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Film: Salon Kitty
Year of production: 1976
UK Release date: 30th May 2011
Distributor: Argent
Certificate: 18
Running time: 132 mins
Director: Tinto Brass
Starring: Helmut Berger, Ingrid Thulin, Teresa Ann Savoy, John Steiner, Sara Sperati
Genre: Drama
Format: Blu-ray
Country of Production: Italy/West Germany/France
Language: Italian/English
Review by: Mark Player
Italian filmmaker Tinto Brass has always been a controversial figure within European cinema due to his shameless and unorthodox depictions of the flesh. However, it is perhaps his first erotica film, the Nazi flavoured Salon Kitty (1976), that remains the most transgressive. Heavily censored when first released thirty-five years ago, Argent Films has reinstated and digitally restored Brass' original director's cut for a new Blu-ray release.
When war is declared between the Allies and the Axis powers, Kitty Kellermann's (Ingrid Thulin) high class brothel, Salon Kitty – a popular spot for soldiers, officers and dignitaries of the Reich – is appropriated by the Nazi government for military use. However, in exchange, a high ranking SS official by the name of Wallenberg (Helmut Berger) offers Kitty new premises, as well as a new staff of girls from Aryan stock; rigorously selected based not only on their appearance and sexual liberation, but their political beliefs. Kitty reluctantly accepts Wallenberg's gesture and, soon enough, business is back to normal.
However, unbeknownst to Kitty, Wallenberg has had the new building secretly wiretapped, documenting the pillow talk of party officials who feel that they can let their guard down and say what they really think about the war effort. Wallenburg's girls are also asked to dutifully record their encounters in written reports.
Complications arise when one of the girls, Margherita (Teresa Ann Savoy) – the subject of much perverse fascination for Wallenberg – begins to realise the extent and consequences of her duties when a disgruntled client (Bekim Fehmiu), whom she starts to fall in love with, is eliminated because of his anti-nationalist views...
After initially making shorts and avant-garde features, Salon Kitty was originally offered to Brass as a quick director-for-hire job. Brass accepted, but heavily rewrote the meagre initial concept to incorporate a more politically conscious angle. Strangely, this extra effort to make Salon Kitty more than just another skin-flick feels completely absent. Loosely based on real-life events (the Salon Kitty actually did exist during the late-30s, early-40s and was used for espionage purposes by the SS on their own men), Salon Kitty could've been an intriguing history lesson about the paranoid and volatile nature of the Nazi party's inner-sanctum with some erotica thrown in for good measure. However, this is not the case; the end result being a very long and tedious exercise in overt and senseless naughtiness.
The narrative is robbed of its potential by being not as prominent as a narrative should be. It's not so much placed on the back seat, but in the boot of a completely different car that's heading in the opposite direction. Only the barest glimmer of plot remains, acting as little more than a flimsy pretext for a revolving line-up of SS orgies, nude Nazi-saluting nubiles and other bizarre sexual practices, including a fat middle-age man fellating a phallus made out of bread placed between a girl's legs, to name just one. On that note: Wallenburg's selection process for the would-be whore candidates – some of which was originally cut but now reinserted – is also unorthodox and provocative; pairing the girls off with undesirable sexual partners – a hunchback midget, a Jewish POW, an amputee without legs – to prove their loyalty to the party.
The camera pervily leers and fixates on the skin and (often aroused) genitals of both genders in a seemingly never-ending series of wonky pans and zooms; clumsily spliced together by Brass, who insists on editing all of his films. There is a complete lack of rhythm, and sometimes purpose, from one cut to the next. Some shots last for half a second before being replaced by a fast moving zoom, creating an often frenetic and disorientating effect, designed to be impressionistic but instead feeling inappropriate and amateurish.
Due to excessive and dodgy dubbing into English, performances are difficult to gauge fairly and are laughably bad in places. Ingrid Thulin's involvement in a production like this seems very strange considering her many successful past collaborations with Ingmar Bergman – Wild Strawberries (1957), Winter Light (1961), The Silence (1963) and Cries And Whispers (1972) to name just some – and is given little to do, save for a handful of song and dance numbers, which feel like blatant padding and are somewhat unspectacular. Berger's Nazi official borders on the caricature, spewing terrible lines, whilst Savoy and Fehmiu make for a truly boring screen couple, which wouldn't be as much of a problem if so much time wasn't spent watching their reflections lounge about in bed post-coitus, speaking nothing of value.
The only intriguing prospect in all this pointless titillation is the reinsertion of previously removed footage. These new scenes haven't been dubbed into English, retaining their original language, making it pretty easy to identify what was omitted when the film was first released. On the downside, all this extra footage makes the film even longer – over two hours – which is perhaps Salon Kitty's biggest problem. A streamlined edit of eighty or ninety minutes would've been more bearable, although this wouldn't stop Salon Kitty from being what it is; a shameless exploitation piece that's not particularly interesting, or well made for that matter. Another deal-breaker for many will be a random abattoir scene towards the start in which live pigs are killed and decapitated for absolutely no reason in relation to the plot, but much to the delight of the people on screen.
As for the Blu-ray presentation: don't expect any spectacular visual overhaul or demo worthy presentation. The restorers have done their best with a clearly knackered source and, undoubtedly, despite the film looking every day of its thirty-five year vintage, this is the best Salon Kitty has ever looked on home video. Detail is adequate but not stunning. Colours fluctuate on occasion - one outdoor scene in particular has very noticeable shifts - many within the same shots. There are no overly visible compression artefacts to worry about, resulting in a decent presentation overall.
Salon Kitty is one of Brass' oldest and longest efforts, and one of cinema's true curiosities. A better film is potentially lurking in here somewhere but the mildly interesting set-up is cast aside in favour of copious and laughably gratuitous shenanigans. Fans of Brass' oeuvre will probably find more value here, but, for everyone else, it’s possibly only good for an ironic chuckle over how preposterous it all is. MP
Film: Wild Strawberries
Release date: 25th February 2002
Certificate: 15
Running time: 88 mins
Director: Ingmar Bergman
Starring: Victor Sjöström, Bibi Andersson, Ingrid Thulin, Gunnar Björnstrand, Jullan Kindahl
Genre: Drama
Studio: Tartan
Format: DVD
Country: Sweden
Somewhere in the midst of dreams and reality, connecting past memories to the present, bitterness with regret and emotional detachment to nostalgia, Ingmar Bergman delivers one of the most introspective films on man’s existence and what it means to have truly lived. It’s no wonder, then, that Wild Strawberries won the Golden Bear Award for Best Film at the 1958 Berlin Film Festival.
Professor Isak Borg – played flawlessly by Silent Film director Victor Sjostrom – is a 78-year-old physician set to receive an honorary doctorate from Lund University. In his old age, he’s chosen to isolate himself from social contact, and lives a perfectly content life engrossed by scientific study.
On the morning of his special day, though, the widower has a profound dream in which he finds himself in an unfamiliar part of Stockholm where none of the clocks have minute hands. He sees a hearse approaching ominously, and as the carriage passes by it gets caught on a lamp post leading to the coffin falling out of the back. The professor edges closer cautiously, and to his horror, an outstretched hand tries to pull him inside.
After this episode, Borg changes his housekeepers’ meticulous plans, and decides to drive to Lund himself via a visit to his mother. His estranged daughter-in-law, Marianne (Ingrid Thulin), who was residing with him throughout marital problems, chooses to accompany the professor on his journey so that she can return to her husband and reconcile their marriage.
During the ride, Marianne reveals to Borg that despite his external charm, the people closest to him recognise his manipulative and selfish character to the extent that his own son despises him. Thus in a bid to build a rapport with his daughter-in-law, Borg veers off-course to show Marianne where he used to spend his childhood summers.
Unexpectedly for the ageing Professor, though, the break awakens a sense of reminiscence from deep within, and he begins to have flashbacks of his first love Sara. Subsequently on his journey to Lund, Borg meets a number of hitchhikers such as young frivolous Agda and a middle-aged bickering couple, who all contribute to him re-evaluating his life...
Essentially, Wild Strawberries is a straightforward road movie, however, Bergman’s use of symbolism, flashbacks and some fine nuanced acting, particularly by Sjostrom, give the film enough depth to transcend its genre and provide an emotional hook for the viewer.
In the film’s opening scene, Borg is established as the archetypal lonely, cold and successful man by being introduced with markers of his lavish life, such as the grand house, an honorary degree, and his selfish actions towards the housekeeper. As the film progresses, though, the use of narration acts as a gateway inside Borg’s thoughts, rendering him more vulnerable and emotionally available.
Thus Bergman uses the road movie format not only as a physical journey from Stockholm to Lund, but a mental journey that explores Borg’s past as well, so that he can redeem himself from being unloved and troubled, to an endearing old man at peace with life. The style is pivotal to the film’s power, as it gives the film a solid enough structure - both in terms of plot and character development – to make it accessible to even mainstream audiences, which has often been a criticism of the Swedish director’s other films.
Another surprising aspect of the film, not often found in many of the director’s other dramas, is the use of subtle humour to gives the film a more watchable pace. This is particularly evident, though not exclusive, in the bickering between Borg and his housekeeper, which resembles a charming old married couple squabble over domestic issues such as packing a suitcase properly. This use of humour not only gives brief respite from the more serious issues but contributes into giving the film a warm ambience that complements the picturesque Swedish landscapes, soft affectionate tones and camera work.
Indeed, all of these characteristics are at their most potent in the nostalgic scenes from Borg’s past at the summer house. The laughter, music, variety of people and carefree gaiety in these scenes is a direct contrast from the present, which often has very controlled and self-conscious scenes with only one or two people in them. The resultant effect of this contrast creates a lasting yet intangible impression of lost youth certain to strike a chord with the majority of viewers.
Finally, the use of relationships between the characters is perhaps the film’s biggest strength, as each of them, from the carefree idealist youths to the married couple full of resent - and even Borg’s strong but callous mother isolated in her mansion - highlight different aspects of human nature. Bergman uses all of these characters to provide an overall positive message that it is better to let go of past regrets and take a chance on life than wither away all alone.
Wild Strawberries manages to combine a deeply profound and powerful message with mainstream accessibility that puts it instantly into the category of timeless classic. QA
Film: Winter Light
Release date: 19th November 2001
Certificate: PG
Running time: 81 mins
Director: Ingmar Bergman
Starring: Ingrid Thulin, Gunnar Björnstrand, Gunnel Lindblom, Max von Sydow, Allan Edwall
Genre: Drama
Studio: Tartan
Format: DVD
Country: Sweden
Ingmar Bergman is considered to be the epitome of high brow art house cinema, combining human angst for the exploration of big themes such as faith, mortality and the meaning of life with a deeply innovative and sober auteurial style that has led to many labelling him as the antithesis of Hollywood. Nowhere is this more apparent than in the second of Bergman’s ‘faith’ trilogy, Winter Light.
Set in a rural and isolated part of Sweden, the film takes place in a three hour window between midday and 3pm on a winter’s Sunday, and revolves around the village pastor Tomas (Gunnar Bjrnstrand), who has been suffering from a crisis of faith since the death of his wife four years earlier.
The film opens with the end of midday mass for a tiny congregation, including an easily distracted child presumably dragged to church by his devout grandmother, an atheist schoolmistress (Ingrid Thulin) with an ulterior motive for attending, and a young fishing couple.
Following the congregation, Tomas coughs and splutters his way through preparations for his next mass in the neighbouring town of Frostnas, when the troubled young couple come to him for advice. He swiftly sends them away, advising Jonas Persson (Max Von Sydow) to return for a more in-depth chat later. Subsequently, Marta, the schoolmistress, slips into the pastor’s office to enquire about her unread letter, and declares her love for him before leaving.
When Tomas is finally alone, he reads her scathing letter that makes him doubt his faith, and finally has time to reflect before Jonas returns, anxiously seeking counsel for why God would allow global atrocities to take place. Tomas, however, cannot provide answers but merely more questions regarding God’s silence, and admits that his own faith wavered after the death of his wife. Jonas leaves more confused than when he arrived, whilst Marta is overjoyed that Tomas has finally decided to renounce God for love.
However, as they start to make their way towards Frostnas for the 3pm mass, some unforeseen events prove that God moves in mysterious ways…
The films sombre and austere mood is set right from the opening bleak shots and silence; only punctuated by ominous church bells. This is a special kind of film, in which all of its aspects - the camera work, desolate sound, lighting, script and acting - are restrained, working in shadows and low key to conversely create a spiritual exploration for a God greater than the sum of its parts.
This contrast is no more apparent than in the twelve minute long opening scene. Bergman juxtaposes large open spaces shot in wide frame and extreme long shots with the tiny congregation to highlight not only the isolated environment of his film but how isolated man is from God as well. Then this effect is recreated through image and sound as the confident church organ, hymns and Tomas’s laborious preachy words exclaim devotion, yet the tight and intense camera work focuses intimately on solemn faces that betray doubt, fear and anxiety.
The stark use of light and shade is another key element in the film. Reportedly Bergman and his cinematographer, Sven Nykvist, spent days studying how the natural Nordic light created shadows in the church before shooting the film. A key example of the use of light is in the pivotal scene where Tomas – at his most vulnerable and isolated from God - echoes Jesus on the crucifix with his question: “Why have you forsaken me?” In this scene, after being in shadows for the whole film, surrounding by questions, he finally renounces God and is bathed in sunlight, as if being baptised by the Pagan, and earthly god symbolises his choice of corporeal love.
Indeed this leads to another of the Bergman’s techniques that make this film a cerebral masterpiece; the use of symbolism. Bergman makes every one of his ‘believers’ in the film have some physical ailment and cause of pain - from Tomas’s cold and the loss of his wife and Marta’s eczema-ridden hands to Algot’s limping leg. Each of the believers are suffering, and the film subtly investigates how much humans will endure for their faith.
Concurrently, Bergman puts his viewers through this dense dreary and claustrophobic film to ask them: “How much will you endure for the sake of art?” Although this is a motif he uses more pertinently in later films such as Cries And Whispers, it’s brilliantly implemented here in Marta’s 6 minute monologue, when Ingrid Thulin talks directly to the viewer. Framed tight and in an unflattering fashion, she details her insecurities and thoughts towards Tomas directly at the audience, rendering the viewer to feel completely uncomfortable with no escape.
Whilst Winter Light is one of Bergman’s shortest and bleakest films, the beauty of its craftsmanship, profound subject matter and simplicity lends to repeat viewing, and gives it an ageless quality. Perhaps the film was best summed up by Bergman’s own wife, who said "Ingmar, it's a masterpiece. But it's a dreary masterpiece." QA
