Set in the 1950s and 60s Paweł Pawlikowski’s, Cold War tells a tumultuous love story. When Wiktor tours the countryside scouting proletarian folk singers for a touring company he’s captivated by Zula, a young woman with a history. Though she’s rather sneaky in getting chosen, she becomes part of the group and becomes Wiktor’s lover. Things go fairly well till Zula tells Wiktor that she’s snitching on him to the Communist Party leaders. Wiktor must leave and Zula winds up abandoning him.
The film follows the couple as they reunite, betray each other, marry other people, live in other countries and reunite again. Like many passionate characters their emotions are rarely even keeled. I was surprised to learn that Pawlikowski’s based the film on a calmer version of his parents’ love.
Folk, jazz, Italian and French music enhances the film. I never thought I’d enjoy Soviet era Polish folk music, but it’s energy and fresh feel were easy to like. On top of that the young, innocent girls dancing in their full skirts entertained. Dialogue is minimal so the music fills a void.
The use of black and white film with few grays portrayed the bleak era, where surveillance was ubiquitous and the secret police would track an exile down across Europe.
The only quibble I had with the film was that it seemed rather odd that every now and then Wiktor would refer to Zula as the love of his life. I just don’t think people tell train conductors or people you have no lasting relationship with that sort of thing. People would say, “I’m looking for my girlfriend” or something. I was even more incredulous when Wiktor’s in bed with his French girlfriend and she asks him where he was. He replies that he’s been with the love of his life. The French woman doesn’t flinch. But it’s a minor problem in the scheme of things. For some reasons, though the two main characters are not lovable to me as people, the film does work.
I urge you to get the DVD from the library as I did so you can watch the extras. The Criterion Collection DVD includes the Cannes Film Festival panel interview, a short documentary on making the film and an interview with Pawiklowski, who wrote and directed Cold War.
Starring Bing Crosby, Grace Kelly, Frank Sinatra and Celeste Holme and featuring Louis Armstrong and his band, High Society (1956) follows in the footsteps of the 1940 Philadelphia Story. Here socialite cum snob Tracy Lord (Kelly) is about to marry the straight laced George. Her baby sister protests and puts in many a good word for Tracy’s ex-husband Dexter (Crosby). Tracy’s appalled. She could never consider returning to the even-keeled, kind Dexter who betrayed her by using his musical talents for jazz rather than classical music.
Yes, she’s that snobbish.
She’s about to marry George a drab businessman who looks good in a suit. Yet tabloid journalists played by Sinatra and Holme appear to get the scoop on this high falootin’ wedding.
Well, Tracy’s given the choice of either enduring the cheap coverage of her wedding or allowing the rag to publish a scintillating exposé on her father who ran away with a showgirl. Reluctantly, Tracy allows the tacky reporters in to save her mother from shame. She’s not completely selfish or clueless.
As you’d expect, Dexter still loves Tracy and Mike from the tabloid soon falls for her, while George’s buddy-duddy side gets increasingly pronounced.
With some good singing and dancing, High Society entertains. It also puzzles. Aside from her beauty, what does Tracy have going for her? Dexter was married to her and is presented as a man who’s perceptive so he would know her beyond the superficial. He’s still in love with such a snob, a snob who hates jazz because she sees it a crass. That wouldn’t matter much, except jazz is Dexter’s art. Hmm.
I was struck by Crosby’s cool guy persona and Grace Kelly’s perfect silky hair and elegant outfits. All in all, I liked the film flaws and all.
I only knew Maurice Chevalier from “Thank Heaven for Little Girls” from Gigi. However, I discovered his much earlier film The Smiling Lieutenant, 1931 a grand farce. If you like silly old time films with romance, you’ll like this. Chevalier plays a young lieutenant who’s quite a flirt. At the start of the film, his superior comes to him bemoaning how he loves a sweet young thing in spite of loving his wife. Chevalier’s Niki advises him to stick with his wife, and shortly thereafter Niki is wooing the sweet young Franzi, played by Claudette Colbert. Franzi is a modern woman who’s fine with “free love.” I hadn’t seen a 1930s woman with such a character.
Niki and Franzi fall madly in love, but trouble ensues when Niki accidentally waves at a sheltered princess from a small province. Her father a prince feels disrespected and immediately interrogates Niki. Before you know it, Niki saves his skin by talking his way into a shotgun wedding to the princess. What to do?
On the wedding night and during the honeymoon phase, Niki breaks the princess’ heart by keeping his distance from her and slipping off for rendezvous with Franzi.
It’s not the usual romance. I kept wondering how the story would end happily. While the film was a little sillier than I like, it was fun and different. There are several light-hearted songs which enhanced the film. I did think it was odd that Chevalier is supposed to be a native of Vienna though he speaks with his usual distinct French accent.
All in all, it was a fun film, though not a masterpiece.
“We’re in the Money” is just one of the memorable tunes in Gold Diggers of 1933 is a romantic comedy about some dancers whose show gets nixed because the producer couldn’t pay his bills. Next they’re seen shivering in their beds unwilling to get up as it’s easier to starve in bed.
Soon the producer comes to their apartment and hears their talented piano playing neighbor. He convinces Brad, the piano player to write some songs for his new show which will be a smash, if he can just get the funds. Brad, who’s sweet on one of the dancers, turns out to be a rich boy and he finances the show. When the male lead falls sick, Brad must go on and his true identity is revealed, which leads to family interference in his love life. In response to his brother’s meddling the other dancers pretend to be money grubbers to teach him a lesson.
It’s a light-hearted romp, that entertains, unless you judge past eras for their gender stereotypes. The most surprising part of the film was the closing number, “Remember My Forgotten Man” a tribute to the men who served in WWI and whose lives were ruined as a result.
In Unfaithfully Yours, Rex Harrison plays conductor Alfred de Carter, a pompous egotist. (Doesn’t Harrison play a lot of this sort?) De Carter’s clueless brother-in-law Augustus misunderstood his request to “look after my wife while I’m gone and as a result Augustus has Daphne, the wife, followed by a detective.
At first Alfred wants to give his wife the benefit of the doubt, but other people want to tell him that his wife was found leaving his secretary’s hotel room in a negligee in the middle of the night. Soon Alfred’s high minded ethos are out the window and while he’s conducting a symphony concert, he’s plague by different scenarios involving confronting Daphne about this affair.
Each variation is more comical than the last. Directed by Preston Sturges, Unfaithfully Yours is a madcap comedy with a perspicacious take on jealousy. I particularly liked how well music was worked into the story and how each piece fit Alfred’s mood to a T.
The psychology of jealousy is explored to the limit. Harrison offers a superb performance of slap stick humor in a scene towards the end when he tries to trick his wife. Unfaithfully Yours moves at a clip and in spite of a few corny jokes stands up to the test of time. In the 1980s, they did a remake of Unfaithfully Yours starring Dudley Moore. I doubt it could match this clever film.
The Criterion Collection version includes a bonus feature with Terry Jones of Monty Python fame describing how he discovered Preston Sturges and his thoughts on the film.
Touching and true, Marguerite (2015) is set in France of the 1920s. The central character Marguerite loves music and supports her local music club lavishing funds on them with the one stipulation that she’s allowed to sing at various concerts. The film opens with such a concert that she hosts at her mansion. The musicians and young singer who opens the performance are top notch, but when Marguerite takes the stage glass cracks and you want to cover your ears. She has no idea what pitch is. Two cads from Paris who crash the event are delighted. Their twisted sensibilities find her the perfect means of satirizing the current art scene.
Yet no one — not her unfaithful husband, her duplicitous servant, the voice coach who’s desperate for money or her friends at the music club — will tell her the truth. Encouraged by the cads, Marguerite decides to sing publicly and while many know they should tell Marguerite that she can’t sing, no one can burst her bubble.
Listening to Marguerite’s screeching and seeing her tricked all the way to the rather sad ending isn’t easy but it is enjoyable enough. It was good for a long flight and the lead actress Catherine Frot made me sympathize with and like a character who would be easy to look down on.
I’m catching up on my blogging. I saw this movie before I left China and haven’t had time to blog.
Another Criterion Collection DVD, this one based on a popular Japanese novel, The Burmese Harp is set as WWII ends. A company of Japanese soldiers is in Burma, on the look out for British soldiers. Their captain is very musical and has used singing to build espirit de corps and to trick the Brits, or try to. When they hear the British soldiers approaching their camp, the captain urges his company to laugh and sing to give the impression that they’re goofing off though they’re on their guard. When they start singing a song with the same tune as “Home Sweet Home,” the Brits echo back. Soon the Japanese learn that their side has surrendered.
Yet there’s another Japanese company up in the mountains, a fervent nationalistic group that’s still fighting. Mizushima, a soldier who’s learned to play the Burmese harp, volunteers to go up the mountain and tell these soldiers the war’s over. He’s given 30 minutes to get these hold outs to surrender. No matter what he says, they refuse. They don’t believe Mizushima and feel their duty is to fight to the death no matter what.
After 30 minutes, true to their word, the British start attacking. Most of the hold outs get killed. Mizushima survives, but is shocked. His world’s been shattered and he can’t return to his unit. He steals a Buddhist monk’s robes and wanders the countryside as a monk.
His unit search for him and don’t want to return to Japan without him. At one point they think they’ve passed him on the road, but Mizushima doesn’t acknowledge them. He’s too shattered and lost to return to his old life.
The Burmese Harp doesn’t address the atrocities the Japanese committed, but it does show the horrors and effects of war. Most of the civilian Japanese had no idea what their soldiers did overseas so it wasn’t part of the original novel, or something the director, who broke out with this film, knew of.
The Burmese Harp presents an interesting view of WWII, one that I’d never considered. It also depicts Japanese culture with nuance.