LES SEINS DE GLACE/ ICY BREASTS/ SOMEONE IS BLEEDING (Georges Lautner, 1974)

When Delon died, the obituaries acknowledged his beauty and his stardom but were a bit sniffy about his acting. Watching his films from the mid-sixties to the mid-seventies, mainly in genre movies that he often produced himself, I’m amazed by his range: he plays working class blokes, aristocrats, haute bourgeois, gangsters, outsiders, villains; and he’s convincing as/in all. The only thing I haven’t seen him in is stylised comedy. I’ve also noted his generosity. He often turns over the films, in which he is always top-billed, to his female co-star (Annie Girardot in TRAITEMENT DE SHOCK or Mireille Darc in SEINS DE GLACE, often delaying his appearance until ¼ or a 1/3 of the way into the narrative). He’s completely self-assured, relaxed, and unafraid to surround himself with the very best actors (Signoret, Meurisse, Gabin, Girardot etc.,  all in this period). And for a man of such beauty, he lacks vanity. Note how he’s filmed in LE GITAN, stubbly, tired, puffy-eyed, from unflattering angles; and think how Warren Beatty in the same period would never have allowed himself to be thus filmed  (remember the hassle Beatty put the marketing department through to make sure his crotch was right in the posters for HEAVEN CAN WAIT).

In LES SEINS DE GLACE Claude Brasseur, cuddly and open-faced (he sleeps under a Snoopy blanket) falls in love with a mysterious woman walking on the beach. He asks her out and she eventually consents. She’s afraid. But of what? Is someone after her? Certainly corpses seem to multiply in her wake. But is it her, or is it Alain Delon, her lawyer, completely besotted with her but unfortunately married?

LES SEINS DE GLACE is clearly designed as a showcase for Mireille Darc, Delon’s then girlfriend, and she does have a fabulous body, fully on display, but has a simian lower jaw, which careless cinematography by Maurice Fellous here highlights, and a limited range of expression. That said, this is an efficient psychological thriller, with a surprisingly romantic if dark ending, heavy-handed in its symbolism, making too much use of the zooms so characteristic of the period but sufficiently entertaining. It was a considerable hit.

The film is based on Richard Matheson’s Someone is Bleeding (1953), his first novel

José Arroyo

 

Le Gitan/ The Gypsy (José Giovanni, 1975)

A film full of attractions that don’t quite pay off. Alain Delon, Annie Girardot and Renato Salvatore re-unite after their great success a generation earlier in ROCCO AND HIS BROTHERS (Luchino Visconti, 1960) but Renato now round-faced and full girth is but one of many Delon sidekicks; and Girardot only appears 2/3rds into the film (why she took this role at the height of her box office is a mystery). Indeed, both are marginal to this narrative. The film is a dual story of two criminals chased by the police: A Gypsy (Delon), an ascetic who eschews even wine, freshly escaped from jail, who has no qualms about committing whatever crime is necessary to help his people; and Yan Kuq (Paul Meurisse), a high end jewel thief from a low-end background who steals as a form of class revenge and as a means to live the high-life. Their paths only accidentally cross when the police keep chasing after one and finding another.

It’s a crudely directed film, with Delon badly dressed at the beginning  (see above) with a ludicrous hat, a thick moustache and an earring. He becomes more effective as the film unfolds and common sense begins to assert itself on the costuming. The film does underline the oppression of Romani people but is mostly concerned with capers, shoot-outs and car chases

It has an amazing opening shot (see above) beginning in a beautiful bourgeois beach and ending on a run-down romani encampment; a fantastic star entrance for Delon (see below); a superb score played by Django Reinhardt; and very compelling performances from all the leads.

It’s a film where you can tell Delon is a gypsy because he wears an earring (see below)

 

 

José Arroyo

Diaboliquement vôtre/ Diabolically Yours (Julien Duvivier, 1967)

Duvivier’s last film, unfavourably reviewed upon release and a rare box-office failure for Delon in this period. Today, it is disadvantageously compared to Julio Medem’s The Red Squirrel, rightly so, but I rather liked it. It’s a psychological thriller with Gothic elements but with Delon as the damsel in distress.

Alain Delon has a terrible accident, loses his memory, but finds himself with a beautiful wife, master of a lovely chateau. But why is there only one servant (Peter Mosbacher, in yellowface)? Why does he have nightmares about the Algerian war when he’s meant to have been carousing in Hong Kong? Why does he keep hearing thoughts of suicide in his sleep? Why do chandeliers keep dropping on his head? Why is his own Doberman hungry for his throat? Why did he almost fall from the attic and into sharp objects? Is someone trying to kill him? Could it be his wife? The kinky Chinese servant? The Doctor/Best Friend? And why?

The plot of the first two thirds of the film bear comparison with a gender-reversed Gaslight with Delon in the Bergman role. The last third is too obvious, pat and unconvincing. It’s a high-budget film (Duvivier, Delon, Henri Decoin as dop) that nonetheless feels under-produced. It’s a four-hander in a huge house, where the frame often feels empty. The whole film could have been more atmospheric; and whilst Delon is terrific, everyone else, particularly Senta Berger as the wife, could have been better, or at least more animated. Still, a terrific premise, entertaining if not quite good.

José Arroyo

Traitement de choc (Alain Jessua, 1973)

In the ‘50s there was a fashion for ageing celebrities such as Dietrich and Noel Coward to go to a clinic in Switzerland – since the basis of the famous La Prairie brand of beauty products — to receive Dr. Niehans cellular treatment, where it was rumoured they got injected with sheep foetuses to reverse ageing. Traitement de choc (Alain Jessua, 1973) takes this a step further and makes the practice a parable for capitalism. In the 1970s France was dependent on migrant workers from Spain and Portugal as cheap labour to fuel their economy. And the film is quite explicit about this, beginning and ending with the arrival of a different set of migrant workers. Here it is not just their labour that is exploited but also their very organs, which are the basis for the rejuvenation serum  the rich and powerful rely on. Annie Girardot — then French Cinema’s most popular actress, is a chic career woman who’s made a fortune in prêt-à- porter but is now looking to hold back time. When her gay best friend commits suicide under suspicious circumstances she begins to investigate. Alain Delon, in my favourite phase of his career – still beautiful but visibly ageing; cruel to most women to the point of misogyny but tender and vulnerable to at least one; an archetypally Gothic type of hero but for Delon being too selfish and ruthless to suffer; is the sexy but evil Doctor. Sleeping with all of the female clients seems to be part of the treatment. The film is no great shakes as cinema but is a very efficient thriller, a successful star vehicle for Girardot and Delon – both then at the height of their box-office – with modernist 70’s design and chic early 70s fashions, low-belted dress shirts that hug and show off a figure, light green plastic jackets. It also a quite powerful social critique. Oh, and in keeping with the fashion of the day, both stars appear naked. The film was released in the UK as DOCTORS IN THE NUDE to exploit Delon’s full-frontal nude scenes. There must have been something in the air that year because ASH WEDNESDAY (Larry Peerce, 1973) also draws on the clinic for inspiration, but to different ends. The film has a lovely Brazailian-influenced score by René Koering.

José Arroyo

Eavesdropping at the Movies: 427 – Alien: Romulus

A welcome new instalment in the Alien franchise, which has moved between genres and directors, remained popular for over four decades, and offered fascinating expansions of its internal mythos, Alien: Romulus moves with the times to give Generation Z the opportunity to die in space. It goes like the clappers, orchestrates loads of entertaining, tactile action, and is unbelievably good-looking. It’s also underwritten, arguably overstuffed with reference to previous films in the series, and features one of those entirely uncontroversial and ethically pure reanimations of a deceased actor through CGI and other technologies. Perhaps after seeing the muted responses to the ideas on offer in Prometheus and Alien: Covenant, the series has decided to seek refuge in the cloying bosom of nostalgia – but we differ on how excessive it is, while enthusiastically agreeing that Romulus is great fun, and easy to recommend.

Listen on the players below, Apple PodcastsAudibleSpotify, or YouTube Music.

With José Arroyo of First Impressions and Michael Glass of Writing About Film.

 

Eavesdropping at the Movies: 426 – Caligula: The Ultimate Cut

One of cinema’s most infamous disasters, Caligula was conceived by producer Bob Guccione, the founder of Penthouse magazine, as an explicit, expensively-made adult film, about the rise and fall of the titular Roman emperor. In pursuing this, Guccione removed director Tinto Brass during post-production, so that he could have hardcore pornography shot and inserted into the film. On its release in 1979, Caligula was critically savaged on both moral and cinematic grounds, confiscated by police in some countries, banned in others, and the cause of lines that stretched around the block. It has remained an artifact of cult interest ever since, and the subject of occasional attempts to reconstruct it in a form that reflects something approaching its creators’ original visions – to whatever extent their visions agreed with each other.

Caligula: The Ultimate Cut is the most thorough of these reconstructions by far, benefitting from the rediscovery of 96 hours of original material, which had been rushed out of Italy and hidden during the film’s release. Opening intertitles claim that every frame of art historian Thomas Negovan’s cut is previously unseen. It’s long been wondered whether there’s a great film within Caligula; although we don’t think The Ultimate Cut demonstrates that there is, it’s entertaining and striking, and offers an idea of what might have been.

Listen on the players below, Apple PodcastsAudibleSpotify, or YouTube Music.

 

With José Arroyo of First Impressions and Michael Glass of Writing About Film.

José Arroyo In Conversation with Alastair Phillips on Tokyo Story (Yasujiro Ozu, 1953)

I’ve been wanting to talk to Alastair Phillips about his ‘BFI Classic’ monograph on TOKYO STORY (Yasujiro Ozu, 1953) since it was first published late last year. I found reading the book after watching the film truly illuminating, deepening and enriching the experience: a real achievement with a film already so familiar. It draws on Japanese sources not yet available in English, offering new information on the film’s production and reception and combines this with Alastair’s characteristically precise and informative textual analysis. It’s no surprise that the book is already on its second printing.

 

In the podcast we discuss the significance of TOKYO STORY being Ozu’s first film after the American occupation; Shochiku Studios, genre, and the star system of the period; the film’s reception in Japan and the lag between that and broader international release; Ozu’s characteristic aesthetic, including what Nöel Burch characterised as the ‘pillow shot’ ; the relation of space to place in the film; how the film is about the flow of time in its varied temporalities; the female-centric aspect of the film and what it has to say about ‘blood’ families; why and how it’s so moving; it’s relationship to MAKE WAY FOR TOMORROW (Leo McCarey, 1937); how Ozu is not just one of the great directors of the Twentieth Centuries but, considering his work as a potter, designer, painter, photographer, calligrapher etc, might just be one of its greatest artists; why it keeps getting ranked at the top of the critics’ polls decade after decade;  why isn’t it called THE ONOMICHI STORY …. And much more. A conversation that will hopefully incite listeners to read the book.

The podcast may be listened to below:

 

The podcast may also be listened to on: Spotify here: https://open.spotify.com/show/2zWZ7Egdy6xPCwHPHlOOaT

and on itunes here: https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast/first-impressions-thinking-aloud-about-film/id1548559546

José Arroyo

Eavesdropping at the Movies 425 – Deadpool & Wolverine

Deadpool 2 put us in such a foul mood when it came out in 2018 that we threw away our podcast on it. It was too toxic to publish. Fortunately, Deadpool & Wolverine, the third in the series, didn’t have such an effect on us – even José found some things to compliment about it.

Perhaps it’s the relative diminishment of Marvel since its peak in 2018, when it was reaching the climax of the story it had been building for a decade, that makes Deadpool & Wolverine work as it otherwise might not – its jokes about the X-Men joining the MCU at a low point really landed, for example. It’s far from perfect – Ryan Reynolds’ schtick remains smug, and the film tries to have it both ways, delivering snarky commentary on the sorts of things films like this do, then discarding the snark when it wants to do them itself. But it’s pacey, energetic, full of intense action with a delightfully cartoony attitude, filled with so many attempts to make you laugh that some of them are bound to work, and featuring a pair of enjoyable, charismatic villains: Matthew Macfadyen’s Mr. Paradox is a marvellously hammy presence, while Emma Corrin’s Cassandra Nova’s slight physique and genteel demeanour make her telepathic abilities all the more threatening.

Listen on the players below, Apple PodcastsAudibleSpotify, or YouTube Music.

With José Arroyo of First Impressions and Michael Glass of Writing About Film.

Eavesdropping at the Movies

After a long time off, we return with M. Night Shyalaman’s new thriller, Trap, in which Josh Hartnett’s doting dad, Cooper, takes his daughter to see her favourite pop star at a massive arena gig, but finds himself surrounded and hunted by the FBI.

We discuss the ways in which Shyamalan gives Cooper opportunities for escape but closes them off; the unusually disappointing lack of imagination and expression in some of the visual design and shot selection (something we’re used to finding so interesting from Shyamalan); the attempt to sell a psychological background to Cooper, which is somehow neither intelligent nor daft enough; the production of the music and Saleka Night Shyamalan’s performance as Lady Raven; Mike’s fickleness in choosing whom to root for; and José’s joy at seeing Hayley Mills. But despite picking at flaw after flaw, as we always do, we had a great time in Trap, and recommend it.

Listen on the players below, Apple PodcastsAudible, Google Podcasts, or Spotify.

With José Arroyo of First Impressions and Michael Glass of Writing About Film.

 

José Arroyo in Conversation With Siavash Minoukadeh

At Cinema Rediscovered I attended a panel on film programming and film curating chaired by Maddy Probst and found the collaborations between the festival and the young programmers impressive and inspiring. The strand I attended most assiduously was Siavash Minoukadeh’s Queer Cinema From the Eastern Bloc, co-curated with Fedor Tot. In the accompanying podcast I talk to Siavash about how he came to be a curator, how this particular programme came to be, what his collaborations with Fedor Tot and the Festival were like, what risks were involved, and what the feedback on the program has been like thus far. Is film programming putting bums on seats? Developing new audiences? Bringing hard to see material into view? Creating contexts for different ways of viewing and understanding? Making cultural interventions? All of the above?

The podcast may be listened to here:

The podcast may also be listened to on Spotify here: https://open.spotify.com/show/2zWZ7Egdy6xPCwHPHlOOaT

and on itunes here: https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast/first-impressions-thinking-aloud-about-film/id1548559546

Maddy Probst and the ‘Different Ways of Seeing’ panel.

Cinema Rediscovered 2024 Wrap-Up

We have nothing but praise for this year’s edition of Cinema Rediscovered. In the podcast, we discuss the pleasures of seeing Gilda (Charles Vidor, 1946) and Le Samourai (Jean-Pierre Melville, 1967) in beautiful prints on the opening night; the pleasure in seeing restorations with an audience where every time someone responds differently it raises a question one might not have thought of before; thus, a pleasure that begins in the realm of the aesthetic and moves on and combines with the the real of dreams and thoughts.

We talk about the two Edward Yang films screened,  A Confucian Confusion (1994) and Mahjong (1996) and praise Ian Wang for doing such a terrific job of introducing the films: interesting, entertaining, succinct and opening up ways of entering the film, a challenge in the age of Wikipedia.

We discuss the Ninon Sevilla cabaretera films, possibly the hit of the festival. There was a fantastic programme of ‘New’ Hollywood films — Out of Their Depth: Corruption Scandal and Lies in the New Hollywood — and we discuss the only two films in the programme that we did manage to see:  Night Moves (Arthur Penn, 1975) and The Long Goodbye (Robert Altman, 1973). We hope to catch up with the rest when it tours. The festival offers a great balance tween the more esoteric strands and those appealing to a larger audience. It was wonderful to see The Wizard of Oz (1939) with an audience full of children, some of them dressed up as Dorothy. We also touch on the Jeff Barnaby and  Bill Douglas cycles as well as  the Sergei Parajanov restorations and other strands of the festival such as the J. Lee Thompson restorations. We will be doing a separate podcast on the Queer Cinema from the Eastern Bloc programme.

There were several revelations in this festival that we discuss in the podcast: The Student Nurses (Stephanie Rothman, 1970) the only woman to direct a film in Hollywood between Ida Lupino and Elaine May; Charles Burnett’s The Annihilation of Fish (1999); Ehsahn Khoshbakht’s beautiful and very personal Cellulloid Underground; and Giuseppe Patroni Griffi’s Il Mare (1962), which David Melville Wingrove in his introduction argued had been a formative influence on Jarman as well as Bill Douglas and, we later learned on Tony Richardson as well as Pedro Almodóvar. Quite a queer package.

Lastly, we praise how the festival makes use of the city, the different venues, It’s part of a concerted effort to bring the city into the festival and the festival into the city. The festival seems an incubator for curators, some programming a single film, some a strand. The community feel, the social engagement, the educational component of talks and workshops, a teaching people how to do things, all meshed together to form a very impressive and entertaining festival. Many congratulations to all. Some of the strands will be touring. Oh, and no one used their phones during the screenings. Big Gold Star.

The podcast may  also be listened to below:

The podcast may also be listened to on Spotify here: https://open.spotify.com/show/2zWZ7Egdy6xPCwHPHlOOaT

and on itunes here: https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast/first-impressions-thinking-aloud-about-film/id1548559546

Our Preview of the  Festival may be heard here:

Strands of the programme we have previously podcast on written on include:

Le Samourai

The Long Goodbye

Bill Douglas Films: The Bill Douglas Trilogy, Comrades

Edward Yang Films: The TerrorizersTaipei Story, That Day on the Beach,   Desire/ Expectations in IN OUR TIME,

Listeners may also be interested in Hal Young’s video essay on Yi Yi: ‘Yi Yi and the Power of long Fixed Shots’. 

A short note on THE PARALLAX VIEW

A conversation with Ehsan Khoshbakht

 

Lonesome (Craig Boreham, Australia, 2022)

More catching up on films bought but unseen, this time Craig Boreham’s LONESOME, featuring some exceptional cinematography by Dean Francis. The story is as old as the hills: a young gay man (Josh Lavery) from the outback is violently forced out of his home by incomprehending parents and ends up in the big city – here Sidney – dealing with his traumas whilst trying to survive in the big city through petty theft and a stumbling into sex work before meeting someone with whom he forms a connection (Daniel Gabriel). There are clear references to MIDNIGHT COWBOY and MY OWN PRIVATE IDAHO. But the old story is like the overarching structure for something newer — a snapshot of contemporary queer culture – the sex apps and the different ways young gay men now meet, socialise and have sex – that feels authentic. Full frontal nudity is ever present and casually treated and a whole alphabet of sexual scenarios are depicted without judgment but equally without abdicating the responsibility of representing consequences. If the film feels authentic, it also seems glamourised. Everything and everyone looks beautiful, even in the most alarming situation, like in an old Hollywood movie. It also has a happy ending, which I see some find artificial, but which I loved and find in keeping with the tone and look of the film. LONESOME is a beautiful film. I also think it an important one — in what it says about contemporary queer culture – what’s changed, what hasn’t, and how –but would have to see it again and think about it some more to be sure.

 

 

 

José Arroyo

Cinema Rediscovered 2024 – Preview

Richard and I preview the 2024 Cinema Rediscovered Programme taking place in Bristol, July 24-28. We’ve already podcast on the Parajanov films and the Ninon Sevilla ‘cabaretera’ films so we here highlight some of the other strands such as the 70s cycle of ‘New” American films of the 70s titled OUT OF THEIR DEPTH: CORRUPTION, SCANDAL AND LIES IN THE NEW HOLLYWOOD and QUEER CINEMA FROM THE EASTERN BLOC. We also highlight restorations of films from Charles Burnett, Bela Tarr, Edward Yang and many others, as well as the rare opportunity to see films by the likes of Lynda Miles, Stephanie Rothman, not to mention beautiful restorations of classics such as GILDA and THE LONG

GOODBYE. Cinema Rediscovered offers not only a superb programme but a model of engagement, community based, inclusive, social, cinephile, generative. It includes films but also history walks, workshops on criticism and projection and much else. At the centre of it all are films, usually in beautiful prints with great attention to projection, all instigating a conversation on cinema.

The full programme may be seen  here.

The podcast may be listened to below:

The podcast may  also be listened to on Spotify here: https://open.spotify.com/show/2zWZ7Egdy6xPCwHPHlOOaT

and on itunes here: https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast/first-impressions-thinking-aloud-about-film/id1548559546

 

Strands of the programme we have previously podcast on written on include:

Le Samourai

The Long Goodbye

Bill Douglas Films: The Bill Douglas Trilogy, Comrades

Edward Yang Films: The Terrorizers, Taipei Story, That Day on the Beach,   Desire/ Expectations in IN OUR TIME,

Listeners may also be interested in Hal Young’s video essay on Yi Yi: ‘Yi Yi and the Power of long Fixed Shots’. 

A short note on THE PARALLAX VIEW

A conversation with Ehsan Khoshbakht

José Arroyo

José Arroyo in Conversation with Sheldon Hall on ARMCHAIR CINEMA: FEATURE FILMS ON BRITISH TELEVISION, 1929-1981

Sheldon Hall’s ARMCHAIR CINEMA: A HISTORY OF FEATURE FILMS ON BRITISH TELEVISION is a beautifully produced object, lavishly illustrated and lovely to hold. More importantly, it is a pleasure to read , full of new and fascinating information and is sure to become a landmark and reference point in the study of films on television for decades to come. In the podcast we discuss how the book came to be and how it developed, how the policy around films in television developed over the years, how research lead to a heretofore unaccounted for Hitchcock film, Leslie Halliwell’s influence as film buyer, the role of television programming in creating particular types of cinephilia, how the editing of films for television changed over the years, what Sheldon learned as a result of writing the book, what I learned as a result of reading it, and much more.

 

The podcast may be listened to here:

The podcast may  also be listened to on Spotify here: https://open.spotify.com/show/2zWZ7Egdy6xPCwHPHlOOaT

and on itunes here: https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast/first-impressions-thinking-aloud-about-film/id1548559546

José Arroyo

José Arroyo in Conversation with Daniel Bird on Sergei Parajanov

I was so bowled over and moved by the programme of Sergei Parajanov’s Ukranian films at Cinema Ritrovato in Bologna,  Parajanov 1954-1966: A Ukrainian Rhapsody, co-curated by Daniel Bird and Olena Honcharuk,  that I wanted to talk to Daniel Bird about the programme in general and the driving force behind it. Another reason to talk to Daniel was because Cinema Rediscovered in Bristol is showing Shadows of the Forgotten Ancestors (1965) and The Colour of Pomegranates (1969), and I wanted to hear what one of the foremost experts on the famous director had to say about Parajanov’s most celebrated films.

The Cinema Rediscovered Screenings will be introduced by Professor Ian Christie.

In the podcast Daniel and I discuss who is Parajanov and why Parajanov? We touch on the centrality of his work to the national and cultural identities of so many countries: Ukraine, Georgia, Armenia, Russia; its aesthetic beauty and its continuing power. Certain filmmakers continuously crop up in relation to Parajanov’s work — Eisenstein, Jarman, Greenaway, Pasolini, Kenneth Anger, Powell and Pressburger. The conversation is bounded by the war in Ukraine; post-colonial relations; the excitement of cinema poetry; the need to archive, preserve, restore and circulate cinema; questions of anarchy in totalitarian contexts; and a fluid line of different degrees of queerness that runs across Parajanov’s oeuvre.

The podcast may be listened to here:

The podcast may  also be listened to on Spotify here: https://open.spotify.com/show/2zWZ7Egdy6xPCwHPHlOOaT

and on itunes here: https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast/first-impressions-thinking-aloud-about-film/id1548559546

The conversation began with an unintended provocation – the consequences of the term ‘East European Cinema,’  what it highlights and what it obscures so we began again. Daniel explains the problems with the term and connects it to questions of post-coloniality in relation to the film heritage of nations formerly in the Soviet Union: ‘Film plays a part in the process of reforging national and ethnic identities in the post-Soviet borderlands: Central Asia, Transcaucasia, the Baltics, Belarus and Ukraine….Yet there is a tendency amongst film writers, programmers and distributors to treat the cinemas of the former Soviet Union as if they still belonged to a singular, amorphous bloc….whilst Russia has relinquished the ownership rights to films from the post-Soviet borderlands, they have kept hold of the original camera negatives. In this digital age, this presents difficulties for film agencies from these regions to restore, screen and distribute their own films. It is time we started thinking about heritage cinema from former Soviet countries for what it is: a post-colonial problem.’ Daniel elaborates further here: animusmagazine.substack.com-The Animus Substack.

 

In the podcast we touch on the background to the Parajanov films screened at Ritrovato, Parajanov 1954-1966: A Ukrainian Rhapsody. The full program can be seen below:

 

Daniel edited a collection of articles on The Colour of Pomegranates with contributions from Martin Scorsese, James Steffen and others, which may be accessed hereThe Colour of Pomegranates – PRESS-3-7.

As well as being a scholar, filmmaker and programmer, Daniel Bird is also the Project Director of the Hamo Bek-Nazarov Project, a collaboration between the National Cinema Centre of Armenia and Fixafilm. In that capacity he created an installation for The Film Festival in Rotterdam composed of outtakes from The Colour of Pomegranates. According to MUBI, ‘“Temple of Cinema #1: Sayat Nova Outtakes ‘is an exhibition showcasing all the additional footage made for a production, in this case unused footage from Sergei Parajanov’s sublime masterpiece The Color of Pomegranates (1969). These pieces have been digitally restored and a selection of them were presented in an Armenian church in the city (sic, the Arminius Church is named after a Dutch theologian but is not Armenian), with multiple screens placed flat as if the audience were browsing illuminated manuscripts on tables. The footage looked fabulous and, due to Parajanov’s style favoring insert shots and tableaux, was nearly as enthralling in its fragmented form as in the organized narrative of the finished picture’.

For Film Comment, ‘Restored from the original camera negatives by the heroic restorationist Daniel Bird, these outtakes peel back the top layer from Parajanov’s practically unsurpassed compositions to reveal not only that, yes, these otherworldly images were obtained in this very world that we ourselves live in (signaled by a jeans-clad technician on a ladder in the background fixing a light amid an otherwise transporting tableau), the final product to which they amounted was deeply informed by the decisions of the Soviet censors. Bird’s ongoing exploration of the “behind the scenes” machinations surrounding the work of one of cinema’s all-time great visual stylists promises to enhance Parajanov’s work, and this labor is already paying off: Bird also presented a program of newly restored short films by Parajanov—Hakob Hovantanyan (1967), Kiev Frescoes (1966), and Arabesques on the Pirosmani Theme (1985)—and the results were revelatory, helping to fill in the gaps of our understanding of his artistic development between Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors (1965) and Pomegranates.

 

Some examples of these outtakes may be seen below:

 

José Arroyo

 

José Arroyo in conversation with Lorena Pino on Ninón Sevilla Films at Cinema Rediscovered, Watershed, Bristol, 24-28th of July

 

José Arroyo talks to Lorena Pino about the programme of Ninón Sevilla films playing at the Watershed in Bristol as part of the Cinema Rediscovered Programme, and which includes two UK Premieres — Carita de Cielo (José Diáz Morales, Mexico, 1947) and Aventurera (Alberto Gout, Mexico, 1950) — as well as the 4K restoration of an acknowledged if still too little-seen masterpiece, Victimas del Pecado (Emilio Fernández, Mexico, 1951). Gabriel Figueroa, the great cinematographer who worked with Buñuel and John Ford, is responsible for the great film’s astonishing look.

 

I have so far only seen the great Victimas del Pecado. If you haven’t yet seen this great transgressive clip, one of the great delirious moments of melodrama in the history of world cinema, simultaneously masochistic and subversive, do. I’ve conveniently provided it for you here, with sub-titles. It was a pleasure to talk to Lorena and find out about the other two films, both UK premieres.

The podcast may be listened to here:

The podcast may  also be listened to on Spotify here: https://open.spotify.com/show/2zWZ7Egdy6xPCwHPHlOOaT

and on itunes here: https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast/first-impressions-thinking-aloud-about-film/id1548559546

 

Lorena Pino

‘Cabaretera Subtexts,’ the  great videa essay by Dolores Tierney and Catherine Grant, made as part of the “Classical Mexican Cinema: Directors, Stars and Films” lecture given by Dr. Dolores Tierney (University of Sussex) to launch the Salón México season at the British Film Institute on July 4, 2019, may be seen below:

The Victimas del Pecado 4k Restoration Trailer may be seen below:

 

The programme of films is playing at Watershed Bristol July 25th as part of the Cinema Rediscovered Programme.

José Arroyo

Thinking Aloud About Film: Ritrovato Round-up 2024

Richard and I return to the podcast with our Ritrovato Round-up. Last year I couldn’t go due to health reasons and I interviewed him; this year, the tables were turned and he interviews me. Ritrovato is so vast and generous in its programming that everyone who attended would have had a different experience of the festival. This is an account of mine. We criticise the booking system and people’s piggish habit of taking out their phones during screenings. Cinephiles do know better, which makes it all the worse. The rest is mainly hossanas. We praise Daniel Bird’s programming of the Parajanov Strand. We note how even seeing familiar films can be the basis of a rediscovery and discuss how the programme of Dietrich films at the festival should re-write the narrative of the Von Sternberg/ Dietrich collaborations from one of a Svengali act of moulding to a feminist act of self-creation. We touch on Delphine Seyrig, the Dark Heimat Strand, Gustaf Molander, Anatole Litvak and highlight Carlos Sauras’ Los golfos and Montxo Armendáriz Tasio from the Cinema Libero strand. We also discuss seeing films at the stunning Cinema Modernissimo, watching Les parapluies de Cherbourg at the Piazza Maggiore and many other bits and bobs.

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José Arroyo

Les lèvres rouges/ Daughters of Darkness (Harry Kümel, Belgium, 1971).

There was a whole Delphine Seyrig strand at Ritrovato. I’d already seen most of them. But this was a marvellous discovery. Lesbianism is almost a feature of horror films of a certain vintage but rarely as elegantly combined as here: a classic. Seyrig plays a Hungarian Countess, Elizabeth Báthory, made up to recall Dietrich, who arrives to a hotel ,in Ostend, out of season and mostly empty, with her maid Ilona(Andrea Rau), styled to resemble Louise Brooks. The porter tells the Countess  they met forty years earlier but she looks still the same. She tells him it was probably her mother, though the audience is quickly made aware that there’s a legend about her namesake drinking the blood of virgins to keep young, one dating from the middle ages, and that police are currently carrying a whole bunch of dead bodies to the morgue. At the hotel they find a pair of newly-weds – Stefan (John Chirlton) and Valerie (Danielle Ouimet) who can’t keep their hands off each other. He’s from an aristocratic family and is delaying introducing his bride to mother, probably because mother is shown to be a man eating orchids. The Countess is set on seducing Valerie, and part of the seduction is showing her what a violent, brutish, sexist pig her husband is. How will it end? A sexy, stylish film, beautifully shot, dark but with vibrant accents, Seyrig often dressed in Nazi colours, with elements of Surrealism and Expressionism and a focus on transgressive desire that is mostly conveyed through Syrig’s soft, low voice and precise diction. It was so striking that the young woman next to me kept taking her phone out to film particular scenes. When I got annoyed and finally said, ‘really’? She said, ‘yes, really’. I like to think it’s the film that drove her to it but she might just have been a pig.

 

José Arroyo

 

 

Tasio (Montxo Armendáriz, 1984)

A thrill to see this newly restored classic, which permits one to fully appreciate José Luis Alcaine’s gorgeous cinematography. Director Montxo Armendáriz moves slowly into close-ups in a way that makes you feel you’re seeing into the very souls of the characters. Very beautiful and moving. Most Spaniards of a certain generation will recognise the way of life and the structures of feeling depicted here. Part of the Cinema Libero strand. The image above is its 25th anniversary release. The gorgeous 4K restoration is for its fortieth. It’s a film that continues to live. There’s something sadly still rare — and because of that impossibly moving to me–  about poor people being depicted with so much dignity, beauty, intelligence and humour. That Tasio and the people of his village also represent a whole generation of rural Spaniards makes it even more potent.

 

I was privileged to be at the Bologna screening when Montxo Armendárix introduced the film and include what I caught of the introduction below. I missed some bits but will include the gist in italics in the English translation below the film:

Montxo Armendáriaz: ‘A thousand thanks to all for your help with the projection. That’s the only thing I’ll say in Italian. I’ll try to speak slowly in Castilian so I may be understood and translated. Apologies for the voice, which between my asthma and the temperature in Bologna is a bit destroyed. I first of all give thanks to the festival for selecting our film in this magnificent strand and also for the Filmoteca for undertaking the restoration on the film’s 40th anniversary. The film you are about to see is based on a real person . Tasio was a person who lived in a tiny village in Navarra. He was a simple, honest,  and generous man who all his live lived from making carbon from vegetation in the hills and also from furtively hunting and fishing. Tasio was very proud and said his family had never done without food or any of the essentials and that he had always refused to work for others.   He lived by two principles. The first was that if you only took what you needed from nature and left everything else as is, nature would always give you back what you needed to live. The other principle, Tasio was a very peaceful man,  and he believed that though there were a bunch of people with whom he disagreed about their ideas or their way of life, he totally respected them; including, as you will see in the film,  he respected the views and the lifestyles of the forest guards who are the ones who persecuted and fined him for furtively hunting and fishing. I first knew him forty years ago, and the truth is that I was much younger and much more innocent then and thought that these two principles — respect for nature and respect for others — so normal, plain,  and simple could or would be the base on which could be sustained our development and progress towards the future.  Sadly, forty years later, we can now attest that the environment is completely destroyed because of all we’ve done to nature, our cohabitation is sadly increasingly violent and we are left with  confrontations, wars and genocides. There were a couple more sentences which ended with happy viewing but which I sadly missed.

 

Tasio a film I will return to and more carefully consider in further posts.

 

José Arroyo

Sugarland Express (Steven Spielberg, 1974)

It’s a film I’ve tried to see and given up on at home five or six times previously. This time on a big screen, the first two shots are simply dazzling, I watched them with my mouth open, whereas at home on tv I simple missed them. They simply didn’t register. The last shot of the film, the fishing on the river at dusk with the golden light is extraordinary work from Vilmos Zsigmond….and yet, to me the film still doesn’t work. The cast, particularly Hawn is wonderful, but her Lou Jean is so intent on getting what she wants that she thinks little of getting her husband (William Atherton) killed. Surely a problem. And this reinforces my prejudices about Spielberg, an almost genius level understanding of technique, a not very complex understanding of politics or society or even, with the exception of children, people. Genius technique at the service of limited understanding.

 

José Arroyo