Showing posts with label 1973. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 1973. Show all posts

Saturday, January 31, 2009

Double Feature: Day for Night (1973) / 8 1/2 (1963)


“I demand that a film express either the joy of making cinema or the agony of making cinema. I am not at all interested in anything in between; I am not interested in all those films that do not pulse.”

So said François Truffaut, the renowned French director of such films as The 400 Blows and Jules and Jim. In addition to being one of cinema’s greatest artists, he was also one of its greatest patrons. Truffaut began his career as a film critic, and according to those who knew him, he had an encyclopedic knowledge of films and an unadulterated love for the filmmaking process. That love comes across in his 1973 film Day for Night, which examines the family dynamic that forms between the cast and crew of a lightweight studio film named Meet Pamela. An interesting counterpoint is Federico Fellini’s 8 ½, about a director whose long-in-development film leaves his personal life in ruin. Upon first glance, it would appear that the two films are polar opposites, but both films “pulse” with a creative energy and the joy of cinema that Truffaut was so adamant about.

Every frame of Day for Night is bursting with love for the movie-making process. Truffaut plays Ferrand, the director of the studio comedy Meet Pamela. Jean-Pierre Leaud is Alphonse, the temperamental young star. Jacqueline Bisset plays Julie, a slightly unstable actress who has the title role in Meet Pamela. Truffaut fills out his film with other movie types – the aging supporting actress, the script girl, and various crew members.

Day for Night takes the form of a series of vignettes rather than a developed narrative, giving us a fly-on-the-wall look at life on a movie set. We observe the crew film a busy crowd scene, a car chase stunt, a simple dining room scene, and all the while we pick up on various film-making techniques. We share in the frustrations of the crew, as a cat refuses to lap up milk on cue, or as the aging actress Severine stumbles over her lines. Off set, we witness the relationships that develop among the cast and crew – friendships, romances, flings. All the while, the cast and crew are seen as a family, who share good times and console each other during bad ones.

The center of the film, though, is Ferrand, played by Truffaut as a version of himself. Truffaut once said that when he first saw Citizen Kane, he realized that he had never loved anyone as much as that film. The same would certainly be true of Ferrand, who remains doggedly fixated on making his movie above all else. To be sure, Ferrand develops friendships with his actors, and is never emotionally distant. Yet when Ferrand tries to console Alphonse after a romance gone wrong, his advice is to focus on learning his lines, because “people like you and me are only happy in our work.” That is one of the film’s strongest scenes, and it exemplifies what is so compelling about Day for Night. Not only is Truffaut’s adoration of cinema infectious, but the movie is filled with truthful human relationships.

Federico Fellini’s 8 ½ is also ostensibly about the making of a movie, but it is not really a film about film in the way that Day for Night is. The protagonist of 8 ½ is Guido (Marcello Mastroianni), a celebrated director whose film and life are crumbling around him. On vacation at a resort spa along with his producers, writer, and potential stars, Guido is hounded from all sides by people who are telling him how to make his film. The truth is, Guido doesn’t know what film he wants to make, and he finds solace in drifting into his childhood memories and his fantasies, embodied by a luminous Claudia Cardinale as the woman of his dreams. At the same time, Guido has to compete with the real women in his life – his mistress Carla (Sandra Milo) and jealous wife Luisa (Anouk Aimee).

8 ½ is remarkable on many levels. Fellini’s film weaves seamlessly between reality and fantasy, past and present without seeming at all heavy-handed. Unlike Guido, Fellini is in full command of his craft, and each segment builds upon the last to create a fuller portrait of Guido. That is not to say that every single shot or symbol makes sense. In one bizarre outdoors scene, Fellini pans past a group of characters who smile directly into the camera, and move in perfect synchronization as if they are in a sort of dance. There is no apparent reason for this, except that Fellini, ever the visual stylist, thought it looked interesting. That is not a criticism, but rather an example of how Fellini refused to follow conventions, constantly experimenting with structure and movement and composition. The film was originally titled The Beautiful Confusion, and that is exactly what it is. Even when we don’t fully understand Fellini’s intentions, his masterful direction and Gianni de Venanzo lush black-and-white photography keep the audience fully involved.

I have probably made 8 ½ sound far too esoteric, but it is really quite an entertaining movie. Fellini kept a note attached to his camera that read “Remember, this is a comedy.” Indeed, it is a rather broad comedy at times. One of the film’s most memorable sequences is a dream envisioned by Guido, who imagines a harem filled with all of the women in his life. They dote upon him, giving him baths, washing his home and preparing dinner. In another scene, Guido remembers as a schoolboy visiting the severely overweight Saraghina (Eddra Gale), a prostitute who does a grotesque and hilarious dance on the beach.

Despite these comic scenes, though, I would not generally characterize 8 ½ as a comedy. Guido spends most of the film in an unhappy state, only taking comfort in his dreams and fantasies. Only in the end does Guido find happiness, as he abandons his movie and decides to pick up the scattered pieces of his life. “Life is a celebration,” Guido tells his wife Luisa, “let’s live it together!” Fellini, unlike Truffaut, seems to be concluding that life is more important than film. And yet Day for Night and 8 ½ are not at all incompatible; both emphasize the joy of making cinema in their own way. Truffaut points out the simple pleasures of movie-making, the day-to-day gratifications of being on a set. And Fellini, through the creation of 8 ½, shows us that he is an artist of the first order, using the tools of his trade to examine the pieces of a man’s life – a beautiful confusion indeed.

Day for Night: A
8 ½: A+

Sunday, October 26, 2008

The Sting (1973)


When I first heard the news that Paul Newman had died this past September, I reacted with a fair amount of surprise. Not at the screen icon's death, but rather at my realization that I had never seen one of his films all the way through. How had this happened? I certainly knew who he was, both from his major film roles such as Cool Hand Luke and Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid and yes, from the salad dressing. But somehow I had never really seen him in action. I remember seeing about half of Cool Hand Luke on Turner Classic Movies once, but I never watched the whole movie. Soon after Newman's death, I added Cool Hand Luke and The Sting to my Netflix queue, which were by all accounts two of his best films. Turns out Luke was temporarily out of stock, so I settled for The Sting, and popped it into my DVD player this weekend.

The Sting tells the story of Johnny Hooker (Robert Redford), a con man in 1930s Chicago. When one of his fellow friends and "grifters" Luther Coleman (Robert Earl Jones) is killed by Irish mob boss Doyle Lonnegan (Robert Shaw), Hooker seeks revenge with the help of Henry Gondorff (Paul Newman). Together, the two grifters set out to pull a "big con" on Lonnegan.

That can only begin to describe The Sting, however. The plot takes several twists and turns over the course of the story. I won't begin to describe exactly what happens, because frankly I did not understand every twist myself. But The Sting really is not about following the plot to the letter. Most of the sheer entertainment from the film comes from the collaboration of Newman and Redford, who had previously worked together on Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Both performers are charming and affable, particularly Newman. Redford has more of a dramatic role; he is playing a character who is essentially a very lonely person. But as strong as the two actors are together, Newman is arguably stronger alone. Perhaps his best scene comes in a card game with Lonnegan, in which Gondorff pretends to be a drunken businessman. Newman's arrogant, drunken, carefree character plays wonderfully off of Robert Shaw's uptight mob boss Lonnegan. It should be noted that in addition to Newman and Redford, Shaw is excellent in the villain role.

Another virtue of The Sting is that it never takes itself too seriously. Although the film does have moments of darkness, it generally has a light, comedic tone. This is established from the very first scene, which shows a Chicago with a very bright color palette. The film is also accompanied by a jaunty ragtime score, which adds to the mood.

The Sting is first-class entertainment. It is an unpretentious and consistently entertaining caper film graced by three top-class actors. If you have never seen a Paul Newman film, you owe it to yourself to check this out.

Verdict: A -