The Public Eye

Waiting for me at home last night was a mysterious package from Japan. Inside was an unmarked VHS tape. Hmmm…thoughts of The Ring flashed through my mind. Would watching this tape end with creepy little Japanese kids with bad hair crawling out of my television? With some trepidation I popped it in the machine and squealed with delight (to the extent that it is seemly for a forty-four year old man to squeal).

It was a copy of a very rare and delightful movie that I have wanted to see for years: The Public Eye (or as it is sometimes known: Follow Me). It’s mentioned in my review of Franco Zeffirelli’s Romeo and Juliet (see 28 April 2008).

It’s a wonderful movie and must have had a profound impact on me as a kid. I could consciously remember only snippets of it, such as the “leaning tower of Pisa” desserts, the macaroons and the fact that they go and see Romeo and Juliet. Subconsciously, I suspect that my great love for the view across the Serpentine from Kensington Gardens and the Peter Pan statue may have its roots in seeing this movie.

The movie stars Topol, Mia Farrow and Michael Jayston. All three are excellent. Topol in particular is mesmerising. The plot is straightforward: A strait-laced British banker hires a strange private detective (Topol) to follow his free-spirited American wife (Farrow), whom he suspects is cheating on him. The wife becomes aware of the detective following her, and leads him through London in a sort of a game. Soon this attention from the detective is providing her with the love and fun she is lacking from her British husband. The detective explains to the husband that his wife is not cheating on him, but just needs more affection and fun in her life, and challenges him to provide her with this.

The scenes where Topol and Farrow follow each other through the streets of London are some of the most lyrical, touching and fun to watch scenes I have ever seen.

I am forever in the debt of a true gentleman, who goes by the moniker of “humbleradio” from Tokyo for sending me this movie. Read his review of The Public Eye on IMDB: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0069131/ and check him out on YouTube: http://www.youtube.com/user/humbleradio

By the way, in addition to the actors this movie has further impeccable credentials. The score is by John Barry (James Bond) and it’s directed by Carol Reed (The Third Man, Night Train to Munich, etc.)

Network

I must have been pretty young when I saw Network for the first time, but I remember it having quite an impact on me. I particularly remember Peter Finch’s powerful performance as the TV anchorman slipping deeper and deeper into madness. I was particularly impressed that he was awarded a posthumous Oscar. Watching this again I find the premise of having someone assassinated just to get them off TV as a bit of a stretch. I find it hard to believe that the network would not be tied to the killing, particularly as they have signed an agreement with the terrorist group that carries it out. Still, this does not detract from my enjoyment of the movie. It’s a cracker. What a great performance from Faye Dunaway as the insanely competitive executive. Sadly most of us probably know someone like this. I particularly like the scene between Finch and the chairman of the media corporation in the boardroom (or “Valhalla” as the chairman calls it).

Pandora's Box

Louise Brooks – what a star she was…here in arguably her greatest screen role. Whatever the merits of the rest of the movie, I guarantee that you will not be able to take your eyes off Brooks. Her looks are somehow beyond our expectations of the human norm and she takes on an almost alien form. This sense of being above and beyond the rest of the cast is reinforced by her acting technique being years ahead of the silent era. You can easily imagine her in a modern movie, not something you can say about most stars of the silent age. But enough about the remarkable Ms Brookes, except perhaps to add that in later years she came back to the public attention as an excellent writer. Her collected essays on Hollywood entitled Lulu in Hollywood is essential and enjoyable reading. Pandora’s Box without Ms Brooks would not have made much of an impact on the cinema landscape. Its an odd tale which follows the ups and downs of a femme fatale and the men she leaves in her wake until she meets a tragic end at the hands of no less than Jack The Ripper!

Nights of Cabiria

I have a terrible admission: up until seeing Nights of Cabiria I have never really appreciated Fellini as much as I should. I suspect the problem has been that I watched some of his later films first, where many people believe he somewhat lost his way. I even found Dolce Vita and 8 ½ a bit (dare I say this) dull, although I am now keen to watch them again in light of my new found enjoyment. Cabiria has opened my eyes. It is a wonderful, touching and simple story. Giulietta Masina is exceptional as the waifish prostitute, Cabiria, who works the Archaeological Passage at night. The night time scenes are incredibly evocative of the unique atmosphere that Rome has at night. Its very hard to describe, but the feeling one gets walking around Rome at night is quite unlike anything to be experienced elsewhere. It has something to do with the grandeur and history of the place combined with a hint of wildness that no doubt comes from the passionate nature of the Italians. Masina channels Chaplin’s little tramp in the role. I know that sounds ridiculous, but, boy it works. It makes Cabiria a truly unique character, equal parts of street smarts and innocence, with an unbreakable lust for life and optimism. The ending seems desperately sad, but somehow we are uplifted by Cabiria’s ability to smile, despite her awful fate and circumstances. A magnificent film, which has renewed my interest in Italian cinema.

Paths of Glory

Stanley Kubrick’s Paths of Glory must be one the most effective anti-war movies ever made. Anti-war movies often run the risk of ironically glorifying war, as the audience gets caught up in the action. No such risk here. Paths of Glory is unflinching in its portrayal of conditions in the WWI trenches as hell on earth and battles as messy and brutal with very little glory to be had on either side. Kubrick shows no mercy whatsoever in portraying the French generals as monsters, utterly devoid of any trace of human decency. Kubrick’s anger at the waste and futility of war comes across loud and clear. His later Strangelove is a light touch compared with this. All the actors are excellent, particularly Kirk Douglas as the decent Colonel Dax.

Persona

It’s possible to draw some parallels between David Lynch’s INLAND EMPIRE and Ingmar Bergman’s Persona. In both the director won’t let us forget that we are watching a movie and he makes us question the role of the watcher, just as the actors are asking questions of their own characters or personas. The opening scenes from old silent movies reinforce the idea that what we are watching is a piece of craft, it’s not real, and so does it matter? Should it matter to those making it, those playing the parts or those watching? Where does the responsibility of each group begin and end? I suppose the film is asking, what makes a person, a person and what responsibilities do we have to act consistently with the persona we have established? Fascinating stuff and not at all as dry to watch as it may sound. The scene where Bibi Andersson relates her sexual adventure on the beach manages to be highly erotic without so much as a hint of actual flesh. The telling of this story is so real that I understand many people apparently retell this scene as though the action actually occurs, which of course it never does. The film is also famous for the use of newsreel footage of a Buddhist Monk setting himself on fire and the composition of scenes where the Liv Ullman and Bibi Andersson characters appear to come together.

The Night of the Hunter

The only movie directed by Charles Laughton who is more famous as an actor in movies such as Captain Kidd, The Blue Veil and Salome. It was a bit of a flop when released in 1955 and so presumably Mr Laughton decided to stick to his day job, which is a shame, because The Night of the Hunter is ground breaking. There had never been anything quite like it. A fusion of horror, comedy and expressionism. I don’t know whether David Lynch considers this film a source of his inspiration, but I can see clear parallels. Robert Mitchum is spot on as the smooth talking fake preacher man, who famously has LOVE and HATE tattooed on his knuckles. From a cinematographic point of view there are some very unusual and effective shots, such as Shelly Winter’s hair drifting with the water weeds after her body and car is dumped in the river.

The X-Files: I Want To Believe

The X-files promises to be so much of what I enjoy in a movie: mystery, suspense, a conspiracy, action, all laced with supernatural overtones and mixed in with a little human drama. So I desperately "wanted to believe" that the new X-files movie would be a good film. Sadly, nothing could be further from "the truth", regardless of whether or not it is out there. This film is not just unengaging and dull, it is in fact monumentally and quite incomprehensibly bad. It could be one of the great stinkers of all time. Ignore for a moment the inane overall plot, which is never fully explained, and examine some of the more ludicrous elements. Scully and Mulder have now evidently been living together, in the biblical sense, for some time. For all intents and purposes they behave like an old married couple expect for one thing: they still call each other by their last names! Their relationship is indeed an odd one. There are long scenes in which Scully sprouts incomprehensible psycho babble in attempt to convince Mulder that....., well, to be honest its never quite clear what she is trying to convince him of when she delivers little gems like "I can't go home to the darkness anymore". Scully is now working as a neuro surgeon. We begin to doubt her skill level a little when she researches stem cell techniques by searching on Google! We have no reason to doubt her keen sense of observation though when, while driving past a row of tiny post boxes, at speed and in the dark and snow, she notices that one is numbered 252 and remembers that the psychic assisting with the case mentioned Proverbs 25, verse 2. Obviously this was the post box that would lead to the lair of the heinous Russian crooks who are busily grafting the head of their sick mate on to the body of a captured FBI agent. Seriously, it is this laughable! A terrible, terrible movie.