The French Connection - movie review

I recently watched the classic 1971 movie "The French Connection", directed by William Friedkin, and starring Gene Hackman and Roy Scheider.

The plot, which is based on a non-fiction book by Robin Moore, revolves around the attempts of two New York detectives, Jimmy "Popeye" Doyle (Hackman) and Buddy Russo (Scheider), to apprehend a gang of narcotics smugglers.

The factors which in my opinion pervade this whole movie are darkness of tone and a corresponding darkness of scenery and imagery. Most of the scenes are located either at night or in cavernous and forbidding, dimly lit daytime settings. These elements, together with the camerawork and lighting, accentuate the claustrophobia and insidious tension. The fact that the most of the movie appears to have been filmed in cold weather may also have assisted.

Sweeping, panoramic shots are few and far between. The scenes in Washington DC, in bright sunlight, serve as an exception. The accent is firmly on urban decay and the toughness of inner city existence. Even the policemen themselves appeared to pursue a frugal and unostentatious lifestyle.

An intimacy and realism characterizes many of the scenes, including the surveillance and undercover sequences.  "Cinema verite" is probably not the correct term, but it nearly borders on "fly on the wall" at times. The editing also contributes to the overall effect.

The rawness and immediacy are also augmented by the sparsity of the dialogue, and the sparing and judicious employment of music, the visuals often sufficing to tell the story. In highlighting the "dark" motif, it should be stressed that both natural and artificial light are utilized beautifully to capture and convey the mood.

The Doyle character, as played by Hackman, is a very plausible and rounded one. The words pugnacious, irascible and even avuncular all spring to mind. Doyle could be seen as a forerunner for other prickly, unorthodox detectives who appeared in films and television later in the 1970s, inducing suspicion and disquiet in his superiors, but surviving by virtue of the results which he delivered.

The popular image of this movie is largely associated with the Doyle character, and this tends to overshadow the role of  Russo, so ably portrayed by the excellent Roy Scheider. One of the more intriguing, but less discussed, aspects of the picture is the nebulous relationship between Doyle and Russo. It does not necessarily conform to the audience's expectations of how two "partners" should deal with each other.

One or two things occurred to me during my most recent viewing. One relates to the scene where Doyle uses the pretext of a raid as a "smokescreen" to enable him to speak to an informant.  Is this a common device in crime shows and movies?  Later in the decade, a similar scene was included in an episode of the British television series "The Professionals". This also begs the question, is the practice a regular one in the real world?

I had also totally forgotten that The Three Degrees make an appearance in a nightclub scene!

Another important, if minor, touch was the decision to include some French dialogue, with subtitles. They add to the authenticity and the realism of the film.

After the absorbing but relatively sedate start to "The French Connection", the pace quickens,  around the point where Doyle and Charnier engage in a battle of wits on the New York subway. The climactic phase commences with the attempt on Doyle's life and the iconic and pulsating chase scenes.

I find some of the scenes towards the end unsettling, this sensation compounded by the contrast with the more measured fare which precedes it. Did the owner of the vehicle commandeered by Doyle receive compensation, I wonder?

Some people might regard the enigmatic ending as unsatisfactory, but on reflection I think that it is in keeping with the edgy and uncompromising nature of the film. "The French Connection" is riveting viewing.  It might not have been appreciated at the time, but in some ways its appearance heralded a golden period for American cinema, and cinema in general.  Its style and tone were at least partially indicative of what was to follow during the remainder of the decade.

Wer Wenn Nicht Wir (If Not Us, Who)

I recently watched the 2011 German film Wer Wenn Nicht Wir (English: If Not Us, Who), directed by Andres Veiel. The movie is largely set in the 1960s, and tells the story of Bernward Vesper and Gudrun Ensslin. The two main roles are played by August Diehl and Lena Lauzemis. The template for the movie was a book by Gerd Koenen.

Although this picture was produced by different people, it can be see in some ways almost as a "prequel" to The Baader Meinhof Complex;Ensslin went on to co-found the Red Army Faction. There is some overlap in the period 1967-70. Wer Wenn Nicht Wir follows the young duo in their literary endeavours and political activities, and their struggle to come to terms with their country's immediate past.

 

This movie is less flashy and "Hollywood" than others of its type, and the visuals have a very agreeably dusty and bookish feel to them, being understated and restrained.  The dialogue concerning literature is cleverly played so as to gently propel and complement the narrative. Real archive footage is employed in places to instil the context of the times. There are some excellent performances, most notably from Diehl and Lauzemis in the leading two roles.

 

Rightly or wrongly, I saw the efforts of Vesper and Ensslin to establish themselves as publishers as symbolic of the wider effort of the younger generation to break free from the shackles of the past, whilst at the same time endeavouring to confront, and make some sense of, what had occurred two or three decades before. There are some powerful scenes with both sets of parents, and a revealing one with a landlady when the couple are viewing an apartment, where they were given to understand that "co-habiting" without being married was seen as some kind of heinous sin.  It is hard to believe that such attitudes were still prevalent in the 1960s, but it gives some idea of the tenor of the times.

 

The hardening of Gudrun Ensslin's outlook becomes evident only quite imperceptibly, as the personal and the political continue to inter-mingle, but the move to Berlin was clearly something of a watershed. Something of which this film also reminds us is that up until about 1967/68, even the political radicals still wore sober suits or pretty dresses!

 

Of course, the scenario changes after 2 June 1967, and the arrival of Andreas Baader on the scene. Now jeans, leather jackets and cool shades begin to proliferate. A word for Alexander Fehling and his performance as Baader. He manages to capture some of the directness and impudence which we have been told about. It was intriguing to hear the Baader character say that you won't change anything with books. What did Baader and his cohorts ultimately change though? Less than words and peaceful protest did, I would contend.

 

This is a "dramatization", but it seems to stick quite closely to what we know of the true story. The scenes surrounding notable events are quite measured and plausible. Thankfully, there is a relative absence of "crowd scenes", which never quite work out in any movie....

 

One of the most significant scenes in the whole picture for me was in the prison, where a female prison official seeks to reason with Gudrun Ensslin about the methods being employed. The official may have had a point, in referring to the lack of mass grassroots support as a major flaw. She also used the phrase "small steps in the lowlands" - better than attempting giant leaps which alienate everyone and achieve little?

 

All in all, a fine movie, well worth a viewing, and not just for those interested in the precise subject matter.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Children Of The Revolution

After much vacillation, I recently got around to watching the 2010 documentary film "Children Of The Revolution", produced and directed by Shane O'Sullivan. It explores the lives of two famous political militants, Ulrike Meinhof and Fusako Shigenobu, through the eyes and experiences of their respective daughters, Bettina Rohl and Mei (or May) Shigenobu.

The film is made up of interviews with the two daughters, together with archive material and also segments recorded in the twenty-first century. There is excellent use of archive footage and photographs, some of which I had not seen before.

The film alternates between the two case studies, but is held together by common denominators such as the Palestine question and the concept of global revolution. Crisp editing and a stylish flow ensure that it remains generally cohesive, and successfully holds the interest and the attention.

The Japanese angle is fascinating, and of course this area is less well known to Western eyes and ears, but the thing which really stood out for me about this documentary was the perspective of Bettina Rohl. Her comments, and those of others in the film, provide some new insight into Ulrike Meinhof''s life and character.  Myths are dispelled, and much of the romanticism which surrounds the urban guerrillas of that era is put in its true light.

The film addresses the question of how Meinhof's personality and outlook may have altered over time.  Whether this came from within, or was prompted by some of her associations, is left somewhat open to question, but Andreas Baader and Gudrun Ensslin are portrayed in a less than flattering light. Indeed, the bleak and blinkered vision of the Red Army Faction leaders is underlined once again.

Both of the daughters on which the film focuses come across as well-balanced and well-adjusted people, despite, or maybe because of, their "unconventional" upbringing and background. Their contributions are both candid and enlightening.

Overall, this is quite an absorbing and thoughtful documentary. It does not just re-hash old material and theories, but looks at a contentious topic from an interesting and imaginative angle. It is well worth watching.

Carlos (2010 movie)

I have long been fascinated by the European "urban guerilla" scene of the 1970s, although I have not fallen prey to the temptation to embrace "terrorist chic".  In fact, I have found that the longer one studies the subject, the more one becomes convinced of the repugnance of the methods employed by the exponents. however sympathetic one may be to some of their political grievances.

The record as regards celluloid depictions of that era is mixed. They either glorify the perpetrators of foul deeds, or water down and distort the content to such a degree that the point is almost entirely missed. One which is superior to most is "Carlos", a French movie about Carlos the Jackal, released in 2010, and directed by Olivier Assayas.

There is a disclaimer at the beginning of the movie, saying that this should be viewed as a fiction, and that the relationships between characters have been fictionalized.  Even allowing for this, however, this is a stylish and pretty comprehensive effort, and the narrative is largely consistent with most of the written accounts which I have encountered over the years.

The movie takes up the story around 1973, just before Carlos arrives back in Europe.One of the first things which becomes noticeable is the "aesthetic" of the film. It doesn't try too hard to achieve visual period authenticity, and strangely by dint of this is more convincing than many movies which I could mention. Throughout the music employed is distinctly "non-period" too, another factor which prevents the film becoming mired in the need to be historically accurate to the nth degree.

The film is held together by the confident and plausible performance of Edgar Ramirez in the title role. It would have been all too easy to slip into some "cartoonish" perception of what the character was, his appearance, persona and mannerisms. Ramirez is augmented by an array of strong performances by those playing the supporting and minor characters

The well-known events from the period 1973-1975 are depicted here pretty much as they have been related and analysed by numerous journalists and historians. For me, the most valuable and fresh sections of the film were those which dealt with the story from the late 1970s onwards, including the dealings with various Eastern bloc governments and intelligence services, and the repercussions of the end of the Cold War. These areas have less direct association with the supposed Carlos "mythology", which largely stems from the period 1973-76.

This is not simply a catalogue of incidents and operations. Some of the underlying causes espoused by the broader global revolutionary movement, and the desire to emancipate oppressed people, are accorded an airing. Many of these problems remain unresolved and pressing. Once or twice in the movie we also see highlighted the fact that some people embody radical ideals without resorting to violent means, and without descending into greed and vanity.

The constantly shifting loyalties and agendas in the Middle East, and the corresponding attitudes of the superpowers, are a constant backdrop. The picture does not lose sight of the geo-political landscape which influenced the events in the film, and conversely their effect on that landscape.

The portrayal of "the German connection" gives a good idea of the extent of their role, even though they were generally overshadowed by other similar groups. There is a real cosmopolitan flavour to the film, with the action moving between various European capitals, and occasionally to the Middle East. The people on all sides appeared to subsist largely on cigarettes and hard liquor! If the depiction of the practices of some of the security forces is accurate, then I would earnestly hoped that things have changed in the past few decades....

Later in the movie, some of the discordant voices are pinpointed; those who felt that the "revolution" was losing its soul, deviating from its original ideals and aims in its morality and its modus operandi. The Entebbe raid, and the plight of "non-combatants" are used as examples. Most of the participants started out with, on the surface, praiseworthy ideals, but over time differing interpretations emerged, as regards which tactics were effective or warranted in seeking to change the world. Some were occasionally scared or expressed scruples, and the movie does not pretend that they were all above humane conceptions. Those who began to harbour doubts and misgivings were trapped. There was usually no going back, once one went "underground", as they knew where the bodies were buried, both literally and metaphorically. The real enemies became ex-comrades.

But enough of my rambling! This film works on several levels, as an absorbing thriller, and as a catalyst for thinking about some intractable issues. Well worth watching.



 

The Last Waltz

Whenever the subject of "greatest concert movie" or "best rock movie" comes up for discussion, it has become almost obligatory for Martin Scorsese's "The Last Waltz", a document of The Band's 1976 "farewell" performance, to be placed at the top, or the near the top, of the list.

The film is made up of The Band's performances of their own songs, and a series of guest appearances onstage by many of the musical luminaries of the time.  All this is interspersed with interviews, conducted by Scorsese himself, with the members of the Band, in which they provide recollections of their years on the road.

Although I feel that some of the praise lavished on "The Last Waltz" has been a touch excessive, it is still an affecting and rather poignant picture, being seen by many as signifying, or symbolizing, the close of the "classic rock" era.

The first song in the movie, "Don't Do It", was actually done as an encore, but it was an astute choice as the film's opener, as it helps to illustrate what The Band was all about, and where they came from. It is probably fair to say that The Band had passed their peak as a live act at that point, but they definitely rose to the occasion here.

As with The Band, some of the guest artists had also seen better days creatively, but Scorsese's affinity for music, and his abilities as a film-maker, enable him to capture much of the essence of the 1970s rock scene. Many of those artists had some connection with The Band, having influenced them, collaborated with them, or just been friends. They encompassed every genre and sub-genre which made up The Band's appetising musical stew - rock n roll, blues, country, gospel, soul, folk, even Tin Pan Alley.

The interview segments are highly entertaining, with many colourful anecdotes from the group's varied career. The "between song" banter is often loosely connected with the guest artist whose performance immediately follows. This helps to ensure that "The Last Waltz" is not just a routine run through a series of songs. It is also educational, informative and evocative of a lost time.

It is interesting to note that many of the most memorable performances in "The Last Waltz" come from the supposedly less "exalted" guest stars. Ronnie Hawkins and Dr John both exude charisma, but in an endearingly old-fashioned, unpretentious manner, in contrast to some of the precious mainstream rock stars.

The let-down for me is the Neil Young segment. I have always felt that "Helpless" is quite a mediocre, listless and irritating song, and it seems a poor choice in this particular context. especially when he had plenty of great, more exciting and dynamic songs to choose from.

On the other hand, Van Morrison is quite mesmeric, resplendent in purple, giving an exuberant and animated performance of the wonderful "Caravan".  There was a musical empathy between The Band and Van, and this may have been the secret to the magic here.

It is noticeable how much The Band enjoyed and relished playing other people's songs, and performing alongside musicians who they respected or revered, and these sentiments appear to have been heartily reciprocated. The blues-orientated acts (Muddy Waters, Paul Butterfield, Eric Clapton) also worked very well in this environment, again perhaps hinting at a special rapport with The Band and their ethos, which stressed feel and soul over virtuosity. 

When reviewing the Band's "solo" performances here, the powerful and heartfelt rendering of "The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down" is the highlight - a song which seemed more effective onstage than on record.  It is also interesting to note the pre-eminence of Levon Helm in the vocal department throughout, arguably reflecting the power-shift within the group as the 1970s progressed.

The beautiful lighting and camerawork assist in engendering a particular atmosphere in this movie, to the extent that the setting sometimes feels less "rock and roll" than retro Hollywood. A couple of numbers (featuring the Staple Singers and Emmylou Harris) were recorded separately in a "studio" setting.

With repeated viewing and analysis, the musical performances in "The Last Waltz" become slightly less dazzling, but as a snapshot of an era in music, and of the fondness with which a magical group was regarded by its peers, this is great viewing.

Lawrence of Arabia - movie review

As far as classic movies are concerned, David Lean's "Lawrence of Arabia" was until recently one that had largely slipped through my net, and never truly "clicked" with me. Why this should have been I am not entirely sure, as it theoretically ticks most of the boxes for me, both thematically and artistically, and another of Lean's works, "The Bridge On The River Kwai", is probably my favourite movie of all time. Anyway, I have dusted off the DVD, and thought that I would offer my thoughts and observations.

The first thing to say about this film is that the visuals are sumptuous, and the cinematography top notch. The panoramic shots of desert valleys and camel trains are breathtaking, and endow "Lawrence of Arabia" with an epic, sweeping quality. Even the crowd scenes, which few directors can make look authentic, are nicely executed.

Of course, the other central element of the film is Peter O'Toole's highly impressive portrayal of the main character. It seems that the film-makers stuck pretty much to historical record, and how much the performances are consistent with the real personalities of the people will be a matter of debate. O'Toole's performance makes Lawrence seem like an ambiguous, even nebulous figure. A mass of ambiguities and contradictions, but also endearing in an eccentric, truculent kind of way.

As with "The Bridge On The River Kwai", one of the threads running through the story is the clash of cultures, and the interface of British values and imperialism with other peoples. Even though his superiors exuded a certain arrogance, Lawrence's approach is more equivocal, perhaps even manipulative, exploiting the lack of trust which the Arabs held for the British hierarchy. He is his own man, independent-minded, but with his own agenda, and the adulation shown towards him suits his own agenda. He seems to have driven all concerned to distraction at one time or another...

The scene from this film which customarily receives most acclaim is that of Omar Sharif approaching on the horizon on a camel. However, the one which sent a tingle down my spine was the one where Lawrence returns after rescuing a comrade who had become lost in the desert. This was a turning point, after which the Englishman was revered by those under his command. At times, it is easy to forget that Lawrence was employed by the British army, and that this campaign was essentially a theatre of the First World War.

The real "meat" of this movie is the effort of Lawrence to make sense of the factional and tribal rivalries and politics which appear to be impeding unity against the Turks and progress towards freedom and independence. His exasperation is made clear, as he tries to arbitrate as an outsider, or make them see reason.

I liked the way in which the touchy and vexed question of British imperialism was addressed, when the army commanders were asked whether Britain had any designs on Arabia. The awkward and non-committal answers given reflected both the unspoken reality, and their reluctance, as mere soldiers, to become embroiled in political matters.

The introduction of the American journalist Bentley adds a different dimension, but even his romantic illusions are soon confronted by the gruesome realities of war.

The supporting performances are part of the fabric which make this film special. Anthony Quayle is especially impressive as Colonel Brighton, seeking to rationalize Lawrence's unconventional methods. A word too for the atmospheric and evocative music of Maurice Jarre.

The fact that "Lawrence of Arabia" concludes on a somewhat downbeat and inconclusive note only adds to its appeal. War, and its outcome, are rarely straightforward, ideal or edifying.

A magnificent film.

Persona - Ingmar Bergman

Earlier this evening I watched Persona, a remarkable Ingmar Bergman film from 1966.

The film stars Liv Ullmann as an actress who suffers some form of breakdown, and becomes unable (or unwilling) to speak as a result.  A nurse, played by Bibi Andersson, is detailed to look after and care for her.

The pair eventually decamp to a secluded seaside retreat, which is where the most intriguing sequences in the movie unfold.  The nurse Alma bares her soul to the actress Elisabet, in some gripping scenes. The dialogue here is quite explicit and frank, considering that it was 1966.

As their time together progressed, it seemed that in some respects Alma absorbed aspects of Elisabet's personality, and that some general merging of personalities took place. What happened is open to several interpretations, but Alma was ill-equipped to cope with assuming facets of the actress's persona, including her demons and insecurities.

One of the cleverest parts of the film occurs where Alma recounts some details of Elisbet's personal and family life to her.  First of all, we see an image only of Elisabet's reaction to the revelations, and then the same dialogue is played again, but this time we just see Alma speaking the words.  My guess is that this effect was designed to convey the idea of "transference".

A quite disturbing, complex but nonetheless riveting film, with some trademarks of other Bergman movies, such as solitude, astute use of black and white, a secluded location, and images of rocks, beaches and waves.

I was highly impressed with the performance of the beautiful Bibi Andersson, as the nurse Alma, and Liv Ullmann is never less than fascinating to watch.

The Day Of The Jackal (film)

Quite often, movie adaptations of novels turn out to be a disappointment, particularly if one has already read, and become fond of, the book. I find that the celluloid recreation usually fails to summon up the same mental images which seep from the pages into the mind.

Happily, The Day of The Jackal, the 1973 film, does full justice to Frederick Forsyth's novel, and is a worthy and gripping piece of work in its own right. It is somewhat surprising to read that it was not a massive success at the box office.

The storyline centres on a plot to assassinate President de Gaulle of France, and the hiring of a contract killer to accomplish this task. The then largely unknown Edward Fox played the part of the would-be assassin, the Jackal.

From the outset, the "Jackal" character fascinates. A dapper and cultured English gentleman, but also a clinical, ruthless and cold-blooded killer. The charm and patter are constantly employed as a means to an end, and emotion is really seen as an impediment....

The bulk of the film is reserved for a portrayal of the parallel campaigns of the Jackal and the French police, the prospective assassin making his preparations, and the authorities striving to foil the plot. Cleverly, we are constantly switched between the two, and are able to contrast the methodical and measured approach of the Jackal with the desperation and improvisation of the security services, who are always a step or two behind.

Probably the most absorbing sequences in the movie are those during which the Jackal procures weapons and false documentation, emphasising the elaborate precautions essential for operations of such gravity. Other crime stories tend to gloss over such things, but in this case the attention to detail adds appreciably to the sense of authenticity. The "water melon" scene is particularly chilling...

The film lasts nearly two and a half hours, but this amount of time is necessary to cram in the bewildering amount of detail, and also for the tension to build remorselessly. The Jackal exhibits his single-minded nature, by eliminating several people who either threatened to compromise his plans, or whose presence represented a hindrance. In the end, of course, he is narrowly thwarted.

A very pleasing 1960s-meets-1970s aesthetic permeates The Day of The Jackal, in particular the fashions and the tasteful motor vehicles on view! A cosmopolitan feel also prevails, with the action moving between London, France and Italy. There are some fine performances in the more minor roles, including a young Derek Jacobi, adding to the depth of quality.

This is probably one of the better movies of its type. My advice would be to read the novel first, and then watch the film!

The Wild Geese

After viewing The Bridge On The River Kwai (see my previous blog post), I decided to revisit another movie, this time The Wild Geese, the 1978 tale of a gang of mercenaries hired to rescue an African politician.

It probably says much about the changes in my outlook that I now view The Wild Geese in a totally different light from when I previously saw it. Back then I viewed it as an entertaining, if admittedly rather overblown war film. The passages relating to the moral and political aspects I simply regarded as a hindrance, getting in the way of the "action".


Even during my recent viewing, the reasoning behind the mercenaries' mission still appeared slightly blurred. I think it may have been something to do with copper mining concessions....

The film features a veritable Who's-Who of British actors of that era. Many of them appear to be on "cruise control", although as ever Richard Burton's presence and charisma rise above the mediocrity.

Ultimately I think that The Wild Geese was intended to be an exciting and entertaining romp, and does not ask the viewer to focus on moral issues. The points at which the corny dialogue turns to discussion about imperialism, race and exploitation tend to stick out like a sore thumb.

Elements of the storyline are implausible and cartoonish, particularly the sequences in "gangland" during the recruitment of the mercenaries.

The Wild Geese is very much a product "of its time". Suffice to say that it does not warrant as in-depth a blog post as The Bridge On The River Kwai!