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Film: Cross Of Iron
Year of production: 1977
UK Release date: 6th June 2011
Distributor: Optimum
Certificate: 18
Running time: 133 mins
Director: Sam Peckinpah
Starring: James Coburn, Maximilian Schell, James Mason, David Warner, Klaus Löwitsch
Genre: Action/Drama/War
Format: Blu-ray
Country of Production: UK/West Germany
Language: English/Russian/German
Review by: Ken Talbot
Sam Peckinpah’s unforgiving depiction of German soldiers struggling to survive on the Russian front remains one of the most potent anti-war films of all time. Now, with a stunning re-mastered print on Blu-ray, newcomers will have a chance to experience the maverick director’s vision of the World War II conflict from the perspective of the downtrodden German infantry.
Captain Stransky is a German aristocrat who requests a transfer to the failing assault on Russian forces, in the hopes that he can obtain the prestigious Iron Cross. Sergeant Steiner is a decorated soldier, whose guerrilla methods and unit of hardened veterans may be turning the tide of the conflict. They meet in the battle worn trenches of the Russian front, as the German forces are on verge of a full retreat.
Steiner takes an instant disliking to the pampered, inexperienced Stransky, as does his commanding officer, Colonel Brandt. After a surprise attack, Steiner spends some time in hospital and, after sparking a short-lived romance with his nurse, he promptly returns to the front. On his return, he discovers that Stransky has lied about leading a counter attack to the surprise Russian assault and has asked Steiner to vouch for him. When Steiner declines, Stransky attempts to dispose of him by any means necessary…
A small boy in uniform is killed amidst a flurry of gunfire, a rapist is left to a pack of bloodthirsty women, and a petulant officer orders the execution of his own countrymen to serve his vanity. Sam Peckinpah’s vision of war from the point of view of German soldiers is bleak and confrontational, presenting a soldiers-eye view of the senseless slaughter.
At its very core, it is a portrait of two very different men, James Coburn’s world weary career soldier, Steiner and Maximilian Schell’s cowardly, yet glory-hungry Stransky. Both are hopelessly flawed human beings, both are cogs in the war machine, separated only by experience and social status.
Coburn excels in his role as a stoic veteran who despises the war, yet refuses to leave it behind, instantly dismissing his promising romance with Sister Eva when the chance to return to the fray appears. Steiner is a man hardened by the horrors of war, yet he still manages to retain some semblance of humanity. Stransky wishes only to make his family proud by obtaining an Iron Cross (Germany’s equivalent of the medal of honour) and he is prepared to obtain this reward by any means necessary, even if it means murdering his own countrymen.
Schell portrays Stransky as a complex villain; he displays menace when goading his subordinates to admit their homosexuality, yet cowers under a table when signs of battle draw near. Schell makes Stransky menacing and pathetic in equal measure and it’s a shame he isn’t given enough screen time to let the role breath. This isn’t just a two-hander, however; solid support comes from the regal James Mason as Brandt and David Warner as the exhausted Captain Keisel.
Cross of Iron’s star is undoubtedly Peckinpah, who took a break from revisionist westerns (and Hollywood) to make his second and last war film (the first being 1965’s Major Dundee). The auteur’s visual signature is all over the film; slow motion, freeze frame and jump cuts - he shoots the battle scenes like devastatingly beautiful ballets of death, and frames his ‘heroes’ with reverence. Yet, crucially, Peckinpah understands the irony of idolising characters like Steiner - men whose glory on the battlefield belies their tainted soul off it.
As with most Peckinpah productions, the film is technically brilliant. Cinematography, editing and sound design create a constant sensory assault. Battles are teeth rattling experiences, replete with haunting imagery (a battalion of Russian tanks emerging from fog is a standout sequence). What little music that is present in the film is often drowned out by persistent explosions or the distant cries of dying infantry. Only ‘Hanschen Klien’, the eerie nursery rhyme that bookends the film, offers any sort of musical signature.
The conclusion is as bleak and nihilistic as one can expect from Peckinpah. Like the ageing outlaws of The Wild Bunch, Steiner and Stransky end their story in the heat of battle. Steiner leads his terrified captain to the place “where the iron crosses grow.” The final freeze frame, as the sound of maniacal laughter bleeds into that unsettling children’s song, is surely the most cheerfully negative conclusion in the history of war films.
Peckinpah’s downbeat war film displays the director’s signature visual flair and penchant for extreme (for the time) violence. A scathing attack on the machinations of war, the film remains an often overlooked masterpiece. KT
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: Memories Of Matsuko
Release date: 14th February 2011
Certificate: 15
Running time: 130 mins
Director: Tetsuya Nakashima
Starring: Miki Nakatani, Eita, Yusuke Iseya, Teruyuki Kagawa, YosiYosi Arakawa
Genre: Comedy/Drama/Fantasy/Musical/Mystery
Studio: Third Window
Format: Blu-ray
Country: Japan
Based on the acclaimed novel by Muneki Yamada, Tetsuya Nakashima’s Memories Of Matsuko comes to Blu-ray for the first time, after being adapted into a television series in its native Japan, and garnering worldwide acclaim from audiences and critics alike.
Young slacker Shô Kawajira (Eita) has moved to Tokyo with dreams of making it as a rock star, but soon finds himself leaving his band and breaking up with his girlfriend.
After stalking the streets of Tokyo’s Shinjuku district in search of a seedy thrill, he is abruptly woken by his well-to-do father, Norio, who arrives carrying a casket of ashes and some troubling news. He informs his son that his 53-year-old aunt, Matsuko, has been found murdered. He explains that she has led an entirely meaningless life and has been estranged from the family for thirty years. Previously unaware of her existence, Shô is uninterested until Norio asks him to clean out her apartment for him.
After arriving at the dilapidated building and beginning to sort through the piles of rubbish in the apartment, Shô finds an old photograph which allows him to begin to piece together elements of Matsuko’s life and the events leading to her murder. Intrigued, he learns more from the people that knew her in life, and soon discovers that her time on Earth was anything but meaningless.
After feeling like she was playing second fiddle to her terminally ill sister, Matsuko struggled with trying to win her father’s affections, eventually making him proud by becoming a school teacher, only to be dismissed after trying to protect a student, Ryu, who was accused of theft. What followed was a series of abusive relationships, plagued by suicide, murder and crime, including a spell in prison, work as a hostess girl and eventually becoming a Yakuza’s girlfriend.
Her intriguing story unfolds as Shô works his way through her belongings. Shô has some unexpected encounters of his own while aiming to solve the mystery surrounding her untimely death…
At first glance, it seems apparent that Memories Of Matsuko owes a debt of gratitude to Jean-Pierre Jeunet’s Amelie - from the artificial vibrancy of the colour palette to the playful nature of the narrative and naïve innocence of the protagonist - and in many ways this comparison is justified. However, Memories Of Matsuko carries with it a darker edge, and uses the fabricated sense of innocence to juxtapose the potentially disturbing and challenging aspects of Matsuko’s interesting life. Moments of hardship and terror are interspersed with impromptu musical numbers and scenery straight out of a child’s pop-up book. This playfulness continues into the ‘real’ world of Shô as he meets a colourful cast of characters, ranging from a tattooed mentalist punk to a vivacious porn star, who all share a connection to his late aunt.
One of the most engaging elements of the film is Matsuko herself, perfectly portrayed by Miki Takatani. She forms a perfect balance between the extroverted surrealism and fragility of the character, without becoming too melodramatic. Each stage of Matsuko’s life requires a shift of tone which proves effortless, exemplified by one of the most endearing running gags. As a child vying for her father’s affections, Matsuko finds that by pulling a face, in tribute to a Manzai act they see together, she could make her father laugh, thus taking some of the attention away from her sister, Kumi (Mikako Ichikawa). Throughout her life she continues to rely on this facial contortion as a coping mechanism in times of duress (of which she experiences many). As the troubling situations Matsuko finds herself in mount up, pulling this face becomes customary, with often hilarious results. However, as these situations grow from simply troubling to outright shocking, and the character retreats within herself on the road to becoming the eccentric recluse we know has just been killed, this act stops, sadly signalling an end to the childlike innocence of Matsuko, just as she has been corrupted and abused by those around her.
Matsuko laments that she needs a man to be happy, despite each one of them mercilessly beating and abusing her. This perseverance in the face of such adversity is rewarded by the ascent into heaven once Shô deciphers the mystery surrounding her murder, but is a questionable end result for someone who does little to escape her situation and defends these men to the detriment of her few positive relationships. This mixed moral message offers little to the film’s success, and somewhat undermines Matsuko’s complex and interesting characterisation.
The perfect balance of the film’s narrative tone is exacerbated by the unique visuals, which add a sense of melancholic surrealism to proceedings. This film really finds its home on Blu-ray, where the crisp, energetic palette glows and adds richness to the film that mesmerizes in high definition.
A vibrant, surreal and exciting film, Memories Of Matsuko is equal parts murder mystery, bildungsroman and fantasy. Takatani’s excellent performance forms the backbone of the narrative, and the superb art direction and imaginative use of a variety of narrative forms seems perfectly tailored to the Blu-ray format. RB
Film: The Devil’s Backbone
Release date: 28th February 2011
Certificate: 15
Running time: 106 mins
Director: Guillermo del Toro
Starring: Marissa Paredes, Eduardo Noriega, Federico Luppi, Inigo Garces, Irene Visedo
Genre: Fantasy/Horror/Mystery/Thriller
Studio: Optimum
Format: Blu-ray
Country: Spain/Mexico
Guillermo del Toro has established himself as one of the most popular auteurs working today. With critical success for Pan’s Labyrinth and Hellboy 2: The Golden Army, his two most recent films, del Toro has a certain imagery and style associated with him. In The Devil’s Backbone, his third feature film, this style is subdued into an atmospheric and effective ghost story.
Set in the 1930s during the Spanish Civil War, The Devil’s Backbone follows the story of Carlos, a young boy who is taken to an orphanage by his revolutionary guardians after the death of his father. Located in the middle of a vast wasteland, it is home to a large number of orphan boys; an elderly lovelorn professor; a fiery principal with one leg; a former resident of the orphanage, who is now a caretaker with a nasty plan; and an ominous unexploded bomb.
As Carlos struggles to settle in with the other boys, he starts to see the ghost of a young boy wandering the orphanage, known to the others as “the one who sighs.” Jacinto, the caretaker, plots to steal some gold ingots kept by Carmen, the principal, until the “cause” needs them.
As tensions grow in the war and the orphanage, the professor Dr Casares decides they have to leave the orphanage. But Jacinto and the boy ghost have other plans…
The Devil’s Backbone is not a typical del Toro film. The director is normally known for his fantastical visions and horrific monsters, but these are absent here, replaced with a subtle spooky atmosphere. There are still hints of his trademark gruesome imagery, such as the unborn foetuses with mutated spinal cords suspended in jars in Dr Casares’ office. However, those who come to the film expecting monsters or big set pieces will be disappointed. What they will find is an effective ghost story, which builds up tension and suspense without reverting to typical horror clichés involving a child ghost.
Using subtle sound design and a visually distinctive location, del Toro creates a sense of increasing suspense as all the different parties begin to come into conflict with each other. It is no surprise that del Toro is a huge Hitchcock fan, using the unexploded bomb in the centre of the orphanage as a symbol of all the tensions simmering in the orphanage. The story builds effectively, and it soon becomes clear that the true villain of the piece is Jacinto, the callous caretaker played with menace by the excellent Eduardo Noriega. Like in most del Toro films, the monster is the man, not the beast.
The true stars of the film are the cast of children. Del Toro often manages to obtain great performances from young actors, and this film is no exception. Led by Carlos and Jaime, played by Fernando Tielve and Inigo Garces, the young ensemble create distinctive well rounded characters with the screen time they receive. They are all believable, even when the story becomes dramatic and more violent towards the end. The rest of the cast all perform admirably, whilst veteran actor Federico Luppi as Dr Casares really conveys the sense of years lost to unrequited love.
Shot by del Toro’s frequent collaborator Guillermo Navarro, the film is a visual treat. Forgoing the fantastic vistas and worlds that he normally creates, del Toro uses the location and colours to bring us into this world. Whether it’s the empty coldness of the hallways at night, or the blinding brightness of the sun during the day, each shot is arranged with meticulous detail. There are also many references to classic westerns; the famous shot from John Ford’s The Searchers is evoked several times, adding to the sense of isolation.
The state of limbo the characters seem to be in is referenced again and again, adding a deeper layer to the story and the mythology of the ghost story on show. Despite the references to Japanese horror films (the ghost design was based on recent, popular J-Horror films such as Ringu or Ju-On: The Grudge), there are no cheap scares. Everything feels necessary, and as such, when the pieces come together at the end, it is an extremely satisfying conclusion.
It seems a shame that del Toro has found success the way he has. With the big-budgeted The Mountains Of Madness due to start filming this year - Tom Cruise supposedly in the running for the lead role - it will be a long time before we have another personal film such as The Devil’s Backbone from Del Toro. Which is a shame as del Toro has proved in this film, and his earlier and later works Cronos and Pan’s Labyrinth, that he can take a genre movie and inject it with warmth, humanity and a deeper meaning.
Guillermo del Toro’s The Devil’s Backbone is an excellent film. More subtle and nuanced than his Hollywood output, but with no lack of creativity or imagination. Those expecting more of an out and out horror may find that there are less kills or scares than they would expect. They will, however, find an atmospheric ghost story which makes you think. JDW
Film: Memories Of Matsuko
Release date: 14th February 2011
Certificate: 15
Running time: 130 mins
Director: Tetsuya Nakashima
Starring: Miki Nakatani, Eita, Yusuke Iseya, Teruyuki Kagawa, YosiYosi Arakawa
Genre: Comedy/Drama/Fantasy/Musical/Mystery
Studio: Third Window
Format: Blu-ray
Country: Japan
From the heart and mind of multi award-winning Japanese director Tetsuya Nakashima - famed for the critically acclaimed Kamikaze Girls and, more recently, the Oscar-nominated Confessions - comes a visually stunning and peculiar musical- drama with a gritty undertone bubbling beneath its cherry blossom surface.
Do not let the genre fool you; this is far from the family friendly musical we have all come to know (and possibly love). Think more Sweeney Todd as opposed to Grease. The word “sex” is echoed three times within the opening minutes of Memories Of Matsuko, so PG this is not.
The resonance of such profanity can be heralded to Sho; a down-and-out, 20-year-old man drowning in a sea of porn and alcohol. He is quickly dumped by his current squeeze for living a somewhat meaningless existence.
After a particularly vice-filled night to dampen his heartbreak, he is awoken by his father, Norio, in a surprise visit. Norio, who is indifferent to the squalor of his son’s lifestyle, asks Sho for one simple favor. That is to clean the apartment of Matsuko Kawajiri, a 53-year-old, overweight and unkempt woman living as a worthless recluse. And to Sho, the aunt he never knew existed, until she was found murdered in cold blood.
From this point on, the story is told retrospectively, with Sho learning of his aunt’s life through the many different colorful characters he meets, whose lives are intricately linked with the memory of Matsuko. Beginning with the comic relief, tattooed neighbour and police detective, we jump back in time to Matsuko’s early years as a young, attractive school teacher. Matsuko’s story begins to unravel as the film jumps between the present day and the past.
From her childhood days, her rocky relationship with her father and sister, her downfall as a teacher, to her forays into abusive relationships, prostitution, prison, murder, love, friendship and salvation. We soon learn of every harrowing detail, which will eventually lead to her breaking point, and ultimate demise...
On the surface, Memories Of Matsuko is a simple story of love, loss and redemption told through bright, overly saturated colours and the occasional sing song. Matsuko (Miki Nakatini) drives the storyline as the naïve, head-in-the-clouds princess searching for that one true love, while trudging through the heartbreakers and rejects. However, writer and director Tetsuya Nakashima has taken this two-dimensional cliché and invigorated it with a genuine sense of humanity and life. He has in turn contributed a perfect reminder of one very important aspect of filmmaking - extraordinarily good storytelling!
Miki Nakatani’s portrayal of troubled heroine Matsuko Kawajiri is beyond any reasonable doubt, simply awe inspiring, and well-deserving of the six separate Best Actress awards she has received for such a complex character. She is able to capture the fundamental nature of a woman who is caught in a downward spiral, beginning with such captivating innocence as a young adult. We are able to understand the basis of why her character will ultimately end up the way she does, starting with the simple psychological fodder of ‘daddy issues’.
The neglect she receives from her father (who favours her over her sick sister) is a surprisingly relatable issue in today’s world. It is the strong yet simple ideal that Tetsuya Nakashima plays off, to bestow a sense of empathy and sympathy to a character who is, in effect, an extremely needy and, at times, self-absorbed person.
But it is because of the multiple dimensions this character has that Miki Nakatani proves her worth as a diverse actress. As Matsuko grows from the stereotypically cute young woman, both her character and her performance begin to gradually mature.
The constant strive to please people in the hope that it leads to acceptance is upheld as the backbone of such a character, and Miki does exceptionally well to provide the obligatory three dimensions throughout the film. But all is well and good saying she can smile or cry when the time is right, what is actually the most admirable aspect of Miki Nakatani’s performance is the significance of sincere emotion, charm and the authentic sense of confusion she injects into a character who is put into situations none of us would wish upon ourselves.
Her emotions are juxtaposed against her scenarios; so the subtleties like smiling softly after being beaten are visual oxymoron’s that make us forget that Matsuko is just a character in a film, and instead we see heartfelt performances from all the characters, that transcends past the screen and touches our hearts. We begin to realise that Matsuko is human, and feels as we would feel if we were to face blow after blow, devoid of any salvation.
If this sounds like you will be watching a human train wreck, then admittedly it is just that. As things go from bad to worse in Matsuko’s life, we find out through her eyes how she must feel despised (which is made clear at the beginning of the film when she utters: “Please forgive me for being born”) from the people she has hurt to her feelings of rejection. What Tetsuya Nakashima weaves from this is a cast of characters that prove the complete opposite.
This is where the one grumble rears its ugly head. A lot of the supporting characters, while heartfelt and very enjoyable to watch, can also be a tad over exaggerated. This is maybe intended to fool viewers into a false sense of security, especially coupled with the cartoony visuals; however, some characters feel like caricatures of people they should have been, with the saying ‘less is more’ applying.
As mentioned before, the visuals are CGI heavy, utilizing animation and quirky sound effects. All of this is put to good use alongside some very unusual cinematography. While definitely not everybody’s cup of tea, in the context of the subject matter being tackled in the film; it is clear that this is all intended to be a bizarre contrast to the very adult subject matter.
Diving deeper into the cinematography, it is clear that a lot of thought has been put into blending the emotion and colour together. Like a lot of Asian cinema, colour is vital. So like with Hero or Lady Vengeance, you will get your darker more sombre colours with your sad scenes, and your bright over-the-top colours and over exposure in happy scenes.
The same goes for the musical sequences; while very cute, catchy and enjoyable, coupled together with very applicable and literal lyrics, it, at times, can actually get quite awkward, especially if you’re a testosterone-filled male. The cutesy animations and bubblegum lyrics can make any adult feel fairly embarrassed if they are caught watching this alone. However, given a chance you will find that these musical sequences are actually a very inventive, and a creative muse for exceptional storytelling.
With an award from the Japanese Academy for Best Music Score; the music is intelligently interwoven into the story. So don’t expect to see hundreds of characters bursting into random harmonies. But instead the music acts more like a backing track to Matsuko’s life. Matsuko does not generally ‘sing’ but instead she ‘sings along’ to sometimes funny, or sometimes racy, but always genuinely intimate and applicable songs that pack one hell of an emotive punch.
Memories Of Matsuko is an epic tale of harrowing humanity, filled with lessons of life and unconditional love. Tetsuya Nakashima has woven together an irrefutable blend of good storytelling and interesting visuals to bring you a story that will touch you from the beginning to the end. If you enjoyed films like Amelie then be sure to give this a try. VLN
Film: Spirits Of The Dead
Release date: 15th November 2010
Certificate: 18
Running time: 121 mins
Director: Federico Fellini, Louis Malle, Roger Vadim
Starring: Brigitte Bardot, Alain Delon, Jane Fonda, Terence Stamp, James Robertson Justice
Genre: Horror/Mystery
Studio: Arrow
Format: Blu-ray
Country: France/Italy
Inspired by three short stories by Edgar Allan Poe, Roger Vadim (Barbarella), Louis Malle (Murmur of the Heart) and Federico Fellini (La Dolce Vita) each contribute to this horror omnibus which is available for the first time on Blu-ray.
Roger Vadim follows Barbarella with the first segment in this anthology, with his adaptation of the first of Poe’s published works, Metzengerstein: A Tale In Imitation Of The German. Starring both Jane (then married to Vadim) and Peter Fonda as the evil countess Frederique de Metzengerstein and her rival Baron Wilhelm Berlifitzing respectively. In an act of rage after being spurned by the young Baron, spoiled Frederique burns down his stables, killing him and all but one of his horses. She forms a strange bond with the black stallion after witnessing the same figure being burned out of the large tapestry in her castle, indicating that there is more to the horse than she anticipated.
Louis Malle continues with William Wilson, adapted from the short story of the same name. An Austrian soldier desperately runs through the claustrophobic streets of a 19th century Italian town before seeking refuge in a church. He frantically demands to be seen for confession, and continues to recount all the evils in his life to the bewildered priest. It becomes clear that the soldier, William Wilson (Alain Delon), has been doggedly pursued throughout his life by his doppelganger (Delon again), who is determined to make him see the errors of his ways.
Fellini concludes the trio of stories with Toby Dammit, (very) loosely based on the short story Never Bet The Devil Your Head. Terence Stamp is Toby Dammit, a failing Shakespearean actor, driven to near-madness by alcohol and paranoia who travels to Rome to take part in a film where he will be paid with a new Ferrari. Drunk and delirious, Dammit stumbles around an awards ceremony where he is the guest of honour, before speeding off in his new car. Plagued by visions of a young girl playing with a ball, Dammit approaches a fallen bridge, determined to make the jump across…
The most striking element of this collection is the differing quality of the three films. Metzengerstein is by far the weakest of the three, despite the calibre of the cast. The production values are poor, with many of the costumes being recycled from Barbarella, resulting in medieval sets and a medieval-looking supporting cast working around a scantily clad 21st century astronaut riding around the countryside on her horse. Its Robin Hood meets Flash Gordon, but with an even more nonsensical plot than that allegory suggests. Jane Fonda snarls and pouts impressively enough as the spoiled and selfish countess, but Peter Fonda is criminally underused, with only a few fleeting minutes of screen time.
The rivalry between the two families is barely touched upon, with the baron’s rejection of the sexual advances of the countess providing the basis for her act of revenge (in the original story, both characters are male, and there is a long line of disputes and competition between the warring families which sets up the burning of the stables). This interpretation of the source material brings a strange, obsessive quality to the character of Metzengerstein, which is at odds with her actions. Initially she is headstrong and assertive, but soon becomes completely fixated by the horse who she believes to be the embodiment of the baron - despite their interaction being limited to her flirting with him, and his rejection of her.
Louis Malle fairs slightly better with William Wilson. With a much more interesting plot and a truly unnerving premise, this story is a welcome change of pace after the drawn out trudge through Metzengerstein. Alain Delon is superb as the titular soldier, confessing his sins after being relentlessly pursued by his doppelganger. The game of cat and mouse between the two starts in their school days, with the evil Wilson’s bullying and torture of his classmates attracting the attention of his double, and continues through his time in medical school when he intends to perform a living autopsy on a tied and naked girl before being foiled again.
Poe’s notion of the doppelganger is based on the feeling of unease when one encounters someone with the same name, taking away an element of one’s identity as we lose part of our uniqueness. This sense of the uncanny permeates the film, as the macabre and evil acts of Wilson are infiltrated by his reflection. Whether or not the other William Wilson is merely a projection of his subconscious is open to speculation, as he shows little remorse for his actions.
This segment does suffer from some laughable production errors (breathing corpses and mannequin’s in lieu of stunt doubles being of particular note) which only seem to add to the sense of strangeness and disjointedness that is channelled through Delon’s tormented performance.
Finally, Federico Fellini’s Toby Dammit concludes the anthology. This unique and bizarre short is undoubtedly the highlight of Spirits Of The Dead, and is so superior to the other offerings that it is lauded as Fellini’s hidden masterpiece. Terence Stamp is Dammit, turning in a mesmerizing performance that perfectly mirrors the melancholic, surrealist backdrop of the augmented Rome of the piece. Looking every inch the washed up rock star, Dammit stumbles and staggers his way through the various production meetings and interviews that he is forced to endure, always keeping his eye on the prize of the brand new Ferrari he was promised. He is plagued by visions of a young girl (in the original story, the devil was an old man) who seems to be tempting him towards his downfall. He has literally sold his soul for the fame and fortune that is slowly killing him.
Awash in a sea of flashing paparazzi bulbs and masked, nightmarish passers-by, Toby’s arrival in Rome is particularly unsettling. It is an overwhelming sensory overload which acts as the perfect allegory for the broken, burnt out alcoholic he has become, and the price that he must pay for the notoriety he desired. The breakneck race around the empty city in his newly acquired Ferrari is also a highlight, as his madness and desperation is played out through a first person perspective.
Unfortunately, the weakness of the first entry of this omnibus leaves a sour taste that William Wilson works hard to placate. It is worth staying, however, for the phenomenal Toby Dammit, which is the least faithful to the source material of the three, but somehow remains the most truthful, playing with the themes of the original text while updating them to a more contemporary setting. RB
Film: Der Rosenkavalier
Release date: 29th November 2010
Certificate: E
Running time: 192 mins
Director: Paul Czninner
Starring: Elisabeth Schwarzkopf, Otto Edelmann, Sena Jurinac, Anneliese Rothenberger, Erich Kunz
Genre: Comedy/Romance/Musical
Studio: Park Circus
Format: Blu-ray
Country: UK
Following its 1911 premiere, Richard Strauss’ Der Rosenkavalier caused such a sensation that train operators ran additional trains from German-speaking Europe to take unprecedented opera-goers to Dresden. Modern opera fans won’t have to go to such extreme measures thanks to this Blu-ray release of a classic 1962 performance filmed by Paul Czinner.
The Marschallin is deeply in love with her young lover Octavian, but knows that she's getting older, and one day he'll tire of her.
Her fears are realised sooner than she anticipated when a chain of events are set in motion after her uncouth, philandering cousin Baron Ochs sets his sights on Sophie von Faninal, the beautiful daughter of a rich Viennese bourgeois. Having arranged with the young woman’s father to combine his noble rank with Faninal’s money by marrying Sophie, Ochs asks the Marschallin to recommend an appropriate young man to be his Knight of the Rose. The Marschallin duly recommends her young lover to present the silver rose to Sophie on the Baron’s behalf as a traditional symbol of courtship.
As Octavian presents the ceremonial rose to Sophie, the two fall instantly in love with one another. They must then work out a way to prevent Baron Ochs from marrying Sophie, assisted by the good-hearted Marschallin in Strauss’ 18th century-set comedy of manners…
Richard Strauss, not to be confused with the Waltz King Johann, was responsible for two of the most arcane and discordant operas of the 20th century, Elektra and Salome. Hungarian émigré Paul Czinner was a more or less openly gay man in a time when it wasn’t just frowned upon, it was a crime (in the Nazi era especially, from which Czinner was fortunate to escape). It’s odd then that these two most unconventional of men should be brought together in a curiously old fashioned romantic comedy of an opera. It should be noted that this opera would have appeared old fashioned even in Strauss’ own day, something which may have caught his audience, used to by then to his enfant terrible reputation, completely off guard. A modern equivalent would be Matthew Barney deciding to make a slapstick comedy, or Gaspar Noé embarking on a rom com. But all that seems a bit beside the point in 2010, and opera newcomers anticipating sturm und drang and high theatrics will be disappointed here. They might also struggle to condone a supposedly sophisticated work which features the part of a servant played by a child in black-face.
Aside from the casual racism of the production, one of the biggest stumbling points is the humour. It’s simply not funny. An operatic comedy of errors and manners is, to put it mildly, an acquired taste; but even so, much of the humour does seem to consist of in-jokes for the opera crowd, part of an elitist, self-congratulatory world that puts most off. Opera by its very nature is marked by heightened emotion and hyperbole, which is fine for stories about myth and legend, the extremities of life and death, but when applied to comedy, it seems misplaced. Ochs, in particular, is a real pain. A boorish buffoon and intentionally grotesque, he fulfils a function in counterbalancing much of the preciousness going on around him, but he’s rarely amusing. The only thing that might raise a smile is the initial oddness of opera’s highly stylised nature - the way characters will announce an event as banal as someone arriving at the door in huge soaring tones. Though after three hours, the fun to be had in this does become limited.
Another issue is the feeling that opera inevitably loses something when taken out of the confines of the theatre. There’s clearly a market for opera on the small-screen, and it offers a chance for opera fanatics to catch classic or older performances they might otherwise never see, but as an introduction to the world of opera, it can’t be recommended. There’s a ritualistic aspect in going to a theatre to watch an opera; and though the camera essentially gives you the best seat in the house, it can’t really compare to being there, just as no sound system can equal the acoustics of a theatre and the sensory overload of being sat in the audience. With this caveat in mind, the film does as good a job as it possibly can. The restoration is excellent (there’s a comparison as one of the extras), transforming the beige, washed-out hues of the original print into glorious Technicolour. The ornate set design and costumes really stand out in this lavish production, all ably captured by Czinner’s fine camerawork.
The most important aspect is, of course, the music; and much of Der Rosenkavalier is undeniably beautiful. There can be a preponderance for note-spinning, and the music that comes on when we’re being shown that something comic is going on is tiresome, but, for the most part, we are witnessing opera singers at the very peak of their powers. The final duet between Octavian and Sophie is particularly breathtakingly gorgeous. It is at such moments that you begin to appreciate the almost super-human talents of opera singers, their abilities to command their vocals to perform feats that seem beyond the limits of the human voice. None more so than Elisabeth Schwarzkopf as the Marschallin in the role many have said she was born to play.
However, the conducting of Herbert Von Karajan is perhaps the weak link in this staging of Der Rosenkavalier, in that you really have to work to get to the work’s subtext. It has been said that the music in Der Rosenkavalier isn’t all that different from Elektra. If you listen very carefully, you can hear moments of dissonance at work, the avant-garde undercutting the seemingly conventional and working in much the same way as Brecht’s alienation techniques to make us question just what exactly is being presented to us. But this Karajan recording almost completely obscures this technique behind flowery flourishes and sickly sweet orchestration. As a result, it’s easy to overlook the crucial darker undertones of the work. This is a society on the brink, the twilight of an era, and Strauss’ piece subtly undermines the notion of the ‘golden era’, which underpins a great deal of the opera canon. This is a world in which women are still seen as property, traded in for newer models when their looks began to fade, and marriage used as a vehicle towards status or money. Der Rosenkavalier depicts a social milieu in which love is essentially bought and sold for cash, the hard, coarse reality beneath the veneer of polite society. But all the bluntness implied is elegantly dressed in coiffured wigs and crinolines, so that the utter heartbreak at the centre of the story occurs offstage - the Marschallin retires to weep her heart out in the wings, as Sophie and Octavian (who is, of course, merely Och's younger reincarnation, as Sophie is the Marschallin's) canoodle in private. But you have to really read behind the lines to get any of this in a production, which makes Strauss’ opera appear much more conventional than it actually is.
Czinner’s film has been in and out of print on VHS and DVD over the years, establishing itself as one of the ‘must have’ cult items for a certain segment of the opera loving public. But this review is aimed at international cinema fans and as such it’s hard to recommend Der Rosenkavalier. No doubt it will be seized upon and treasured by those in the know. The rest of us may well be left wondering what all the fuss is about. GJK
Film: Infernal Affairs - The Complete Trilogy
Release date: 27th December 2010
Certificate: 15
Running time: 332 mins
Director: Andrew Lau & Alan Mak
Starring: Tony Leung, Andy Lau, Anthony Wong, Eric Tsang, Shawn Yue
Genre: Action/Crime/Drama/Mystery/Thriller
Studio: Palisades Tartan
Format: Blu-ray
Country: Hong Kong/China/Singapore
Infernal Affairs is Hong Kong’s most celebrated export. With awards galore in its native land, and cult attention over the ocean, the trilogy went on to inspire Martin Scorsese’s first Oscar triumph. With The Departed came a resounding success but it is Lau and Mak’s original where the betrayal, shifting allegiances and inner turmoil of the story was born. With a stunning vision of a Triad ridden Hong Kong, this was a true event in Asia, one that sadly many have passed up for its Hollywood counterpart.
Infernal Affairs (2002)
Chan Wing-Yan is part of triad boss Hon Sam’s prestigious collective. He is a hood who enforces the gang's multi-million pound dealings - and he is a police mole. Lau Kin Ming is a decorated member of the Hong Kong police force, his proven track record sees him climbing the police ladder of promotions and accolades - and he is a mole for Sam’s gang.
Tensions between the police and the triads grow when a drug raid goes wrong, and it becomes clear that both sides have an informer playing for the other team. Police superintendant Wong is Yan’s only allie in the police force, and the only man who knows of his true identity - he gives Yan the task of sniffing out Sam’s rat. Meanwhile, whilst balancing the trust of the triads, police and girlfriend Mary, Lau is instructed by Sam to discover which member of his team has been placed by the cops.
As suspicions rise and leads are followed, the two moles fight to preserve their hidden identities. As each side closes in on the truth, an urban battle between both sides of the law is coming dangerously closer to a bloody end...
Infernal Affairs II (2003)
The second instalment of the trilogy begins in 1991, nine years before the events of the original. Lau is a young member of Sam’s gang, preparing to join the police force, whilst Yan, a promising young trainee officer, has been kicked out of the academy for his triad family routes. Howver, he is contacted by Wong to become an undercover agent.
As the two become more involved with their covers, Yan is torn between his police duty and half-brother Hau, who is a triad. Hau’s time as boss is coming to an end as Sam, now an up and comer in the Ngai family, is climbing the ladder in the triad family, whilst working with Wong as an informant. Wong helps Sam as he considers him a mob boss he could control. Lau assists Sam’s rise whilst establishing himself in the force and harbouring secret feelings for Sam’s wife, Mary...
Infernal Affairs III (2003)
Following the deaths of Billy and Yan, Lau is under investigation and has been demoted in the police force. His reputation tarnished, he returns to Infernal Affairs with the knowledge that Sam had installed five moles in the division all along. He suspects SDI Yeung - and is determined to find him out.
Meanwhile, Lau’s impending divorce, fear of being uncovered, and guilt over the murder of Yan are catching up with him. Hallucinations lead him to question his sanity as he begins to feel Yans presence long after his demise...
Each film is a true genre piece, and its American influences are clear. The police/criminal relationship is played out with all the tactics and mind games of Michael Mann’s Heat, and the organised crime of the triads and the decade spanning narrative echo The Goodfather series and Goodfellas - you can imagine the filmmakers’ delight to hand the reigns to Scorsese, someone they have seemingly learnt a lot from.
Lovers of Scorsese’s stylish violence and ever memorable multi-head shot sequence will be less thrilled by killings accompanied by black-and-white, slow motion and haunting opera tones. However, whirring cameras, painful close-ups and the beautiful capture of Hong Kong and its skyscraper roof tops give the trilogy a fantastic spectacle. A lack of excessive violence and action is more than made up for by the installation of dramatic tension that is utterly engrossing.
This is due to writing of the highest quality that is acted with complete conviction by its talented cast. Andy Lau and Tony Leung Chiu Wai play the two moles with all the self-convolution, shame and denial that form the story’s most evocative theme. Mary is writing a novel about a man with twenty-eight faces - a look at a man who plays out so many different identities that he has lost his own true being. She notes, “I don’t know if he’s a good guy or a bad guy.” The two moles have spent so much time on the other side that they are losing touch with their allegiances.
Their connection is strong as they contrast each other’s situation. Yan exclaims, “You don’t know what it’s like to be undercover,” as Lau fakes a smile knowing he too has lost his identity. The tragedy of their rivalry is that they are the only two who know each other’s pain. They are by no means opposites, but they are ultimately living out each other’s lives. Yan is kicked out of the police academy and the instructors threaten, “Who wants to be next?” Lau replies under his breath, “I do.”
The second film sees Edison Chen and Shawn Yue reprise their roles as the young Lau and Yan. Unfortunately, the characters, which Lau and Wai made their own in the original, are considerably less convincing, as you are sometimes left struggling to relate them to their elder selves. The film does build on the relationship between Wong and Sam, and a scene at the beginning reveals Sam to be an informant to Wong. As Sam sits eating a police prepared meal, our memory takes us back to a far more hostile encounter between the two in the first film, which ends with Sam flinging his food aside in anger. Their friendship, mistrust and eventual rivalry is an absorbing layer to the story.
As a trilogy filled with sub-plots, flashbacks and red herrings, this film maintains a great consistency, whilst elaborations and reveals answer nagging questions from the first film satisfactorily, and offer new meaning to the characters’ actions.
The third film sees the introduction of Leon Lai as SP Yeung. The character is suspected by Lau of being another mole in the police department, thus ensues a battle of wits between the two. This rivalry never reaches the intensity or intrigue of Yan and Lau’s fight for discovery; attempting to re-create a rivalry between two undercover cops that was so riveting in the first film. This serves to emphasise that, despite the reprisal of Andy Lau and Tony Leung’s roles, the main battle of the trilogy is over. Lau and Yan both occupy different strands of the narrative, and their direct rivalry is sorely missed.
This film does, however, provide closure. With the demise of Yan, Sam, Shen and Wong in the threequel’s predecessors, we are shown the final downfall of Lau. For a character that shows such a personal struggle between good and bad, his loss of control and self educed death seems fitting, as well as tragic.
Truly an Asian giant. The first film alone is enough to make this trilogy a must-see, the second is a worthy accomplice and the third is, as genre dictates, a bit disappointing. With a complex insight in to lives of the undercover, there is enough powerful drama, cerebral pondering and complex characters to make this a classic of the crime genre. LW
Film: Pan's Labyrinth
Release date: 19th November 2007
Certificate: 15
Running time: 120 mins
Director: Guillermo del Toro
Starring: Ivana Baquero, Ariadna Gil, Sergi López, Maribel Verdú, Doug Jones
Genre: Drama/Fantasy/History/War
Studio: Optimum
Format: Blu-ray
Country: Spain/USA/Mexico
Often revered as a landmark in contemporary world cinema, as well as establishing Guillermo del Toro as an international artistic force to reckon with, 2006’s Pan’s Labyrinth gets a presentational overhaul on Blu-ray courtesy of Optimum Releasing.
Set in Franco’s post-civil war Spain, the film revolves around Ofelia (Ivana Baquero); an 11-year-old girl obsessed with fairytales, much to the chagrin of her heavily pregnant mother Carmen (Ariadna Gill) and her new stepfather, Captain Vidal (Sergi López). Ofelia and her mother are relocated to Vidal’s rural mill-turned-military outpost so that he can be present for the birth of his heir to be.
As Vidal and his troops mop up the last pockets of leftist resistance hiding out in the nearby countryside, Ofelia befriends Mercedes (Maribel Verdú), one of Vidal’s housekeeping staff who’s secretly assisting the rebels, as well as a magical Faun creature (Doug Jones) that resides in a nearby and ancient labyrinth. The Faun informs Ofelia that she is the reincarnation of a lost princess from an underground realm and, in order to return as the kingdom’s heir, must complete three challenges before the next full moon…
Pan’s Labyrinth was very much a labour of love for its director, Guillermo del Toro (perhaps better known by some for helming the Hellboy films), who reportedly turned down multiple offers of lucrative Hollywood capital for fear of it compromising his vision. And while they say that love is blind, the film, though highly accomplished, is not without a few imperfections.
Visually, the film is a master class; the cinematography is assured yet not overly indulgent, gliding though scenes with an interesting mix of majesty and economy. This is further assisted with some very careful editing, using foreground objects such as trees and furniture to wipe from one graceful shot to the next, slipping from reality to fantasy and then back with breathtaking ease. Del Toro’s use of colour, light and, perhaps most importantly, shadow also lends the film further dark visual charm.
Performances are uniformly good, especially Baquero, who proves to be a child actor of incredible potential, and is convincing throughout, even if is the script does infrequently call for her to make some questionable/overly naïve decisions. Supporting roles are also brilliantly textured; Verdú’s Mercedes is executed with a quiet dignity, whilst López makes for a fine antagonist and an effective hate figure thanks to his character’s occasional flashes of sadistic brutality and altogether self-serving attitude. His legacy is all that matters to him, much to the detriment of his wife – a nicely pitched performance by Ariadna Gill; the controversial decision to transport her to the outpost so late in her pregnancy because “a son should be born where his father is.”
Production design is also astounding; from the subterranean labyrinth chamber, to the muddy dwelling of the Toad, to the lavishly haunting corridors and vestibules of the Pale Man’s (also played by Jones) banqueting room. The level of detail on show here should be the rule as opposed to the exception in filmmaking as, in all honesty, Pan’s Labyrinth looks and feels more original than it actually is, mostly because of its dedication to aesthetic.
The film is essentially a gothic fairytale placed in a real world setting that juxtaposes between the two, as Ofelia finds solace from the grim situation that has been thrust upon her. Many staples from that style of storytelling are present - there’s the picturesque, verdant and antiquarian locale, the young girl as protagonist, and wicked stepfather as antagonist. The inclusion of the Faun is a derived from Greek mythology, and the Pale Man’s banquet scene feels like a morality tale in itself about the perils of temptation, or a nod to Eve eating the forbidden fruit in the Garden of Eden.
Del Toro’s skill at being able to blend two seemingly incompatible iconographies – the gothic fantasy and the period war drama respectively – is highly commendable, and is one of the key elements to the film’s overall success. However, it’s interesting and rather surprising how little screen time is actually dedicated to Ofelia’s fantasy adventure (only about a quarter of the film in total) as it is frequently cast aside to further the wartime drama/resistance storyline. On one hand, this serves as a fine and dynamic counterpoint to Ofelia’s fantastical psychosis, placing the narrative in grim and dangerous surroundings, which evokes a quiet and necessary tension, as well as a compelling reason for Ofelia to retreat into such imaginative recesses. On the other hand, there are occasional moments that dwell on this aspect for too long, moving the story perilously close to the usual war/resistance genre pitfalls; personified with the usual self-righteous retorts of “why do you continue putting your life in danger for a lost cause?” and “as long as [insert antagonist’s name] is still in control, we will continue to fight,” etc.
Unfortunately, those who have a solid grasp on fairytale/fable mechanics will likely second-guess certain developments in the plot. There are also some lapses of logic present within the narrative. For instance, Mercedes gives her rebel comrades the only key to the outpost’s food and medical supply store, which they promptly raid. After distracting Vidal and his men by derailing a train, they storm the camp in a very loud and un-covert manner, using the key to access the store, and subsequently leaving the lock unfastened and undamaged - letting Vidal know instantly that there’s a traitor amongst his staff. Seeing as they went in all guns blazing – or did so as they were about to make their escape – they may as well have just forced the lock to avoid suspicion. There are also a couple of missed opportunities to cut short Vidal’s micro-dictatorship that pass by without adequate justification.
Another flaw with the real world aspect of the film is its use of computer assisted violence and blood effects to mixed results. Granted, the film’s occasional moments of brutal violence serve as another necessary counterpoint to the fantasy element of the story – a wakeup call, if you will – but also come across as detached and, at times, strangely unrealistic. The film’s first violent outburst – that showcases Vidal’s uncompromising ruthlessness by stoving in a farmer’s face with the base of a wine bottle – looks particularly false, and is the weak link in an otherwise visually strong piece of filmmaking. It’s a strange creative decision, considering the great effort that’s gone into the other departments, particularly the costume and creature effects, which provide many of the film’s most memorable moments. It’s ironic, and perhaps intentional, that the violent aspects of the real-world plot appear fake and fabricated when compared to the more organic, practical effects utilised in the fantasy-world.
As for the Blu-ray presentation, it’s more than satisfactory. Detail is marvelous, allowing the eyes to revel and fully indulge in the film’s wonderful production design with no noticeable technical faults (macro-blocking, aliasing, etc). Colour reproduction is also fine, and has even improved some of the special effects: the computerized blood, for instance, appears darker that it did on DVD, as does the Toad who lives under the tree, helping them to better assimilate with their live-action surroundings. The surround sound mix is also breathtaking.
Niggles aside, Pan’s Labyrinth deserves the majority of its accolades. A strong, confident opus filled with lush imagery and engaging performances, the film is a minor masterpiece of form – although the content sometimes suffers – and works as an apt showcase for del Toro’s filmmaking talents. Pan’s Labyrinth comes recommended. MP
Film: Der Rosenkavalier
Release date: 29th November 2010
Certificate: E
Running time: 192 mins
Director: Paul Czninner
Starring: Elisabeth Schwarzkopf, Otto Edelmann, Sena Jurinac, Anneliese Rothenberger, Erich Kunz
Genre: Comedy/Romance/Musical
Studio: Park Circus
Format: Blu-ray
Country: UK
This version of Der Rosenkavalier was a 1962 stage performance of German composer Richard Strauss’s renowned comic opera. It was filmed live in the accompaniment of the Vienna State Opera Chorus and Philharmonic Orchestra, where the newly released Blu-ray boasts a painstakingly restored colour and image, highlighting the luscious production values of the three hour opus.
Der Rosenkavalier is a classic love story told across three acts with a powerful operatic score. The events follow the relationships and interactions between four main characters: the aristocratic Marschallin (Schwarzkopf); her young lover Octavian (Jurinac), a part sung by a woman; her philandering cousin Baron Ochs auf Lerchenau (Edelmann); and his young potential fiancée Sophie von Faninal (Rothenberger), the daughter of the wealthy Herr von Faninal (Kunz).
Baron Ochs, having arranged with Sophie's father Faninal to combine his noble rank with Faninal's money by marrying Sophie, asks the Marschallin to suggest an appropriate young man to be his Knight of the Rose, who will present a silver rose to Sophie on his behalf as a traditional symbol of courtship. She recommends Octavian.
When Octavian delivers the rose, he and Sophie fall in love on sight, and must figure out how to prevent Baron Ochs from marrying Sophie. They accomplish this in a comedy of errors that is smoothed over with the help of the Marschallin…
The main draw of this Blu-ray version of Der Rosenkavalier – aside from the impressive operatic performances of the large cast – is the newly restored image of the event. Filmed live in 1962, this version, of course, shows elements of grain consistent with the time in which it was originally produced. Yet, as an extra on the disc highlights, a painstaking process of restoration to the original print has greatly increased the vibrancy of the stage performance. As a result, the opulent costume and set designs seem to pop out of the screen. Indeed, this is perhaps as close to being in a live audience witnessing the opera unfold (short of being there at the time of filming) as one could imagine.
Director Paul Czinner’s framing of the three operatic acts of the story allows a sense of grandeur and adds to the atmosphere of watching a performance filmed live. Each of the three acts lasts for a significant amount of time, and, as with the necessity of a stage production, each of the acts largely remain statically situated within one set. While this is fine when watching a performance live in a theatre, there is a danger of stagnancy under the scope of a film. However, the production design and stage dressing largely negates this, as while Czinner is prohibited from making cinematic sweeping shots of Austrian vistas, the colourful and highly detailed costumes and interior sets are impressive in their splendour.
Title cards between acts set up the events still to occur in the following act, and are hugely evocative of the time in which the opera took place, as well as adding to the sense of magnificence of the aristocracy in a bygone age. There is also a tendency to focus on the large scale orchestra before and after each act; wisely highlighting the magnificent contribution of the orchestra conducted by Herbert Von Karajan, with Richard Strauss’s original music in front of the live audience.
The performances of the large cast, and particularly the centrally focused characters, are impressively faultless across the three hours. In the role of the Marschallin, Elisabeth Schwarzkopf especially expresses a beautiful consistency and range in her voice, whilst simultaneously expressing the anguish and emotional turmoil her character has to endure. Similarly the character of Octavian (Sena Jurinac) is well portrayed, where the female Jurinac continues the tradition of a female playing the role of the young male Octavian.
However, Otto Edelmann’s boorish Baron is almost too-much larger than life in a performance that only occasionally crosses into pantomime (although perhaps this is merely a result of acting on stage in front of an expectant audience). The film also shows its age in the fleeting depiction of the Marschallin’s child servant, who wears ‘black-face’ make-up. Ultimately, though, a product of its time as Der Rosenkavalier certainly is, this filmed version owes a debt of gratitude to Paul Czinner’s direction, with an opening title card intimating that Czinner’s developed method of capturing live performance is one which has helped to preserve this opera and others “for the enjoyment of wider audiences to-day and as a record for posterity.”
Newly restored in the high-definition Blu-ray format, Der Rosenkavalier looks and feels wonderfully vibrant, particularly when considering that almost fifty years have passed since this particular stage version was filmed live. While perhaps not to everyone’s liking (the three-hour plus runtime may be tough going for some), the operatic performances, from renowned sopranos such as Elisabeth Schwarzkopf and Sena Jurinac, soar impressively. DB
