SIFF 2014: Boris Karoff stars with Boris Karloff in A Masque of Madness (2013)

Directed by: Norbert Pfaffenbichler
Starring: Boris Karloff

I was delighted to end SIFF 2014 with a movie that combined two of my favorite things: classic movie stars and experimental film. Austrian filmmaker Norbert Pfaffenbichler's ode to the madness of Boris Karloff is one of my favorite films from this year's festival. I was so mesmerized that I sat forward in my seat the entire hour and twenty minute running time.

The concept of the film is simple, though it is then developed into more complex extremes. Pfaffenbichler has edited together dozens, if not hundreds of shots from Boris Karloff movies. This means that Karloff will often have a conversation with Karloff. Sometimes one of them in color, the other in black and white. Other times with the actor in drag and a bright orange wig or as an animated puppet. His entire career, from the silent days to the age of television is covered.

These images dance around each other in different ways. Sometimes it looks like Karloff is chasing himself through a dreary castle. In other cases, he is more relaxed, engaging himself in a game of chess with a slightly sinister edge. He attacks himself, laughs at himself and occasionally he talks to someone else off screen, though you are by then so used to seeing him interacting with himself that you assume he's talking to Karloff.

Though you'll only see the briefest glimpse of other humans, A Masque of Madness is full of animals, most of them wild, pulsing with deadly energy. They all seem to be after Karloff, with the exception of a mellow cat purring on his lap.

In line with his many mad scientist roles, there's also plenty of flashing machinery and gurgling lab equipment. In one scene, different cuts of buzzing, beeping equipment are blended together in such a way that it sounds like a musical number.

The movie is divided into sections, each of them with different titles, though all are cheekily labeled "Chapter 1." While all of these chapters make wild detours and unpredictable turns, they do have a certain structure to them. Certain sections amplify the horror of Karloff and his quiet menace. Others show how vulnerable he could be. It's fascinating, because in his own words, but without his own participation, the actor shares his persona in a new, fresh and revealing way.

Though I love experimental film, this is only the second time I've had the opportunity to watching one in a theater (the first was a program of Quay Brothers shorts that I still think about ten years later). Much like silent movies, I prefer the immersive experience of the theater while watching this genre.

The Masque of Madness was like Joseph Cornell's Rose Hobart (1936) gone mad. Though many people were already at the closing night festivities, the small audience in the theater was spellbound and I think in its own devious way, it was a hit. It was a dark, mysterious and surprisingly charming way to say goodbye to SIFF. I cannot wait to see what this amazing programming staff comes up with for SIFF 2015.

SIFF 2014: Quincy Jones Introduces The Pawnbroker (1964)

Quincy Jones talks with SIFF artistic director Carl Spence

Directed by: Sidney Lumet
Starring: Rod Steiger, Geraldine Fitzgerald, Brock Peters, Jaime Sánchez, Thelma Oliver

It was quite the tone shift to move from the jovial Quincy Jones to a bleak drama about an Auschwitz survivor's post-war trauma. That's just what I did this week at the SIFF screening of The Pawnbroker (1964) though.

This groundbreaking film has won much admiration over the years. In 2008 it was even selected for inclusion in the National Registry of Film. It's one of those movies that lives way beyond its awards though; it's a harrowing experience that inspires disgust, horror, compassion and the tiniest bit of laughter. Its depiction of a death camp survivor was novel at the time. It was also the first US film under the production code with female nudity to be approved for release.

Quincy Jones made several appearances at this year's TCM Film Festival, and I didn't catch one of them. I was determined to see him at SIFF. While I didn't get to watch him fist bump Leonard Maltin at the Roosevelt Hotel in Hollywood, it was still a lot of fun to hear what he had to say.

Before the movie, Jones walked out on stage in a matching silver shirt and pants, a long striped scarf and maroon shirt cuffs with matching leather sneakers. There can't be many people who could pull off this outfit. He had the relaxed air of a man who has been living a satisfying life.

Though SIFF artistic director Carl Spence was onstage to chat with Jones, the musician pretty much took over once he had his mike, telling charming, well-rehearsed stories.

Seattle has played an important part in Jones' life. He moved here from Chicago at age ten. Four years later, he had his first gig at the YMCA. Jones laughed when he said that if he hadn't found music, "I'd have been in jail or dead."

The movie theaters on Seattle's skid row became a regular destination for Jones. He obsessed over the soundtracks of the films he saw, learning the particular sound of each composer. While he didn't know of any African American film composers, he was determined to make it happen for himself.

Eventually, his friend Lena Horne hooked him up with Sidney Lumet, who gave the then 30-year-old musician his first scoring job on The Pawnbroker. Jones said he rushed through the recording of the score, treating the session like the record sessions with which he was familiar. He earned praise for his work thoug. The film set him on his way.

The Pawnbroker is the story of Sol Nazerman (Steiger) a World War II death camp survivor who has lost his feeling for humankind. While in captivity he witnessed the rape of his wife and lost her and his two children to death. He has lived a numb existence for nearly twenty-five years, running a pawn shop in Spanish Harlem which he knows is a front for a gangster. Nazerman is repulsed by the human race and treats everyone from his customers to his eager assistant with contempt.

Scenes of his daily life at the shop are juxtaposed with flashbacks, sometimes only a few seconds long, of his life in captivity. A ride in a subway car brings him back to the crowded train car taking him and his family to the concentration camp. The glittering glass of a pregnant customer's wedding ring reminds him of fellow prisoners extending their hands over a barbed wire fence while Nazi soldiers pluck the rings off their fingers. I'm still particularly haunted by this scene, because it shows in such a brutally simple way how these people were stripped of everything: their treasured possessions, control of their bodies, control of their lives.

The flashbacks begin to increase, alarming Sol. As the twenty-five anniversary of his family's death approaches, he tries to hold it off, even refusing to update his daily calendar, but those memories become stronger as more details of the horror are revealed to the audience. Sol begins to realize he cannot escape his emotions and he is not ready to give up on other people. It takes another death to bring him back to humanity, but it is just the shock he needs to feel again.

A nearly unrecognizable Steiger

I've never seen Rod Steiger so completely absorbed in a role. His transformation from empty resentfulness to overwhelmed horror is painful and astonishing. He makes his face quiver in the most astounding way. You can feel the emotion coming back to him, that overwhelming fear and sadness that he thought he had left behind. He knows this is a necessary transition, and he finally gives in to his feelings, but he fights it, perhaps because it means he is losing control of himself again.

A grim film like The Pawnbroker is definitely not what I would associate with the famously funky sound of Quincy Jones, but his style is perfect for the film. While Sol struggles, life on the busy New York streets keeps bursting around him, and Jones' sharp, bright jazz score throbs with that energy. He backs off for many of the dramatic scenes, letting many play without music, which makes the return of those blaring sounds all the more bracing. It's a great start to a legendary career in movie soundtracks.

SIFF 2014: Director Richard Rush Talks About The Stunt Man (1980)

Director: Richard Rush
Starring: Peter O’Toole, Steve Railsbeck, Barbara Hershey, Allan Goorwitz, Alex Rocco

The house was packed for The Stunt Man (1980), something I've rarely seen for an archival presentation at SIFF. This was a fanatical audience, and the prospect of seeing Richard Rush, the director of this unusual, clever film seemed to increase the excitement.

Rush came out for a brief chat with SIFF artistic director Carl Spence before the film began. It was hard to believe this hip, spry man wearing shades and rocking a Giorgio Morodor mustache was 85-years-old. I liked the way he prepared the audience for the film, telling us that we tend to live life peeking through a keyhole, with a limited view. Because of that narrow perspective, we invent things: enemies, rules, gods. He finished saying, "this seems to be the substance from which this picture is cut." After that introduction, I could hardly wait for the interview with Rush after the film. Fortunately I was also very excited to see the movie.

In the first scene of the film, the grain was heavy to the point of being distracting, but eventually it lightened up enough to fade into the background as it should. Film restoration is definitely not Peter O'Toole's friend. In his first appearance his eyes are red and bloodshot; he looks like he's been on a bender, which he probably had. Still, while hard living was beginning to catch up with him, I don't think I've ever found O'Toole more alluring. He looks a bit like your favorite aunt, slouching around in a belted tunic and a long gold necklace (clothing that was reportedly based on Rush's style), but I've never found him more sexy. It certainly helped that Rush filmed him like a god, often placing the camera below the actor so the audience can gaze up at him.

O'Toole is Eli Cross, a talented, controlling and vaguely frightening film director who is on location at a beachside hotel to make a World War I movie. When a car plunge off a bridge kills his stuntman (played by Michael Railsbeck, brother of star Steve) he quickly employees Vietnam vet Cameron (Steve Railsbeck) to replace him. Never mind that he is wearing broken handcuffs for bracelets. After all, that makes him easier to control.

Almost right away, Cameron suspects his director has little regard for his safety and may even wish to kill him with a dangerous stunt. Even being pursued by police (for a crime that is revealed in one of the movie's funniest and most bizarre scenes) does not persuade him to stay. Watching the film's glowing star Nina (Barbara Hershey) within the frame of a door window does something to him though. He is mesmerized by her performance. He decides to stay.

That kind of framing is one of my favorite aspects of The Stunt Man. Whether or not the camera is rolling, the actors are often captured in frames of some kind, reflected in windows, always performing  and projecting images, while reality becomes increasingly more difficult to grasp. Though Cameron senses he is in danger, the truth constantly shifts before him, until he cannot be sure of anything. It's all in the staging, which is just another way of talking about perspective.

It's easy to see why so many filmmakers, from Bergman and Truffaut to Antonioni and Spielberg, adore this film. The Stunt Man treats the craft with reverence while it simultaneously rips it to shreds. I kept thinking about what Rush said before the screening though: film is the perfect way to move beyond our limited views and the fear we feel of the truth beyond them.

I've always loved this film because of the way it overflows with these ideas while entertaining on the most basic level. It's got action, comedy, mystery and romance, but it all serves a great concept. I can see why Rush didn't get many breaks as a commercial filmmaker. He's capable of taking big, messy ideas and turning them into something intense, disorienting and impossible to categorize. Scary stuff for a studio.

Richard Rush chatting with William Arnold

After the film I got another treat, Rush was interviewed by William Arnold, a retired local film critic whose reviews I read in the Seattle PI for years. He also wrote a fantastic book about Frances Farmer called Shadowland.

It turns out Arnold played a huge role in launching The Stunt Man to the public. He was an early fan of the film, writing a review so glowing that Rush said was, "as if my one mother had written it." His support helped to fill three screenings of the film, encouraging the studio to give it a chance in a wider market. Eventually, the film would play to an enthusiastic crowd at SIFF, 35 years ago.

Arnold reminisced about the Seattle premiere of the movie. He paced the lobby of the theater as if it were his own film, anxious that the audience would embrace it. An enduring fan of Rush's achievement, he said, "to me it's a perfect movie."

I loved what Rush had to say about the production of The Stunt Man and his feelings about film. Remembering O'Toole and the overall experience of filming he said he had " the best actor in the world, playing the best role [he'd] ever written." He called making the movie, "the outer limits." In reference to the anti-war commentary via Railsbeck's veteran character, Rush said, "I believe that movies that are about something are more entertaining." That made me wish so much that he'd had the opportunity to make more films the way he believed they should be made, and all the more grateful that he'd had the chance to make this one.

SIFF 2014: A Rough Start, But Worth The Wait--Mr. Deeds Goes to Town (1936)

Directed by: Frank Capra
Starring: Gary Cooper, Jean Arthur, George Bancroft, Douglass Dumbrille, Lionel Stander

I have to admit I had my qualms about going to see a movie on one of the most beautiful days of the year. Not that I wouldn't normally do that on a nice day, but this past Saturday was truly a perfect, the kind that people in Seattle wait for all year. I couldn't miss out on Gary Cooper on the big screen though, so off I went.

Once the credits started rolling, I got that excited, "look how freaking huge the screen is!" feeling that I get every time I see a movie. Even during a festival like this one, where I often watch multiple films a day, I still feel that way whenever that first image appears on the screen. In this case, the bliss would be interrupted.

I was admiring the clarity of the digital presentation, thinking that it couldn't replace 35mm, but that I did like it, when ironically a very digital-related problem came up. About ten minutes into the film, the sound fell out of sync with the visuals, so that a few scenes played out over a series of images from further into the film. For several minutes the audience sat in confusion, then a few stormed out, only to come back in right away, because yes, they were working on it.

Once the SIFF team got a handle on the situation, a staff member came in to give the audience an update. Apparently the syncing problem wasn't due to the projection, but the copy of the film that had been sent. They said they couldn't re-sync with digital as they could with 35mm. So there wasn't much they could do.

SIFF offered vouchers for disappointed audience members who wished to leave, but I was really enjoying the images, even with the wacky sound issues, so I stuck around. So did half the audience, which unfortunately wasn't much on a day as beautiful as that one. We were rewarded for our patience when the movie somehow fell back in sync a few minutes later.

I'm sharing all this because it made me realize how little I know about how digital films work in a theater. I don't even know what a digital projector looks like, which is interesting, because we all know what a film projector looks like. The experience made me curious to learn more about about this format that has overtaken 35mm.

Once things were rolling smoothly again, and they did for the rest of the film, it was not difficult to become lost in the movie. Capra films almost always affect me the same way: I start out laughing, then I begin thinking it's corny, until I realize I'm crying, or all tensed up because I'm worried about the hero, and then I start laughing again, usually while crying. It's all very messy. Mr. Deeds made me feel all those things. It's really the perfect Capra film in that respect.

As Mr. Deeds, the small town man who has a fortune he doesn't want thrust upon him, Gary Cooper is all long giraffe eyelashes and boyish mannerisms. As written, it seems like a simple role, but Cooper reinforces that this is a man with simple values, but that is not the same as being simple. He wants to be kind, but he has no tolerance for cruelty and the way he coils up to defend himself is always a bit unnerving. It is so different from his unguarded self that he almost seems like a different person. It's a difficult balancing act, but he manages it gracefully. The transitions in mood feel plausible.

The rest of the cast offers brilliant support: Jean Arthur with her passionate frustration, George Bancroft as a tough, but also sensitive editor and character actors like Ruth Donnelly who don't seem capable of a false move. And Lionel Stander's gravelly voice always makes everything feel more modern. I remember embracing these actors as a whole when I first saw this movie several years ago.

This time, I was riveted by Cooper. A lot of it was that I felt renewed appreciation for his skill as an actor. I always forget how good he could be, how much he could communicate in his quiet way.

I think I also fixated on Cooper this time around because of how well he voiced his character's confusion about the cruelty around him, and how he couldn't understand how people could get "pleasure out of hurting each other." I've thought about this a lot since Kim Novak and Liza Minnelli were the target of such insensitive bullying during and following the 2014 Academy Awards. The mockery does sometimes feel like a casual sport. We forget we are talking about people with the same feelings as us because they seem so far from our own reality.

I know it can get boring to say that a film resonates as much today as it did when first released, but with its condemnation of cruelty, reliance on rumor and needlessly mocking public figures, I think Mr. Deeds means more now that it did in 1936.

SIFF 2014: Chaplin Shorts and a Silent Chinese Classic

Chaplin in Kid Auto Races at Venice (1914)

This Sunday was one of my most enjoyable experiences at SIFF 2014 so far. I started the day at a Secret Festival screening (can't tell you about it or I'll be sued, sued, sued!) in the newly re-opened Egyptian Theater on Capital Hill. Then it was on to the Uptown Theater in Queen Anne, where as on Saturday, I got my silent film fix, this time with two great programs. Both were presented by SIFF board member and Chinese film expert Richie Meyer and accompanied by world-renowned silent film musician Donald Sosin.

Four Chaplin shorts: Kid Auto Races In Venice (1914), One A.M. (1916), Easy Street (1917), The Immigrant (1917)

One of my favorite memories of SIFF 2013 was seeing a gorgeous restoration of Harold Lloyd's Safety Last! (1923) with my then five-year-old daughter. It was the first time she'd seen a classic film in a theater, and while there were some squirmy moments, she loved the movie.

This year, my more seasoned cinephile had a lot more theater experiences under her belt, and she was pleased to show me she knew the drill this time around. The program of four restored Charlie Chaplin shorts was her favorite silent film screening so far ("I liked Peter Pan [1924] Mom, but it was sooo long!") It was a lot of fun to hear a 6-year-old laughing so hard at these 100-year-old movies.

All four digital prints were beautiful--yet another series of brilliant restorations by the always reliable Lobster Films. Chaplin shorts are so easy to see: on YouTube, from the library, on streaming sites, that I never think of trying to see them in a theater. I'm glad I did though, because more than any other film comedian of the age, Chaplin is much funnier on the big screen.

I liked the diversity of the program. Kid Auto Races In Venice (1914) was the simplest; a one-joke concept, though it was a funny joke. One A.M. (1916) was our favorite; the wall-to-wall slapstick of that one was so much fun to experience in an audience. Easy Street (1917) and The Immigrant (1917) had a bit more plot, with the former very rough-and-tumble while the latter had a few moments of that famous Chaplin pathos.

When Meyer introduced the films, he had a good time showing off Sosin's considerable skills on the keyboard. He had him play short passages to demonstrate different moods and characters: The Heroine, The Hero, A Happy Ending, A Sad Ending, etc. It was a lot of fun, and probably a great warm-up for Sosin.

I was impressed with how much the electric keyboard Sosin played sound like a real piano. He cleverly changed the setting to organ during a scene in The Immigrant when Edna Purviance tickled the ivories for a church service.

After the program, we went up to thank Sosin for his performance. He said that the keyboard he had played was similar to his own instrument at home, hence his ability to navigate the instrument so well. I can see why the man is in such high demand; he approaches his art with great confidence and skill. I think he's the best silent film accompanist I've ever seen. I also appreciated him chatting up my daughter and even just about getting her age right!

The Song of the Fisherman (Yu guang qu) (1934)
Directed by: Cai Chusheng
Starring: Wang Ren-Mei, Kwah-Wu Shang, Tianxiu Tang, Langen Han, Peng Luo

Meyer and Sosin were back for an evening screening of this Chinese drama. It is the first film from that country to win an international award, at the 1935 Moscow Film Festival. Its story of a struggling poor family and their rich master was typical of the age.

Before the film began, Meyer once again showcased Sosin's abilities. This time he had the audience shout out a year, country, genre and director and had the accompanist improvise a snippet of how a score for a film with that pedigree would sound. His minimalist version of a Russian Scorsese porn film from 1972 was hilariously perfect.

Meyer also repeated the same hero/heroine game as with the Chaplin screening, but Sosin was not as docile a participant this time around and it was fun to see the two playfully tangle with each other. Fun because the film to come, while fascinating, was anything but light.

Song of the Fishermen follows the hardships of boy and girl twins born into a poor fishing family and the wealthy son for whom their mother was a nanny. The trio grows up together and they are loyal to each other, but no matter what they do, they seem trapped into a certain life by their class. While the wealthy boy goes to school and enjoys a life of luxury, his poverty-stricken pals are hit by one tragedy after another.

The production of the film was as grueling as the lives of its characters. In his introduction, Meyer shared that over the four week shoot, many on the crew became seasick and one worker was even killed. In the opening credits, the film is dedicated to this crew member who gave his life for film.

The mesmerizing Wang Ren-Mei

One of the most remarkable aspects Song of the Fishermen was the three renditions of the title tune, one sung by the sister as a child, the other two by star Wang Ren-Mei. All three versions of the song were lovely, sad, wistful and perfectly in tune with the story. Sosin would fade out his playing while Wang's voice rang out on the soundtrack, the only moments of sound connected with the film. It was eerie and beautiful to hear her voice in those isolated moments.

At 57 minutes, the film is too brief and fast-paced for you get to know the trio at the center of Song of the Fishermen very, but it is substantial enough to make you care about them. The wrenching performances are overflowing with the high emotion of Asian cinema. You want so much for the twins to find happiness, but know that they haven't got the strength to fight fate. It's all so beautifully done that you can almost forgive director Chusheng for breaking your heart.

Check out my SIFF Gameplan to read about the other classics I plan to see at this year's festival.

SIFF 2014: J'Accuse (1919), An Intimate Epic

J'Accuse (1919)
Directed by: Abel Gance
Starring: Séverin Mars, Romuald Joubé, Maryse Dauvray, Maxime Desjardins, Angèle Guys

…war is futile. Ten or twenty years afterward, one reflects that millions have died and all for nothing. One has found friends among one's old enemies, and enemies among one's friends.

-Abel Gance

Called a great pacifist film, Abel Gance's J'Accuse certainly covers its bases as it exposes the ravages of war. Death, rape, post-traumatic stress and other horrors ensure that no one wins once the battle begins. At the center of it all is a gentle housewife, her abusive husband and the poet she loves. This silent French epic played to a packed house on a Saturday morning. I dreaded the one-two punch of a nearly three-hour film about such a devastating subject, but watching it was a remarkable, moving experience.

The digital print was provided courtesy of Netherlands Film Museum, and was restored by Lobster Films. I'm always in awe of the work this company does to protect and preserve silent films. I couldn't believe I was watching a film that was almost 100 years old. The picture quality was even, with light scratches and beautiful contrast. It was good enough that I didn't spend much time thinking about the print; I was able to escape into the story.

I was constantly reminded of D.W. Griffith as I watched J'Accuse, which was made only a few years after the American filmmakers controversial classic Birth of a Nation (1915). Gance seems to have taken Griffith's close-ups, action scenes and intimate flourishes and amped up the artistry of all. While the scope of the film is epic, it is often intimate, moving close to its subjects, catching them in poses and lighting worthy of a portrait.

These moments are juxtaposed with painfully tense battle scenes, parts of them actual footage of US soldiers fighting the Battle of Saint-Mihiel in World War I. You get a real sense of the way fear ripped so deep into these soldiers that they would sometimes stop caring about the danger around them. They had seen the limits of their terror.

The battle scenes are especially devastating because many of the extras Gance used were on leave from active duty. These men knew they would probably die upon return to the front. As it turned out, most of them did. That reality is reflected in the urgency of the director's message.

The three points in the love triangle that forms the emotional center of the movie represent the different ways war can destroy individuals, their relationships and the community around them. While they are well-defined types, they are allowed to be complex and even contradictory. The brute is not all bad; the gentle poet can also be heroic and no one is promised a happy ending because they have fought honorably.

Gance's often repeated phrase "J'Accuse" (I accuse) is directed towards those who have blithely profited from the war, or who have otherwise behaved insensitively and failed to remember the sacrifices made by the soldiers who have fought for their freedom. In the film's most famous sequence, an army of the dead rises up to shame a group of villagers because they have not properly honored their fallen loved ones. It's a chilling scene, one of many that justify the IMdB classifying this film as horror.

While I was fascinated by J'Accuse throughout its lengthy running time, I don't think its story needed three parts to be told. There were a few times where I thought I was watching the end, only to have another scene unfold. Given that this was 1919 though, I'm chalking up some of that to the challenges of learning how to edit an epic film when not many had been made. It's only more evidence that Abel has created something timeless, because it is otherwise beautifully crafted and emotionally wrenching, and it can be difficult to believe this was a pioneering effort in so many ways.

Check out my SIFF Gameplan to read about the other classics I plan to see at this year's festival.

SIFF 2014: Last Year at Marienbad (1961)

Last Year at Marienbad (1961)
Directed by: Alain Resnais
Starring: Delphine Seyrig, Giorgio Albertazzi, Sacha Pitoëff

It was great to see a packed house last night for this most mysterious of Alain Resnais' films. That marvelous turnout felt like a tribute to the director, who died this March. The restored 35mm print was gorgeous, and so nearly flawless that the film felt almost modern, though timeless has always been the best way to describe it.

The story is simple, and the meaning behind it can be too, depending on your interpretation. A woman (Delphine Seyrig) taking a vacation in a hotel housed in an enormous chateau is pursued by a man (Giorgio Albertazzi, ) who swears they met and had an affair the year before. She is there with a husband (Sacha Pitoëff), or boyfriend, or is it a doctor? who seems to challenge the man in a deliberate, passionless manner.

It is never clear what exactly happened the previous year. Did they have a consensual affair? Or did the man rape her? Perhaps they didn't meet at all. It unfolds like a dream or the untidy patterns of thought. This is one of those films where it is endlessly fun to discuss what it all means. It becomes less amusing when you try to find a single solution. While it does engage the intellect, Marienbad is sometimes best left to the emotions.

I like to say that Last Year At Marienbad is my favorite zombie movie. There's no groaning or tearing of flesh, but plenty of blank-eyed, pale-skinned people with bags under their eyes stalking around. With the occasional exception of the three leads, the cast is essentially dead. They are beautifully dressed, perfectly groomed, with expensive jewelry and sleek, dark evening clothes, but you can almost see the decay from within. They are the idle rich, with nothing but luxury and endless entertainment to occupy their time.

While Marienbad has been compared to films like The Shining (1980) and Inland Empire (2006), and I can see the influence in both, it always reminds me of Carnival of Souls (1962). I don't know if director Herk Harvey could have even accessed the film before he made his one-off horror classic, but there are some remarkable similarities. A scene in Resnais' film where hotel guests dance stiffly, in spooky unison, is strikingly similar to Harvey's dance of the dead in the carnival pavilion scene. It's more glamorous, but the tone is very much the same. Amusingly enough, both flicks are also known for their ominous organ soundtracks.

That organ deliciously sets the tone for Marienbad. It's a bleary, doom-filled score, perfectly keyed to the camera that glides around like a specter, examining its static subjects impassively. Composer Francis Seyrig is the brother of the film's leading lady. I wonder how much that has happened in film? Apparently it is not the only time he wrote a score for one of his sister's films.

For the bulk of the movie, there isn't much difference between an immaculately-tended shrub in the lavish hotel garden and a woman in a Chanel cocktail dress. In pursuing the woman he swears to remember, the man brings passion to an otherwise airless atmosphere. For a rare moment, strings erupt on the soundtrack as the woman begins to react, to feel in a place where there is no emotion. She breaks a cocktail glass in a crowded room and it as if it never happened. The change in her never affects the other guests. While it may not be clear what exactly is happening, you feel the shift.

It's all puzzling and oddly understandable at the same time. A challenging, but pleasurable journey into mystery.

Check out my SIFF Gameplan to see what other classics are scheduled for this year's festival.

SIFF 2014: Rowdy Life with The Lusty Men (1952)

The Lusty Men (1952)
Directed by: Nicholas Ray
Starring: Robert Mitchum, Susan Hayward, Arthur Kennedy, Arthur Hunicutt

There were so many reasons The Lusty Men was one of the films I was most looking forward to seeing at SIFF 2014. I love director Nicholas Ray, and stars Robert Mitchum and Susan Hayward. I was intrigued by the idea of a modern western, especially one set at the rodeo. And then there was the title: I knew I couldn't go wrong with a name like that. All these elements did melt together into something exciting, but it was a much more intense experience than I expected. I'd heard rodeo life could be tough, but this film showed me why.

The print was a 35mm restoration funded by Martin Scorsese's Film Foundation Conservation Collection at the Academy Film Archive. This was only the second time it had been shown, the first at a previous TCM Film Festival. While I don't object to digital movies, I can't imagine this particular screening being nearly as sensual an experience had it not been on film. I've never appreciated that distinctive grain more, and how soft it made the movie look, from skin to landscapes. I wanted to touch everything.

Not that I wouldn't have wanted to touch some things in this film anyway (wink). Mitchum is Jeff McCloud, a worn-down rodeo star who decides to retire after a nasty run-in with a bull. Feeling nostalgic, he travels to his childhood home, where he meets Wes and Leslie Merritt (Kennedy and Hayward respectively) a married couple who are determined to buy the property. When aspiring rodeo rider Wes catches McCloud's name, he finds him a job at the ranch where he works, and eventually convinces the downtrodden star to teach him how to ride.

Against Leslie's wishes, the couple hits the rodeo circuit, with McCloud along for guidance. He also gets half of Merritt's winnings, a pretty slick deal for a guy who is all advice while his student constantly faces death in the ring. The easy money, fame on the circuit and high rodeo living predictably turn Wes into an ass, no matter what Leslie does to try to keep him in line. McCloud just flirts with Mrs. Merritt, as dreamy about her perfect pot roast as he is her.

Though there are a lot of predictable elements in the drama, they're balanced well. The script has bite, with lots of barbs and snappy comebacks. There's just enough humor to keep things from getting soapy or too heavy. In this world, if you don't like what someone says, you punch them, or dump a drink on their head, and no one thinks much of it. Consequences are for the ring.

Mitchum steals everything and doesn't look like he's trying at all. He's too cool to care, but then he grabs at you because you know he does care, more desperately than anyone. Hayward seems to be wise to this, and rather than tangle with him, she comes as close to underplaying as I've ever seen. She's got some of the sharpest lines though. This housewife is not waiting around for her husband to ruin everything, she's tough, funny and sexy.

The other, more physically brutal drama is in the ring and The Lusty Men plunges right into the rodeo action. Men are tossed from horses, trampled by bulls and dragged around when a boot gets caught in a stirrup. It's scary to watch. You can practically hear bones breaking and flesh tearing. In a tense, but quietly moving scene, Leslie sits on her trailer steps listening while her husband takes a beating in the ring, unable to watch, but ready to run to her man should he need her. You understand why she is so frightened.

I would have shown up for this one just to be a Mitchum or Ray completest, but the film is much richer than that. With a lively supporting cast and everything paced just right, it's a rough, exhilarating ride and a great way to start my SIFF 2014 experience.

Check out my SIFF 2014 Gameplan for more movies to come.

My SIFF 2014 Gameplan

The 40th annual Seattle International Film Festival had its gala kick-off two nights ago and this city is ready to celebrate movies! I had a pesky gallbladder that needed to be removed earlier this week, but I'm determined to start reviewing films this Sunday. Funny how the promise of seeing Robert Mitchum on the big screen can speed up that healing.

I thought I'd share a little more about the films I plan to see this year, ten of the amazing fourteen titles selected for the SIFF 2014 archival category:



The Lusty Men (1952)
May 18, 5:30pm, SIFF Cinema Uptown

With a title like that, and Susan Hayward in the cast, I'm not expecting much underplaying in director Nicholas Ray's modern western. Robert Mitchum may even resort to some nostril flaring as a retired rodeo rider who trains an aspiring rider while becoming infatuated with his wife (Hayward). This one should be a real treat: it isn't available on DVD and the Film Foundation Conservation Collection at the Academy Film Archive is providing a restored print.



Last Year at Marienbad (1961)
May 20, 6:30pm, SIFF Cinema Uptown

I was pleased to see a title from the recently departed director Alain Resnais on the schedule. This mysterious, slow-moving flick has always mystified me. It is the story of a woman at a luxurious hotel who is tantalized and tormented by a man who claims he was her lover there the year before. I've never given much thought to the plot though. Marienbad just pulls me into its vortex and leaves me floating for a while. I'm curious to see what kind of spell it will weave in an immersive theater experience. It will also be fantastic to check out the new 35mm restoration.

J’accuse (1919)
May 24, 11am, SIFF Cinema Uptown

An epic, French silent which is considered to be the first great pacifist film. I've never had a chance to see an Abel Gance movie, and I'm looking forward to seeing his work for the first time on the big screen.

Charlie Chaplin shorts
May 25, 3pm, SIFF Cinema Uptown

My six-year-old will be joining me to check out these classic Chaplin shorts: One A.M. (1916), Easy Street (1917), The Immigrant (1917) and one of my favorites, the comedian's first onscreen appearance as the Little Tramp character in Kid Auto Races in Venice (1914). I'm looking forward to the live keyboard accompaniment by Donald Sosin, as well.

Song of the Fisherman (1934)
May 25, 7pm, SIFF Cinema Uptown

This Chinese silent about a family struggling through poverty intrigues me, because I know so little about it. I'm looking forward to being plunged into something entirely new to me. The commitment to world titles is one of my favorite things about this festival. It truly is "International" in the most thrilling way.



The Servant (1963)
May 29, 7pm, Harvard Exit

Dirk Bogarde is a not-so-servile servant and James Fox is his unsteady master in this quietly unsettling drama. It features a lush and seductive score by John Dankworth. I've always felt that smoky-voiced vocalist Cleo Laine was also a part of the cast, perhaps as a one-woman Greek chorus, with her rendition of the tragic All Gone which plays over the action. With lyrics by screenwriter Harold Pinter, it is as much a part of the drama as the actors before the camera.



Mr. Deeds Goes to Town (1936)
May 31, 1pm, AMC Pacific Place 11

I missed this new restoration from the original negative of the Capra classic when it played at TCM Film Festival this year. It'll be great to have another chance to see it.



The Stunt Man (1980)
June 1, 1:30pm, Harvard Exit

Though he's sliding past his pretty boy days here, I don't think I've ever found Peter O'Toole more dangerously sexy than in his role as a film director who offers dubious protection for a man on the run.



The Pawnbroker (1964)
June 3, 7pm,Harvard Exit

Another new print I missed at TCMFF. I'm just as eager to check out the score by Quincy Jones.

A Masque of Madness (2013)
June 3, 9pm and June 8, 8pm, SIFF Cinema Uptown

This experimental exploration of the many faces of Boris Karloff is the only new film I will be reviewing for SIFF 2014. I'm particularly interested that it is by the Austrian filmmaker Norbert Pfaffenbichler, as I'm always curious to see the foreign perspective on Hollywood.

Full archival program

Schedule Announced for Seattle International Film Festival 2014

I am delighted to once again have received media credentials for the Seattle International Film Festival. As I did last year, I will focus on screenings of classic films, an often overlooked, but important part of this diverse event. SIFF is showing major love for archival flicks this year with a whopping 14 classic movies on the program. That's almost twice as many as in 2013.

This year I won't attempt to view all of the archival offerings. More recent flicks like Queen Margot (1994), The Skin (1981), Serenity (2005), Wild at Heart (1990) and the Whole Wide World (1996) are too far out of the time range I typically cover at A Classic Movie Blog. I'm also very tempted to cover the festival's midnight screening of The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975), but this classic cult favorite doesn't quite fit the vibe around here.

It's great to see the new prints of The Pawnbroker (1964) and Mr. Deeds Goes to Town (1936) recently screened at TCM Film Festival on the program. I'm especially excited that Nicholas Ray's, western The Lusty Men (1952) with Robert Mitchum and Susan Hayward has been included. That will be fantastic to see with an audience.

I was glad to see that Last Year at Marienbad (1961) will be shown; a great tribute to the recently departed director Alain Resnais. The unsettling, but deeply compelling Joseph Losey film The Servant (1963) is my favorite Dirk Bogarde film; it'll be great to see that on the big screen. While The Stunt Man (1980) edges into that time frame I typically avoid, I must write about Peter O'Toole in one of his most deliciously slippery, and scary, performances.

There will also be lots of silents at SIFF 2014, all of them with live musical accompaniment. Last year I took my daughter to see Safety Last! (1923), which she loved, though it probably would have really tried her patience if it were any longer. This year I'm hoping she'll be more occupied by a program of four Chaplin shorts, including Kid Auto Races in Venice (1914), the first appearance of the Little Tramp character and one of my favorites. I hope she enjoys it as much as I do.

Other silents on the schedule include the pacifist World War I epic J’accuse (1919), directed by Abel Gance, who is most famous for his also impressive Napoleon (1927). From China comes Song of the Fisherman (1934), which tells the story of a poor family struggling to survive near Shanghai.This one intrigues me simply because I've never heard of it before!

There will also be a new experimental film on the program with a classic focus. A Masque of Madness (2013) focuses on the many faces of Boris Karloff. It consists of only scenes featuring the actor edited together in a variety of ways. I'm especially curious to see this one, because it combines two things I adore: classic movies and experimental film.

As always, I'm impressed by the variety in this line-up. SIFF always fills me with hometown pride. It's going to be a great festival! I can't wait to share more details about these films and the screenings I attend.