I enjoyed my experience scooting along the edges of the 39th Seattle International Film Festival, giving just a little more attention to those older films that can be forgotten in such a large event. The eight archival film screenings* at SIFF 2013 formed the tiniest piece of this grand celebration of over 400 movies. In a record-breaking year for the event, the screenings were well-attended, and the passion of these audiences more than justified their inclusion in the mix.
When I applied for my SIFF 2013 press credentials, I had some partially-developed ideas about promoting the classics at large festivals and boosting recognition of our already world-renowned film scene in Seattle. I hoped to give my international audience a reason to come visit, and for those of you who are local to carve out a little time on the weekend to see some interesting flicks.
While I promoted all these things as planned, I found a new overall focus as well. Holy cow people, seeing movies with a festival audience is amazing. I had become so accustomed to seeing virtually whatever I pleased at home, that I'd actually forgotten how fulfilling it can be to see a great movie with a crowd that is as happy to be there as I am. You definitely find these people at a film festival. These folks aren't just looking for a way to fill time on the weekend, they are passionate about cinema. If you ever have the chance to see a classic film in a theater, and especially at a festival, go!
Movies were made to be a communal experience, and while it can be pleasant to enjoy films alone, there is nothing like seeing them on the big screen and getting that audience reaction. I'm grateful to SIFF for giving me the opportunity to experience that with such a diverse group of films and people. I can't wait to see what they'll come up with for SIFF 2014.
Here for the last time is the full archival line-up and my completed coverage. Thank you all for reading. I'm pleased that so many of you took an interest in the festival.
*I was unfortunately unable to attend the screening of Port of Shadows.
I can't even remember the last time a movie stunned me like Phase IV (1974). This bizarre, oddly-paced science fiction flick had me so mesmerized that I lost track of time. Sometimes that doesn't even happen with a film I love. That feeling of leaving the theater in a daze, confused by the sunlight and activity outside, had become almost foreign to me. It was the perfect way to end Seattle International Film Festival 2013.
Phase IV (1974) was the only feature-length film directed by legendary title sequence designer Saul Bass. Apparently it bombed so badly on its initial release that he was never allowed to direct again. It found new life on television though, where a generation of film fans found it via late night showings, and possibly wondered in retrospect if it had all been a dream. Sometimes television is the best way to discover a movie like this, so maybe everything happened as it should.
It starts with a mysterious cosmic event that causes the ants on Earth to evolve, and gradually begin to dominate the planet. In hopes of stopping this invasion, a pair of scientists set up operations at a high tech compound in the Arizona desert, where the creatures have spread chaos while constructing strange towers and sweeping crop circles.
They are joined by a teenage girl who is a traumatized refugee from the insanity outside, and the catalyst for even more trouble inside the once impenetrable haven. The scientists butt heads; one wanting to kill the queen ant, the other wishing to communicate with these new intellectual superiors. As it turns out, they don't have much control over what happens. The ants have already decide their fates.
I don't want to tell you any more about what happens, because I am sure that part of the reason I enjoyed the movie so much was that I learned so little about it beforehand. There are plenty of familiar animal invasion clichés, but they play out in this eerily subtle way, slowly and quietly. That overall atmosphere of dread had me on edge the entire time, trying to anticipate what would happen next.
You learn more about these invaders than in a typical invasion flick. There are really two stories: that of the ants and that of the humans. Often they are kept meticulously separate, and I found an amusing difference in attention to detail between them. The human story is a bit of a mess. Our teenager from rural Arizona occasionally slips into an English accent, and after a long talk about the powdered and dehydrated food being the only thing available at the compound, there is a shot of the control room strewn with plates of uneaten, very non-dehydrated-looking sandwiches.
The ants, on the other hand, get careful handling. Their world is precisely filmed, with close-ups that somehow manage to capture, or at least make you imagine you are seeing, their emotions. I don't know how they made these creatures look like they were trained to perform, but it couldn't have been easy. In one particular scene in which a spider is attacked by a swarm of ants, I was certain I saw an "oh shit, I'm toast" look on the unlucky arachnid's face before it met its doom.
One of the legends of Phase IV was that it had a lost psychedelic ending which somehow managed to simultaneously explain everything and create even more mystery at the same time. This much sought after ending was found in Paramount Archives and restored for the screening, to be shown after the theatrical version.
The SIFF screening already had an eager audience. It was by far the most enthusiastic crowd I'd seen the entire festival. While waiting in the long line to enter the theater, a man shouted, "I guess Seattle really likes ants!" (Someone behind me mumbled, "What does that say about us?") Once the introduction for the screening began, there were whoops of excitement, loud applause and lots of people leaning forward in their seats, ready to catch every moment.
This wild crowd was rewarded with a great movie, and when the original ending credits rolled, there was more applause. Then for an unbearable minute, which felt ten times longer, we waited to see the ending Bass really wanted.
We had been told this version was trippy. Yep, it was. And if I hadn't seen much to remind me of the famous avant-garde Saul Bass design, it was because so much of it had been saved for this absolutely mind blowing, surreal sequence. Judging from the reaction in the theater, the crowd must have shared my feelings. It's like the first ending was a cupcake, and the extended version was a birthday cake with sparklers.
I don't think this unique flick would have flopped at the box office with a crazy ending like that. Maybe it wouldn't have been a huge hit, but it would have caused a minor sensation.
So Criterion Collection--are the rumors true? Are you really interested in Phase IV? Because this is one film that definitely needs a well-crafted DVD release.
(d: Victor Sjöström c: Lillian Gish, Lars Hanson, Montagu Love, Edward Earle, Dorothy Cumming, USA 1928, 95 minutes)
The Seattle International Film Festival 2013 presentation of The Wind (1928) was not just a screening, but one of the signature events of the festival. In its two peformances at the Triple Door in downtown Seattle there was dinner, live music and an introduction by Mayor Mike McGinn. The Seattle-based country-alt band The Maldives also debuted its score for this masterpiece that was one of the last great MGM silents. You couldn't find a flick more worthy of all the fuss.
It stars Lillian Gish as a young woman who flees her presumably unhappy home in Virginia to live with her cousin and his family on his ranch. She's envisioning a lovely place. After all, it's called Sweet Water. But it ain't so sweet. It's a desolate, grim place where the wind always blows like mad, blasting sand against the windows and into every crack and corner.
Gish tries to make the best of her new life, enjoying time with her cousin and his children, but it doesn't last. Certain that she is faced with a challenger to her place in the family, his wife banishes her, forcing her to choose between two local suitors who quickly take interest in her innocent beauty. She makes her pick, but her troubles aren't over, and that innocence will soon be lost.
Though I was inspired by the excitement of this event, it actually took me a while to settle into the show. I'd been spending the month watching movies in a darkened theater with no outside sounds or visual distractions. Though I was anticipating a much different experience this night, it wasn't easy to make the transition from that quiet setting to such a lively presentation. There was loud, amplified music, servers rushing back and forth with food and drinks and the sounds of silverware clinking on plates. It was overwhelming at first, and I wondered if I would be able to get as lost in The Wind as I usually do.
I did eventually become mesmerized by the performance; Gish will always get me in that role, whatever the setting. The sounds of diners noshing faded away as I got used to them, and I began to appreciate the beauty of The Maldives score. This isn't the first time the group has tried its hand at silent film scores. They debuted another original score at SIFF 2010 for the Tom Mix western Riders of the Purple Sage (1925).
The music worked for me, because it helped me to see the movie in a different way after multiple viewings over several years. Whenever I think of The Wind, Lillian Gish's wide eyes come to mind. Her haunted face, and the madness that whistling wind arouses in her wrap around the film like a whirling tornado. That frenzy has always wound me up so much, that I never quite felt the loneliness of the film.
The Maldives score effectively captures the emptiness of Gish's surroundings. I felt the sadness of this young woman who thinks she is escaping to a better life, only to remain unsatisfied and perhaps more alone that she was before. The lazy plucking of a banjo lends the music the right melancholy, rural feel, while the synthesized sounds of rushing wind give it an appropriately menacing feeling.
The band also made effective use of vocals in a couple of scenes. It was here where I felt the group truly understood the tone of the movie. It was a chills moment.
Watching The Wind with an audience for the first time was a revelation. I never noticed how funny this movie can be. Yes, it can get pretty dark, but there were a lot of laughs throughout. It's easy to understand why those lighter moments were necessary; without them, this would have been an unbearably tense tale. When Gish is afraid, everyone is afraid.
Though I will always prefer to watch movies in a quiet theater, I did enjoy the excitement of this show. It was the most popular archival presentation I'd seen at the festival and the crowd's enthusiasm for this amazing film was encouraging. I think events like this will be important for the preservation of classics, because they'll draw people who may not necessarily go to a theater to watch an older film, let alone view one at home. It was a unique, beautiful night, and a great boost for the golden age of movies.
Click here for more information about the films at SIFF 2013.
I went into A Man Vanishes at Seattle International Film Festival 2013 expecting a documentary, but if you asked me what I actually saw, I couldn't give you a straight answer. I could confidently answer yes, I saw a documentary and no, I didn't.
The movie is supposedly about a Japanese plastics salesman who has gone missing (I had this wrong in my earlier plot synopsis), and his fiancée and Imamura's search for him. It certainly starts that way. We see interviews with the man's friends and associates. We get to know his girl and her sister, with whom she has a challenging relationship.
It is an interesting investigation for the most part, but there is nothing to distinguish it. Then, things suddenly twist. The fiancée falls in love with the filmmaker, and they discuss her feelings coolly, as if they are the weather, or her shopping list. The film starts to feel like fiction, because people don't usually act this way in movies, whether fiction or documentary.
Tension rises between the sisters; they have a trying argument while seated at a table. The conversation is heated, and feels both painfully real and staged at the same time. Then Imamura changes the audience point of view, and you can never be sure again of the difference between reality and fiction.
This is the oddest film. It's funny, but dull. Intriguing, but tiresome. There's nowhere to rest your mind, and every time you feel about to give up on it, something pops up to charm you again. As I knew Imamura was a New Wave director, I expected a free filming style and a few quirks from Man. What I got was much more complicated.
At one point, I remember wanting to leave the theater because I was getting so frustrated by the movie. Several people in the packed house did just that. I couldn't tear myself away though. I refused to miss a moment of this strange spectacle. As I walked out of the screening, a woman huffed, "that was not a satisfying movie," and I kind of knew what she meant, and yet I'm smiling as I write this. Film is rarely this challenging, and I enjoyed being pushed.
Click here for more information about the films at SIFF 2013.
That English battlefield looked a lot like Southern California to me!
The above was said loudly in the line for the ladies' loo after a screening of the newly-restored Richard III (1955) at Seattle International Film Festival 2013. The lady got a laugh, and aside from the humor of what she said, I think she snapped everybody back into the real world. Olivier's masterwork can put a spell on you, and in its newly restored form you can soak up all its glory without distraction. And just to clarify, the Battle of Bosworth scenes were filmed in Spain.
The SIFF staff member who introduced the film noted that the restoration by Sony was good, but not too good. He explained that sometimes a restoration can clean up the print so much, that it looks too slick and over digitized. Consciously avoiding that problem, this restoration was made to emulate the look of 35 mm. I was so glad he said this, because I'd never thought about it before, but I had noticed that overly-sharp look in some restorations. This one did have a warm, textured appearance that I now recognize as the look of film. Oh man am I going to miss that gorgeous, grainy 35 mm.
My first thought in the opening scenes was gaw--look at all that color! Bright reds, blues and golds. It just smacks you in the face. And Richard opens with a coronation scene, so you have all the power of that ritual to amp up the vivid look of the scene.
For those not familiar with this particular Shakespearean play, Richard III is essentially about a psychopathic duke who will do anything to be king. Once he gets to the throne, he loses it in a gory fashion. Simple plot, twisted execution.
As director, producer and star, Laurence Olivier is an irresistible force in Richard. I swear he looked amused by his big, fake nose and stiff black wig, and he relished every evil maneuver his Richard made. Olivier clearly loves the role. He is serious, but seriously at play as well. The humor makes you relax, and then he hits you in the gut with a dark glare or a smoothly repulsive phrase.
Olivier's Richard seduces almost because of, rather than in spite of his evil. Everything about him stands out, from the blackness of his hair to the sharp hues of his costumes. He's acting with the best of British talent, but when he is off screen, it's hard to care about anyone else.
The cast is mesmerizing though. Holy cow, this movie has everyone. John Gielgud, Ralph Richardson, Cedric Hardwicke, Claire Bloom. They perform as if on stage, with that sort of outsized projection, but the style does not overwhelm outrageous proceedings.
In fact, there are moments in Richard that achieve the most startling intimacy. Olivier crafted his masterpiece with the deepest respect for language. Music is used for great dramatic effect, but more often than not the actors speak their lines against a background of silence, and you feel the urge to lean in and capture every nuance.
Most of the film takes place on sets, as if stage bound, so it is startling to see the final battle scenes on location. It's almost too jarring, but necessary. It is as if Olivier is reminding us that while we have been enjoying what has been essentially the performance of a play, this is a film, and it needs to breathe.
Click here for more information about the films at SIFF 2013.
(d: Uday Shankar c: Uday Shankar, Lakshmi Kanta, Usha Kiran, Amala Shankar, India 1948, 160 min)
The screening of the Indian dance epic Kalpana (1948) at Seattle International Film Festival 2013 held a rapt audience in its spell. This surreal fantasy mesmerized with its inventive production numbers, while passionately speaking for Indian culture and strength in a quirky mix of poetry and politics.
I always wonder how many long lost treasures there are hiding away in film archives, attics or even buried under old theater sites. Kalpana is one of those movies, it didn't make a huge splash upon its release, but is worthy of rediscovery for its influential choreography and the fact that it was the only film made by Uday Shankar, a pioneer of modern Indian dance. The film was found in an archive by Martin Scorsese's World Cinema Foundation and restored in 2012. Like many Hindi films, its length tests the bladder, but it never fails to excite the senses.
Kalpana is one of those movies where a plot description will not get you far, but at least it is a start. Shankar (brother of sitar legend Ravi) is a ballet troupe owner in the middle of a love triangle who fights for purity of art and spirit as he struggles to maintain his group while staying true to his beliefs. The movie follows him from childhood to the moment he asks one part of the triangle for her hand in marriage. All of this is pretty much beside the point, because Shankar has other ideas to share.
This barest of set-ups sustains an epic that is almost indescribable in its variety. It moves through dance numbers in an almost careless fashion, catching them already in progress, and cutting away randomly. The feeling is as if the movie itself is following its own whims.
The dances are powerful, apparently a mixture of traditional styles and Shankar's own choreography, a style which would use to bring international attention to Indian dance. Minimalist music, and moments of violence and horror give these numbers an edge, almost a feeling of dread, even though they are often played for laughs. In one scene, a dancer costumed as a lion attacks its prey and rips out a long string of yarn entrails. In another, a young man grabs ahold of his lover's arm, only to have it twist off into his hands. These moments are made all the more alarming because the camera doesn't linger, and you're left wondering just what you saw.
I found that I could get lost in the world of Kalpana once I accepted that I was watching a dance performance. It was in this way that I stopped concerning myself with what the plot was cooking and settled in to admire the spectacle. That doesn't mean Kalpana was all performance though. I was surprised and impressed by the way Shankar managed to weave his political and social views into his art. He's not subtle about it. There are lots of long speeches, and passionate reminders that "we are the future of India" and "it's not poverty that's unfortunate, but the fake splendor of the rich." It gets preachy, but the overall magical, unpredictable mood of the film keeps it from dragging.
I could feel the audience becoming restless, and saw lots of people checking phones for the time as the film came to a close, but there were always moments that would draw the crowd back. It was remarkable the way a particular dance or the ominous percussive elements in a particular scene would make everyone still again. There were also several moments when I saw people leaning forward, mesmerized by what they saw on the screen. I don't know if I would call Kalpana a classic, and it could seriously try the patience of one not familiar with Indian film, because I think my own love of Hindi movies enhance my enjoyment of it, but I don't know if I've ever seen an audience so stunned by a movie. It's almost too strange and marvelous to belong to the world of film, and I am sure it will haunt my memory for a long time.
Click here for more information about the films at SIFF 2013.
(d: Fred Newmeyer, Sam Taylor c: Harold Lloyd, Mildred Davis, Bill Strother, Noah Young, Westcott Clarke, USA 1923, 67 min)
I'm so glad I waited to see Safety Last! (1923) on the silver screen at Seattle International Film Festival 2013. It had always been on my list of movies to see, and I'm not sure why I hadn't checked it out yet, but when I found out this new Janus restoration released by Sony was touring, I knew that had to be the first time I saw Harold Lloyd's most famous film. It was amazing to see this great comedy in a print so clear and sharp I had to keep reminding myself that the action I watched was filmed nearly 90 years ago.
I was delighted to see that SIFF was categorizing Safety Last! as a family film, because upon hearing it was playing the festival, I decided I had to take my five-year-old to check it out. She's been digging Keaton, the Marx Brothers and Laurel & Hardy lately, so I figured it was time to introduce her to the young man with glasses.
When I go to the movies, I usually sit in the top middle of the theater. I've always felt like being to close to the screen was overwhelming. Well, my daughter insisted on sitting closer, front row. She could not understand why I wanted to be so far from the big TV (yeah, I don't take her to enough movies).
So fourth row was the compromise. And I stand corrected. It's better to be close, because you can focus on the movie. If you're in the back row, you focus on the people in the audience too, and people in movie theaters usually drive me crazy. This is why you have kids. Once you get past the wanting ice cream for breakfast thing, they are so practical.
The program started with the 1917 short Bliss, costarring Bebe Daniels. This is one of my favorite Lloyd shorts, because it is the perfect example of how he in his onscreen persona was not only enthusiastic and determined, but a huge opportunist. The whole thing is basically Lloyd taking advantage of one situation after another, without a breath of air in between, until he gets a wedding ring on his girl's finger. It's the best, but I felt so cranky watching it, because the print in circulation is so bad you can barely see what's going on. It made me realize how spoiled I have become by all these amazing restorations in the fast few years. Archivists are truly heroic people.
It was astonishing to see the difference in quality between Bliss and Safety Last! There were only six years between these films, but the new print made the latter seem so much more modern and fresh. I think restoration brings more people to classic films, because it not only makes them more accessible, but we realize that the people we're seeing on the screen are really not much different from us when we don't have the dinginess of a shabby print to remind us of its age.
Safety Last! definitely has a bright, modern flair. It takes Lloyd's eager young man to the city, where he toils behind the fabric counter at a department store to make enough money to marry his girl. She waits in their hometown, hopeful, and Lloyd tries to keep her spirits high by sending expensive gifts that he can't afford. In fact, he's starving. Thinking he must ready for her, his girl goes to surprise him at work in the city, and if things haven't been silly before, they get outrageously goofy going forward.
The most famous part of the movie is that shot of Lloyd hanging from the face of a clock at the top of a tall building. This is part of a climb our eager young man makes up the side of the department store in an effort to bring attention to his employers and make a big bonus for himself. He hadn't planned to make the climb himself, but this is comedy, so he does.
My daughter was stressed out during the long climbing scene, which is both hilarious and gut clenching. I had to remind her that in a comedy, the guy doesn't end up splattered on the pavement. At least before they got a bit more black, but I'll save that for later.
This was a great family film. There were a lot of little people in the theater, and except for a few questions here and there the only noise in the theater was laughter. I don't think I heard many kids laughing, but they were definitely attentive and very curious about what was going on. It was wonderful to see that.
If you've get a chance to see this new restoration, grab it. I hear this is just the start of Sony's Harold Lloyd revival. It's about time this timeless comedian enjoyed a widespread rediscovery.
Check out the rest of the great classic films coming up at SIFF 2013.
(d: Elio Petri c: Gian Maria Volonté, Florinda Bolkan, Gianni Santuccio, Italy 1970, 112 min) Here is the soundtrack for the following three paragraphs. (This is actually a good rule of thumb: whenever possible, try to imagine things with an Ennio Morricone soundtrack):
A man stalks the outside of an apartment building. He's a hybrid of John Hamm and Tommy Lee Jones, scowly, shifty-eyed and super hero-square-jawed. His hair is neat and his suit is luxurious. A sensually beautiful woman watches expectantly from her window. He climbs the stairs to her apartment, and lets himself in with a key. She asks him in a seductive voice, "how are you going to kill me today?" He tells her he is going to slit her throat, and for the first time, he means it. The man is a powerful Roman police inspector. The woman, his mistress. He slits her throat. Then he carefully leaves several clues throughout the apartment implicating himself in the crime. Fingerprints on a bottle and in the shower, bloody footprints, a fiber from his blue silk necktie under her fingernail. He calls the police to report the crime, before going to that very station to celebrate his promotion from chief of homicide to top police inspector. At a recent screening for Seattle International Film Festival 2013, this Italian classic looked sharp and clean in a new print from Sony Pictures. And what a good candidate for restoration it is. One of the most celebrated films of the seventies, Investigation won an Academy Award for best foreign film and the grand prize at Cannes. Investigation of a Citizen Above Suspicion begins like a genre flick, and so you anticipate a mystery plot, with the police closing in on our psychopathic inspector. Instead, it is a black-hearted satire of the whole darn system and the corrupt leaders who mold it. Rather than trying to elude capture, Volonté stomps through Investigation in angry disbelief that he can't convince a soul to consider him for his crime. He wants credit for getting away with murder, and the impossibility of that reward infuriates him as much as the incompetence of his own police force. The inspector confesses multiple times, always to dismissive laughter. He takes away a clue, only to replace it with another, playing an angry game with his men. He is told over and over that he is far too respectable to kill. Even the one angry revolutionary who believes him won't implicate him, laughing off the idea that it would make a difference. In a moment of irritation Volonté barks "we all become like children when faced with law and order," and it's true, everyone trusts him to steer the ship, he is their patriarch. You sense that the people around him know he is guilty. They fear him, but also want desperately for him to be right, because if he turns out to be a villain, they fear the whole system will collapse. So they cower, obey and turn a blind eye to evil. Gian Maria Volonté is never referred to by name in Investigation. He is the all-purpose corrupt official, moving through life with arrogance, cruelty and so much confidence that he can make the people beneath him mistrust the facts before their eyes. His performance is a great feat of barely repressed frustration, frightening, but also funny. He lets out these little puffs of air whenever another member of his force makes a blunder, giving him the uptight comic anxiety of Oliver Hardy enduring another pratfall. Volonté is perhaps most famous to international audiences for his villainous roles in the Sergio Leone westerns A Fistful of Dollars (1964) and For a Few Dollars More (1965). Handsome as he is, the poor man does have an evil face. You can see why he played so many bad guys in his long career.
Florinda Bolkan is both seductive and unsettling as the mistress who seems to court danger as a last defense against boredom. She is the catalyst for the entire plot, including her own murder, as she pushes Volonté to prove the enormity of his power. Really, the movie is a duel between these two, and it is difficult to say who comes out on top. Everyone else is a game piece, from the revolutionaries to the bureaucrats. This was an exciting start to the archival screenings at SIFF 2013. I can't wait to share the other movies with you all.
The Seattle International Film Festival 2013 begins tomorrow, and there will be so much for classic movie fans to enjoy! If you are in the area, I highly recommend checking out a film or two. I'm amazed by the variety of archival titles this year; it's an international mix of diverse genres, styles and directors. Many of these films are unique, even if they fit neatly into their various niches, and having the chance to see them on the big screen is a treat. Check out this line-up (title links go to ticket information and more detail about the films):
Though he's left clues to implicate himself in the crime, a Roman police inspector who kills his mistress finds the murder investigation probes everywhere but the top. With a seriously ear-wormy Ennio Morricone score, multi-layered plot and sharp satire, this Italian crime drama has bite. To be presented in a 4k digital restoration.
Safety Last! (1923), USA Direct by Fred Newmeyer, Sam Taylor
Starring Harold Lloyd, Mildred Davis, Bill Strother, Noah Young, Westcott Clarke
May 26, 11am, Uptown Theater
This classic Lloyd flick (who doesn't recognize that clock scene?) is going to be shown in a DVP restoration that has been touring the US this year. The man in glasses plays a store clerk who comes to regret participating in a contest to climb the outside of a towering building. I'm so excited to have the chance to see this on the big screen! Maybe it is finally Harold Lloyd's moment for a revival?
Kalpana (1948), India Directed by Uday Shankar
Starring Uday Shankar, Lakshmi Kanta, Usha Kiran, Amala Shankar
May 27, 2:30pm, Uptown
Ravi Shankar's brother is the director of this long sought after classic of Indian film which has had a slow build in reputation over the years. It is a ballet of operatic proportions, centered on a love triangle between two woman and a dance academy proprietor. I know very little about this film, but from what I have seen, it is poetic, surreal and unlike any other Indian film. The version to play at the festival was restored by the World Cinema Foundation at Cineteca di Bologna/L’Immagine Ritrovata.
New Wave director Imamura was known for his fictional work when he filmed this documentary about the random disappearances of hundreds of people in Japan. He uses his grasp of storytelling to incorporate narrative techniques in a way that was innovative at the time, and helps to form the layers of this complex tale.
Port of Shadows (1938), France Directed by Marcel Carné
Starring Jean Gabin, Michel Simon, Michele Morgan, Pierre Brasseur
June 8, 4:30, Harvard Exit
Carné’s seamy crime drama was noir before the idea occurred to anyone. It's not fair to call Gabin a Gallic Bogart, because he has his own particular star luster, but I can't help but think of Bogie's classic crime roles when I watch this film. He has that hangdog hero thing down. The film deals in grimy blackmail and twisted love affairs, but it has a sadness and beauty that gives it more weight than the mechanics of the plot. To be presented in a DVP restoration.
Phase IV (1974), USA/United Kingdom
Directed by Saul Bass
Starring Michael Murphy, Nigel Davenport, Lynne Frederick
June 9, 2pm, Uptown Theater
This is the only feature film directed by legendary graphic designer Saul "Mr. Google Doodle" Bass. I would love to know why he chose to helm a sci-fi flick about an ant colony evolving at an alarming rate. While the set-up screams fifties drive-in, the tone is moodier and the pace more deliberate. This uniquely bizarre film has its own character, set apart from typical sci-fi features and other productions of its era. While you might expect a Bass film to be a slave to design, and these elements are artfully executed, they are not pursued at the expense of the story and atmosphere. The effects with the real-life ants are also cleverly executed, occasionally making it look as if the little guys are trained! Expect a beautiful presentation; the print will be a preservation by The Academy of Motion Pictures Arts and Sciences and Paramount Pictures.
Richard III (1955), United Kingdom Directed by Laurence Olivier
Starring Laurence Olivier, Ralph Richardson, John Gielgud, Claire Bloom, Cedric Hardwicke
June 1, 2pm, Uptown Theater
Watch Olivier in his best Shakespearean, and perhaps overall, screen role. As the scheming Richard III, he tries to replace his brother King Edward IV on the throne. Violence, betrayal and tragedy follow. To be shown in a DVP restoration from Janus.
The Wind (1928), USA
Directed by Victor Sjöström
Starring Lillian Gish, Lars Hanson, Montagu Love, Edward Earle, Dorothy Cumming
June 7, 7pm, Triple Door
Relentless gusts of sandy wind, and a trio of unwanted suitors, drive Lillian Gish bonkers in this MGM production from the tail end of the silent era. Seattle alt-country band The Maldives will debut its own score to accompany the screening. This is a return performance for the band, they accompanied Riders of the Purple Sage (1925) at SIFF 2010.
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I hope those of you in the Pacific Northwest will come check out some of these screenings. I'll be sharing my impressions of the films as they are presented. SIFF 2013 is going to be amazing.
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