#20: M (1931) February 20, 2010
Posted by badblokebob in : Drama, Thriller, Crime, 5 stars, 1930s, world cinema, 2010, Film Noir: Pre/Post/Neo/etc. , add a comment
M is a film of immense significance, not least because of its place on numerous Best Ever lists (even if it is a nightmare to find quickly on any list or website thanks to its single-letter title), and not to mention it being director Fritz Lang’s favourite among his own work (consequently he definitively moved away from his fantastical work on the likes of Die Nibelungen, Frau im Mond and (of course) Metropolis, choosing to largely direct crime pictures, including a significant contribution to film noir). As with any film of such acclaim, where near-endless essays and articles and whole books have been penned discussing every notable aspect, it’s unlikely I’m going to have much either new or significant to say after one viewing (never mind “ever”). Just so you know.
But I can sing some of its praises. Like Peter Lorre’s extraordinary performance as child killer Hans Beckert. He could have survived on his naturally unusual looks, which fit the role perfectly, but he also skillfully conveys the realistic complexities of such a character. Beckert’s psychology feels completely accurate, something you might not expect of from 80-year-old film. To show such care in making a conceivable human being out of a villain who has committed some of the most horrendous crimes imaginable, and not just going for the easy approach of showing an incomprehensible monster, is a vital step in creating a realistic crime movie — a step that’s often been ignored, and still can be today.
And Lang did set out with the express aim of making a realistic factual film, albeit still a fictional one — it’s ‘inspired by’ real cases, not specifically ‘based on’ them as some have claimed. Along with his writer (and wife) Thea von Harbou, Lang drew on innumerable press reports about murders and their investigations, spoke to police officers and psychoanalysts about their jobs and what they had learnt about such criminals, and generally researched every area he aimed to cover on screen. His intention was for the film to constantly shift its focus, examining every aspect of a high-profile serial killer case, and so it does: we see the victims and their families (before and during the crime, though not after it to any significant degree); the public reaction and hysteria; the police’s flailing investigations and their increasing exasperation; the criminal underworld, who begin their own manhunt because police inquiries are “bad for business” (despite its sounding like a filmic conceit, this element was directly inspired by a newspaper article); and, naturally, the criminal himself — trying to lay low, but constantly having to fight his urges… and ultimately giving in to them again.
Such a diffuse set of perspectives could lead to a messy structure that revealed each facet in only half-hearted broad strokes, but Lang never allows this to happen. The opening sequence, depicting the latest in a long line of kidnap/murders, is exemplary: every shot and edit contributes to a growing sense that Something Horrible Is About To Happen… and when it does, not a glimpse is shown on screen. An empty place setting, a balloon caught in overhead wires, a ball bouncing to a stop… They, along with each viewer’s imagination of the worst possible fate for little Elsie Beckmann, convey all the terror — and a palpable and heartbreaking sense of absence — that’s required.
And then Lang shifts focus: public fury, paranoia. A series of scenes that each typify broader social reactions. People are accused for nothing more than following a girl up some stairs, attacked because they’ve been arrested, the crowd simply assuming they’re the killer. Such scenes remain disturbingly relevant and plausible — the bit where a surly bloke confronts a man who was merely giving a girl the time feels like something one might see occur on our streets today.
And then it’s the police: a distinctly procedural style as a long sequence describes the police’s investigative efforts — how they follow up leads and how they lead nowhere; 
how they search crime scenes with a fine-tooth comb; another sequence shows their methodology for staging a raid; and so on. Such precise and clinical methods ultimately pay off: it’s a pair of tiny clues, carefully reasoned and sought out. that reveal the killer’s identity — and if it weren’t for the criminals getting there first, they’d've surely caught him too. Indeed, were it not for this breakthrough then the film might hold a Life On Mars-esque observation that only the criminals and their, shall we say, alternative methods can finally catch Beckert when the police have failed.
One of Lang’s aims in being factual — or, responsibilities he felt by being factual — was to present a debate on the morality of capital punishment. So Beckert murders children because that was the worst crime imaginable to Lang and von Harbou, and still when he’s dragged before a court (albeit an impromptu one made up of the criminal underworld) a debate is had on the merits of the death penalty — disguised, of course, in the decision of Beckert’s fate. The baying mob of criminals want him killed; his sole defence representative cites the law to show why such a punishment is wrong. Lang’s point — the one he wanted to make, even if he tried to present it as a debate — is that even in this instance the death penalty is wrong. Some what distressingly, the moral and legal points raised throughout the film remain highly relevant today.
Even leaving these aside, M is packed with beautiful moments of pure cinema: the shadow on the wanted poster; the intercutting of the police and criminals’ meetings; Inspector Lohmann dropping his cigar at the news the criminals were looking for the child killer (on his audio commentary, Peter Bogdanovich 
wonders how this would play to a modern audience, implying it wouldn’t really work — well, it did for me); the roving camera in the beggars’ market — a decade before Citizen Kane, Lang employs his camera in ways Welles seems to get all the credit for (I’m sure Welles pushed boundaries too, but some of his ‘innovative’ ideas — like tracking from outside to inside through a window within a single shot — are present here.) M’s individual moments of sining brilliance go on — perhaps my favourite is when the police arrive just after the criminals have finally apprehended Beckert. We don’t even see an officer on screen, but the burglar’s reactions lets us know who’s there. Its a funny moment (even if we’ve seen it dozens of times since) and a lovely shot too.
M was Lang’s first sound film, made at a time when the technology was still very new. So he uses — indeed, establishes — a variety of techniques: voiceover; selective hearing (e.g. the audio cutting out when a beggar covers his ears); silence (or only selected sound), used to represent how a space appears to sound rather than the genuine noise one would/could hear; conversations continuing across scenes (such as when a criminal begins a sentence and a police officer finishes it, in completely different rooms at different times); not to mention that the killer’s whistling is a vital clue, both in terms of the plot (it’s how the criminals first identify him) and for the viewer (indicating when he’s about his sorry business).
This is the longest existing version of M, restored from multiple negatives and prints held in several countries, which stands about seven minutes shorter than Lang’s original cut. IMDb’s alternate versions section claims the film originally showed the full trial at the end, implying this is among the lost minutes. In Masters of Cinema’s booklet, Anton Kaes instead details a scene early in the film pertaining to false confessors. Kaes has evidence that his scene existed, IMDb doesn’t present any; and in one of the audio commentaries Lang and others discuss the ending as-is — even if there was another ending at some point, it certainly wasn’t Lang’s intended one.
This definitive one, then, is suitably downbeat: Frau Beckmann — the mother from the opening sequence, her first appearance on screen for over an hour and a half bringing the tale full circle — bemoans that dispensing justice to 
the murderer won’t bring the children back, and warns viewers to watch out for their own. It’s not the triumphant “we got him!” that concludes most serial killer films, but a blunt warning that, though Beckert has been caught, there are always more out there, waiting to strike. History has sadly proven her right; but while the world has produced many men and women like M’s villain, it hasn’t produced many films quite like M.
Masters of Cinema’s new edition of M is released on DVD and Blu-ray on Monday. One of the special features is Zum Beispiel: Fritz Lang, which I’ve briefly reviewed here.
#100: Swing Time (1936) December 31, 2008
Posted by badblokebob in : Comedy, Musical, Romance, 4 stars, 1930s, 2008 , 3 comments
Swing Time is, I’m told, widely hailed as the greatest of the Fred Astaire/Ginger Rogers pictures. The plot isn’t especially captivating, one of the stock variations on “boy meets girl” that still serve rom-coms to this day, but that’s not the main reason these films are so loved.
That, of course, is the song and (especially) dance numbers. I can’t say I recall any of the songs now, but the dances are suitably impressive. Particularly memorable is an early number where, after Astaire accidentally gets Rogers’ dance teacher character fired, he shows the proprietor how much she’s taught him in the last ten minutes, winning her job back. Trust me, that makes far more sense on screen than in that pathetic explanation. Elsewhere, Astaire blacks up for a dance to Bojangles of Harlem. These days one might wonder why he had to black up, or consider the concept faintly racist, but clearly it was acceptable for the time and in no way detracts from the skill on display.
One interesting note is some story similarities to Sideways — yes, Sideways, the recent Oscar-winning indie comedy about love and wine tasting. Whether Swing Time had any influence on that (made almost 70 years later), or it’s just a huge coincidence, I don’t know, but there are several reminiscent moments throughout the engaged-man-and-buddy-find-love-in-far-off-location-(then-accidentally-let-truth-slip) plot.
I haven’t seen enough Astaire/Rogers films to declare whether this is their best or not, though personally I preferred Top Hat. In the same way the plot of some action films doesn’t matter one iota so long as the fights are good, so the story here is irrelevant beside the quality of the dancing — and that, at least, is exemplary.
(Originally posted on 9th January 2009.)
#60: The Wizard of Oz (1939) September 28, 2008
Posted by badblokebob in : Musical, Fantasy, adaptations, 4 stars, 1930s, 2008 , add a comment
The Wizard of Oz is one of those films whose reputation unavoidably precedes it. Considering it’s nearly 70 years old now, that’s a reputation long in the making.
The biggest problem with this is that, coming to it for the first time as an adult, one knows just about everything that’s going to happen. There are still some gaps to fill for the uninitiated — it takes a surprisingly long time to get to Oz, and a surprisingly quick time from there to the Wizard — but it mostly feels oddly disconcerting: it’s such a well-known tale, even to those of us who hadn’t seen it, that having it played out in full, complete with bits one didn’t know about, is strange. That’s not really anything to do with the film, of course, just my personal impression.
My other observations amount to little more than “the second half is surprisingly light on musical numbers” and “the transition from sepia to full colour is still highly effective and glorious to watch” — as the (very interesting) restoration featurette on the DVD details, it literally looks better now than it ever has before. Beyond that, I had the sense that the film would exert a greater sense of wonder over the very young. That’s appropriate enough, but it means that, coming to it a tad later in life, it’s not a film I’m ever likely to really love.
#39: The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (1939) June 12, 2008
Posted by badblokebob in : Crime, adaptations, 4 stars, 1930s, Adventure, 2008, Mystery, Sherlock Holmes , 4 comments
Never mind waiting two or three years for a sequel these days — after the 1939 Hound of the Baskervilles was a box office success, Fox had a sequel out just five months later! I reviewed that first Rathbone/Bruce film back in February, promising an irregular series reviewing the further thirteen pictures the pair starred in. Well, I’ve finally got round to watching the second, and while I was a tad harsh on the first I found myself enjoying this one more.
The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes pits the titular detective against his arch-nemesis, Moriarty, in what’s really speaking a relatively weak plot — most depressing of all is how easily Moriarty’s plan to distract Holmes almost succeeds. But never mind that! There’s rain-lashed, fog-drenched Victorian London streets! Brutal murders by foul foreigners! Dastardly plots against the crown! Galloping carriages! Romantic subplots! A smattering of comedy! A song-and-dance number! (No, really, there is.) And a final shoot out… in the Tower of London! You can’t escape the joyous feeling that this was designed as pure entertainment, literally including something for everyone.
Bruce’s Watson may bumble about too much for the purists (me included, more often than not), the murder plot lacks proper explanation (the production notes on Optimum’s DVD pleasingly expand on this), Rathbone’s characterisation of Holmes may be a touch too friendly… but by then I’m just nitpicking. This sequel is atmospherically, entertainingly and excitingly executed, and that’s plenty good enough for me.
#9: The Hound of the Baskervilles (1939) February 18, 2008
Posted by badblokebob in : adaptations, 3 stars, 1930s, 2008, Mystery, Sherlock Holmes , 2 comments
Arguably the definitive screen interpretation of Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson, played by Basil Rathbone and Nigel Bruce, appear for the very first time here, in what would become the first in a series of 14 pictures starring the pair. (Incidentally, this will be the first in an irregular set of reviews of that series. I have the rather lovely Optimum box set, you see, and so shall slowly work my way through it. Though as I’ve already owned it for several years and only just started watching it (as with so many DVDs), I have no idea how long it will be before I finish.)
I’ll start by laying my cards on the table: The Hound of the Baskervilles is a vastly overrated Holmes tale, and one that has been unduly adapted at least 15 other times (that from a quick search of IMDb). As far as I can tell its popularity is primarily due to the circumstances around its original publication (it was the first Holmes story in nearly a decade, following his death in The Final Problem). Holmes is absent for much of the story, which plods along fairly uneventfully (or, at least, inconsequentially) until a slightly dubious climax involving a centuries-old portrait. Naturally, all of these flaws carry over into any faithful adaptation, and this certainly is one.
One of the novel’s strong points is its occasional Gothic styling, and this is something the film version does very well. Dartmoor looks fantastic, like something Tim Burton would have created were he working in the ’30s. It’s clearly a set, but it’s dramatic and moody and completely effective. After the dull and poorly-designed interior scenes in London, it’s fantastic when the film finally moves down into Devon and things… well, don’t exactly get going, but at least there’s something to look at! As with the novel the plot meanders by, diverted by an escaped convict and an entirely pointless (in this version at least) seance, until that painting-based resolution. All is not lost, however, as a particularly vicious-seeming attack by the hound livens things up considerably.
Rathbone is underused as Holmes, which is a shame as he immediately makes the part his own. Bruce isn’t as bungling and comedic as he would later become, though the signs are already beginning to show. And the infamous final line — “Oh Watson, the needle!” — is actually a huge anticlimax if you haven’t seen it before, an entirely pointless, meaningless and misplaced addition.
I feel like I’ve come down a little harshly on Hound of the Baskervilles, mainly thanks to a general unfavourable opinion of the source material. There are many better Holmes stories, often ignored thanks to the fame of this particular one. The following 13 films may be even less faithful adaptations than this, but I’m looking forward to their fun and frivolity, which will hopefully top Baskervilles. The moor really is fantastic though.
#108a: À Propos de Nice (1930) October 22, 2007
Posted by badblokebob in : Documentary, Comedy, 3 stars, 1930s, world cinema, Short, 2007, silent films , add a comment
Short film about the French city of Nice, mixing documentary-style footage of people with shots of the architecture, as well as clearly staged scenes (a man getting sunburnt, for example). There’s a certain playful edge to it all, not just with content such as a garish parade and crazy dancing, but with amusing tricks (again, the sunburning), camera tomfoolery (for example, moving it to follow the loops of arches at speed; or using slow motion and sped-up shots), and picking out shots of pedestrians apparently for their annoyance at being filmed. It’s an interesting amalgamation, then: part art, part documentary, part sketch show.
Available for legal download and streaming at Google Video.
#93a: Gone With the Wind (1939) August 23, 2007
Posted by badblokebob in : Drama, War, Romance, 5 stars, adaptations, 1930s, 2007 , add a comment
I thought I’d seen Gone With the Wind but, watching it again, it’s clear I hadn’t properly. This is partly because I first saw it on TV, in two halves, a week apart, each starting at 1am. I just about managed to follow the story, in between drifting off for whole chunks. Another reason is the quality of the restored print on the DVD: it looks stunning, every frame is beautiful; it’s a shame no films look like this today.
The performances are uniformly excellent, especially (of course) Vivien Leigh and Clark Gable; though special mention must be made of the fantastic Oscar-winning Hattie McDaniel as Mammy (the first African American to be nominated for and win an Oscar, and deservedly so). The direction is brilliant, displaying styles you think weren’t invented for another 20 years; all of the design work is gorgeous; and the story is epic and expertly told, moving across genres (romance, war, melodrama, comedy) with ease.
It’s easy to see why this is the most popular film ever made. First time round I just thought it was very good; now it’s firmly one of my favourites.