“A Very Exceptional Situation”: Faraway, So Close! (1993)

How does one make a follow-up to a masterpiece? In 1993, Wim Wenders directed Faraway, So Close!, a companion film to his earlier tour de force Wings of Desire (1987). The first film followed two angels, Damiel (Bruno Ganz) and Cassiel (Otto Sander), the former giving up his immortality to become human. Faraway follows Cassiel’s story as he too transitions into mortal existence. In a continuation of an important element from Wings, Cassiel often observes Berlin from atop the Victory Column (seen above), which makes for a really amazing opening to the film as the camera circles the statue high up in the sky.

Wenders rights a wrong from the previous film by featuring a female angel in a significant role (there had been some angel-women in Wings, but they ended up being cut from the final film). Nastassja Kinski, who had previously worked with Wenders in The Wrong Move (1975) and more famously in Paris, Texas (1984), plays Cassiel’s associate, Raphaela. Kinski’s performance is good, but she is not given much screen time.

Willem Dafoe has a flashy supporting role that I enjoyed, although I understand that some viewers find him distracting – not necessarily because of his American-ness, but maybe because of his innate Willem-Dafoe-ness. I don’t want to give away the identity of his character, but it’s an entertaining performance by one of cinema’s weirdest artists.

Speaking of high-quality acting, I want to stress that Faraway is especially worth seeing for those who are fans of Otto Sander (seen above with Wenders on the set) and wished he had had more to do in Wings. It’s great to see Sander in a leading role, although ultimately the narrative does not reach the stunning heights of its predecessor. Where Wings was poetic, Faraway is more conventional and has the kinds of conflicts you might see in a more typical film’s screenplay.

Sander is terrific at demonstrating Cassiel’s unbearable melancholy at realizing all the saddest aspects of human life, such as being unable to overhear other people’s thoughts (which he could do as an angel) and having to deal with violence and pain.

Bruno Ganz and Solveig Dommartin return as Damiel and Marion. Dommartin is particularly good here since seems less idealized than in Wings of Desire and more “real,” possibly because she was six years older and the character is now a wife and mother, as well as working as a bartender to supplement the family’s income.

The famed German actor Heinz Rühmann, then in his early 90s, made his final film appearance in Faraway, doing his best work in his scenes with Sander. I wish I could also find images from the film of the great Horst Buchholz, Rüdiger Vogler (a perennial favorite of Wenders since the early 1970s) and Monika Hansen (she was married to Otto Sander in real life) since they are memorable actors in Faraway too.

Lou Reed shows up, a sensical choice given that he had an album named Berlin in 1973. He provides Faraway with its one concert scene, performing a song called “Why Can’t I Be Good?” which provides Cassiel with important questions to ask himself (like the song’s title). I don’t think that the concert segment is even a fraction as powerful as either of the concert scenes from Wings of Desire, but the earlier scene (seen above) where Reed tries to remember some lyrics is a nice, poignant moment that combines a love of music (and musicians) with an awareness of aging/the passage of time.

…Reed even gets some extra screen time, appearing in a scene that takes place after Cassiel has become mortal.

Of course Peter Falk appears in Faraway too, just as he did in Wings, dispensing wisdom and aiding his ex-angel friends when they need him. After all, if anyone can help in a jam, it’s Columbo. Perhaps a bit of the charm is gone, but Falk is always a fun actor to watch. He has a kind of instant likeability.

Perhaps my favorite scene is when Cassiel tries out the trapeze, remembering the sensations of flying from when he was an angel. Even though the film is ultimately a little too long and the plot does not entirely make sense, it is worth seeing for moments like this. Sometimes with film that’s enough.

Postscript: the soundtrack has some excellent songs, my favorite being “Stay (Faraway, So Close!)” by U2. Wim Wenders directed the music video for the band and you can see many elements taken directly from the two films.

Saturday Night Spotlight #16: Margarethe von Trotta

One of the major figures of the New German Cinema movement in the 1970s, Margarethe von Trotta (b. 1942) has taken part in acting, screenwriting, directing, assistant directing and art direction since the mid-1960s. She collaborated with noteworthy contemporaries like Volker Schlöndorff (to whom she was married from 1971 to 1991) and Rainer Werner Fassbinder, including having acting roles in Fassbinder’s Gods of the Plague (1970), The American Soldier (1970) and Beware of a Holy Whore (1971), a starring role in Schlöndorff’s Coup de Grâce (1976) and, bringing all three together, co-starring with Fassbinder in the Schlöndorff-directed TV movie of the Bertolt Brecht play Baal (1970). From her earliest directorial efforts in the 1970s, like The Second Awakening of Christa Klages (1978) and Sisters, or the Balance of Happiness (1979), to more recent films like the Holocaust drama Rosenstrasse (2003) and the 11th/12th-century-set Vision: From the Life of Hildegard von Bingen (2009), her films show a fascination with German history as well as a commitment to telling stories of women from different social strata and political leanings. Now in her seventies, von Trotta continues to work, her new film Die abhandene Welt scheduled to be released in Germany sometime in 2015.

Marianne and Juliane (1981) – Von Trotta established herself as a major player in international cinema with this drama, which made her the first female filmmaker to win a Golden Lion, the top award that a film can receive at the Venice Film Festival. (Only three other women have won the same award in the thirty-plus years since then: Agnès Varda, Mira Nair and Sofia Coppola.) Von Trotta also won five other prizes at Venice for the film, as well as honors from various festivals in Germany, Italy, Spain and even Chicago. Marianne and Juliane stars Barbara Sukowa and Jutta Lampe in the title roles as sisters who take divergent paths in efforts to enact social change (including abortion rights) in late-1960s Germany. Von Trotta wrote the script herself and worked with many other women behind the scenes, including film editor Dagmar Hirtz, production designer Barbara Kloth, costume designer Monika Hasse, assistant director Helenka Hummel and script supervisor Margit Czenki.

Rosa Luxemburg (1986) – The famous Polish-Jewish political activist and revolutionary who co-founded the Communist Party of Germany in 1918 is portrayed here by Barbara Sukowa, who has worked with Von Trotta many times over the past few decades. For her performance as Luxemburg, Sukowa won the “Best Actress” awards from the German Film Awards and the Cannes Film Festival; the film was also nominated for Cannes’ Palme d’Or. Again Von Trotta wrote the screenplay herself and collaborated with editor Dagmar Hirtz, costume designer Monika Hasse (who passed away in 1985 – the film is dedicated to her) and four women as assistant directors (Margit Czenki, Eva Ebner, Helenka Hummel and Eva Kadankova). The film also stars Otto Sander (one of the two angels in Wim Wenders’ Wings of Desire a year later) as Karl Liebknecht, the co-founder of Luxemburg’s Communist group, as well as the Polish actor Daniel Olbrychski as the Marxist rebel Leo Jogiches. Another interesting bit of casting: Luxemburg’s mother is played by the Polish actress Barbara Lass, who had been married to Roman Polanski (1959-1962) and actor Karlheinz Böhm (1963-1980).

The Promise (1995) – A romantic drama that spans from the first days of the Berlin Wall in the early 1960s to the post-Wall era of rebirth in the 1990s, The Promise was Germany’s official submission for the Best Foreign Language Film category at the Academy Awards. (It did not receive a nomination.) Moreover, for her direction Margarethe von Trotta earned a Bavarian Film Award and the film as a whole won the “Gold” award from the Guild of German Art House Cinemas (I’m guessing that’s the equivalent of the US’s Independent Spirit Awards). A number of up-and-coming young actors, some of whom had never made a movie before, were cast in roles for the early-60s section of the film, but one of the actresses who was cast for the later sections of the film is Eva Mattes, who had established her career in the 70s and 80s by working with Fassbinder, Werner Herzog and one of von Trotta’s female peers, Helma Sanders-Brahms. Otto Sander appears too, playing a professor. I would also like to point out the film’s editor, Suzanne Baron, who edited my favorite Jacques Tati film, Mon Oncle (1958), as well as over a dozen works by Louis Malle and a couple of films by Schlöndorff and Herzog.

Hannah Arendt (2012) – Edited by Bettina Böhler and photographed by one of filmdom’s few really notable female cinematographers, Caroline Champetier, von Trotta’s most recent theatrical release stars her frequent muse Barbara Sukowa (who, incidentally, lives in Brooklyn now) as controversial German-Jewish political theorist Arendt. English actress Janet McTeer co-stars as writer Mary McCarthy, who was friends with Arendt. The film’s appeal was wide-ranging, picking up honors at festivals and awards ceremonies in Germany, Austria, Romania, Estonia, Japan and the US. I also recall that when the film played at Manhattan’s Film Forum last year (spring 2013), there were Q&As with von Trotta, Sukowa, McTeer and screenwriter Pam Katz (who wrote the script with von Trotta).

Vive le Trintignant!

Today the French actor Jean-Louis Trintignant (b. 1930) celebrates his 84th birthday. I recently wrote a little about his performance in the film Z (1969) and with that in mind, I’d like to take a brief look back at six other memorable roles from M. Trintignant’s career.

…And God Created Woman (1956, dir. Roger Vadim) – JLT’s first notable film appearance was in this scandalous classic, best known for turning Brigitte Bardot into a superstar. The pair play a young married couple whose union is threatened by Trintignant’s brother-in-law (played by Christian Marquand) and a wealthy older man (Curd Jürgens). The film also features Isabelle Corey (who was in Melville’s Bob le Flambeur the same year), George Poujouly (his other films included Clair’s Forbidden Games in 1952, Clouzot’s Diabolique in 1955 and Malle’s Elevator to the Gallows in 1958) and Marie Glory (a character actress who lived to age 103 [2009] and who starred in Marcel L’Herbier’s silent L’Argent in 1928).

Il Sorpasso (1962, dir. Dino Risi) – A highly regarded Italian road movie, Trintignant plays a shy young man working his way through law school. His life is completely changed one day when he crosses paths with a loud, brash but friendly man (Vittorio Gassman) and the two embark on a cross-country journey filled with laughter and tears. The polar-opposite personalities of Trintignant’s and Gassman’s characters complement each other perfectly.

A Man and a Woman (1966, dir. Claude Lelouch) – One of the biggest hits of international cinema in the 1960s, Lelouch’s romantic drama stars Trintignant and Anouk Aimée as lovers who are not sure if their relationship can overcome a large number of obstacles. At the 1967 Academy Awards, the film won two awards for Best Foreign Language Film (France) and Best Writing, Story and Screenplay – Written Directly for the Screen (won by Lelouch and Pierre Uytterhoeven) as well as receiving nominations for Best Actress and Best Director. It also won the illustrious Palme d’Or at the Cannes Film Festival in 1966.

Confidentially Yours (1983, dir. François Truffaut) – Truffaut’s swan song is a lovely tribute to the storytelling and aesthetic styles of Alfred Hitchcock. Trintignant and Fanny Ardant (Truffaut’s partner at the time, from the early 1980s until his death in 1984) make a wonderful sleuthing team as they try to solve the murder mystery in which Trintignant’s character is ensnared, the typically Hitchcockian innocent man on the run.

Three Colors: Red (1994, dir. Krzysztof Kieslowski) – Another swan song, this time of a Polish auteur who created masterpieces of French cinema in the early-to-mid-1990s. Trintignant and Irène Jacob play neighbors whose lives intersect as they try to find happiness within themselves and others in Geneva. Drenched in stunning red-hued cinematography by Piotr Sobocinski (who, like Kieslowski, also passed away too soon), Red is a beautiful meditation on love and an unforgettable end to Kieslowski’s trilogy.

Amour (2012, dir. Michael Haneke) – JLT made his first film appearance in nine years in this somber drama, starring opposite another bright light of French cinema from the 50s and 60s, Emmanuelle Riva. It is not a film for the fainthearted, but it is worth seeing for a performance by Jean-Louis Trintignant that you will never forget. Amour was my first experience seeing a Trintignant performance and the quality of his work, even as a man in his eighties without the sparkle of youth, was so terrific that I immediately became a fan.

Filmmaker Firsts: Costa-Gavras

#23: Z (1969) – dir. Costa-Gavras

Political dramas are not usually among my preferred types of films to watch. It comes as no surprise to me, then, that I did not love the film Z, directed by the Greek-French filmmaker Costa-Gavras (b. 1933) as much as the Academy Awards did at the 1970 ceremony. The film won two Oscars for Best Foreign Language Film (representing Algeria) and Best Film Editing (by Françoise Bonnot) and was also nominated for Best Picture, Best Director and Best Writing, Screenplay Based on Material from Another Medium (Costa-Gavras and Jorge Semprún). The film starts off slowly, even though Bonnot’s editing and Raoul Coutard’s camerawork are impressive. It is not until a crucial act of violence happens at a political rally that the film gains momentum, although it is not until nearly an hour into the film, when Jean-Louis Trintignant’s role surpasses Montand’s as the main one, that things really take off.

Yves Montand has top billing because of his star status in international cinema, but he has very little screen time and his character hardly develops at all. For me, a better Montand performance from the same era is found in Vincente Minnelli’s On a Clear Day You Can See Forever (1970), which is a nutty movie with a distinct lack of chemistry between Montand and Barbra Streisand, but at least Monsieur M. and Babs are in fine voice.

Jean-Louis Trintignant gives a fine performance as the nameless judge who insists on following the letter of the law to determine culpability for Z’s government-aided political assassins, no matter how many bigwigs he brings down in the process. The dark glasses that the judge wears in nearly every shot that he is in, even though all of his scenes are indoors, are a memorable detail. For his work Trintignant received the Best Actor prize at the Cannes Film Festival, the only time he won such an honor from that organization.

Jacques Perrin, who was also one of Z’s two Best Picture Oscar nominees (he was one of the delegate producers), plays a photojournalist – another unnamed character – whose pictures help capture the men responsible for the film’s heinously violent acts. Perrin worked with well-known directors in the 1960s and 70s (Henri-Georges Clouzot, Valerio Zurlini, Claude Chabrol, Jacques Demy) but he has never really had the kind of worldwide acclaim that Montand and, eventually, Trintignant achieved. I’m not sure why; he has a very likeable presence, not only in Z but in the excellent films Cinema Paradiso (1988, dir. Giuseppe Tornatore) and The Chorus (2004, dir. Christophe Barratier) too. Perrin is not the only talented French supporting actor in Costa-Gavras’s production; Jean Dasté, who starred in the Jean Vigo classics Zero for Conduct (1933) and L’Atalante (1934), has a small role as an informant who helps Trintignant in his mission to bring down the corrupt government.

There are not many actresses with sizable roles in Z. The only actress who has multiple scenes in which to emote, despite a fairly small amount of screen time, is Irene Papas, who plays Yves Montand’s wife. Magali Noël makes a nice appearance as the firecracker sister of Georges Géret’s character and Clotilde Joano has a mostly silent role as some kind of assistant or secretary in Montand’s political circle, but Papas has real gravitas, even without much dialogue. Her expressive face speaks for her. If you want to see another of her effective performances from much more recently, watch this scene from Manoel de Oliveira’s A Talking Picture (2003). It consists of Papas, Catherine Deneuve, Stefania Sandrelli and John Malkovich sitting at a table in the dining hall on a cruise ship and just talking. It’s quite enjoyable. I guess what I’m getting at is that I’m not yet sure what I think of Costa-Gavras as a director, but with Z he knew enough to cast capable actors.

Desire, Reclaimed and Transformed

Nearly a decade ago I was blessed with a miraculous experience: watching Wim Wenders’ romantic fantasy film Wings of Desire (1987) on the Turner Classic Movies channel. Even though I was young – around 13, I believe – I could see how amazing the film was. (I was not always so perceptive at that age when it came to understanding movies made outside of the United States.) In a way I wonder if it was because of how much I loved the film after that one viewing that I have not yet seen the entire film for a second time. Perhaps it was a subconscious wish to leave the memory of it unsullied. I also have not seen any of Wenders’ other films, another thing I ought to do something about.

I remember being so taken with Solveig Dommartin, whose beauty, acting and physical gracefulness intertwined to create such a dazzling onscreen presence in her performance as the lonesome yet hopeful aerialist Marion. I was quite saddened when Dommartin passed away suddenly from cardiac arrest in 2007, aged only 45. It was obvious that Wenders had filmed her with a real passion and admiration.

Back in January 2014 I caught the last half hour of Wings of Desire late one night on TCM. It was my first time seeing any part of the film since that initial viewing so many years earlier. When the film got to the Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds concert scene, in which the band plays “The Carny” and the signature song “From Her to Eternity,” I stopped and took notice. All of a sudden I was seeing and hearing in a new way; I was paying attention to something that, for whatever reason, had not impacted me in the same way when I was a young teenager. If not for this moment, and for looking at still photographs from this scene again on Wim Wenders’ birthday this past August, I might never have decided to go see 20,000 Days on Earth when it played at the Film Forum in September.

In the early morning hours two days ago, I again saw a small part of Wings of Desire on TCM (yes, that wonderful channel). This time I saw the scene in which the band Crime & the City Solution perform “Six Bells Chime.” What I wouldn’t give to be able to sway to some divine sounds in a smoky Berlin nightclub! Not only am I now a fan of the music that Wenders incorporates – and given that this is my own blog, I will not miss any opportunity to promote the sonic magnificence of Rowland S. Howard – I also have a much stronger appreciation of the cinematography by Henri Alekan. (Side note: last month I saw Alekan’s most famous photographic effort, Cocteau’s Beauty and the Beast, for the first time since French class when I was 13. This seems to be a trend.) Additionally, I now recognize the significance of Wings’ look in the context of what Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger did with their film A Matter of Life and Death (1946), which also paints the living world in color and the afterlife in black-and-white.

I also got to see the scene in which Peter Falk, who is essentially playing himself, has a conversation with Bruno Ganz, who, since his character is an angel, is invisible to Falk. Falk can feel Ganz’s presence, though, and proceeds to explain all the things that are so great about being mortal. I really love that scene, maybe more than any other in the film.

I can’t wait to see Wings of Desire again, this time from the beginning. The next chance I get, I’ll buy the Criterion Collection DVD and revel in all its cinematic glory. Great films deserve to be revisited – or visited the first time, if you are not already familiar with them.

Filmmaker Firsts: Cristi Puiu

#22: The Death of Mr. Lazarescu (2005) – dir. Cristi Puiu

Based on a true story, this dramatic satire – I think that that classification fits more than “dark comedy” – highlights some critical issues with the Romanian healthcare system, which is painted as a largely uncaring and harsh web of doctors who would rather pass the problems of the ailing Mr. Dante Remus Lazarescu (Ion Fiscuteanu) to whichever other hospital will take him. It is certainly an infernal journey, to refer back to the use of “Dante” as the main character’s name. The film’s international success, visible in the many awards it won (including the Un Certain Regard Award at the Cannes Film Festival), made it one of the catalysts for the Romanian New Wave of cinema in the mid-2000s and put director Cristi Puiu, then in his late 30s, on the moviemaking map. Lazarescu was my first time watching a Romanian film and although it was tough going at times, it was a mostly positive experience.

The film has many terrific supporting characters who drift in and out depending on where Mr. Lazarescu is (at home, at different hospitals, seeing different doctors). Dana Dogaru (on the right, top photo) and Doru Ana make a good impression as neighbors who reluctantly help Lazarescu when he falls ill, slowly revealing their concern when it becomes apparent that he is in need of professional medical assistance. Mihai Bratila (on the left, bottom photo), for example, is very funny as a sardonic CT technician who gives Lazarescu the cranial and hepatic scans that he needs. Later in the film, Mimi Branescu is memorable as Dr. Mirica, a man more interested in whether or not he can charge his cell phone and who refuses to operate on Lazarescu when the tired, addled patient refuses to sign the surgical disclaimer about possible paralysis.

This is probably my favorite line in the film; patients in the nearby hallway are not welcome in this sick bay. Liver specialist Dr. Ardelean (Florin Zamfirescu) has the bedside manner of a cactus, besides looking like a surly Abraham Lincoln. Instead of acting kindly towards Mr. Lazarescu, he berates him for having the scent of booze on his breath and blames the patient for causing his own malady, purposely smacking the scar of an old ulcer surgery. The film is unrelenting in its process of breaking down Lazarescu’s bodily and mental faculties, stripping away his dignity with each futile visit to an ER or irritated groan from a medical assistant about him soiling himself, but it maintains a grim sense of humor. Puiu’s shaky handheld camera, operated by Andrei Butica, physicalizes a shaking of the head at the terrible state of medical practice in Romania.

Throughout the film the anchor is the sympathetic paramedic, Mioara, played by Luminita Gheorghiu (right), who dutifully lugs Mr. Lazarescu around in her ambulance all through the night to many different hospitals and endures all the nasty things said to her by degree-bearing doctors and nurses who sneer at her attempts to help diagnose Lazarescu’s illnesses. Gheorghiu has appeared in many of the most notable Romanian films of the past decade, including Corneliu Porumboiu’s 12:08 East of Bucharest (2006), Cristian Mungiu’s 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days (2007) and Beyond the Hills (2012) and a reprisal of the Mioara character in Cristi Puiu’s Aurora (2010), in addition to starring in the well-regarded Romanian drama Child’s Pose (directed by Calin Peter Netzer) last year. Gheorghiu also appeared in Puiu’s first feature, Stuff and Dough (2001), as well as in roles in two French-made films by the Austrian auteur Michael Haneke, Code Unknown (2000) and Time of the Wolf (2003). Gheorghiu’s performance in The Death of Mr. Lazarescu was noted internationally; she won the Best Supporting Actress Award from the Los Angeles Film Critics Association and the Best Actress Awards from the Namur International Festival of French-Speaking Film (in Belgium) and the Transilvania International Film Festival (a Romanian event).

Gheorghiu appears about thirty minutes into the film (which is two and a half hours in total) and she sticks with Fiscuteanu nearly to the story’s end. Gheorghiu gives my favorite performance in the film, a quietly effective study of a hard-working woman whose caring shines through even in an unfeeling work atmosphere. For her the film is absolutely worth watching; even though the running time can be a bit of a drag, the narrative picks up speed once she shows up.

Seven Days in Noirvember #7: Quai des Orfèvres

(This seven-part series focusing on film noir during what’s known as “Noirvember” will consist of 100-word pieces intended to be as punchy as any good noir screenplay.)

Quai des Orfèvres (1947) – Directed by Henri-Georges Clouzot

From the director of the suspenseful French classics The Wages of Fear (1953) and Diabolique (1955) comes this beguiling crime story starring such talented performers as Louis Jouvet, Simone Renant, Bernard Blier and the lovely Clouzot muse Suzy Delair (still alive now in her late 90s!), who has a standout scene singing “Danse avec moi.” Like all great film noir, Orfèvres has memorable cinematography: Armand Thirard, who later shot the aforementioned Clouzot films, was the man behind the camera here. Noir was not unique to American cinema; this particular film is proof of the first-rate filmmaking happening in postwar France.

The Actor’s Actor: Gunnar Björnstrand

Today marks what would have been the 105th birthday of the Swedish actor Gunnar Björnstrand (1909-1986), who had the distinction of having appeared in more of Ingmar Bergman’s films than any of the director’s other stock players. From It Rains on Our Love (1946) to Fanny and Alexander (1982), Björnstrand proved he could tackle a wide range of character types in both dramas and comedies. He was actually known primarily as a comic actor in both theater and film until Bergman’s work gave him roles – often starring ones – that showed the depths of Björnstrand’s abilities. At times he could project a warm and wonderful kindness, but he was also able to portray loathsomeness through chilling cruelty. I shall highlight a few of those special performances, though I regret that I cannot accurately offer an opinion on Björnstrand’s work in The Seventh Seal (1957) since it has been close to a decade since I last saw the film. I also have not yet seen some of Bergman’s “lesser” romantic comedies and dramas starring Björnstrand, including Secrets of Women (1952), Sawdust and Tinsel (1953), A Lesson in Love (1954) and Dreams (1955). Even so, I have seen enough to have the beginnings of a real appreciation. (Warning: spoilers ahead.)

Smiles of a Summer Night (1955) – In one of Bergman’s most successful comedies, famously reworked into the musical A Little Night Music by Stephen Sondheim, Björnstrand plays a husband whose marriage is complicated by his ongoing feelings for a past paramour (Eva Dahlbeck, pictured). Björnstrand’s Fredrik Egerman character is often confused or clueless as to how to handle delicate matters of love and relationships, but he is not malicious and it is easy for the viewer to sympathize with many of the characters besides Fredrik, regardless of the infidelities that are committed on the path to true happiness.

The Magician (1958) – Science and skepticism meet the mystical forces of the supernatural and tricks of the mind when a traveling magic/medicine show comes to town and Dr. Vergerus (Björnstrand’s character) is convinced that the whole thing is a charade. The film’s climax features a tense and disturbing standoff between Vergerus and Vogler (Max von Sydow as the enigmatic and mute leader of the troupe), despite the fact that Vogler is supposed to have died in an earlier scene. As Vergerus attempts to write the autopsy report in a big, empty attic, Vogler’s image keeps appearing in mirror reflections and in the corner of Vergerus’s eye. It is an unsettling and extremely effective scene, particularly when Vergerus is on the brink of admitting that something unexplainable (involving an intangible being) may be occurring.

The Devil’s Eye (1960) – Björnstrand plays “The Actor,” the nameless narrator in the film’s framing device, drolly speaking directly to the camera about the tale that he is there to tell. He’s not a god or God, exactly, but as a storyteller he has certain qualities of an all-knowing deity and a definite sense of humor (Bergmanesque, to be sure, but that doesn’t mean unfunny). Although Björnstrand doesn’t have much time onscreen, he has a memorably delightful presence.

Through a Glass Darkly (1961) – About as intimate as an intimate drama can be, this look at a father, his two children and son-in-law is an examination made through a grime-covered window. It is dreamlike in parts, sometimes inscrutable, often challenging and yet consistently interesting to watch for both the visuals and the acting styles. Björnstrand portrays the father, the novelist David, with an acute awareness of his insecurities. For me the performance has some key scenes: when David removes himself from dinner at the outdoor picnic table to go inside and secretly weep with what can only be described as muffled shrieking, his fragility unable to be contained by normal social actions; when David’s son-in-law Martin (Max von Sydow) accuses him of a lack of understanding about his family and David replies with his memory of a suicide attempt that led to realizing that he loves his children; the scene in which daughter Karin (Harriet Andersson) admits to a silent David a serious offense that she has committed; perhaps most of all, the final scene in which David and his teenage son Minus (Lars Passgård) have a discussion on the same intellectual level for the first time in the film. If any viewer had not considered Björnstrand a serious actor before, they certainly would acknowledge it with this performance.

Winter Light (1963) – Probably the most highly acclaimed of Björnstrand’s lead roles in Bergman’s dramas, here the main character is a priest whose personal and professional capabilities have disintegrated to the point of collapse. He no longer has any romantic bond with his former lover (Ingrid Thulin) and his attempts to save a suicidal churchgoer (Max von Sydow) also fail. In the end the only thing he can still do is the same old routine that he has always done: delivering a sermon for the appointed 3:00 pm service. It is a bitter and unforgiving film, but it is necessary viewing for stark, uncompromising writing and acting. Human drama is unflinchingly real here and I’m not sure if any other actor could have accomplished the tragedy and the simplicity of Gunnar Björnstrand’s painfully imperfect Pastor Tomas Ericsson.

Filmmaker Firsts: Sergio Leone

#21: Once Upon a Time in the West (1968) – dir. Sergio Leone

While having my first Leone film experience, which was on DVD, I could immediately tell that this particular film would look infinitely better on the big screen. The telling thing about a truly exceptional movie, though, is that it should be impressive regardless of the format or the size of the viewing apparatus. That is certainly true of Once Upon a Time in the West, which held me in its thrall for every moment of its 165-minute running time.

I have to give special notice to Al Mulock, who appears uncredited as one of the three henchmen (along with Jack Elam and Woody Strode) who dominate the opening scene at the railway station. Mulock’s story is a bizarre and tragic bit of legend since he committed suicide on the set of the movie. While watching the opening credits sequence I was drawn to this strange man with eyes that glowed blue-green, wondering who he was until I could check the cast after the movie ended. When people discuss the opening scene, they probably only remember Elam, Strode and Charles Bronson, but Mulock is there too and I think it’s important to remember that. He wasn’t a star, but he had a presence.

It’s up to the viewer to decide who the primary “main character” is – it could be Charles Bronson and for sheer star power it could be Henry Fonda, although Fonda plays the film’s villain. Ultimately I consider Claudia Cardinale the protagonist of the film. Her character has the most depth, while the male characters are more flat and two-dimensional. It’s a nice twist on the usual Western tropes.

The cinematography by Tonino Delli Colli is innovative and beautiful. I especially love these two shots: the top, a low angle looking up at Cardinale burying her recently murdered husband; the bottom, a bird’s-eye view zooming in on Cardinale as she lies on her marriage bed, filmed through the lace canopy above her. I also appreciate the editing by Nino Baragli, most notably in the sequence toward the film’s end in which we see flashbacks to Charles Bronson’s character’s backstory.

Henry Fonda is chilling as Frank, a character totally unlike any other I can recall from his career prior to 1968. His bright, pretty blue eyes are terrifying in contrast with the character’s mercilessly violent actions. You won’t soon forget this cruel and remorseless figure who has no problem with shooting a young boy in the face.

As striking as the actors are against the Southwest landscape (yes, Jason Robards is as terrific in the film as you would hope) and as affecting as the camerawork is, it is Ennio Morricone’s score that defines the mood of the film. Listen to the film’s main theme, which is essentially the theme of Claudia Cardinale’s character, if you can do so without feeling as moved by it as you might be by Morricone’s scores for Terrence Malick’s Days of Heaven (1978) and Giuseppe Tornatore’s Cinema Paradiso (1988). That is Morricone’s magic: to move his audience with stirring emotion. As in Days of Heaven, the score for Once Upon a Time in the West evokes memories not only of olden times but of the American Western and the American Dream. In a way I think Leone’s film is not meant to be an accurate representation of American history so much as a representation of the tropes present in the Western film genre. When you hear “Duello Finale,” which repeats the mournful harmonica song that Charles Bronson’s character plays throughout the film, you are hearing not only the desired revenge of his character but also the same burden of revenge that nearly every Western hero carries. Bronson by himself might not be a first-rate dramatic actor, but when directed by Sergio Leone and scored by Ennio Morricone, movie magic happens and that’s when you know you’re witnessing greatness.

Halloween 2014: Five Films to Check Out

To get you into the Halloween spirit, here are five film recommendations filled with enough blood, screams and creepiness to make October 31 all the more atmospheric. Spanning half a century of filmmaking, from an early Hollywood talkie of the 1930s to a lustful semi-classic of the vampire genre made in the 1980s, each of these films will impress you with both style and substance.

Doctor X (1932, dir. Michael Curtiz) – The early use of two-strip Technicolor, photographed by Ray Rennahan, gives an eerie red-and-green glow to the proceedings in this tale of mad scientists and serial killers. Fay Wray, who would soon become immortalized in film history as the heroine in King Kong (1933), plays the daughter of scientific research expert Lionel Atwill, who is convinced he can figure out the identity of “The Moon Killer” stalking New York. The pair are aided by Lee Tracy in one of his typically lively newspaperman roles, providing a romance subplot. Atwill’s fellow doctors are played by Preston Foster, Arthur Edmund Carewe, John Wray and Harry Beresford.

Cat People (1942, dir. Jacques Tourneur) – Produced by the legendary Val Lewton, this classic tale stars Simone Simon as a woman who falls under the spell of a panther in the local zoo. Kent Smith plays Simon’s love interest (later, husband), while Jane Randolph is one of Smith’s coworkers who is also in love with him. Some notable character actors pop up in uncredited roles: Elizabeth Russell as the “Cat Woman” who recognizes a kindred spirit in Simon; Alan Napier as a doctor; Theresa Harris as a café waitress. Nicholas Musuraca’s crisp black-and-white cinematography enhances the tension, especially in a scene in which Jane Randolph fears she is being followed on her walk home and in another scene in which Randolph is alone (or is she?) in a hotel swimming pool. Shadows populate every corner, emphasizing every possibility of a threat.

The Curse of Frankenstein (1957, dir. Terence Fisher) – Hammer horror is an acquired taste, sometimes too silly to be taken seriously as frightening cinema. But the color photography by Jack Asher, who also worked on such famous films as Horror of Dracula (1958) and The Hound of the Baskervilles (1959), improves the overall quality and there are some splendid costumes designed by Molly Arbuthnot, not to mention the monster makeup created by Philip Leakey. Christopher Lee doesn’t do much beyond the required menace for playing Frankenstein’s monster (how can he, without dialogue?) but he’s always fun to watch. Peter Cushing is also entertaining as Baron Frankenstein, while Hazel Court looks fetching but is given little to do besides play the damsel in distress. Ultimately the film belongs to Christopher Lee as the lumbering, oozing creature.

Daughters of Darkness (1971, dir. Harry Kümel) – Considered a landmark in vampire cinema, this Belgian film concentrates more on eroticism, art direction/set decoration and costume design than it does on actual horror. There is some gore, but the film’s unsettling mood is what really makes it worth watching. Delphine Seyrig plays the ageless Countess Bathory, styled to look a little like Marlene Dietrich. Similarly, her “secretary” Ilona, played by Andrea Rau, has a haircut reminiscent of Louise Brooks. They work together to seduce young newlyweds in an empty European hotel, making great use of the enormous sets and Seyrig’s elegant gowns. The film’s visual appeal owes thanks to cinematographer Eduard van der Enden and it is supplemented by the sinister score composed by François de Roubaix.

The Hunger (1983, dir. Tony Scott) – The greatest of the five films, this exceptionally stylish and sensual vampire story stars Catherine Deneuve and David Bowie as undead lovers who prey upon unsuspecting New Yorkers. Their world is upended by Susan Sarandon as a doctor whose theories on aging are in direct correlation with an affliction happening to Bowie. Now and then some other famous faces appear: Dan Hedaya as a droll detective; the influential gothic rock group Bauhaus performing their song “Bela Lugosi’s Dead” in the opening credits, which take place in a nightclub; Bessie Love as an elderly woman at Sarandon’s book signing; Willem Dafoe in an early role as a punk on the street. Stephen Goldblatt’s cinematography and Milena Canonero’s costumes make Deneuve look the part of eternal beauty, but it’s the unusual editing by Pamela Power that lends an extra special touch, favoring quick cuts and J-cuts (in which the sound from shot B is heard while you’re still looking at shot A, giving you information from the next scene before you have visually arrived). Dick Smith, known as “The Godfather of Makeup,” contributed his skills to The Hunger as well, allowing for the depiction of decades of physical transformation.