Showing posts with label Fritz Lang. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Fritz Lang. Show all posts

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

1953: The Big Heat (Fritz Lang)

1953: The Big Heat (Fritz Lang)

THE noir that first hooked me on the genre.  

I first saw this one as part of a Fritz Lang retrospective, curated by Lang authority Bernard Eisenschitz at the amazing Lux cinema in Caen, France.  I believe Eisenschitz screened every single Lang film over the course of a month.  But since it was 1994, and I was still early in my cinephile awareness, I didn't realize the magnitude of the opportunity.  I think this was the only Lang film I went and saw.


I mentioned in my Out of the Past post that I was a fan of noir for several reasons.  One is I like the complex and mysterious stories of many of the genre's key films.  But even more important, I like the rawness and the certain brutal honesty that these films seem to have. When I first saw The Big Heat, I remember being absolutely jolted by its car explosion and "incident" with Gloria Grahame.  At the time, it was the most unfiltered violence I'd ever seen on screen.  Or, if not, it certainly felt that way.

I think many people in their angst years -- teens, maybe early twenties, maybe forever -- gravitate towards those things that would never appeal to their parents (I've loved The Beastie Boys, for instance, most of my life).  The Big Heat (and later, noir in general) was the first cinematic equivalent of this for me.  Sure, I liked the characters, the filmmaking, the stories.  But what I particularly responded to was its lack of sentimentality.  It was angry, pissed off, and what was important was expressing these feelings.  These feelings made sense to me.   And seeing them played out on screen, without any edge taken off, felt more real than most of what I'd seen up to that point. 

I still love this film.  It's cold, mean, and unapologetic.  But just spend five minutes looking into Lang's life, and you'll understand why.  

Other contenders for 1953: As with other years, I have gaps in 1953.  These include:  Federico Fellini's I vitelloni, Phil Karlson's 99 River Street, Billy Wilder's Stalag 17, John Ford's The Sun Shines Bright and Mogambo, Ida Lupino's The Hitch-Hiker, Alfred Hitchcock's I Confess, George Stevens' Shane (yes, I admit it!), and Charles Walters' Dangerous When Wet.  I really need to re-watch both Kenji Mizoguchi's Ugetsu and Yasujiro Ozu's Tokyo Story.  At this point, I'm unsure of where they would place on a favorites list as it's been too long since I've seen either.  The films that I really like this year are Anthony Mann's The Naked Spur, Samuel Fuller's Pickup on South Street, William Wyler's Roman Holiday, Howard Hawks' Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, and Fred Zinnemann's From Here to Eternity. Meanwhile, my closest runner-up, with its harrowing action and great Yves Montand performance, is Henri-Georges Clouzot's The Wages of Fear.

11/28/10 I watched Billy Wilder's Stalag 17.  Wilder gives Holden a great hero role, and some of the subtext on resourcefulness and free enterprise is interesting.  But all in all, not near as enjoyable and as full of memorable characters as other similar movies like The Great Escape and The Guns of Navarone.  

11/30/10 I watched Alfred Hitchcock's I Confess.  A Hitch film, full of complex exposition and various plot twists.  Some logic could be contested, but it gets into some fairly interesting psychological areas. All in all, not fully satisfying, but full of examples of Hitch's wonderful eye and cinematic flair.  

12/3/10 I watched Charles Walters' Dangerous When Wet.  An odd film, part Preston Sturges, part Hollywood '50s Technicolor marvel. Zany, screwball-ish, but with an unexpected emotionality towards the end.   

12/4/10 I watched Federico Fellini's I vitelloni.  By this point, Fellini has clearly moved away from his neo-realist beginnings.  It's a film with some excellent scenes, particularly the one with Fausto at the movie theater.  But all in all, it just didn't carry me emotionally in the way that I would have hoped.

12/5/10 I watched John Ford's Mogambo.  A flawed film, certainly.  But a fever dream of a flick, with the painfully beautiful Grace Kelly, and some of the most suspenseful scenes in the history of cinema involving animals and humans.  Nice to see Ford taking a break from the Irish thing and delivering this complex tale.  

3/29/11 I watched Phil Karlson's 99 River Street.  Some striking photography and location work.  I also thought John Payne's quite good.  Evelyn Keyes, however, doesn't totally work for me, and the plot only seems somewhat satisfying.  

10/24/11 I watched Ida Lupino's The Hitch-Hiker.  A gritty, ultra low-budget noir with some nice, expressionistic touches.  But the limited budget makes its storytelling ultimately a little underwhelming.  

8/11/13 I watched John Huston's Beat the Devil.  Kael was a huge fan, and it does conform to her fondness for a certain looseness and bubbly tone.  It is harmless enough, but I quickly found its freewheeling nature devoid of too much of any real entertainment or substantive value.  

11/23/13 I watched Andre De Toth's House of Wax.  An obviously very unique storyline and there are some wonderful moments including the tension-filled climax at the museum.  But not completely my thing and even though De Toth proves himself very adept at the material I was more in admiration than in thrall.

3/12/16 I rewatched Max Ophuls' The Earrings of Madame de....  A film that above all is classy which is a word that for me describes all that might be deficient about current times.  What is class?  It has to do with restraint (even the title is restrained depriving us of the Madame's full name).  It has to do with refined, developed taste.  In Ophuls' case, the way he puts the sets together, the way the camera slinks around for the entire film, and the way he dutches the camera at certain moments selectively and with purpose.  Class is almost every one of De Sica's movements and gestures, and it's the sophistication of approach and intellect in every frame of this Ophuls masterwork.      

5/1/16 I watched Ida Lupino's The Bigamist.  Whereas in some of her other work, I was impressed by Lupino's Wellesesque expressive camerawork, here what most jumped out were the performances, O'Brien's and most of all Lupino's herself.  A daring film for its time, patiently observed and stood up by its humanism.  

1/7/17 I watched Vincente Minnelli's The Band Wagon.  It was the first time I had seen it since I first saw it at Cafe des Images in Herouville, France in 1994 or 1995.  Minnelli has a huge reputation (I love Some Came Running, this film is considered one of the very best musicals (I love a number of them) and one of the very best Astaire films (I am a huge fan of Top Hat and Swing Time).  I did not fall for it back in '94 or '95 and again I failed to connect to it in the same way I relate to my favorite films of the genre.  None of the numbers give me that rush and boost of adrenaline I get from my favorite musical moments and I just do not feel Astaire's plight in the same way I do in some of his earlier work.  

4/30/17 I watched Josef von Sternberg's Anatahan.  It has only been 20+ years since I first heard of the film and have been wanting to see it ever since.  It belongs in that special category of master director's final films and it has that same odd tone of finality of Dreyer's Gertrud and perhaps even Bresson's L'argent.  It is a mood film dripping with atmosphere and style and succeeds in throwing the viewer into its exotic land and bringing the strangeness terrifically alive.  Sternberg excelled at this type of cinema that also includes Macao and Morocco.  

7/11/18 I watched Jean Rouch's Mammy Water.  Reminiscent of Visconti's La terra trema, this early Rouch film is impressive in how consistent it is already with Rouch's later style and work.  But it does not reach the heights of what I have seen from some of his greatest work.

1/1/20 I watched Jean Gremillon's The Love of a Woman.  I sought it out since it was one of the films on Les Inrockuptibles' list of 100 Most Beautiful French Films.  It has a certain weight to it, mostly due to its silences and remote island setting.  But it also felt ominous throughout in ways that, by the end, because of a lack of any major event (other than of course the main relationship in the film), felt more frustrating and unnecessary than effective.  It is of interest as an early French film about the evolving place of the woman in society.  

7/2/20 I watched Chuck Jones' Duck Amuck.  It's cute and creative but I never emotionally got into it at all.

11/25/22 I watched Michelangelo Antonioni's The Lady Without Camelias.  An interesting early Antonioni that has glimpses of the work he'd come to be known for in the sixties.  Very disillusioned in its outlook, more so than any of the work I've seen of his peers from this period.  

2/5/23 I watched John Ford's The Sun Shines Bright.  I have been watching more John Ford of late than I ever have and it is clear I am only beginning to scratch the surface of who he was as a filmmaker.  What seems clear to me at this point is that he was deeply interested in America, where we had been and where we might be going.  He wanted to tell our history, examine it, and expose our people for the times they fought for unjust causes.  The more I watch, the more Ford seems like the narrative version of Wiseman, a filmmaker deeply concerned with our institutions and the very foundation on which this country is supposed to rest.

8/5/23 I watched George Cukor's The Actress.  Far from the very top tier of Cukor's work yet there are still wonderful passages where you appreciate Cukor's sense of wonder about his performers and the freedom and space he was willing to give their work.

Sunday, February 21, 2010

1944: Double Indemnity (Billy Wilder)


1944: Double Indemnity (Billy Wilder)
What don't I like about this film?  It's one where everything seems to be  in exactly the right place for me.  

If I were making a film noir and putting together a checklist of some of the elements usually associated with this type of film, here's how I would break down Double Indemnity:

1.  Femme fatale: Barbara Stanwyck, perhaps my favorite femme fatale in the history of film.  

2. Voice-over narration:  Like a few of my other favorite voice-overs (Shoot the Piano Player being at the very top of the list), Fred MacMurray's helps tell the story, but even more important, it allows us at times to get into the head of our protagonist.  

3.  Non-linear script:  The movie begins with the end and then tells the entire film in flashback.  Along with Carlito's Way (I've read that Wilder's film was a major influence on De Palma), this is my favorite use of the device in the history of film.

4.  Moody score: Miklos Rozsa immediately thrusts us into this dark world and and then periodically reminds us of the inevitable with one of my favorite scores in the history of this type of film.


5.  Fatalistic ending (SPOILER!): The story, so well-written by the way, takes us where we don't want to go but know we can't avoid.  This movie accomplishes the task as well as any I've ever seen in the history of this type of film.

Other contenders for 1944: It's nice to be back on a year where I don't have quite as many gaps.  The major films from this year I still need to see are: Michael Powell's A Canterbury Tale, Raoul Walsh's Uncertain Glory, Marcel Carne's Les Enfants du Paradis, Alfred Hitchcock's Lifeboat, and Laurence Olivier's Henry V.  I love Double Indemnity so much that I can't really say any other film is a close runner-up.  However, there are a few other films from this year that I also really like: the two zany Preston Sturges films Hail the Conquering Hero and The Miracle of Morgan's Creek, Fritz Lang's wonderful noir The Woman in the Window, one of my favorite films ever dealing with marital paranoia George Cukor's Gaslight, and yet another excellent Howard Hawks entry To Have and Have Not.

9/29/10 I watched Laurence Olivier's Henry V.  No doubt very impressive and ambitious storytelling by Olivier.  But some of the artifice and a movie driven by words are always a little difficult for me so I did not connect entirely with this one.  

10/2/10 I watched Marcel Carne's Les Enfants du Paradis.  Incredibly well-made, ambitious, epic storytelling.  A bit impersonal and tidy for my tastes but a white tablecloth restaurant of the highest order.  

10/3/10 I watched Alfred Hitchcock's Lifeboat.  It's tremendous what Hitch is able to accomplish on one location, and the camerawork is subtly and brilliantly employed to emulate a boat adrift at sea.  But a fairly dry affair with only a few moments that really held me.  

10/5/10 I watched Michael Powell's A Canterbury Tale.  A rather bizarre concoction.  Powell's style is lyrical and poetic, neorealist and baroque, deep and whimsical.  Some extraordinary moments, such as when the organ player finally has his moment at church, but somewhat meandering too, in a way that can be off-putting at times.  

6/23/11 I watched Leo McCarey's Going My Way.  Likable enough, but a humanistic trudge that's more cloying than affecting.  

9/15/19 I watched Raoul Walsh's Uncertain Glory.  The ending is fairly interesting but the rest of it just felt like Walsh and Flynn going through the motions.

12/15/21 I watched Jean Gremillon's The ciel est a vous.  More than any film I can recall, it explores the settled and normal every day person's desire to chase fame, even at the risk of losing everything in the process.  Gremillion has a keen eye and feel for French provincial which gives the arc of the story real feeling and depth.  

6/9/24 I watched Edward Dmytryk's Murder, My Sweet.  A very interesting noir that has the twisty, almost dreamlike, plot typical of Chandler's work.  I'm not all that familiar with Dmytryk but this is a noir that deserves to be talked about in any conversation about the early, important noirs.  

Saturday, February 13, 2010

1937: You Only Live Once (Fritz Lang)

1937: You Only Live Once (Fritz Lang)

I know exactly where I saw this one for the first time.  It was the exact same theater where I first saw The Blue Angel.   That one located on Rue Mouffetard.

Why don't we ever hear the term "homme fatale"?  Surely there 's a whole group of films where the term would apply -- where it's the man that's destructive, that brings the woman down, rather than the other way around.  I mean I can think of at least a few of these films: Scarface (either version), White Heat, Bonnie and Clyde, and this early Lang noir, You Only Live Once.  

Way I see it is this, in order for a noir with a femme fatale to reach its full potential, you have to have a somewhat naive and innocent male counterpart.  Same goes for noir with an homme fatale.  If that's true, I can't think of anyone better to play the part than Sylvia Sidney.  She had those eyes for days and a face that always seemed a frame away from breaking into tears.  

It's downright painful, right, watching MacMurray in Double Indemnity and Mitchum in Out of the Past as their respective women bring 'em down.  That's how I feel watching this early Lang, too.  I can almost hear myself now, "Damn it Fonda, stop it already, can't you see what you're doing to her?  Don't you know how she's going to end up?" 

I'm fully along for the ride on this one.  It's one of my favorite noirs.   

Other contenders for 1937: I have gaps here, too.  These include notably:  Sadao Yamanaka's Humanity and Paper Balloons, Leo McCarey's Make Way for Tomorrow and The Awful Truth, Mitchell Leisen's Easy Living, Alfred Hitchcock's Young and Innocent, William Wellman's A Star Is Born (I love Cukor's version.  I need to see this!), and Frank Capra's Lost Horizon.  I only have two real contenders for runner-up at this point.  Garbo's performance in George Cukor's Camille absolutely devastates me.  And, of course, I'm a huge fan of Jean Renoir's La grande illusion.  Finally though, in a very close decision between Lang and Renoir, I probably chose the Lang because it's a little less perfect, a little less classic, and in situations like this, I feel I have to give the tie to the underdog.  

7/10/10 I watched Mitchell Leisen's Easy Living.  Let me preface any other comments by saying that screwball comedy is probably my least favorite of all genres.   It just wears on me after a short while.  But there are fine moments in here and overall I would rate it as pretty enjoyable. Even though Preston Sturges penned the script, it really doesn't ever reach the heights of his best work.  

7/11/10 I watched Leo McCarey's Make Way for Tomorrow.  One of the best depictions of aging I have ever seen in film and full of many gut-wrenching and poignant moments.  I didn't fully connect with the character of the aging woman.  But otherwise, I found it to be an utterly bold, unique, and powerful work.  

7/14/10 I watched Leo McCarey's The Awful Truth.  I had seen this one about 15 years ago in a Parisian theater and had a mediocre reaction to it but man was I wrong.  This has some of the greatest moments and exchanges of this entire period, particularly the final scene and almost every scene with Mr. Smith, the dog.  I still may slightly prefer His Girl Friday, but this is undeniably a great work.  

7/15/10 I watched David Hand's Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. Animation has never really been my thing so I'm not the best judge here.  But all in all, it was entertaining, charming, with a couple of very memorable songs.  

7/22/10 I watched Frank Capra's Lost Horizon.  A movie full of ideas and quite brave for its time.  I've never read the original novel, but I certainly felt this to be both the most aesthetically and intellectually daring movie I've seen from Capra.  One to certainly revisit as it feels positively dense and fresh.  

7/25/10 I watched William Wellman's A Star Is Born.  It is at once an extremely tender and tragic love story.  Cukor's version is one of my favorite films of all time, but Wellman's original certainly doesn't disappoint.  It's a wonderfully felt film, full of unforgettable moments and sincere connections.  Highly recommended.

7/29/10 I watched Alfred Hitchcock's Young and Innocent.  Probably the least involving film I've seen from the master.  He proves to be adept at giving you the inner psychology of his characters, but otherwise everything feels thin and uninspired.  

4/21/12 I watched Gregory La Cava's Stage Door.  Although at times a little consistent, a very moving tale about the world of theater.  Typically strong performances from Rogers and Hepburn, but the real standout is the subplot of Kay and the heartwrenching performance of Andrea Leeds.  

8/25/12 I watched Michael Powell's The Edge of the World.  Perhaps the greatest of all films are those haunted by either life or death.  In this case, there's a cloud hovering over every moment that suggests the latter but a vitality in every frame that leans more towards the former.  Either way, this earthy, hefty work is among Powell's very best.

12/29/12 I watched King Vidor's Stella Dallas.  I'll admit I'm a sucker for these types of weepies and this one was no exception.  It doesn't hurt that Vidor was a real master and unafraid to linger in some very dark, uncomfortable places like the scene in the soda shop.  Melodrama like we really don't see anymore and one of the better of its kind.

2/26/17 I watched Sadao Yamanaka's Humanity and Paper Balloons.  I know nothing at all about the filmmaker and it was the first of his films I have seen.  What impressed most was the film's study of class and the way it examines the idea that there are other things in life of far greater value than money.  Yamanaka also infuses the film with a similar strain of poetry that seems to exist in the other great works of Japanese cinema.  

12/25/20 I watched Ernst Lubitsch's Angel.  Lubitsch's sophisticated touch is on full display in almost every second of the final thirty minutes.  It is a sophistication that is sexy, leaving the viewer on edge unsure how the characters will work out the knots that their lives have become.  Although it is the only time Lubitsch worked with Dietrich, he taps into her elusiveness, her allure, her power.  And I can't recall Herbert Marshall ever being in fuller command of the screen.  

Sunday, February 7, 2010

1931: La chienne (Jean Renoir)

1931: La chienne (Jean Renoir)

I hate to admit it, but the first time I saw this I was in my favorite theater in Paris (Le Grand Action), and I fell asleep.  I'm sure it was during one of my "three or four films in a day" binges, and I just couldn't keep my eyes open any longer.  Anyway, I think I finally saw it for the first time in its entirety during the Fall of 1996, and it's haunted me ever since.  



As I mentioned in my 1930 post, there are great similarities between this film and Josef von Sternberg's The Blue Angel.  I'm sure it's even quite possible that von Sternberg influenced Renoir.  But, the Renoir, and Michel Simon's descent (SPOILER!) into absolute depravity, have always felt more rooted in reality (more human, more true) than Jannings' performance.   


I once heard the great French director, Claude Chabrol, say that the ideal filmmaker would consist of Renoir's vitality and Fritz Lang's rigor.  I'm not sure I don't agree.  I've always thought it interesting that Lang only re-made two films in his career and both were originally directed by Jean Renoir (Human Desire was a retread of Renoir's La bete humaine and Scarlet Street of La chienne).  


Like The Blue Angel, La chienne is a grand tragedy, and I feel every inch of Michel Simon's hope and then despair.  There's a naturalism in Renoir's approach to the film that has always greatly appealed to me. But, more than anything, it's the profoundness of Simon's journey that will always stay with me.  


Other contenders for 1931: There are some things I still need to see from this year, most notably: James Whale's Frankenstein, Rene Clair's A nous la liberte, and Josef von Sternberg's Dishonored.  I also have never seen Josef von Sternberg's An American Tragedy, DW Griffith's final film The Struggle, GW Pabst's The Threepenny Opera, Lewis Milestone's The Front Page, Dziga Vertov's Enthusiasm, Rene Clair's Le million, and Frank Capra's Platinum Blonde.  I am a fan of both The Champ and The Public Enemy, but this is a highly competitive year for me and neither of these films could really compete for my top choice.  Then there is M, probably my favorite opening in the history of film, and a film for which I have absolute admiration and respect.  But, emotionally I respond more strongly to my top pick and my #1 runner-up, City Lights. This is my favorite Chaplin, and one of my favorite films of all time, but I finally gave the slight edge to the Renoir as Michel Simon's journey in the film still haunts me to this day.


2/28/10 I watched Rene Clair's A nous la liberte.  Although I know it's Clair's Modern Times and it has its charming moments, it never quite grabbed me.  


3/3/10 I watched Frank Capra's Platinum Blonde.  I loved Loretta Young in the film and Robert Williams in his final role.  The film though never fully grabbed me.  


3/4/10 I watched Rene Clair's Le million.  It had some really charming moments, but some of it lost focus and drive for me, particularly during the long scenes of La Boheme.  


4/30/10 I watched DW Griffith's The Struggle.  It definitely mines some dark and admirable territory, but I can't say it's all fully felt.  The wedding party scene when Jimmy disappears is certainly quite devastating though, and Zita Johann exceptionally beautiful.  


5/1/10 I watched James Whale's Frankenstein.  A bona fide classic. Whale really goes a long way towards humanizing the monster, and scenes like the one he has with the little girl and his final stand are quite moving.  Whale also brings a nice playfulness to the proceedings.


5/2/10 I watched GW Pabst's The 3 Penny Opera.  I find Pabst's style slightly stodgy, just like I did with his two Louise Brooks films.  But this one had some nice moments.  I particularly liked when we first meet Mr. Peachum.  

4/6/14 I watched Rene Clair's A Nous la Liberte.  I did not realize I was rewatching this one.  It has a major reputation but feels dated and thin narratively and emotionally.  

10/11/14 I watched Alfred Hitchcock's The Skin Game.  A pretty hard to follow, underwhelming early Hitch that seems to be trying to find its way into the new era of sound in cinema.  Hitch still manages to show a little flair such as the long sequence he creates as the two men square off at the auction.  

10/13/15 I watched Yasujiro Ozu's The Lady and the Beard.  Seems to be his first film where the tatami shots abound.  Not yet in the full world of Ozu but interesting to see the pieces starting to take shape. 

1/2/16 I am back to working my way through all of Ozu's work chronologically.  This next entry, Tokyo Chorus, seems to be the first-blown emergence of the style most people think of when they think of the filmmaker.  Nearly the entire film is shot tatami-style and with a static camera.

5/28/18 I watched Jean Vigo's Taris.  The way that he uses reverse and slow motion are still more magical and lyrical than they have been in the hands of any other filmmaker.

10/11/19 I watched Howard Hawks' The Criminal Code.  A rare Hawks that I have been wanting to see.  It has some extraordinary moments, particularly centered around Walter Huston or Boris Karloff's acting.  Some of the scenes feel a little rickety but Hawks keeps the story headed in unpredictable directions and by the end it is unclear what type of ending he is going to give us.

Friday, February 5, 2010

1927: Sunrise (FW Murnau)


1927: Sunrise (FW Murnau)
I've seen Sunrise twice in theaters.  The first time must have been in France.  But I can't remember the exact year or theater.  The second time was definitely in Los Angeles, probably in 2000, at the Silent Movie Theater.
It had two different musical scores the two times I saw it, which is not terribly uncommon for films of this period.  But, this tendency is something that can really alter the experience for me.  In fact, I wasn't too keen on the second score and remember having a less positive experience the night I saw it at the SMT. 
But, all this to say, I am still fascinated by Sunrise.  It's one of these early movies where you really feel a director, dazzled by all the possibilities of this new medium.  It's been ten years or so since I last saw it, but when I think of it, I remember Murnau's amazing use of the dissolve, some incredible scenery, and of course, one of the greatest "romantic" stories the cinema's ever produced.  
Another Murnau film I like quite a bit that didn't make the list is Tabu. But of the Murnau (often thought of as one of cinema's giants) films I've seen so far, Sunrise would have to be my favorite.

Other contenders for 1927:  There are some highly thought of films from this year that I still have never seen.  These especially include Frank Borzage's Seventh Heaven, Josef von Sternberg's Underworld, and Abel Gance's Napoleon.  Other films from this year that I still need to track down are Jean Renoir's Charleston, Alfred Hitchcock's The Ring, Rene Clair's The Italian Straw Hat, Ernst Lubitsch's The Student Prince in Old Heidelberg, and Howard Hawks' Paid to Love.  I have seen Fritz Lang's Metropolis, which I greatly admire.  It pains me a little, to be honest, to put Murnau's film ahead of it.  But, I guess I finally gave the edge to Sunrise because its story grabs me a little more.  I also love the visuals of Buster Keaton's The General. For me, it's the most visually impressive of all of his films I've seen, and one of the greatest visual accomplishments of the period.  I remember watching it and at times my jaw dropping at some of the set pieces and the sheer complexity of some of the things Keaton is doing in the film. Sergei Eisenstein's October, though interesting and somewhat instructive, leaves me a little indifferent.   And, another Keaton film from this year, College, is a fun romp, but I can't remember it for much more than that.

2/13/10 I watched Frank Borzage's Seventh Heaven.  It wouldn't contend for my top pick.  As much as I have a soft spot for romance and unrequited love, melodrama like this goes a little too far for me.  


4/16/10 I watched Alfred Hitchcock's The Ring.  It definitely shows how dark Hitch could be at times and how much he liked to push the boundaries of form.  But it seemed a little flat to me for most of the film.  


3/28/11 I watched Josef von Sternberg's Underworld.  An amazingly important early American crime film as you can almost feel it saying, "Okay, now here will be the shape of the next fifty years of crime films, here are how the characters will act, and here's what they'll look like. " I'm no fan of Bancroft, and he hurt my ability to fully connect.  But von Sternberg's ability to tell a story, create a world, and tell a plot-driven crime film in the silent era are all truly impressive.  And he even finds the time for some great cinematic style and more subtle character moments.  

8/15/13 I watched Ernst Lubitsch's The Student Prince in Old Heidelberg.  Most impressive to me were some of the unusually mobile camera movements for the time and Lubitsch's feel for nature which I have never noticed before.  The story fell a little flat, but I am glad to have finally caught up with this one even if it does not rank among my favorites of the master.