A Dream Come True (1963 Soviet science fiction film)

Continuing my exploration of classic Soviet science-fiction movies, I come to 'A Dream Come True', also known as 'Toward Meeting a Dream' (original title:- Mechte navstrechu), which was originally released in 1963. The film was directed by Mikhail Karyukov and Otar Koberidze.

The premise of the story is reasonably straightforward. A spaceship from a distant planet, journeying towards Earth, encounters difficulties and consequently lands on the planet Mars. The authorities on Earth dispatch spacecraft to render assistance and establish contact.

Although the plot is not that innovative, and in places it flirts with corniness, I found it to be quite an affecting picture. Visually it is lavish, and in its relative slickness it does not necessarily conform to our expectations of science fiction movies from that era. The impression is that the budget was above-average for this type of project, and this is reinforced by the quality of the 'special effects'. There is also some highly effective electronic music, courtesy of Eduard Artemyev.

The 'script' and the narrative explore the standard themes from Soviet films from this genre - faith in science and human progress, peace and international solidarity.  As is often the case, Space is employed as a metaphor for events on Earth. 

If there is an underlying message or philosophical conclusion from the story, it is perhaps one of sacrifice for the greater good, and for the sake of knowledge and progress. Also, that we should not assume the hostile or malign intentions of the inhabitants of other planets. I interpreted the level of political moralizing to be comparatively mild and subtle. To be honest, once one has watched a certain number of old Soviet sci-fi movies, some hard-nosed pragmatism and 'realpolitik' would be welcome as a counterpoint to the unremitting diet of 'idealism' and utopianism. 

A Dream Come True contains more in the way of emotion and 'romance' than your typical sci-fi work, and this might alienate some people who prefer a more 'ascetic' and clinical ambience in such films. The tone and aesthetic of the film are distinctly 'early Sixties' in flavour.

This might not be the most cerebral of science fiction films, but it is quite 'rounded', gripping and satisfying as a watching experience. The conclusion to the film does leave a glimmer of doubt, though.

With The Beatles (1963 album)

With The Beatles, the sophomore album by the Liverpudlian beat combo, was seen as a step up in polish and sophistication, if lacking some of the infectious naivete and spontaneity of the first record.

It has been observed that more time and care was taken over this one, as evidenced by the arty (and much imitated and parodied) cover design. The darker, less frivolous ambience does reflect a maturing of sorts, but in purely musical terms  the progression is perhaps only slightly discernible to the untrained ear.

As on the debut, they start off proceedings with a strong album-only track, although "It Won't Be Long" emerges as a fairly mediocre song upon closer inspection.  It is made memorable and impactful by the taut and urgent way in which it is put together, with fine vocal interplay and meaty guitar parts.  Lots of action packed into just over two minutes, with little time to draw breath.

A trend which emerges for me is how much more measured and in control the band is on this record. Quiet confidence and a less frenetic flavour. John Lennon excels vocally throughout, and songs such as "All My Loving" exhibit a growth in musical finesse and savvy. As has been frequently pointed out, it seems remarkable that compositions of this quality could be consigned to being "mere" album tracks.

It is worth acknowledging at this juncture that the record is not uniformly strong.  There is some filler, such as "Don't Bother Me"  and "Little Child", but the running order is cleverly arranged and paced so as to make the album seem slightly stronger than it really is. Versatility is much on display, with the boys having excursions into something approaching Tin Pin Alley ("Till There Was You").

As on several of the Beatles' early albums, we are served up a mixture of original numbers and cover versions. The covers are of variable quality here, it should be stressed. The rendition of "Please Mr. Postman" is a wonder of control and vibrancy, both Lennon, on lead, and McCartney and Harrison, on harmonies/backing vocals, starring. Their interpretation of "Money (That's What I Want)", packs a considerable punch, if less immediately likeable than some of their other covers.

The version of "Roll Over Beethoven" feels rather perfunctory and uninspired, but one wonders how different it might have turned out had McCartney or Lennon taken the lead vocal. "You've Really Got a Hold On Me" is interpreted with great acuity and restraint, once again the voices blend and intertwine beautifully. The group seemed especially suited to covering songs in this style or sub-genre.

For all its status as a song which became a Rolling Stones single, "I Wanna Be Your Man" is rather turgid, and helps complete the complement of filler. It is not surprising that the lads felt no qualms about "giving away" this song to their nearest British competitors.

"Devil In Her Heart" is minor but enjoyable, with some pleasing harmonies and chord changes. The Beatles in their element in many ways.  "Not A Second Time" is a fascinating and mildly "experimental" creation which is often forgotten, but it exudes in a quiet way some of those qualities which would soon place The Beatles well beyond the reach of most of their contemporaries.

So to sum up, With The Beatles is an advance on its predecessor, even it it less enjoyable and exuberant in an immediate sense. The musicians sound less anxious to please, having surmounted some of the pressing obstacles on the first record. The signs of their more folk-rock-orientated and acoustic phase, which was only months in the future, are not really there, but this only underscores the feverish and dynamic nature of the Sixties and the Beatles' artistic development.

This Sporting Life (1963 film)

This Sporting Life is a 1963 British film, directed by Lindsay Anderson, and based on the novel by David Storey. It stars Richard Harris as Frank Machin, a coal miner turned rugby league player. The movie follows Machin's professional trials and tribulations, and his romantic entanglements.

This film has assumed an almost mythic reputation within these shores, but it is different from how I remember it from my previous viewings. There is less rugby league action than one might imagine. One thing which is certain is that the piece would not have worked nearly as well had it been made in colour. 

If I discerned a message from watching the film, it was one of self-expression and honesty.  It was released in 1963, at a time when Britain was emerging from an introspective and deferential period, and bright young things from all kinds of social backgrounds were coming to the fore and making themselves heard.

I know that from the distance of the 21st century, some of the working class based "kitchen sink" drama of the early 1960s can even seem like self-parody, and occasionally comes off as patronizing. However, I think that This Sporting Life is plausible and credible in the main, partly because of the acting performances, and also because it lacks excessive self-consciousness. 

The movie strikes a chord with me, in a nebulous way. I was probably never really "working class" myself, in the truest sense, although my surroundings and contemporaries were.  There is an authenticity and candour here which is quite revelatory. People struggling to contain their feelings, but sometimes "letting go". That was something which I seldom saw in my youth. The grittiness and rawness seem real to me.

The social commentary here is quite subtle and "organic", somewhere in there for the viewer to pick out and ponder upon, and the "kitchen sink" elements focus primarily on the relationship between Machin and his landlady, played by Rachel Roberts.  As the film progressed, I thought that the portrayal of the human condition was increasingly bleak. Not a "feel good" film, from that point of view. 

The characters are struggling to communicate with each other, to open up, partly because of traditional British reserve and reticence. Frank Machin seems more expressive than most, but lacks subtlety and finesse in his dealings with others. Everyone else seems to conform, and this leaves Machin looking and feeling like an outsider, often uncomfortable in this milieu. An "angry young man"?.  Perhaps...

In contrast to the dark, dimly lit scenes in the house, the rugby portions of the movie are (comparatively) bright, less subdued and insidious, perhaps symbolizing the game as a form of escape for Machin from his other demons, frustrations and concerns. The picture is done in a "flashback" format, and this is employed to good effect, imbuing the work with additional dynamism and pace, and encouraging the viewer to muse upon meanings. 

Some of the scenes, especially those accompanied by the mildly avant-garde and creepy music, remind me somewhat of European art cinema, "audio-visually" at least.

The Machin character remains impassive and stony-faced when confronted with sycophancy and shallow fawning by social climbers. His responses, expressions and attitudes are possibly more ambiguous than those of your typical "angry young man". This also applies I think to his interactions with his "superiors", such as the rugby league club's owners. Whilst complex, he lacks savvy or sensitivity.  The brooding but enigmatic countenance is brilliantly conveyed by Harris. It is good to see some "animal" emotion in there, rather than endless oblique philosophizing.

This Sporting Life embodies a collision of  traditional values and the modern, business-like approach to life, as befits a film made during a transitional period in social history. Also, philosophies of life which are not epoch-sensitive are to the fore. Those who had decided "if you can't beam 'em, join 'em" stood out to me. One or two scenes depict Machin as detached, gazing upon the superficiality and pretense around him.

This feeling of detachment and alienation I could relate to.  The world is not a perfect place, and one can be too proud, and refuse to meet people halfway, ultimately to one's detriment. 

Another facet of Machin's personality rang true with me as well. That of not knowing how to behave, and what to say, at a crucial time. Misjudging situations and other people's feelings.  There is a fine line between honesty and leaving things alone which are better left unsaid. Being too eager to impress. Being out of practice, as it were, and this rustiness leading to a crudeness and insensitivity, and much later regret.

I feel that this film also serves as a pretty good study of the human psyche and the male condition especially. People being unable to communicate effectively, being on different wavelengths. This is one of the unpleasant, and unpalatable, realities of adult existence. At the root of it all, maybe, lie insecurity and loneliness. 

A great sequence near the end may encapsulate much of the film's narrative. We see Machin on a hill, looking down on the town, which could be seen as a microcosm of the world.  We then cut to a grim, brutal rugby tussle. Summing up his, and our existence, perhaps?  Then again, the rugby-life parallels are perhaps a little too convenient and easy.

Rachel Roberts' performance I find to be a real "grower".  Early on, it can seem a little bland and hesitant, but one has to see how things develop to appreciate that this was intentional. A strong, seamless effort.

This movie has a naturalness and a believability which makes it compelling.  This is real life. People here are not pointedly or blatantly wallowing in their predicament, or chafing at any kind of social chains. It is surprisingly fresh and resonant. Some of the topics and concerns explored are universal.  If anything, the film goes on too long.  It is not exactly light or "escapist" viewing, but it is satisfying and engaging.