hunter of The Washington Post that won the criticism writing category of the 1998 ASNE Distinguished Writing Awards (American Society of Newspaper Editors)

"M" is for the many nightmares it gave to me. That is, "M," Fritz Lang's 1931 dark masterpiece, out of which sprang so much of the century's bleaker popular art and some of the earliest images of the haunting chaos that dogs us to this day.

Alas, this "restored" version may represent a heroic seven-year effort on the part of the Munich Film Archive and it may well be the best possible cut of the 66-year-old film available in years, but it still seems to be in far from pristine condition. And too many times the white subtitles are projected against a white background, their information completely lost.

So you can't see parts of it and you can't read other parts of it. My advice: Deal with it like a grown-up. The movie is somehow still necessary, and its power to disturb remains profound. On top of that, Peter Lorre's sweaty, puffy, froggy-eyed portrayal of a child murderer remains one of the most frightening images in screen history. All moist flesh and grubby, fat little fingers, infantile and pathetic yet truly monstrous at once, Lorre's character is one of the great monuments to the true squalor of evil. He is not banal in the least, but neither is he dramatic: He's a little worm with an unspeakable obsession, insane and yet a horrible reflection of the society that created him.

The film is constructed as a double manhunt. In an unnamed city (the story was based on a case in Duesseldorf, but many critics place the setting in Berlin, where "M" was filmed), a child murderer is stalking the streets. In a brilliant early montage Lang shows us the young Elsie being suavely picked up by her shadowy killer, led along streets and into the woods. There's no on-screen violence, of course, but the sense of menace is unbearably intense, particularly as Lang signifies the murderer's dementia in musical terms, having him whistle a selection from "Peer Gynt" as the demon's grip on his soul grows more fierce. Lang polishes off the sequence with two horrifying images: Elsie's ball bouncing across the grass, losing energy, and reaching stasis; and Elsie's balloon caught (as if in torment) in the suspended telephone wires.

The cops, under great pressure, mount a massive manhunt; they attack the only target they have, which is the underworld. This completely upsets the orderly nature of crime -- these guys are so well organized, they even have a stolen-sandwich ring! -- and so the crooks respond by attempting on their own to find the killer.

In allegorical terms, Lang seemed to be getting at the escalating conflict between the increasingly inept Weimar Republic and the increasingly efficient underground Nazi Party, and the underworld, being more merciless and better organized, is able to uncover the villain before police.

It goes further. The original name of the film was "The Murderers Among Us," which had resonance that annoyed those thick-necked creeps in the brown shirts. It was for that reason that Lang changed the title to "M," for murderer and for the mark of Cain that a beggar chalks on Lorre's back so that he may be identified and tracked by the beggars who are the reconnaissance unit of organized criminal interests.

And, as a narrative, the film still works brilliantly. It broke the mold before there was a mold to be broken. Lang begins by completely dispensing with the mystery elements; he reveals Lorre at about the one-third mark, so there's no whodunit. There's not even really a whydunit. Instead, it's a who's-gonna-catch-him as the two sides work frantically against each other. But even when Lang documents the final apprehension (in a brilliantly edited and timed sequence where the cops are racing to a building that the gangsters have all but commandeered as they search it), he has a surprise. That is the ironic trial of which the clammy little human mushroom, where at last he speaks for himself, declares his own insanity and the pain it's caused him and asks them who they are to judge -- interesting questions to be asked in the Germany of 1931.

But the movie is, perhaps, just as interesting as a piece of film design as it is as a piece of narrative. It was the domestic high-water mark of German expressionist filmmakers, who were about to be dispersed around the world by the rise of those same Nazis, who would gain power in 1933.

German expressionism, which may have gotten to its strangest moment in 1919's "The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari," was essentially a visual version of a treacherous universe. It was spread by this diaspora of fleeing German genius (including Lang, who went on to have a distinguished American career) and came to light in the works of Hitchcock and Welles but perhaps most notably in that movie genre known as film noir, which dominated the American screen in the late '40s.

To look at "M" is to be in the heart of the noir universe, a shadowy zone of wet streets, dark alleyways, secret places and impenetrable mysteries. It's astonishing how modern this six-decade-old piece seems, especially if one focuses on the compositions and their meanings and can see past the Victorian wardrobes worn by the citizens of a German city in 1931.

"M," after all these years, is still a fabulous movie.

M is unrated and while it contains no gore, it does have scenes of extreme emotional intensity suggesting violence to children.

Criterion Collection FIlm Essay [Stanley Kauffmann]  December 6. 2004

 

M (1931) - The Criterion Collection

 

Fascinating Rhythms - Chicago Reader  Jonathan Rosenbaum from the Reader, August 7, 1997

 

M - Film Reference  Catherine Henry

 

Film 365 (The Masters of Cinema Series Blu-ray)  David Beckett

 

MoC - FRITZ LANG'S M - The Definitive Restoration?  Nick Wrigley from Masters of Cinema

 

Kammerspielfilm, Part 1: M by Fritz Lang  Gautam Valluri from Broken Projector, July 26, 2007

 

m  website from leninimports, which includes a biography and filmography here:  fritz lang

 

Power and Presence in Fritz Lang's M (1931) - Student Pulse  Zachary B Munrow, 2013

 

The Criterion Contraption [Matthew Dessem]

 

Criterion Reflections [David Blakeslee]

 

M   Richard Armstrong from Flickhead

 

Only the Cinema [Ed Howard]

 

Nitrate Online  Eddie Cockrell

 

moviediva

 

M | Peter Bogdanovich - Indiewire

 

M - Modernism Lab Essays  Hayley Mohr

 

The Peter Lorre Companion Online [Anne Sharp]  M and the Making of Peter Lorre

 

Images Movie Journal  Gary Morris, also seen here:  Bright Lights Film Journal [Gary Morris]

 

Fritz Lang's M  from Cyberroach

 

Cine Outsider [Camus]

 

DVD Times [2003 Restored Edition]  Noel Megahey

 

M (1931)  James Travers from FilmsdeFrance

 

Review for M (1931) - IMDb  Ted Prigge

 

CriterionConfessions.com [Jamie S. Rich]

 

M (1931) - Turner Classic Movies  Felicia Feaster

 

M (1930) - Home Video Reviews - TCM.com  James Steffen

 

notcoming.com | M - Not Coming to a Theater Near You  Rumsey Taylor

 

The Film Sufi

 

Slant Magazine [Chris Cabin]

 

Lang's M - editing sound as visuals   Excerpt on M from Ken Dancynger’s book, The Technique of film and video editing, pages 45 – 47, also seen here:  Lang's M - editing sound as visuals - FilmSound.org   

 

Fritz Lang: the Cinema of Fear  Dennis Toth, Film Notes from the CMA

 

Little White Lies [David Jenkins]

 

M - The Science-Fiction, Horror and Fantasy Film Review.  Richard Scheib from Moria

 

Movie Vault [Mel Valentin]

 

Surrender to the Void [Steven Flores]

 

DVD Verdict  Amanda DeWees, Criterion Collection                  

 

dOc DVD Review: M (1931) - digitallyOBSESSED!  Jon Danziger, Criterion Collection

 

The QNetwork Film Desk [James Kendrick]  Criterion Collection

 

Collector's Corner [Wes Marshall]  Criterion Collection

 

Blu-Ray.com [Dr. Svet Atanasov]  Criterion Collection

 

AVForums (Blu-ray) [Simon Crust]  Criterion Collection

 

DVDTown [Blu-Ray - Christopher Long]  Criterion Collection

 

Movie Talk [Peter Fuller] Blu-ray  Criterion Collection

 

DVD Verdict (Blu-Ray) [Clark Douglas]  Criterion Collection

 

DVD Talk  Jason Bailey, Criterion Blu-Ray

 

M  Tim Salmons from the Digital Bits, Criterion Blu-Ray

 

MyReviewer.com (Blu-ray) [David Beckett]  Criterion Collection

 

Fritz Lang's M: The Restored Version of the Classic 1931 Film ...  Mike Priner from Open Culture

 

Top 100 Directors: #33 - Fritz Lang (M review)

 

Classic-Horror  Nate Yapp

 

The Onion A.V. Club [Scott Tobias]

 

Electric Sheep Magazine [Peter Momtchiloff]

 

Ozus' World Movie Reviews [Dennis Schwartz]

 

EyeForFilm.co.uk [Jennie Kermode]

 

Jason Bailey

 

FilmJerk.com [Pacze Moj]

 

Daily Film Dose [Alan Bacchus]

 

Combustible Celluloid [Jeffrey M. Anderson]

 

fritz lang's m - review at videovista.net  Tom Matic

 

The Stop Button [Andrew Wickliffe]

 

M | Film Fortress  Colin LeSeur

 

All Movie Guide [Lucia Bozzola]

 

clydefro » Fritz Lang 

 

M (1931, Fritz Lang) | Facebook

 

Fritz Lang - Film Reference  Charles L.P. Silet

 

Fritz Lang - Jeffrey Scheuer

 

MUBI [Adrian Curry]  Movie posters

 

Exclusive Comics Excerpt: ‘M’   M, a comic adaptation by Jon J Muth, from Vulture

 

Script-Showcase.com  complete script


TV Guide

 

BBCi - Films (DVD review)  Almar Haflidason

 

M review – Fritz Lang's superb thriller fascinates | Film | The Guardian  Peter Bradshaw

 

The Cleveland Movie Blog [Bob Ignizio]

 

Oklahoma Gazette [Preston Jones]

 

Austin Film Society [Chale Nafus]

 

Austin Chronicle [Marc Savlov]

 

San Francisco Examiner [Barbara Shulgasser]

 

San Francisco Chronicle [Edward Guthmann]

 

M Movie Review & Film Summary (1931) | Roger Ebert  August 3, 1997, also seen here:  rogerebert.com [Roger Ebert]

 

New York Times (registration req'd)  Mordaunt Hall in 1933, also seen here:  Movie Review - M - The Daesseldorf Murders. - NYTimes.com

 

M (1931 film) - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

 

Internet Archive: Details: M - Eine Stadt sucht einen ...   the entire film may be seen here

 
THE LAST WILL OF DR. MABUSE (Le Testament du Dr. Mabuse)
Germany  (95 mi)  1933

 

Patrick McGilligan: Fritz Lang: The Nature of the Beast. London-New York 1997 (p. 183):
 
The film is studded with shoot-outs, burnings, bombings, explosions. On the purely cinematic level, Das Testament des Dr. Mabuse contains some of Lang's most spellbinding work, including an eerie high-speed automobile chase at the climax, with streaks of highway and ghostly tree branches whizzing starkly by. [...]
 
According to Heinrich Fraenkel and Roger Manvell in their book Doctor Goebbels, His Life and Death, Goebbels explained on one occasion, 'I banned it [Das Testament] because it proves that an extremely determined group of men, whether they seriously want to or not, are perfectly capable of unhinging, no matter which State, by using violence.' But that was short of calling the 1933 film, outright, an explicit anti-NSDAP parable.
 
Goebbels, in private, appears to have been the film's unlikely champion. When Lang went away to Paris, the propaganda minister saw no contradiction in celebrating his thirty-sixth birthday, in October of 1933, with a showing of Das Testament for privileged guests at his official residence. Since Goebbels styled himself a cineast, no doubt this was the 'flashback-less version' denied to the German masses.
 

Time Out   Tony Rayns

 
In 1922, Fritz Lang conceived Mabuse as a cypher for Weimar Germany's corruption and decadence: the two-part Dr Mabuse, the Gambler/Inferno shows him as a criminal mastermind, casinos and stock exchange equally in hand, enmeshed in a web of dope, killing, fake seances and madness. By 1932, the character had become rather more than just king villain of the serials: Testament finds him mouthing undisguised Nazi slogans from his asylum prison, and using hypnotism to maintain control over his criminal empire outside; he's opposed by the same cop who hunted Peter Lorre in Lang's M the year before. Goebbels banned the movie but offered leadership of the German film industry to Lang, who left the country overnight.
 
The Village Voice [B. Kite]
 
The stencil for a thousand crime films to follow and even after 70-some years a sleek model of narrative excitement and paranoid construction, Fritz Lang's The Testament of Dr. Mabuse is the story of a name that beckons the detective/viewer toward a source for chaos, only to dissipate to a further level of abstraction upon approach. Lang's Mabuse series (Testament is the second, following 1922's Dr. Mabuse, der Spieler; the third is his last film, 1960's The 1,000 Eyes of Dr. Mabuse) remains one of cinema's richest pulp metaphors of the hunt for the connecting link behind societal turmoil, the displacements of technology, and the fragmentation of identity: Mabuse might be the warden of the panopticon society, but he never answers his phone.
 
Criterion's beautiful two-disc set features contributions from leading Mabusians Tom Gunning and David Kalat tracing the ongoing relevance of this literal zeitgeist to an age in which terror is color-coded. The second disc features a rough print of the French version of the film, shot concurrently with a different cast. Both sets of actors display the same intonations and perform the same movements, suggesting another stencil, one for voice and gesture, in which any particular figure is replaceable.

 

The Onion A.V. Club [Noel Murray]

 
Calling The Testament Of Dr. Mabuse "the Citizen Kane of super-criminal thrillers" isn't too outrageous, though Fritz Lang's 1933 proto-noir predates Orson Welles' rip-roaring American tableau. Both films combine style, exuberance, and thematic complexity, with Lang's work in particular presenting nightmarish scenarios with clever sound design and ingenious rhyming compositions, and both films are sophisticated in their unconventional conception of good and evil. In Testament, the title character (a genius gang lord played by Rudolf Klein-Rogge) dies early in the film, leaving his written thoughts behind to corrupt those who consider them seriously.
 
Lang claimed that this genre piece was a comment on Nazism, but Testament speaks more directly to how human frailty gives fascism room to grow. The film's villains act out of raw need or reckless curiosity, following the orders of a man behind a curtain, in a featureless room, in a part of the city where people prefer to remain anonymous. In his frank, insightful commentary track on the Criterion DVD, historian David Kalat debunks a lot of Lang's statements as symptomatic of the director's penchant for self-mythologizing. Kalat is a Lang devotee, but he's also an expert on the rich Mabuse mythology, which extends beyond Lang's three films about the character (Testament is the second) into further sequels and novels, all of which are to some degree about how people are naturally inclined to follow orders.
 
The DVD also includes the shorter French version of the film, which Lang shot at the same time, as well as archival interviews with the director and his crew. The French version is more plot-oriented, but the original provides a better document of its era, as Lang staggers suspense sequences with a handful of relaxed conversations. Though Testament is a single two-hour film, Kalat compares Lang's work in general—especially the long two-parters of his pre-Hollywood era—to Quentin Tarantino's Kill Bill. Mabuse parallels Tarantino in other ways, as well, from the strikingly detailed locations to the fact that actor Otto Wernicke reprises a character in the pulpy Testament that he first played in Lang's more horrific M.
 
The Testament Of Dr. Mabuse extends off the edge of the screen to such a degree that it even begins in the middle of a tense action scene, like, as Kalat puts it, "the middle chapter of an ongoing serial." Its real-world implications are transportable, as well. Kalat aggressively resists a "Mabuse equals Hitler" reading of the film, because the morally compromised world it depicts fits any era where men do evil in the name of ideas.
 
Das Testament des Dr Mabuse (1933)  James Travers from FilmsdeFrance
 
Disgraced cop Hofmeister tries to redeem himself by uncovering a counterfeiting operation.  Before he can pass his findings on to Inspector Lohmann, he is cornered by his enemies and driven mad.  Lohmann’s investigation leads him to a lunatic asylum which is housing Dr Mabuse, a once notorious criminal mastermind.  For the past ten years, Mabuse has made no attempt to communicate but has recently started writing copious notes calling for a criminal reign of terror.  Then he dies, suddenly.  But the spate of crimes continues unabated.  It is as if Mabuse’s influence lives on.  And indeed it does, for his soul has entered the body of Professor Baum, the respectable head of the asylum.  It is Baum who now directs Mabuse’s minions in their criminal exploits.  Can nothing stop the murderous schemes of the evil Mabuse…?
 
After his groundbreaking crime-thriller M , German director Fritz Lang went on to explore the possibilities offered by this new genre more fully in Das Testament des Dr Mabuse .  The film brings together the realism of M , with a close interest in police methods of investigation, and the expressionist fantasy style of Lang’s earlier films.  This is an effective suspense thriller, very reminiscent of Hitchcock’s pre-war English films, but it also has the character of classic horror films such as Robert Wiene’s Das Cabinet des Dr. Caligari (1920).   The film is a sequel to Lang’s 1922 silent classic Dr. Mabuse, der Spieler (aka Dr. Mabuse, the Gambler), with Rudolf Klein-Rogge once more playing the role of the sinister master of crime, Dr Mabuse.

What is perhaps most striking about Das Testament des Dr Mabuse is its scale and sophistication.  Not only does it qualify as a masterpiece on artistic grounds (some of its imagery is the stuff of film legend), but it is by far and away the most ambitious dramatic thriller of its time, thanks to some extraordinary action sequences (which includes one of cinema’s most imaginative car chases).   Lang uses sound almost as effectively as he uses image to tell his story and create an unsettling mood of paranoia and anticipation.  This is most evident in the spine-chilling opening which reveals what resembles a workshop in Hell, a scene that leads into a harrowing chase sequence.

The film then suddenly switches to something far more mundane as Inspector Lohmann (last seen in M) begins his investigation and the plot is gradually developed.   To hold our interest, Lang puts in a subplot involving one of Mabuse’s henchmen and his girlfriend – a simple yet effective way of bringing some humanity into what would otherwise have been a pretty emotionally arid affair.  Just when we think it’s all going to be standard thriller, things take a darker, more sinister turn, and the supernatural elements which were suggested in the earlier part of the film resurface.  In true expressionist fashion, Lang subverts normality and transforms a conventional thriller into a bizarre fantasy nightmare.  It’s a world where anything can happen and the happy outcome is far from assured.

Das Testament des Dr. Mabuse is significant in that it is the last occasion when Fritz Lang would use the expressionist style so overtly.  (His subsequent black and white films are far closer to American film noir than German expressionism, although the latter is clearly a progression of the former.)  Whilst his approach here is far less stylised than in earlier German expressionist films, Lang's use of high contrast photography, confined shadowy interiors and some spectacular uses of superposition is extraordinarily effective.  Not only do these emphasise the unnatural threat posed by the film’s villain but they also highlight the vulnerability and heroism of those who decide to take a stand against him.

This was the last film that Fritz Lang made in Germany before opting for voluntary exile (first in France, then in the United States) to avoid having to work as an instrument of the Nazi regime.  It’s possible to read into Das Testament des Dr. Mabuse various anti-Nazi messages – there are some very easily parallels between Mabuse and Hitler, and Mabuse’s ambitions for a world in which all men are robbed of individual thought has an unmistakable Nietzschesque ring to it.  It's hardly surprising that the film was immediately banned in Germany and very nearly destroyed.

An inferior French version of the film was made by Lang at the same time as the German version, with a cast of French actors.  Another version of the film was distributed in America in the 1950s, cut from the available German print and titled The Crimes of Dr. Mabuse.  Having existed in many years in a shortened form, the film was restored in 2000 to almost its original runtime by the German Film Institute, allowing us to appreciate what is easily one of Fritz Lang’s greatest films.

 

The Testament of Dr. Mabuse  Michael E. Grost from Classic Film and Television

 

The Testament of Dr. Mabuse  Michael Koller from Senses of Cinema

 

Cineaste Article (2005)  The Testaments of Fritz Lang, by Chris Fujiwara (2005), also seen here:  The Testament of Dr. Mabuse

 

DVD Times  Noel Megahey

 

DVD Savant (Glenn Erickson)

 

DVD Journal  Mark Bourne

 

Turner Classic Movies   James Steffen

 

Turner Classic Movies   James Steffen on the DVD release

 

VideoVista  Richard Bowden

 

Raging Bull [Mike Lorefice]

 

digitallyOBSESSED.com (Mark Zimmer)

 

DVD Verdict - Criterion Collection  Bill Gibron

 

Epinions [metalluk]

 

Bright Lights Film Journal   Scott Thill, also reviewing  THE 1,000 EYES OF DR. MABUSE

 

Movie Vault [Mel Valentin]

 

DVD Talk (John Sinnott)

 

The SF, Horror and Fantasy Film Review  Richard Scheib

 

DVD Movie Central  Ed Nguyen

 

THE TESTAMENT OF DR. MABUSE (Fritz Lang, 1933) « Dennis Grunes  Dennis Grunes

 

filmcritic.com  Aaron Lazenby

 

Eccentric Cinema  Rod Barnett

 

Monsters At Play  Christopher Hyatt

 

The SF, Horror and Fantasy Film Review  Richard Scheib

 

The Digital Bits   Todd Doogan

 

Fritz Lang: The Nature Of The Beast | The A.V. Club  by Patrick McGilligan, book review by Keith Phipps from The Onion

 

Spaghetti Western (No Meatballs)  on the DVD release, by Dave Kehr from the New York Times

 

Das Testament des Dr. Mabuse (Fritz Lang, Germany 1933)  On the DVD restoration from Celto Slavica, a DVDBeaver look-alike

 

DVDBeaver.com [Gary W. Tooze]

 

DVDBeaver.com [Alain Dupont]

 
LILIOM

France  (118 mi)  1934              US edited version (85 mi)

 

Channel 4 Film capsule review

Lang's version of an old Hungarian story about a carnival worker who falls in love with a girl, gets her pregnant, stages a robbery to make some money and is killed. Then, 15 years later, he's given a chance to return to earth for just a day to see how his wife and daughter are getting on. It's the story for the musical Carousel but this version plays more to comedy than sentimentality. An incredibly youthful Boyer is a sparky and lively ghost but plays the sadder scenes well with Ozerary. Lang made this film in France while he was there trying to avoid the Nazis.

Cinepassion.org  Fernando F. Croce

A stopover at France for Fritz Lang, in between dodging Nazi Germany and reaching the shores of Hollywood, and the etherealization of dread. The whimsy is Molnár's, shot earlier by Curtiz and Borzage, though here romantic transcendence is second to determinism, locked in the fateful circles of the carousel where Charles Boyer, the eponymous braggart, works as a carnival barker until he meets waif Madeleine Ozeray. A settled home scarcely provides domestication, for Liliom is a hooligan at heart, incorrigible yet at the mercy of bureaucracy's hilariously protracted stamp -- he tips arcade machines for change but remains pawn to the larger mechanisms at large. Similarly, the picture appropriates some of Renoir's camera movements and Clair's fantasy while sticking to Lang's sense for the iron-clad cut: an edit from the guys discussing the stabbing of a victim to the landlady's buttered-up knife, then later, from Boyer sinking that knife into his chest to Ozeray back home, feeling something. A botched holdup, Boyer's way of finding funds for an incoming baby, propels him into the afterlife, two messengers of death escorting him for the celestial check-in -- a visualization (and literalization) of Lang's cosmic forces behind the blueprint of lives, yet the lyricism is knowing, so Heaven here is a scoundrel's memories decked with wings, a la Chaplin, the waiting room with the same "No spitting" placard as the earthly equivalent. Lightweight folklore, all, but what passage is as tormenting as the hero having to watch himself slap his wife (over a cup of coffee), projected and analyzed on an extraterrestrial projection screen? Defending Your Life, but principally Fury, and then sixteen years sweating it out in Purgatory before a trip down to Earth to visit his grown daughter (Ozeray also). Future damnation is at stake, with heavenly scales tipping this way and that up above, but Antonin Artaud is a knife-grinding angel, so Lang's Stairway to Heaven materializes naïvely for Man's folly. With Florelle, Barencey, Pierre Alcover, and Henri Richard. In black and white.

User comments  from imdb Author: david melville (dwingrove@qmuc.ac.uk) from Edinburgh, Scotland

Having tried and failed to sit through Carousel (a lumbering musical remake of the same story) I was wholly unprepared for the delight that is Liliom. A fantasy love story set half on Earth, half in Heaven, it's not at all the type of film you expect from Fritz Lang. It's closer in tone to Michael Powell or Jean Cocteau - and may be a 'hidden influence' on both A Matter of Life and Death and Orphee.

Not least among his achievements...Lang pulls off the well-nigh impossible feat of making Charles Boyer interesting! Sorry, but I'd always found this actor deeply resistible. A suburban housewife's stereotype of a suave Continental lover. But in this movie, Boyer plays a role that (even five years later) would have been reserved exclusively for Jean Gabin. A tough carnival barker and petty crook. A sexy 'bad boy' in a striped, clinging T-shirt and skin-tight jeans.

Boyer as Liliom is a Gallic cousin of Stanley Kowalski in A Streetcar Named Desire. I could well understand why Julie (Madeleine Ozeray) fell head over heels for him, because I did too. He treats her appallingly, of course. Boozing, whoring, gambling...even a (very non-PC) touch of wife-beating. For all its fantasy elements, this love story is as warped and sadomasochistic as any in later Lang movies, like Secret Beyond the Door or The Big Heat. (Hot coffee, anyone?)

Eventually, two angels show up and haul Boyer off to the hereafter - where he must atone for his sins! The term 'angels' is one I use loosely. Dark-suited, pale-skinned and shaven-headed, these two guys look like denizens of an X-rated Berlin nightclub. Kinkier still is Boyer's personal 'spirit guide' - a mad-eyed knife-grinder played by Antonin Artaud, the twisted genius who invented the Theatre of Cruelty.

Liliom is a rare treat for old-movie buffs. Lyrical and fantastic, yes. Soppy and sentimental, never. It stands comparison with Lang's best work from Berlin or Hollywood. I can only regret he did not spend more time in France.

Combustible Celluloid (Jeffrey M. Anderson) review

Legend has it that Adolf Hitler approached Fritz Lang and asked him to be the official filmmaker of the Nazi Party. Lang told the Fuhrer that he'd think about it and promptly snuck out of the country, leaving behind his wife, screenwriter Thea von Harbou, and his bank account. He came to America and began a long career making excellent and always underrated paranoid crime thrillers.

It didn't exactly happen so neatly, but Lang never did much to dissuade this myth. Part of the story that often gets left out is that Lang originally fled to France. There he made one film, which flopped and caused his subsequent trip to the U.S.A.

The film, Liliom, has rarely been shown in America, and on those few occasions it has been seen in a truncated version. Now Kino presents the original 116-minute version on a new DVD. The famous story had been filmed earlier, in 1930, by Frank Borzage, and it was later turned into the popular musical Carousel.

Charles Boyer -- who also later came to America -- stars as the title character, a troublesome, womanizing carnival barker who coaxes people into riding the carousel. One night, he falls for a plain girl (Madeleine Ozeray) and runs off with her. Their life together is far from perfect. Liliom can't get a job, and he takes his frustrations out on his wife. When he learns that he is to be a father, he joins a friend in a robbery scheme that goes awry and results in Liliom's death.

In heaven, Liliom is given a second chance. Sixteen years later, he goes back to earth for one day to meet his daughter and contribute something good to her life. Lang takes the opportunity to present heaven as an ironic place, with comic parallels to earth, but also with breathtakingly lovely decoration, foreshadowing Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger's A Matter of Life and Death.

Despite its peculiar and slightly disturbing final moments, Liliom is a lovely addition to the Lang filmography. It reveals a less harsh, less paranoid filmmaker, capable of laughing and loving. The moment in which the girl says goodbye to her dying husband is arguably the most emotionally moving scene I've seen in Lang's work.

Due to its age and rarity, the DVD transfer isn't the best; it's just a bit murky and rough around the edges, though Rudolph Mate's marvelous cinematography helps a bit in this regard. Since no one has really seen it and very few materials exist, the DVD comes with virtually no extras.

Kino has also released an early film from Douglas Sirk, another German filmmaker forced to flee to the United States. In La Habanera, a beautiful woman (Zarah Leander) moves to the Caribbean and marries a land baron. Ten years later, the marriage has soured, a plague descends upon the land, and it's up to her former lover to rescue her. Sirk -- then known as Detlef Sierck -- made the film as a project for hire for the rising star Leander. Extras include an essay, clips from the original reviews, a Sirk filmography and a photo gallery.

DVD Savant (Glenn Erickson) dvd review
 
Epinions [Stephen O. Murray]
 
Fantastic Movie Musings and Ramblings (Dave Sindelar) capsule review
 
FFWD Weekly  Jaime Frederick
 
Time Magazine
 
Mountain X Blog Review  Ken Hanke
 
TV Guide
 
New York Times (registration req'd)  H.T.S.
 
By Lang and Sirk, En Route  on a DVD release, by Dave Kehr from the New York Times
 
DVDBeaver.com [Gary W. Tooze]
 
FURY

USA  (90 mi)  1936

 

Time Out review  Tom Milne

 

Lang's first American film, with Tracy as the man wrongly accused of a kidnapping who escapes summary justice by lynch mob as the jail burns down, then goes into hiding, plants evidence to suggest he died, and sits back gloatingly as his 'killers' are brought to trial. Softened along pious lines at the end (what else from MGM, who tinkered cravenly with the script all down the line?), so not quite the masterpiece of reputation: Lang later made much better, much less touted films. Still impressive, all the same, especially in the build-up to the lynching sequence.

 

Fury   Jonathan Rosenbaum from the Reader

 

Unjustly accused of a crime, a man (Spencer Tracy) barely escapes a lynching and returns to wreak vengeance on the mob that nearly killed him. Fritz Lang's first American film, made in 1936, remains one of his most powerful and fully achieved; the pitiless overhead camera angle, which carries such force in many of his other films, has a particular impact here when it appears in an impromptu documentary, a film within the film, of a near lynching that is used as courtroom evidence. Sylvia Sidney plays the hero's fiancee, and the strong secondary cast is headed up by Walter Abel, Bruce Cabot, Edward Ellis, Walter Brennan, and Frank Albertson. Essential viewing, however bitter the aftertaste. 90 min.

 

Fritz Lang Bibliography (via UC Berkeley Media Resources Center)  White Law and the Missing Black Body in Fritz Lang's Fury (1936) by Barbara Mennel from Quarterly Review of Film and Video, July/August/September 2003

 

Fritz Lang's 1936 film Fury responded to a crisis of law created by a 1933 California lynching case of two white men. As Hollywood's response to this crisis, the film fulfills a double function: Its liberal discourse deals with the inadequacies of law, but then reestablishes belief in the law, which functions to keep racial hierarchies in place. The black body is absent as the lynching victim, and the film rewrites the race/gender power structure that supported lynching in the US. Thus, in a structure of disavowal, a white, liberal audience can participate in social criticism based on the absence of black main characters while enjoying the melodrama, in which the white male character is both victim and hero. The writer goes on to discuss the different institutions involved in the creation of Fury in order to address its representation of race in the context of Hollywood's hegemonic production of whiteness.

 

The Onion A.V. Club [Noel Murray]
 
Spencer Tracy makes a more multidimensional champion of justice in Fritz Lang's 1936 Hollywood debut Fury, playing a man wrongly imprisoned in a small town and surrounded by fired-up locals intent on a lynching. They burn down the jail and leave Tracy for dead, but he survives, and works behind the scenes to bring the whole town to trial for murder. There's nothing subtle or ambiguous about the anti-mob-rule message (though there might've been, had Lang been allowed to follow through on his M-like intention to make Tracy guilty), but as with I Am A Fugitive From A Chain Gang and A Face In The Crowd, Fury has an immersive quality that excuses the bluntness. It's an astonishingly expressive film, as Lang uses subjective tracking shots and satirical montages of clucking chickens to mock the rioters and make the righteous look phony. Fury is heartland Americana knocked cock-eyed, with petty gripes about taxes and lawyers escalating into murderous rage. Lang doesn't just have people stand around talking about a social problem. He shows them living it out, and makes the audience live it too.
 
A Film Odyssey [Robert Humanick]
 
Few films have ever been more appropriately titled. His first film made in America after fleeing both the Nazi party and his homeland of Germany, Fritz Lang's Fury is an engrossing dissertation on the barbarous impulses that drive human nature and the need to restrain them in order to live in a decent and civilized society. Part commentary on civic laziness in America, part look at the flaws of a legal system that holds the power to sentence people to death, and part reflection on the horrors of fascism, the film magnifies it's small love story to monolithic proportions in the midst of the hard times of the depression. Separated by financial burdens for over a year, Joe Wilson is driving from Chicago into the country to reunite with his fiancé Katherine Grant (Sylvia Sidney) when he's inexplicably arrested for the recent kidnapping of a local girl. With only minor circumstantial evidence to hold against Joe, the sheriff continues through the proper legal processes, knowing that he is just as likely to be innocent as guilty. The townsfolk, on the other hand, take hold of the news and twist the facts until his guilt is certain beyond any doubt; justice must be had, and it may as well be the first man arrested. Lang's multi-layered film uses its violent spectacle to the same effect as Spike Lee's Do the Right Thing; the viewer acts as a horrified witness to the inhumanity at hand, unable to alter the events unfolding. Through a series of unexpected events, the film reverses the roles of the criminals and the victims in a tense, illuminating legal battle that highlights, among other things, the futility of revenge and the fallibility of human judgment. Fury is a slap in the face to anyone who thinks that the life of any citizen should be entrusted to a legal system so easily subjected to the whims of irrational, bloodthirsty recklessness.

 

User comments  from imdb Author: theowinthrop from United States

If Fritz Lang had died or been killed by the Nazis (whom he detested and opposed)in 1933 or 1934, it is stunning to realize that his position as a great film director would have been assured. He would have already had METROPOLIS, SPIES, DR. MABUSE, and M down to establish his credentials as a master of cinematic art. But he left Germany to escape the real villains who were coming to power. And he ended up, after briefly staying in France, coming to the U.S. Most of his later films would be made in the U.S. FURY is his first American masterpiece - a study of mob violence, and the destructive forces it unleases in even the most decent people. Here, it is Spencer Tracy, the erstwhile victim of a lynch mob, who becomes demonic in retaliation for his own mistreatment at their hands. It would be a theme Lang would return to again and again in later films - Edward G. Robinson turning on Joan Bennett and Dan Duryea in SCARLET STREET is a good example.

Like many great crime films it is based on an actual incident that occurred in San Jose, California in 1933. Brooke Harte, the son of a wealthy department store owner, was kidnapped by two rather stupid men, Harold Thurmond and Jack Holmes, for a ransom, and drowned when they collected the money. Brooke had been a very popular young man, and when the men were caught a mob attacked the jail, and killed them (hanging at least Thurmond when he was still alive - Holmes was beaten to death in the jail). The incident gained notoriety around the globe (the Nazis had the nerve to use it to suggest Americans were violent degenerates - and frequently republished photos of the dead men as propaganda in World War II). It was hard to hide the story - the mobs were filmed attacking the jail, and (as mentioned above) the swinging bodies of the two kidnappers were photographed. Most people in America were appalled by the incident, but it had defenders. Governor James Rolph (former Mayor of San Francisco) defended the lynch mob beyond any reasonable point (Rolph was running for re-election, and in ill health - he would die before the reelection was held).

A fine account of the crime, SWIFT JUSTICE by Harry Farrell, only touches lightly on the Lang movie. The similarities with the newsreel trucks and even a Rolph-clone (Clarence Kolb, in a small but sinister role as a powerful man trying to convince the Sheriff - Edward Ellis - to leave the jail underprotected from the mob)are there. But Lang allows Tracy to survive, unlike Thurmond and Holmes. Also, in reality the newsreel footage was not clear enough (like that in the film) to be used against the defendants in their trial. In fact, nobody was ever indicted for the lynch murders of Thurmond and Holmes.

Turner Classic Movies review  Felicia Feaster

Fritz Lang's devastating indictment of mob violence, considered by many his best American film, Fury (1936) explores the director's fascination with the nature of justice and revenge also treated in his German masterpiece M (1931) and later American productions The Big Heat (1953) and You Only Live Once (1937).

Spencer Tracy stars as honest American working stiff Joe Wilson, engaged to marry Katherine Grant (Sylvia Sidney). Jim has slaved a year to earn enough money to marry his true love, and on the way to their union has an experience that will change both of their lives. In the wrong place at the wrong time, Jim is stopped in a small town roadblock and accused, on the basis of some circumstantial evidence, of kidnapping. A domino effect of bad luck soon finds Joe tried and convicted for the crime in the court of public opinion. A chain of gossip in the town's barrooms, grocery stores and kitchens soon has its citizens storming the jailhouse to bring the suspected criminal to justice. The climactic attempt by the town's populace to burn the jailhouse to the ground is only one of many twists and turns in Lang's superbly paced, hairpin drama which delivers one shock after another as Lang investigates the shameful American history of lynching in this dynamic courtroom drama.

Fury is stocked with ample evidence of Lang's cynical, biting view of humankind seen in his often wry and disturbing visual language, like a shot of the town's gossiping women which cuts to a shot of clucking chickens or his close-ups of the people outside the burning courthouse, gleefully holding their babies up for a better view of the burning man, their faces contorted by bloodlust. With shadows distorting their appearance, rendering them instantly ghoulish, Lang's vision of the potential evil in all human beings makes Fury as stylistically memorable as it is for its trenchant social message.

Lang's first American film after the director fled Germany rather than become a filmmaker for the Third Reich, Fury finally materialized after a year of unrealized potential productions at his new studio home, MGM. And Fury turned out to be a rather unusual film, both for its time, and for its studio, more used to turning out family-oriented fare than a piece of socially conscious filmmaking.

Though the film was based on the real-life case of two kidnappers, Thomas Harold Thurmond and John Maurice Holmes, who were lynched by the populace of San Jose, California, for their abduction of a department store owner's son, Fury probably owed more of a debt to the social climate in which it was made. The story was conceived during a shocking time in American history when lynching and mob violence escalated in the early 1930s. The fires of injustice were further stoked when a federal anti-lynching bill drafted by NAACP lawyers was killed by the U.S. Senate. But with his hands tied by the notorious movie censorship of the studio years, Lang was unable to explicitly treat lynching as a crime against black people. Lang was even forbidden to use black actors as minor characters in the film, though he initially shot several scenes featuring peripheral black characters to subtly drive home the idea of lynching as a threat to black Americans. In one deleted scene, a black laundress sings a song of freedom as she hangs out the wash, and in another a crowd of Southern blacks is shown responding to a radio speech by Fury's district attorney condemning lynching. Both scenes were cut from the film at the studio's behest.

After much squabbling between Lang and MGM head Louis B. Mayer, who had taken a dislike to the director, Fury was essentially buried by the studio upon its release. But word soon leaked out of the film's greatness, and it went on to become a success both with art-house moviegoers, and critics like The New York Times who called it the finest dramatic film of 1936.

Slant Magazine [Ed Gonzalez]

 

Filmjourney  Doug Cummings

 

Turner Classic Movies dvd review  Marty Mapes

 

Raging Bull [Mike Lorefice]

 

Not Coming To a Theater Near You [Beth Gilligan]

 

Bright Lights Film Journal [Robert Castle]  also reviewing MODERN TIMES and CLOCKWORK ORANGE, November 2002

 

Fury  Michael E. Grost from Classic Film and Television

 

User comments  from imdb Author: Brandt Sponseller from New York City

 

DVD Verdict (Joe Armenio) dvd review

 

A Film Canon [Billy Stevenson]

 

digitallyOBSESSED.com (Jeff Wilson) dvd review

 

DVD Talk (Ian Jane) dvd review [4/5]

 

Epinions [Stephen O. Murray]

 

Being There Magazine [Nathan Williams]

 

Classic Film Guide (capsule)

 

filmcritic.com (Christopher Null) review [4.5/5]

 

TV Guide Entertainment Network, Movie Guide review [4.5/5]

 

Philadelphia City Paper [Sam Adams]

 

The New York Times (Frank S. Nugent) review

 

DVDBeaver.com [Gary W. Tooze]

 
YOU ONLY LIVE ONCE

USA  (86 mi)  1937

 

Capsule by Dave Kehr

 

Fritz Lang's 1939 film about an outlaw couple on the run (Henry Fonda and Sylvia Sidney) is sometimes cited as one of the prototypes of Bonnie and Clyde. But Lang's themes are moral and mystical whereas Penn's are social; Lang's film, consequently, seems more genuinely timeless despite the topicality of the story. Lang directs in a stripped-down expressionist style that had a tremendous influence on the postwar film noir: it's always night, usually raining, and the camera hovers over the characters like the heavy hand of fate. 86 min.

 

Time Out review

 

Looking back to the boldly-stated fatalism of his German films, and - in the on-the-run figures of Sidney and Fonda - forward to the likes of Bonnie and Clyde and Pierrot le Fou, Lang's superb film noir constantly breaks the boundaries of the 'social consciousness' movie category within which it was originally pigeonholed. Determinism is here at the crux of a social, psychological, and generic network, as three-time-loser Fonda finds his guilt or innocence merely the stuff of ready-set alternative newspaper headlines; and Lang constantly queries the narrative thrust with visuals that pose their own ambiguous riddles. Even the title is challenged by the movie's final shot: less a sentimental cop-out than the rigorous working through of a schema that incorporates three essential levels of perception: Fonda's own, society's, and the audience's.

 

Lang in the U.S.A.   Juliet Clark from Pacific Film Archives

 

When three-time loser Eddie Taylor (Henry Fonda) is about to be released from prison, his lawyer assures the warden that Eddie will make good. Eddie adds skeptically, "I will--if they let me." Like many of Lang's films, You Only Live Once depicts a struggle between individual will and socially determined destiny; atypically for the director, it's also a moving and sincere love story. This has often been cited as the original lovers-on-the-run movie. But the relationship between edgy, fragile Eddie and sad-eyed Jo (Sylvia Sidney) feels less like amour fou à la Bonnie and Clyde than like a tragic, transcendent partnership borrowed from a Frank Borzage melodrama. Harrowing scenes of prison and pursuit are rendered in a starkly expressive visual style; but the bleak atmosphere ultimately gives way to pastoral lyricism, suggesting a possibility of spiritual if not social redemption. Asked about the ending, Lang said, "You may laugh, but don't forget, I was born a Catholic."

 

CineScene.com (Chris Dashiell) review

A released convict (Henry Fonda), in love with his defense lawyer's secretary (Sylvia Sidney), tries to go straight, but meets with rejection in society, and ends up being framed for murder. This movie - a favorite of mine and one of the director's lesser-known gems - represents for me, more than any other, the feeling of that period known as the Depression. The bewilderment and loss of faith in authority, the fatalistic sense that no matter what you do, society will hold you down - all reflect the darker side of the popular mood during that era. Although Fonda's character is well-meaning, he's no hero by any stretch. His short temper and desperation are all too human, while the world around him is mostly brutal and uncaring. It's one of his more remarkable performances, I think, with a hardness to it that is missing from a lot of his good guy roles. The story was based in part on Bonnie and Clyde, especially in the sequences where the couple are on the road trying to get to the Canadian border to escape capture. Except, of course, that these two are essentially innocents who are trapped into their deeds by awful circumstances.

Fritz Lang once again demonstrates his mastery of the camera as an instrument for the portrayal of extreme feelings. His minimalist aesthetic, his use of shadow and expressive camera angles, are used to maximum dramatic impact. There are hokey elements too - typical of 30s crime drama - such as the kindly Catholic priest who tries to save the Fonda character from himself, or the heroine's tough, sensible sister cautioning her against her involvement with the ex-con. But the director's style manages to transcend these limitations of genre. In its doom-laden atmosphere, You Only Live Once foreshadows the post-war American style we have come to know as "film noir." As usual, Fritz Lang was ahead of his time.

Turner Classic Movies review  James Steffen

Joan Graham, who works for the public defender Stephen Whitney, is in love with Eddie Taylor--a three-time convict who has just received an early release thanks to the support of Whitney and the prison chaplain, Father Dolan. Joan and Eddie get married, but their new life together isn't easy; rejected by society at every turn, Eddie finds himself out of work and begins to associate with other ex-cons. When Eddie's hat is discovered at the scene of a fatal armed robbery, he is captured, convicted and finally sentenced to death. Joan, however, is convinced of his innocence. He manages to escape and Joan goes on the run with him, facing an uncertain future.

Fritz Lang's second American film,
You Only Live Once (1937), is often characterized as among the very finest of his post-German career. In it he manages to achieve a rare balance between hard-edged social commentary, a moving love story, and expressive visual design. From the opening shot--an imposing, vaguely menacing view of a Hall of Justice--Fritz Lang indicates that he will question the nature of justice itself, or at least how justice is implemented in society. This is born out by the judgmental and callous behavior of ordinary people that Eddie and Joan meet after his release from prison. The hotel manager and his wife, inflamed by stories in sensationalistic "true crime" magazines, evict Eddie and Joan from their room on their honeymoon. The trucking company owner fires Eddie and talks casually on the phone with his wife about a card party while Eddie pleads for his job. Greedy individuals pocket cash register tills, claiming that the fugitives Eddie and Joan robbed them. Here Lang's cynical view of "the crowd" displays underlying similarities to the lynch mob in Fury (1936), his first American film, and to the panicky, quick-to-accuse populace in M (1931). At the same time, this film is enriched by a number of striking images, including Eddie and Joan's honeymoon conversation next to a frog pond, the devastating scene in which a newspaper prepares three different front-page headlines and photos of Eddie depending on the outcome of his court trial, the fogbound prison escape scene, and smaller details such as Joan drinking milk from a can pierced with a bullet hole.

Lang had been dissatisfied with his experience working at MGM on the film Fury due to studio interference such as an imposed happy ending. In that respect, it was fortuitous that he was able to make
You Only Live Once with independent producer Walter Wanger. According to Lang biographer Patrick McGilligan, it was lead actress Sylvia Sidney who recommended to Wanger that Lang direct the project. The idea for the film came out of a dinner conversation between Wanger, Sidney and author Theodore Dreiser, during which Dreiser recommended that they do a story on Bonnie and Clyde. Lang was brought in as director after a draft of the script had been completed. Wanger agreed to let Lang have control over the final cut of the film, a privilege very rarely granted to directors in Hollywood. In his biography on Walter Wanger, author Matthew Bernstein notes that although Lang claimed at the time that Wanger refused to let him shoot a prologue depicting the "troubled environment" in which Eddie Taylor grew up, this assertion is questionable since no such prologue exists in the various drafts of the script.

Lang's notorious drive to control every aspect of a film was extended even to the acting; more than one person--including Henry Fonda, the film's male lead--has remarked that Lang treated his actors like puppets. Sylvia Sidney had worked with Lang previously on Fury and was more or less used to his methods. "I loved working with him because I loved the fact that he was so meticulous. He knew more about [the] camera, he knew more about cutting, and when he said he wanted just a close-up, [it was] very much like Hitchcock, it's what we used to call cutting in the camera." Later she would boast about being the only actor to survive three of Lang's films, the third being You and Me (1938). Lang's working relationship with Henry Fonda was far less smooth. Sidney recalls how Lang deliberately manipulated Fonda to get the desired results in terms of performance: "What he would do was take me across the set where Fonda was sitting, and would whisper in my ear. He had a thermos with homemade soup in it and he would pour some for me, all the time speaking softly. Well, Fonda knew that Fritz and I had worked together before, and he assumed that Fritz was giving me preferential treatment; giving me extra coaching, you know, that sort of thing. Well, Fonda would fume and mutter, 'That son of a bitch'...while all Fritz was doing was telling me how he had made the soup. And Fonda sort of said, 'The hell with him. I'll show him,' and he gave one hell of a performance."

You Only Live Once was not a great box office success during its initial release, but it was well received by most critics. Frank S. Nugent of The New York Times did not feel the film was as strong as Fury, but he did praise Lang's direction: "Mr. Lang's intuitive sense of camera angle, pace and mood raises it to dramatic stature...." However, the reviewer for Newsweek characterized the film as "the finest of its type since [The] Public Enemy [1931]", adding: "Given a stirring screen play by Gene Towne and Graham Baker, [Lang] directs it with the power and realism that characterized his work in M and Fury." Similarly, the reviewer for Time wrote, "You Only Live Once sets a pace which 1937 cops-&-robbers sagas may find hard to beat."

 

Movie Martyr (Jeremy Heilman) review [4+/4]

 

DVD Savant (Glenn Erickson) dvd review

 

digitallyOBSESSED.com (Jon Danziger) dvd review

 

Turner Classic Movies dvd review  Brian Cady

 

DVD Talk (Holly E. Ordway) dvd review [1/5]

 

Crazy for Cinema

 

When Movies Were Movies "Golden Age" Review  Dave Smith

 

Combustible Celluloid (Jeffrey M. Anderson) review

 

Epinions [Stephen O. Murray]

 

TV Guide's Review

 

You Only Live Once - Movie - Review - The New York Times  Frank S. Nugent

 

DVDBeaver.com - Review [Gary W. Tooze]

 
YOU AND ME                                                           B+                   90

USA  (90 mi)  1938

 

The big shots aren't little crooks like you. They're politicians.             —Helen Dennis (Sylvia Sidney)

 

Fritz Lang is something of a film revelation, where he would be renowned if he was responsible for nothing more than the first science-fiction epic, the German Expressionist silent film masterpiece METROPOLIS (1927), using a cast of thousands, building enormous futuristic sets, utilizing what were at the time state-of-the-art special effects, an arduously difficult film to shoot, lasting over a year, which nearly bankrupted the studio (financed by UFA), culminating in a blistering critique of capitalism and its effects on the future, becoming one of the most influential of all silent films.  Shortly afterwards, Lang’s first sound film M (1931) is a chilling portrait of madness, murder, and vengeance, where the underworld and the police vie for a child murderer, a film way ahead of its time in its methodical, perfectly synchronized, psychological storytelling, where Peter Lorre as the compulsive murderer gives one of the great screen performances.  Lang himself considered this his finest work.  Shortly afterwards, the half-Jewish Lang (who was raised a Roman Catholic) was forced to leave the country once the Nazi’s rose to power, leaving immediately after rejecting propaganda minister Joseph Goebbels’ offer to become the new head of UFA, now a Nazi German film industry, becoming instead one of Hollywood’s most outspoken anti-Nazi filmmakers.  Ironically, Lang was eventually blacklisted during the McCarthy era of the late 40’s and 50’s due to his known working relationship with German playwright Bertolt Brecht and other known communists.  Throughout his career, however, Lang thrived on dark themes, including the psychological effects of lies, abuse of power, revenge, a criminal underground, and trapped characters living in a cynical world.  Coming on the heels of FURY (1936), his first American film, a devastating indictment of mob violence, and YOU ONLY LIVE ONCE (1937), a boldly fatalistic outlaw couple on the run film (which had a tremendous influence on the later development of postwar film noir, always shooting at night, featuring characters as doomed as the constant pouring of rain, where the intense scrutiny of their dark interior world couldn’t be more bleak), his third film YOU AND ME is instead something of a Brechtian romantic love story, featuring songs and musical numbers written by Brecht collaborator Kurt Weill, considered a critical flop in its day and reportedly Lang’s least favorite of his own films.            

 

Yet somehow, YOU AND ME remains one of Lang’s most personal works, especially the way it combines disparate elements of ill-fated romance with the deviant criminal underworld and the outward extravagance of Brecht’s musical theater into a kind of melodramatic B-movie setting that actually endorses capitalism as a way out of the Depression, becoming one of the more ambitiously experimental Hollywood films of the 30’s, even if the whole never equals the sum of its parts.  If it’s not one of Lang’s greatest works, it is among his most unusual efforts, where it’s a jumbled mix of something you just don’t see everyday.  Set during the Depression, the opening sequence itself is a scathing indictment of capitalism set to song, Kurt Weill’s “Song of the Cash Register,” where the uncredited tenor sounds thunderously dramatic like Jan Peerce, leading to an impressive montage of cash registers, retail items and consumer goods, driving home the point that nothing in life is free, everything has a price tag, set to an abstract set of images that are deeply comical, accentuating flamboyant hairstyles of the 30’s, where customers must pay for everything from the most ridiculous and sublime to the most common ordinary needs.  If one gets their hopes up that the suggested anti-capitalist theme will pervade throughout, you’d be sadly disappointed, as instead the unsung hero behind the scenes is the capitalist owner of a successful chain of department stores, Mr. Morris (Harry Carey), whose philanthropist leanings, much to his wife’s displeasure, includes the unusual habit of hiring ex-cons who have successfully served their time, where a job offering allows them a new start and a sense of moral renewal.  The convicts are sales clerks scattered throughout the store, amusingly shown still exhibiting signs of their criminal expertise in making their sales pitch, where tough talking gangster George Raft as Joe tells a perspective customer “There isn’t a racket I haven’t tried.”  But as the camera pulls back, he’s selling tennis rackets in the sporting good section.  Instead of taking an interest in the attractive blond (Joyce Compton), the film alters course with a superbly constructed, fleeting moment, hand holding scene on escalators moving in opposite directions INSTANTES: You and Me (1938, Fritz Lang) - YouTube (28 seconds), a sexy lead-in to his sweetheart Helen (Sylvia Sidney).

Wasting no time, they quickly get married, seen mostly through the transformative eyes of Joe, perhaps motivated by a strangely curious date with Helen where the downbeat, melancholic torch singer Carol Paige pays weary tribute to falling for the wrong kind of guys (another Weill effort conjuring up Pabst’s down and out THE THREE PENNY OPERA [1931] images of Berlin in the 20’s), never dreaming his days as a convict in jail would somehow lead to newfound respectability, though what he doesn’t know is Helen is herself an ex-con.  In an unusual gesture rarely seen in American films of the era that often reflect a prevailing anti-Semitic sentiment, Lang includes sympathetic Jewish characters, Helen’s nosy yet overly affectionate landlady and her husband (Vera Gordon and Egon Brecher).  But when Joe discovers the truth about Helen’s hidden secret, he dovetails back into the criminal underworld, where in a priceless sequence, all the ex-cons from the store have been waiting for him in a mob bar, where they reminisce through jail chatter in song, inventing a kind of percussive, rhythmic chant, a numerical code that inmates use to communicate with one another while incarcerated, imitating knocking on the walls, a stupefyingly euphoric number called “Stick to the Mob,” where once you’re in, you’re never out, where the boys decide to do what they do best, rob Morris’s department store.  Morris captures them red-handed, however, alerted by inside information forwarded to Helen, where he agrees not to send them back to jail if they can sit through Helen’s reformative, on-the-spot, midnight chalkboard lecture (in the Toy section, no less!) on why Crime Does Not Pay.  Using a Brechtian underworld socioeconomic critique, it becomes a cost analysis on the detrimental effects of living a life of crime, where the hidden costs to pay off all the crooks involved outweigh the benefits, where capitalism is subversively expressed as a Ponzi pyramid scheme, where only the ones at the top survive, where Number One (a bribed politician acting on someone’s behalf) always gets their cut, staying out of jail by paying for the best lawyers in town, while the disposable foot soldiers taking all the risks end up fighting among themselves over the remaining crumbs.  In this oddly charming vision of the ever elusive American Dream, Morris’s investment in corporate ownership succeeds while the low paying, foot soldiers falter, criminal or otherwise, where even moral redemption, paying your debt to society, comes at a high cost, as the only choice the working stiffs of the world have is to become slaves working for the Man.  “No I ain’t gonna work on Maggie’s Farm no more.”  Bob Dylan - Maggie's Farm YouTube (3:58).

You and Me | Chicago Reader  Jonathan Rosenbaum from The Reader, also seen here:  You and Me 

Fritz Lang takes a stab at a Brechtian musical, with songs by Kurt Weill and even some stretches of recitative. George Raft plays an ex-con who marries Sylvia Sidney without realizing that she too has done time. This 1938 feature is among Lang's most unjustly neglected Hollywood pictures—not an unqualified success by any means but interesting, imaginative, and genuinely strange. The story is by Norman Krasna, and Virginia Van Upp wrote the script.

Time Out review

 

In most interviews, Lang dismisses You and Me - within Hollywood categories, his only attempt at straight comedy - as a failure; but even if it were much more of a failure than it actually is, it would remain an utterly fascinating film. Raft and Sidney play a pair of ex-cons employed by a benign liberal (Carey) in his large department store. Sidney knows about Raft's past, but he is ignorant of hers; they marry secretly, breaking the terms of their parole, and the marriage is threatened when he accidentally discovers the truth. Lang's intention was a Brechtian Lehrstück (lesson-play); Kurt Weill worked on some of the songs, including the brilliant opening number; and for ideas about the criminal underworld, Lang borrowed as much from The Threepenny Opera as from his own M. It perhaps lacks stylistic unity, but still has many fine scenes. (From a story by Norman Krasna.)

 

Lang in the U.S.A.   Juliet Clark from Pacific Film Archives

From its dazzling, disorienting opening montage of cash registers and consumer goods, with an offscreen singer-narrator warning in solemn sprechstimme that "you cannot get something for nothing," it's clear that You and Me is not your ordinary romantic fairy tale. Lang said he intended this comedy-melodrama of love, crime, and the retail trade to be "a picture that teaches something in an entertaining way, with songs." That only begins to explain the film's peculiar union of Brechtian socioeconomic critique, Expressionist stylistics, and Hollywood genre conventions--with songs composed by none other than Kurt Weill. The plot centers on tough guy George Raft and his bride Sylvia Sidney, both clerks in a department store, and both ex-cons struggling to make good. Their struggle culminates with Sidney in the store's toy department after hours, delivering a detailed mathematical proof of the theorem Crime Does Not Pay to an audience of thugs--a convergence of fantasy and literalism that's typical of this strangely charming film.

Cinepassion.org  Fernando F. Croce

 

Fritz Lang's view of capitalism slashes, though, having already toiled within it, he doesn't extricate himself -- the opening montage surveys a cosmos for sale, aimed from above at a luxurious department store and built around a mega close-up of the "cash" button on a register, and amid the items included in its flurry of shots is a film camera. "You Can Not Get Something for Nothing," goes the first of Kurt Weill's anti-musical refrains, resonating painfully with the characters carrying with them the weight of past crimes. A clerk reveals his old identity as a safecracker by operating a can-opener, though Harry Carey believes in second chances and runs the store benignly; among the reformed jailbirds working the floor are George Raft and Sylvia Sidney, co-workers and clandestine lovers who break parole restrictions by getting married. The comedy's in the screenplay, Norman Krasna via Virginia Van Upp, but on the screen the Paramount champagne is spiked by noir shadows: the newlyweds make their honeymoon an international journey by visiting foreign restaurants, only to find sinister underworld honcho Barton MacLane at the end of the tour. Their romantic joy is undercut by the ruthless awareness of its fragility, exquisitely expressed by Lang with an image of ephemeral connection, Raft and Sidney lovingly touching hands for a fleeting, furtive moment on their separate ways riding in an escalator under the world's disapproving surveillance. (The meaning of a hand in close-up is sharply reversed from the previous scene, where MacLane grinds his heel into Warren Hymer's palm.) A merciless picture, following Fury and You Only Live Once with astonishing avant-gardism, more Brechtian than Brecht himself -- Carol Paige's torch song compresses all of The Threepenny Opera into three minutes, while the stupefying experimentalism of the "Stick to the Mob" number blindsided critics who came for Art Deco romps. The robbery's foiled, the crooks sit among toys for Sidney's lecture on the counterproductive economics of crime; in Lang's caustic America, even redemption comes with price tags. With Robert Cummings, Roscoe Karns, George E. Stone, Adrian Morris, Roger Gray, Cecil Cunningham, Guinn Williams, and Vera Gordon. In black and white.

 

User comments  from imdb Author: ROCKY-19 from Arizona

What a fascinating little film, on a variety of levels. There is an expressionism that would have made Elmer Rice proud as well as a distinctly European approach. It feels as if it could be either a German product or from much earlier in the '30s when Hollywood was still in an experimental phase of self-discovery. There is nothing quite like it out there.

This is pure Fritz Lang, coupled perfectly with Charles Lang Jr.'s photography, with Kurt Weill's music jumping in abruptly to make you catch your breath. The blend of comedy and drama is smooth.

The plot line is familiar to this cast. A businessman makes a point of hiring parolees at his department store, where some are clearly having trouble adjusting. Joe has abided by the strict demands of his parole and his time is at last up, freeing him to marry Helen. But she has never told him that she too is an ex-con and still has several months of parole to serve. She has to tell lie upon lie to cover up the secret. Meanwhile, his old gang is nipping at him to join up again in another heist scheme.

Not for the last time, the film exposes the difficulties of staying straight, difficulties arising both from the system itself as well as peer pressure.

Some plot points are similar to Pick-up, a George Raft-Sylvia Sidney film of a few years earlier, but this story is much stronger. At this time Raft was in the middle of a five-year era when he was at his best - relaxed and in character, willingly joining in the sometimes unusual proceedings. Sidney is beautifully sympathetic as a criminal, always hoping two wrongs will make a right. What a one-of-a-kind screen presence she was. Her work with Raft always seems like two pals getting together again. That makes the wedding night sequence and the around-the-world honeymoon all the more entertaining.

The rest of the cast, from wonderful Harry Carey to cynical Roscoe Karns, turns in strong, imaginative performances. As odd as some moments might be, everyone is clearly "in on" Lang's vision.

There is a great scene of the gang reminiscing about their prison days that displays that vision full force. This is what the film is all about.

Fritz Lang's only romantic comedy still displays his skepticism  Ben Sachs from The Reader

 

Sing Me a Song of America: Fritz Lang's "You and Me" (1938) on ...  Daniel Kasman frm Mubi

 

George Raft Sings! (Sort Of)  Farran Smith Nehme from Nomad

 

The Films of Fritz Lang [Michael E. Grost] 

 

Self-Styled Siren

 

Ozus' World Movie Reviews [Dennis Schwartz]

 

Channel 4 Film capsule review

 
THE RETURN OF FRANK JAMES

USA  (92 mi)  1940

 

Time Out Capsule Review  Geoff Andrew

 

Fox's follow-up to Jesse James was Lang's first Western and his first film in colour; if it's more conventional than the later Rancho Notorious, it nevertheless displays the director's interest in the psychology (and indeed the pitfalls) of revenge. At the start of the film, Frank (Fonda) is happy to let the law pronounce sentence on the Ford brothers, who killed Jesse; but when they are pardoned, he begins a deadly hunt that alienates him from society, imperils not only his own life but those of his friends, and threatens to destroy his long-held ideas of justice. For all its fine photography and sturdy performances, the film is finally little more than efficient and routine, with Lang rarely probing beyond the ironic if superficial twists of the narrative. Though it bears some slight thematic resemblance to the earlier Fury and You Only Live Once, he's clearly not as comfortable with dusty townships and baked landscapes as with the noir-like ambience of his contemporary crime movies.

 

User comments  from imdb Author: Neil Doyle from U.S.A.

Fritz Lang directed this pallid western filmed in muted Technicolor and starring HENRY FONDA as Frank James, seeking to shoot down the man (JOHN CARRADINE) who shot his brother Jesse in the back.

It's a tale of revenge, but not as dark a tale as you might expect, prettily photographed but lacking the grittiness one would expect from this sort of tale. Fonda makes a completely acceptable Frank James, but GENE TIERNEY is rather wasted in her film debut, decorative but given a thinly written role which she plays in a high-pitched, whining sort of voice. It's no wonder she got the bad reviews she did early in her career. Nor were her looks as sharply defined as they were later on when her acting skills improved considerably.

While she underacts, the same can't be said for any of the supporting players, all of whom are guilty of extravagant ham acting--especially in the long, drawn-out courtroom scene for the finale. Crotchety HENRY HULL is worst of all, LLOYD CORRIGAN (as Tierney's father) not far behind, and J. EDWARD BROMBERG, EDDIE COLLINS, THURSTON HALL and DONALD COOK are all guilty of cringe-worthy overacting that just makes Fonda's performance more refreshing for its naturalness. JACKIE COOPER too, gives a more even performance as Fonda's sidekick.

Fritz Lang makes the most of the final suspenseful shoot-out in the shadows of a barn between Frank James and Bob Ford, but the film is hardly a distinguished western. In fact, it's rather routine and one can only wish that someone like Henry Hathaway or Henry King had been assigned to direct this one.

A disappointment as a western and as a film debut for Tierney.

Combustible Celluloid [Jeffrey M. Anderson]

In 1939, 20th Century Fox scored with their prestigious, critically approved Jesse James. And despite the fact that its hero (played by Tyrone Power) didn't make it past the ending, the studio carried on with a sequel, featuring Jesse's brother (played by Henry Fonda) and directed by the recent German transplant Fritz Lang. Most people prefer the original film, but Lang's sequel arguably has more of a personal vision. The Return of Frank James may lack the psychological darkness associated with Lang's best work, but it's still a rousing good Western.

Frank James is now hiding out under an assumed name, when he hears the news that his brother has been shot in the back by the Ford brothers (John Carradine and Charles Tannen). The Fords are captured, tried, and eventually released, leading Frank on the trail for revenge. But Hollywood codes prevented the hero from gunning down the villains in cold blood, so the movie carefully sidelines Frank from any serious wrongdoing while making sure the Fords get their just desserts. Frank keeps his duty to his friends, his young ward Clem (Jackie Cooper) and his farmhand Pinky (Ernest Whitman), as well as toward an amateur newspaperwoman, Eleanor Stone (Gene Tierney) whose poor reporting skills inadvertently get Frank into trouble. Though Lang was unable to truly plunge Frank into emotional jeopardy, the film gets by with its remarkable photography (an early attempt at color for Lang), crisp action sequences and breezy storytelling.

According to Peter Bogdanovich, Henry Fonda swore he would never work with Lang again after You Only Live Once (1937), and swore the same thing again after The Return of Frank James. Lang went on to make two more Westerns, Western Union (1941) and the superb Rancho Notorious (1952).

FilmFanatic.org
 
Epinions [Stephen O. Murray]
 
Ozus' World Movie Reviews (Dennis Schwartz) review
 
Channel 4 Capsule Review  Daniel Etherington
 
NY Times Original Review (scroll down to second review; spoilers alert)  Bosley Crowther
 
DVDBeaver.com [Gary W. Tooze]
 
WESTERN UNION

USA  (95 mi)  1941

 

Chicago Reader (Dave Kehr) capsule review

 
Randolph Scott and Robert Young lay the first coast-to-coast telegraph wire in Fritz Lang's 1941 western. The genre really doesn't suit Lang, although he had a profound respect for it: all of those wide-open spaces seem inimical to Lang's characteristic moods of intensity and entrapment. Still, he gives it his best, and there is one remarkable 180-degree shot announcing the arrival of the Indians.

 

Time Out review  Tom Milne

 

Perhaps the most memorable moment in this fine and feisty Western comes with the superb 180-degree pan which starts at a cut telegraph line, moves slowly over to a coil of wire with an arrow through it, and then suddenly discovers a band of hostile Indians, fearsome and beautiful in startlingly brilliant warpaint and feathered headdresses. Lang was the first director really to exploit the possibilities of colour in the Western, and his marvellous sense of composition lifts an otherwise conventional story - the laying of the first trans-continental telegraph wire in 1861, with the inevitable conflict between brothers backing opposing interests - clear out of the rut.

 

User comments  from imdb Author: Neil Doyle from U.S.A.

Blazing early technicolor is an awesome ingredient of this fast-moving Fritz Lang western featuring Robert Young and Randolph Scott in one of their best cowboy epics. Basically the story of their rivalry for the affections of a girl (Virginia Gilmore), as well as a story of how the telegraph brought communication to the wilderness. Some inept comedy is the only spoiler in an otherwise straightforward telling of an interesting tale. Randolph Scott is excellent as the man with a past hired to protect Western Union from Indian attacks. Robert Young is perfect as the dapper surveyor from back East. This must have been great "Saturday afternoon at the Bijou" sort of fare for kids and the elders who simply wanted to enjoy a good old shoot 'em up western with cowboys and Indians. It's still enjoyable on that level--and you'll see some of the best early technicolor ever captured on film. Deserves more recognition as one of the best of its kind.

The Boston Phoenix review  Gerald Peary

 
Who would have thought it possible? Fritz Lang Lite. In other Westerns that he made in the US — say, Rancho Notorious, or The Return of Frank James — the cynical-to-the-core German filmmaker (Metropolis, M) imbued his stories with paranoid, fatalist, noir touches. Western Union, a big-budget Fox Western based loosely on a Zane Grey novel, is gung-ho Manifest Destiny American myth, cheering on the white guys as they foil the Indians and build the Western Union through the Nebraska Territory. Yep, the Indians here say "How!" in greeting, and the palefaces, perceiving an Indian attack, mutter, "Looks like we got company!" For a time, the Sioux cause trouble, especially after they’ve been duped by renegade whites into drinking firewater. But in the end, convinced of the noble intentions of the Great White Father in Washington, they let the Western Union build away.
 
For students of the Western, there’s the germ of John Ford’s 1962 masterpiece The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance (which will screen at the Harvard Film Archive on March 28) in the way Eastern tenderfoot Richard (Robert Young) and grizzled, girl-shy cowpoke Vance (Randolph Scott) vie for the same girl (Virginia Gilmore). And there’s a fine Liberty Valance–like gunfight at the end involving a salty villain (Barton MacLane). Although all the adventures were concocted, Lang did claim an affection for this film. His take on the actual events? "In reality, nothing happened during the whole building of the line except they ran out of wood for the telephone poles."

 

User comments  from imdb Author: theowinthrop from United States

I doubt if the real story of the development of Western Union would ever have gained a real audience. Instead of talking about the building of the telegraph system out west, it was the story of board rooms, dominated by one of the most interesting (and disliked) of the great "Robber Barons": Jay Gould. Gould picked up the struggling company and turned it into a communication giant - and part of his attempt at a national railway system to rival Vanderbilt's. But this, while interesting, is not as exciting as the story of the laying of the telegraph lines themselves. At least, that is how audiences would see it. Jay Gould died in 1892. Had he lived into the modern era, and invested in Hollywood, he probably would have agreed to that assessment too.

The film deals with how the laying of the telegraph system is endangered by Indians, spurred on by one Jack Slade (Barton MacLane). Slade, a desperado, is not happy with the development of a communication system that will certainly put a crimp in his abilities to evade the police in the territories. He is confronted by the man in charge of the laying of the telegraph wires, Edward Creighton (Dean Jagger), Creighton's associate Richard Blake (Robert Young), and a quasi-lawman Vance Shaw (Randolph Scott), who is Slade's brother. Blake, an Easterner with little understanding of the West, is romancing Creighton's sister Sue (Virginia Gilmore), but finds it hard to get used to his new surroundings. But he does become a close friend of Shaw, especially in trying to confront Slade.

Slade was a real Western criminal, by the way, and the subject of a section of Mark Twain's ROUGHING IT. He was hanged in the 1870s. But he did not have any involvement in stirring up Indians against railroads or telegraph companies. However, MacLane makes him a memorably evil, and totally vicious type. His killing of one of the major characters is done suddenly and from behind - and he views the corpse as though he has just got rid of an annoyance. But Lang is responsible for that, as well as other touches. Look at the sequence with Chill Wills, where he is on a telegraph pole repairing it. He spits tobacco juice several times while talking to Young, who gets a little splattered. Then there is an Indian attack which we watch from the ground level. At the conclusion, Young suddenly gets splattered again, but it's not brown but red that covers him. He looks up at the pole's top, and there is Wills with an Indian arrow through him.

It is an exciting film to watch, and well worth catching.

Turner Classic Movies review  Bret Wood
 
Better known for his German epics of the silent era (Metropolis [1927] and Die Nibelungen [1924]) or his American films noir (Scarlet Street [1945] and The Big Heat [1953]), Fritz Lang was actually quite a fan of the traditional western. In fact he spent vacations traveling throughout the West, shooting dozens of home movies recording the landscape and people of the Old West as it faded into history. "All my life I've loved the American West," he once said.

Lang's interest in cowboy culture was not strictly a hobby. He made several westerns while working in Hollywood, including the Technicolor epic Western Union (1941).

When Vance Shaw (Randolph Scott), a fugitive from justice, encounters a wounded man in the wilderness, he tends the man's wounds and helps him to a town where he can receive medical attention. The wounded man is Edward Creighton (Dean Jagger), an engineer in charge of running a telegraph wire from Omaha to Salt Lake City. While hiring men for the difficult crusade, Creighton overlooks Shaw's criminal background and offers him a job as a scout to repay the debt. Shaw quickly becomes interested in Creighton's sister Sue (Virginia Gilmore), as does the tenderfoot Richard Blake (Robert Young), who joins the mission from back east, sporting fringed, tailored western attire. Blake soon earns the respect of his peers as they travel into the wilderness. But friendships grow strained when the group's supply of cattle is stolen. Creighton suspects Shaw knows something of the crime, which he does. Shaw recognizes the work of his own brother Jack Slade (Barton MacLane), whose gang rustles cattle dressed up as Native American warriors. Unwilling to betray his brother, Shaw searches for a way to avenge the crimes without jeopardizing Western Union's westward campaign.

Western Union was the final novel by Western writer Zane Grey. The book was published three days prior to the author's death of a heart attack on October 23, 1939. Grey had discussed with actor Gary Cooper the idea of an independent production of Western Union (to be released by either United Artists or RKO), but it failed to materialize. At one point Paramount Pictures was also interested in purchasing screen rights, but Fox ultimately won the property with a $25,000 offer.

In many ways Western Union is a relatively authentic depiction of life and work in the Old West, largely due to location shooting near Kanab, Utah and at Arizona's House Rock Canyon. The outstanding Technicolor photography, by Edward Cronjager and Allen M. Davey, made the most of the exotic settings, favoring muted colors and dusky earthtones, occasionally offset by bursts of vivid color, such as the warpaint or ceremonial feathers of the Native American characters. American Cinematographer called it "one of the most spectacularly beautiful examples of color cinematography we've seen in many months."

Western Union tried to avoid the artifice of the stereotypical western, and the scene in which Blake arrives dressed more like a stage dandy than a horseman seems to be a jab at the colorful (but not very genuine) cowboys who populated matinee screens of the era.

Lang discussed the film's authenticity with Peter Bogdanovich in 1965. "I got a letter from a club of Old Timers in Flagstaff which said, 'Dear Mr. Lang, We have seen Western Union and this picture describes the West much better than the best pictures that have been made about the West...' For a European director to get such a thing from Old Timers who knew about the West -- I was, naturally, very flattered; but I suppose what these gentlemen wrote was not quite correct. Because I don't think the picture really depicted the West as it was; maybe it lived up to certain dreams, illusions -- what the Old Timers wanted to remember of the old West."

One of Lang's departures from reality was in the casting of the Native Americans. Because the local Paiute tribesmen didn't fit the stereotype of the chiseled desert warrior, Lang (according to The New York Times), "ordered a shipment of Hollywood Indians from Central Casting -- tall, high cheek-boned fellows who look like aborigines are supposed to look." This order was soon canceled, after Lang discussed the matter with John Collier, Commissioner of Indian Affairs. Collier allowed Lang to instead recruit 200 Navajos from a reservation, under the promise that they would be treated with dignity.

Lang was astute enough to realize that, no matter how well constructed and photographed, his West was just a higher grade of fantasy than the typical Hollywood oater. He had tried to inject some period detail into Western Union, but quickly encountered resistance at 20th Century-Fox. "I had found...that there were cowboys in those days who wore bowler hats. But this was already too much for the studio. Not that they didn't believe it, but they always preferred to give an audience the same old thing -- with some new trimming." When first offered the project, Lang thoroughly rewrote the script, presumably to give it more of a factual feel, but his draft was discarded by the studio. Still believing in the project, even if his ideas were largely ignored, he agreed to continue as planned and direct the film. Besides, maybe the true story of Western Union's westward expansion wouldn't have made such a great movie anyway.

"In reality, nothing happened during the entire building of the line except that they ran out of wood for the telegraph poles," Lang explained, "and the only other thing that disturbed the laying of the line was the ticks on the buffaloes; the buffaloes got itchy and rubbed themselves against the poles, and the poles tumbled. And that was all that happened."

Making a film about laying the telegraph line was apparently twice as complicated as the original task. A 1941 newspaper article reported that "In 1861 it cost $212,000 to extend the telegraph...and the crew took four months and eleven days, covering 1,100 miles. To reproduce their feat in 1940, a company of 300 traveled 2,000 miles in ten months, at a cost of more than $1,000,000."

Lang and company seem to have also doubled the amount of planning that went into the mission. Assistant editor Gene Fowler, Jr. recalled, "On Western Union I learned of the immense preparation that goes into a Lang picture...Models of sets were built and camera angles and focal lengths of lenses were selected. He believed that each shot must relate to the whole. The design of the shot (even the lighting) must relate to the dramatic concept. Details, no matter how good or how interesting, are only good if they fit into the overall pattern."
 
DVD Times  Anthony Nield

 

Western Union  Michael E. Grost from Classic Film and Television

 

Epinions [Stephen O. Murray]

 

FilmFanatic.org

 

Combustible Celluloid (Jeffrey M. Anderson) review

 

Ozus' World Movie Reviews (Dennis Schwartz) review

 

Classic Film Guide Capsule Review

 

The New York Times (Bosley Crowther) review

 

DVDBeaver.com [Henrik Sylow]

 

MAN HUNT

USA  (105 mi)  1941

 

Film Notes From the CMA  Dennis Toth

Upon his arrival in Hollywood, Lang quickly adapted himself to the American film industry. However, his films retained a unique sense of pessimism and despair. By now, Lang fully understood that the choices a person made would ultimately limit one's future possibilities. In Man Hunt, for example, the hero's entire future is determined at the beginning of the film by an ambiguous act. The hunter portrayed by Walter Pidgeon in Man Hunt is not necessarily interested in assassinating Hitler. He first toys with the idea and aims an unloaded rifle. His decision to place a bullet in the chamber is a spontaneous gesture. That decision, however, determines everything that follows as Pidgeon realizes, in the course of the film, that he must commit the act which he had only contemplated.

Time Out review  Geoff Andrew

 

While far from Lang's finest, definitely a superior thriller, set on the eve of World War II. Sadly but inevitably jettisoning much of Geoffrey Household's superb novel (Rogue Male), it follows Pidgeon's big game hunter from his arrest by the Gestapo (after taking a 'practice' shot at Hitler), through his escape back to England, to his final, brutal conflict in the Dorset Hills where he has been pursued by Sanders' marvellously sinister Quive-Smith. The evocation of England is pure Hollywood nonsense, Bennett's prostitute is too coy and saddled with an atrocious Cockney accent, and the sequence with McDowall's cabin boy the stuff of Boy's Own. But the basic theme of hunter-and-hunted survives intact, beautifully expressed in taut scenes like Carradine's stalking of Pidgeon through the London Underground. Forget the shortcomings and the propagandistic finale, and you have a gripping noir thriller, bleak, complex and nightmarish.

 

User comments  from imdb (Page 2) Author: theowinthrop from United States

History cannot be changed, but one wishes it can. The crew sites the iceberg before the TITANIC reaches it. The Ripper falls on his knife accidentally impaling himself fatally before he meets his first victim. Booth gets into a quarrel about his theatrical reputation vs. his father and brother Edwin, and is unable to get into Fords Theatre that night. But none of these happened. The Titanic sank. Mary Ann Nichols met the Ripper, and died. Booth got behind Lincoln and fired.

Adolf Hitler is probably the most hated man in modern history. Even the Ripper or Booth have more fans than Adolf (except for the extreme right). But he had a remarkable ability to escape assassination. Most of us recall that Count Stauffenberg tried to blow him up at a conference in 1944, supported by military leaders in his plot. But that was the last and most deadly attack on Hitler (two or three others were killed), and he survived it...unfortunately for the conspirators, his political victim, and the majority of mankind. Other plots never got that far. Nobody (that we know of) ever had a loaded rifle aimed at Hitler's head in the Bavarian alps. In fact, even Walter Pigeon in the excellent thriller MANHUNT had an unloaded gun aimed at Der Fuhrer (although a moment later he starts loading it, after he has clicked the trigger and realized that Hitler would have been dead).

One wishes it happened that way. But it did not. Sometimes fiction makes one really regret reality.

The Village Voice [Elliott Stein]

 

When Fritz Lang cleared out of Nazi Germany, he shot a film in France, then moved to Hollywood in 1934. The director of Metropolis turned out 22 films in this country—his American pictures make up more than half his work; 15 are on view at BAM's generous retro.
 
Lang never went into decline. Although his Hollywood films were not on the scale of his monumental German superproductions, there's no break between his European and American work. His U.S. films are as clearly marked by rigorous logic, patterns of paranoia, and obsession with the structure of the trap. The creator of the sinister Dr. Mabuse proved himself fully capable of exploiting the genres then in fashion in America: Freudian thrillers and wartime espionage flicks, but also westerns and period melodramas. And with The Big Heat (1953), he would direct the most blistering and epochal film noir of the 1950s.
 
His first three American films—Fury (1936), You Only Live Once (1937), and You and Me (1938)—form a rough trilogy about victims of society's errors; all of them co-star Sylvia Sidney, the archetypal working-class heroine of the Depression era. In Fury, an indictment of mob hysteria, Spencer Tracy is an innocent man accused of a crime, transformed and dehumanized by revenge into a malevolent force. You Only Live Once, one of Lang's most bitter and moving works, corners Sidney with three-time loser Henry Fonda—the mother of all couples-on-the-run movies, it remains the finest of the genre. In the fascinating, oddball experiment You and Me, Sidney and George Raft team up as a pair of married ex-cons for a romantic comedy gangster musical. Unlike any other film by Lang, or anyone else for that matter, it features songs by Kurt Weill, including a brilliant opening number—a cautionary mini-cantata about the perils of consumerism.
 
Lang played an active role in anti-Nazi groups, and after two handsome Technicolor westerns, The Return of Frank James (1940) and Western Union (1941), he completed three war-inspired productions: Man Hunt (1941), Hangmen Also Die! (1943), a taut drama (co-scripted by Bertolt Brecht) about the 1942 assassination of the German "governor" of occupied Prague, and Ministry of Fear (1944), a Kafkaesque espionage yarn based on a Graham Greene novel.
 
The series highlight is a new print of Man Hunt, an underrated masterpiece not seen theatrically in far too long. In this visually stunning tall-tale thriller, Walter Pidgeon is an English big-game hunter arrested by the gestapo (after he takes a "practice shot" at Hitler); he escapes back to England, where he is trailed by a really nasty bunch of Nazis. Joan Bennett appears as Pidgeon's sole ally, a waifish cockney streetwalker. The Hays office threw a conniption. The studio promptly satisfied the censors' moral qualms by putting a sewing machine into Bennett's room—the lady's not a tramp, she's a seamstress!
 
Man Hunt  Michael E. Grost from Classic Film and Television

 

Movie Magazine International [Michael Marano]

 

TV Guide Entertainment Network, Movie Guide review [4.5/5]

 

Channel 4 Film capsule review

 

The New York Times (Bosley Crowther) review

 

DVDS; Fritz Lang, Trailing Nazis   Dave Kehr from The New York Times, May 15, 2009

 

CONFIRM OR DENY

USA  (74 mi)  1941  director:  Archie Mayo, who replaced Lang on this project

 

Time Out review  Geoff Andrew

 

Fast-moving if fairly ordinary tribute to the heroism of American war correspondents covering World War II. Much of the film gets bogged down in the growing romance between agency man Ameche and Ministry of Information switchboard girl Bennett, but it's entertaining enough when the bombs drop; and collector-cultists may derive pleasure from a script by former journalist and future genius Sam Fuller.

 

User comments  from imdb Author: telegonus from brighton, ma

Made in the months before the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, Confirm Or Deny is a pleasant comedy-drama set during the London blitz, featuring engaging performances by its lead players, Don Ameche and Joan Bennett. The production values are excellent, and for a modest film it is visually quite striking, managing at times to evoke the mood of the real life photographs and newsreels of London on a Hollywood backlot. Director Archie Mayo was in decline when he made this film, but rallied for the occasion, making it seem much better than its script. A period piece, for sure, but a fascinating one, and at times quite moving. Unlike most American movies of the period, this one gives the real world its due, and its occasional moments of sadness and even tragedy are touching, and still resonate through the years.

The New York Times review  T.M.P.

It is possible that some of the adventures Don Ameche experiences in "Confirm or Deny" as an American correspondent in London during the height of the blitzes and the invasion threat are founded on fact, but it is very unlikely that any reporter would conduct himself as Mr. Ameche does in the Roxy's new film. Here is another of those somewhat incredible yet moderately exciting melodramas which employs a strikingly realistic background of exploding bombs and crumbling buildings for no other purpose save to provide topical dressing for a routine romantic excursion. The principal difference this time is that Mr. Ameche is the boy and Joan Bennett the girl.

As formula has it, they meet in a blackout, pass the night in a crowded subway shelter and spend the rest of the film wondering why they hadn't found each other before. Being so typically a Hollywoodish news hawk as to appear ridiculous against the realism of his surroundings, it is small wonder that Mr. Ameche should obtain—via carrier pigeon and other Rover Boyish means—the greatest scoop of all time, Hitler's invasion plans. And with that he is indeed faced with a problem, for if he sends out the news he would not only invite punishment from the British but risk losing Miss Bennett's love.

Circumstance has provided "Confirm or Deny" with a dramatic intensity which obviously is not inherent in the scenario. Now that war has hit home so forcefully scenes of devastation, the whine of bombs, the sputtering of incendiaries and the note of personal tragedy as a secretary finds her brother's name on the casualty list have assumed a new significance. It is to be regretted that such tragic happenings are so often viewed by Hollywood simply as plot material.

Credit Mr. Ameche with a breezy performance and Miss Bennett with being a splendid blackout find. Little Roddy McDowall gives a sincere and touching portrait of youth in war, and Arthur Shields contributes a telling characterization of a blind telegraph operator. Archie Mayo has directed the film swiftly, which helps a lot.

HANGMEN ALSO DIE!

USA  (134 mi)  1943

 

Time Out review  Geoff Andrew

 

Marvellous anti-Nazi propaganda film structured as noir thriller, with Donlevy as the man who assassinates Heydrich in Prague in 1942, hiding out with the Resistance when the Gestapo implement a retributory reign of terror in the city. Brecht, who originally worked on the script with Lang, claimed that his ideas were betrayed by the final product; but Lang's insistence that for most of the film he did employ the writer's work seems borne out by many fine sequences, with the taut, typically Langian action often interrupted by speeches that comment both didactically and intelligently on the proceedings. The atmosphere is dark and oppressive, the Nazis are portrayed as ideological gangsters, and the themes of loyalty and betrayal, passive and active resistance, beautifully worked out. Superb performances throughout, while James Wong Howe's photography perfectly captures the spirit of the occupied city, where hiding places are few and far from safe.

 

Lang in the U.S.A.   Juliet Clark from Pacific Film Archives

 

Lang collaborated with Bertolt Brecht on this fictionalized account of the 1942 assassination of Reinhard Heydrich, the Nazi Reichsprotektor of occupied Czechoslovakia whose brutal rule earned him the nickname "Hitler's Hangman." Brian Donlevy as the fugitive assassin is one of several characters who struggle for survival after Heydrich's death, as the Gestapo mounts an increasingly vicious campaign of terror. Brecht's contribution is apparent in the film's emphasis on the solidarity of the Czech people and in the vehemently antifascist dialogue--although Communist catchwords like "masses" and "comrades" were expunged from the script: after all, this was Hollywood. Yet composer Hanns Eisler managed to smuggle the tune of the 1929 "Comintern Song" into his score, which was nominated for an Oscar by an unsuspecting Academy. Meanwhile, Lang's preoccupations with the psychology of guilt and justice and his aggressive visual style complicate the film's political agenda. The ominous shadows of James Wong Howe's cinematography create a creeping paranoia. And the denouement, in which a betrayer is in turn betrayed, introduces a queasy moral ambiguity to the otherwise ennobling story of loyalty and resistance.

 

The Village Voice [Michael Atkinson]

 

Displaced Prussians Fritz Lang and Bertolt Brecht manufactured this shrill 1943 five-course meal of Hollywood propaganda as nearly a parody of the new form—and yet the Langian physicality is tense and sublime, and the patriotic keening is offset by an explosion of crisscrossing motivations and moral compromise. The story fictionalizes the 1942 assassination in Prague of Nazi bigwig Reinhard Heydrich, which happens before the film begins; Brian Donlevy's fugitive gunman avoids capture and eventually accepts shelter from a rebel Czech family, led by father Walter Brennan. From there, Donlevy becomes just one figure in an expanding, complex cast, each with their own m.o. and point of view: Brennan's reprisal prisoner, Anna Lee's conflicted daughter, Dennis O'Keefe's jealous fiancé, Alexander Granach's beery gestapo, Gene Lockhart's sweaty collaborator, etc. The two-and-a-quarter-hour film has the iconic thrust of a silent; the pro-sacrifice resistance cant has an oddly jihadist tenor today. No supps, but it's being boxed with four other beautiful noirs, including Behind Locked Doors (1948), Budd Boetticher's jittery forecast of Shock Corridor, and Anthony Mann's lean and mean Railroaded (1947).

 

The Onion A.V. Club [Nathan Rabin]

 

Made during the height of the Nazi occupation of the Czech Republic, Hangmen Also Die represents the only collaboration between a pair of brilliant German exiles: filmmaker Fritz Lang, who produced, directed, and co-wrote the story and screenplay adaptation, and acclaimed leftist playwright Bertolt Brecht, who shared story and adaptation credits with Lang. Brian Donlevy stars as a respected doctor and member of the Czech underground who assassinates the brutal puppet ruler of the Czech Republic. Fleeing the scene of the crime, he stays with a sympathetic family (including patriarch Walter Brennan and daughter Anna Lee), which tries to hide him from the manhunt that has consumed the city. While Hangmen Also Die has been released as part of Kino's Film Noir series, it's not really a film noir at all: It's suffused with a sense of political idealism that would seem to be antithetical to the sort of gloomy fatalism that pervades most noirs. It is, instead, a political thriller, albeit a political thriller that doubles as a sort of valentine to the Czech resistance movement. In a number of ways, the film resembles Lang's earlier classic M: It not only focuses on a city-wide manhunt, but it illustrates the way tragedy can unite a community behind a common goal. And while Hangmen Also Die can never again achieve the immediacy it no doubt held for audiences in 1943, it's still a fascinating, beautifully crafted film.
 
Nitrate Online (Eddie Cockrell) capsule review
 
Made by Fritz Lang (Metropolis) just prior to his landmark Hollywood picture Ministry of Fear, Hangmen Also Die! was co-scripted by Bertolt Brecht and left-wing American scribe John Wexley (who ended up with sole screen credit, leading to a rift between Lang and Brecht). A dramatized account of the 1942 assassination of Nazi Reichsprotektor Reinhard Heydrich in Prague and the subsequent search for his killers (and persecution of the citizenry), the picture asks an audience to believe Brian Donlevy and Walter Brennan as Czechs but overcomes the absurd casting via a persuasive blend of Brechtian themes and Langian imagery. Thus, the movie climaxes with the courageous underground movement fooling the evil occupiers into accepting a sympathizer to their cause as a suspect, and the screeching Nazis found in most propagandistic Hollywood fare of the period are tempered by sly supporting performances such as Alexander Granach’s sordid, finger-snapping German detective. The DVD is crisp and atmospheric, highlighting James Wong Howe’s expressionistic lighting scheme (and, unfortunately, the stylized but less than convincing backlot sets). Along with Anthony Mann’s Railroaded (1947) and Ida Lupino’s The Hitch-Hiker (1953) a part of Kino Video’s new “Noir: The Dark Side of Hollywood” series, Hangmen Also Die! is a fascinating chapter in the history of German expatriates in Tinseltown and the uneasy but never less than riveting intersection between social substance and commercial style.

 

User comments  from imdb Author: Neil Doyle from U.S.A.

Resistance by Czech citizens during World War II against their Nazi occupiers forms the basis for HANGMEN ALSO DIE!, based loosely on the real-life assassination of Reinhard Heydrich, Nazi governor of Prague. Unfortunately, despite gripping moments, the story is given standard Hollywood World War II treatment by director Fritz Lang.

And, in fact, it might have all seemed less melodramatic and sometimes incredible if the director had allowed his cast to avoid the pitfalls of too much overacting. This charge cannot be leveled against BRIAN DONLEVY who seems to be sleepwalking through his role as the actual assassin (Dr. Svoboda), but ANNA LEE, GENE LOCKHART, JONATHAN HALE and others are guilty of wide-eyed, over-the-top histrionics, while WALTER BRENNAN as a Czech professor is simply miscast. DENNIS O'KEEFE is capable enough as Lee's fiancé.

Lockhart, especially, in a pivotal role as the Nazi informant who is the subject of an intricate frameup toward the climax of the story, is given to excessive bits of ham that seem magnified at times.

But the gripping story is mostly fascinating to watch as it unfolds a tale of Nazi terror in an attempt to find Heydrich's assassin. Despite the overly melodramatic treatment, it holds interest throughout a lengthy running time.

Summing up: Probably had stronger appeal for '43 audiences, which explains the propaganda tone of the Lang/Brecht screenplay which is a fictionalized version of a real WWII event.

User comments  from imdb Author: MARIO GAUCI (marrod@onvol.net) from Naxxar, Malta

One of a handful of propaganda films made by Hollywood during WWII to show how various occupied European countries dealt with the situation; similar films included THE MOON IS DOWN (1941), EDGE OF DARKNESS (1943), THE NORTH STAR (1943) and THIS LAND IS MINE (1943). This one, however, differs from these in that it tackles a real-life event i.e. the assassination of Heydrich - dubbed "The Hangman" (his assassination was the subject of two more films, the contemporaneous HITLER'S MADMAN [1943] and OPERATION DAYBREAK [1975]) - and is further elevated by the contribution of two important figures of pre-war German art, director Lang and writer Bertolt Brecht.

It also features a great cast (mostly delivering excellent performances, but is saddled with a miscast and rather stiff Brian Donlevy in the lead): Walter Brennan and Gene Lockhart are featured in overly familiar roles but their contribution is, as ever, reliable and entirely welcome; best of all, perhaps, are Anna Lee and Alexander Granach; beloved character actor Dwight Frye (most familiar to horror-film buffs) appears here in one of his last roles but, as was generally the case, is regrettably given only a couple of lines!

Long and heavy-going, with the propagandist element coming off as fairly corny now, but the film is held firmly together by Lang's fine direction and James Wong Howe's superb noir-ish lighting (the Region 1 DVD by Kino was eventually re-issued as part of a 5-Disc Noir set). It also involves a couple of scuffles which are quite tense and energetic (Granach's death scene is especially striking), while the last third resorts to the organized frame-up by the Czechs of a traitor in their midst (collaborationist Lockhart) - which, in itself, is no less frightening an act than the heinous persecution of the Nazi regime!

I'm confused, however, about the film's running-time: the print I watched ran for 129 minutes in PAL mode (which would bring it to about 134 minutes when converted to NTSC); even so, it contains the ending missing from the DVDs released in Regions 1 and 2 which, being the same version i.e. cut and having the same length (134 minutes), would indicate that the Kino edition is a PAL conversion - which means a full running-time of 139 minutes (a minute short of the 'official' length, as per Lotte Eisner's book on Lang)! To make matters worse, both the Leslie Halliwell and Leonard Maltin film guides I own cite HANGMEN ALSO DIE! as being 131 minutes long!!

Turner Classic Movies review  Felicia Fester

Hangmen Also Die!  Michael E. Grost from Classic Film and Television

 

DVD Savant (Glenn Erickson) dvd review

 

DVD Verdict  Barrie Maxwell

 

Epinions [Stephen O. Murray]

 

George Chabot's Review

 

That Movie Site [Heather Picker]

 

Combustible Celluloid [Jeffrey M. Anderson]

 

Classic Film Guide review

 

DVD Talk [Jamie S. Rich]  reviewing Film Noir – The Dark Side of Hollywood

 

The New York Times review  T.S.

 

DVDBeaver.com [Gregory Meshman]

 
MINISTRY OF FEAR