A blog formerly known as Bookishness / By Charles Matthews

"Dazzled by so many and such marvelous inventions, the people of Macondo ... became indignant over the living images that the prosperous merchant Bruno Crespi projected in the theater with the lion-head ticket windows, for a character who had died and was buried in one film and for whose misfortune tears had been shed would reappear alive and transformed into an Arab in the next one. The audience, who had paid two cents apiece to share the difficulties of the actors, would not tolerate that outlandish fraud and they broke up the seats. The mayor, at the urging of Bruno Crespi, explained in a proclamation that the cinema was a machine of illusions that did not merit the emotional outbursts of the audience. With that discouraging explanation many ... decided not to return to the movies, considering that they already had too many troubles of their own to weep over the acted-out misfortunes of imaginary beings."
--Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

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Showing posts with label Eugen Schüfftan. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Eugen Schüfftan. Show all posts

Wednesday, September 28, 2022

People on Sunday (Robert Siodmak, Edgar G. Ulmer, 1929)














People on Sunday (Robert Siodmak, Edgar G. Ulmer, 1929)

Cast: Erwin Splettstößer, Brigitte Borchert, Wolfgang von Waltershausen, Christl Ehlers, Annie Schreyer. Screenplay: Billy Wilder, based on reporting by Curt  Siodmak. Cinematography: Eugen Schüfftan. 

Only a strict formalist could watch the celebrated docufiction People on Sunday (aka Menschen am Sonntag) solely for its artful blend of storytelling and preservation of the way things were. But for the rest of us, there’s no way to watch Berliners enjoying themselves on a Sunday in 1929 without thinking about it as a picture of the calm before the storm – more especially because the young filmmakers who created it were soon to be caught up in the storm. Within a few years, directors Robert Siodmak and Edgar G. Ulmer, screenwriter Billy Wilder,  cinematographer Eugen Schüfftan, and even his camera assistant, Fred Zinnemann, would be driven out of Germany and eventually into Hollywood by the rise of Nazism. No work of art, after all, exists ahistorically. And People on Sunday is a work of art, a charming, slightly saucy glimpse at people being themselves. The five people the film concentrates on are non-actors: a taxi driver, a wine salesman, a salesperson in a record store, a woman who makes her living as an extra in movies, and a model. They’re all marvelously un-self-conscious about playing fictionalized versions of themselves, as are the hundreds of Berliners that surround them on the screen.

 

Saturday, August 29, 2020

The Hustler (Robert Rossen, 1961)

Paul Newman in The Hustler
Cast: Paul Newman, Jackie Gleason, Piper Laurie, George C. Scott, Myron McCormick, Murray Hamilton, Michael Constantine, Stefan Gierasch, Clifford A. Pellow, Jake LaMotta, Gordon B. Clarke, Alexander Rose, Carolyn Coates, Carl York, Vincent Gardenia. Screenplay: Sidney Carroll, Robert Rossen, based on a novel by Walter Tevis. Cinematography: Eugen Schüfftan. Production design: Harry Horner. Film editing: Dede Allen. Music: Kenyon Hopkins.

You can't say The Hustler isn't educational: It made me Google the difference between pool and billiards. Otherwise, it stands as a direction the American film might have gone in the 1960s, after the breakup of the studios, the waning of anticommunist hysteria, and the weakening of Production Code enforcement. Instead, the movies went in the direction signaled by the Oscars for that year, in which Academy voters chose West Side Story (Robert Wise, Jerome Robbins) over The Hustler as best picture, indicating a trend toward big, bright entertainment rather than gritty, intense films of the sort that were being turned out in Europe and Japan during the 1950s and '60s. The Hustler seems more like a film from the 1970s than one of the better films of the 1960s. It did land Oscars for Harry Horner's production design and Eugen Schüfftan's cinematography, as well it should have. CinemaScope could be an unwieldy format, especially in black-and-white, but Schüfftan mastered it beautifully, working with director Robert Rossen to make the most of Horner's unglamorous and sometimes cramped settings. The camera sometimes gives us the full spread of a set and lets us search for the key figures in it: The introduction of Piper Laurie's Sarah is not a grand entrance or a tell-all closeup but an at first insignificant figure in a train station diner, gaining prominence only through the eyeline of Paul Newman's Fast Eddie Felson. Later, when Sarah returns to that diner, Eddie is seated at the far right of the frame, not front and center as you'd expect the protagonist of a movie to be. Pool, being a horizontal game, is more in line with the demands of CinemaScope, and it's here that Dede Allen's editing works particularly well. As for the actors, Newman, Laurie, George C. Scott, and Jackie Gleason all covered themselves with glory -- and Oscar nominations, which of course Scott declined. If I have reservations about The Hustler it's that the bluesy score by Kenyon Hopkins is laid on a little too thickly and that its story, hinging on a suicide and a redemption, strays to the edge of being contrived and melodramatic, but at least doesn't fall completely into happily ever after mode.

Saturday, May 2, 2020

Something Wild (Jack Garfein, 1961)

Ralph Meeker and Carroll Baker in Something Wild
Cast: Carroll Baker, Ralph Meeker, Mildred Dunnock, Jean Stapleton, Martin Kosleck, Doris Roberts, Charles Watts, Clifton James, George L. Smith, Ken Chapin. Screenplay: Jack Garfein, Alex Karmel, based on a novel by Karmel. Cinematography: Eugen Schüfftan. Art direction: Albert Brenner, Richard Day. Film editing: Carl Lerner. Music: Aaron Copland.

A young woman is brutally raped on her way home, but she tells no one and next day tries to act as if nothing has happened until she is overcome by the crowds on the subway and faints. A policeman brings her home, where her self-centered mother is more concerned that the neighbors saw her in a police car than about her health. Unable to tolerate her mother's whiny self-centered behavior, she runs away, rents a tiny room in a dirty, run-down tenement, and gets a job as a clerk in a five-and-dime store. But her stand-offish behavior, the result of her distaste for being touched, annoys the other clerks, who ostracize her. Wandering aimlessly through the city streets, she finds herself on a bridge and, in a daze, starts to climb over the railing. She is stopped by a garage mechanic on his way to work, and he persuades her to come back to his basement apartment to rest. In her exhaustion, she agrees, but he later comes home from work falling-down drunk and attempts to rape her. She fights him off, kicking him in the eye when he's down, and he passes out. But she discovers that he has locked the door and she can't escape. When he awakes the next morning, he has no memory of attacking her and thinks that he must have sustained the eye injury in a fight at the bar. But when he leaves for work, he won't let her go and locks the door behind him. She becomes his prisoner, while he pleads for her love and eventually proposes marriage. So far, Jack Garfein's Something Wild succeeds as a harrowing, vivid portrait of lost lives in the city. Carroll Baker gives a fine performance as the young woman, Mary Ann, and Ralph Meeker shifts convincingly from tenderness to menace and back again as her captor, Mike. Mildred Dunnock makes the most of her role as Mary Ann's mother, and there are some good performances by future TV sitcom actresses Jean Stapleton and Doris Roberts, the former as the noisy prostitute who has a room next to Mary Ann's in the tenement, the latter as Mary Ann's co-worker at the five-and-dime, who leads the other clerks in shunning her. Best of all are the cinematography of Eugen Schüfftan, capturing New York City at its grandest and grimmest, and the edgy score by Aaron Copland. But just when things look the most hopeless for Mary Ann, Mike goes out one day without locking the door -- perhaps intentionally -- and she escapes. It's a beautiful spring day in the city and she wanders through Central Park, her spirits reviving, and returns to the apartment where she accepts Mike's proposal. Then it's Christmas and Mary Ann has sent a note to her mother telling where she now lives. The mother visits the basement apartment to plead with Mary Ann to return home, but Mary Ann tells her that this is now her home and moreover that she's pregnant. And on a moment that is fairly drenched with Hollywood-style sentiment, though this has been a fearlessly unsentimental and independently gritty movie, the film ends. I suppose it's possible to take this wrap-up as Garfein's parody of the Hollywood ending, but it's difficult to countenance the film's undercutting of itself any other way, not to mention that it seems to suggest that the trauma of rape can be "cured" by another kind of rape: imprisonment. Something Wild seems to me a collection of brilliant moments and skilled performances, and to provide a compelling portrait of urban alienation whose tone is set with the striking opening credits by Saul Bass. But by losing its integrity of vision at the end, it fails to be a whole film.