I know thee not, old man

 CHIMES AT MIDNIGHT (1965)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Orson Welles has said that the most important character in the literary land of Shakespeare was Falstaff, the colorful overweight, boozy knight and nobleman who was friends with Prince Hal, the Prince of Wales. Falstaff was the most popular in Shakespeare's plays but never at the center of attention, certainly not as depicted here. With Orson Welles playing Falstaff in his own "Chimes at Midnight," it is no surprise to see him as the primary focus. This is where it feels right, a comical character is expanded on a story that becomes a rather serious drama by the end, about the rise and fall of a friendship and paternal love that becomes a betrayal. Shakespeare purists in the past found fault with Welles soliciting and combining certain passages and dialogue from Shakespeare's own history plays such as "Henry IV Part 1 and 2" (and a non-history play, "The Merry Wives of Windsor") but it is exciting and sometimes buoyant to see a different point-of-view from a supporting character. This is also one of the more spirited films Welles had ever made.

Buoyant would describe Welles' performance as Falstaff, a messy, jovial man who finds much merriment when he is with Prince Hal (Keith Baxter), and their gallivanting and humorous asides inside the Boar's Head Tavern can remind one of Robin Hood's own friendship with Little John. A tension is rising as Hal is admonished by his father, the austere King Henry IV (John Gielgud), for residing at that jolly tavern with its swarm of women and for hanging with Falstaff. Gielgud's reading of Shakespearean lines ("And in that very line, Harry, standest thou; For thou has lost thy princely privilege. With vile participation") is about "displacing air," a quote attributed to Welles' own documentary "Finding Othello," and it is almost musical rather than spoken - you can imagine that this amoral King can destroy with words, not actions. Hal is rash with his father yet something has affected the young prince. In many stirring and emotionally grounded scenes with Falstaff, Hal is slowly detaching himself from his friend, his second father as it were, and that words will in fact cause more damage than actions. How could they not in the land of Shakespeare?  

There are many astounding sequences particularly the Battle of Shrewsbury where we see soldiers falling on each other after being struck by arrows and swords in the thick of muddy grounds. Welles employs fast cutting and a sense of randomness in war - it feels bestial and inhuman. Falstaff stands on the sidelines, not directly involved in the battle and it is clear he is not physically able to fight this civil war. After Prince Hal (principally mentioned as Prince Henry in the history plays) kills Hotspur (Norman Rodway), a rambunctious military leader from Northumberland (both actors delivering lines of regret beautifully), Falstaff wants to take credit for the killing (more so in the play where he thrusts the sword into Hotspur's leg) with the intention of impressing a dubious King. Falstaff wants to feel a kinship with Hal even in battle (earlier it is in a planned robbery of pilgrims carrying royal money in the woods that also feels like something out of Robin Hood). 

"Chimes at Midnight" keeps you glued to the screen with Welles dominating with his immense presence, as if this part of England cannot rightfully exist without Falstaff. When we arrive at the final heartbreaking sequence of Prince Hal becoming Henry V, Falstaff is overjoyed at the news and springs forward at the coronation screaming "My king!" The king dismisses Falstaff, pretends not to know him, and has no disassociated himself from the tavern folk. The newly crowned Henry V may become as lonely and isolated as his own father. Falstaff's joy has turned to bitterness, something he may have foreseen because he felt he mattered to Hal. With Hal often walking away from Falstaff after the battle or leaving the tavern in earlier scenes, the heartbreak continues in moments that seemingly evoke Welles' own sadness and detachment from the Hollywood industry. All alone to weep for what might have been.

The Passing Barge of Romance

 L'ATALANTE (1934)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

French director Jean Vigo would surely have become one of France's greatest directors had his life not been cut short by tuberculosis. At the stunningly young age of 29, Vigo passed on and his last film, "L'Atalante," was compromised and trimmed without his approval by the studio. There had been six versions of the film since yet it wasn't until 2001 that we got a more fully-realized work that captured Vigo's swan song in all his splendor. 

"L'Atalante" is a French river barge commandeered by Captain Jean (Jean Daste) who has just married  a village girl named Juliette (German actress Dita Parlo). Their wedding procession leads them out of a village to the barge, presumably living with Jean in the barge as they travel around the world. The conditions inside the barge are not the best as evidenced by several different cats and kittens, all kept by a Pere Jules (Michel Simon), the old seaman who has collected all sorts of knick-knacks on his worldly journeys. His knick-knacks include a conductor puppet, a jar containing the severed hands of a mate who died long ago, and one too many fish nets, all inside a very cramped room.When the bored Juliette enters his room, it feels as if she is being greeted by an entire world that she had never seen. She is quite taken by Pere Jules and tries to be tender with him, though this does not lead to any intimacy beyond acknowledgement and potential friendship. In one shocking moment, Pere Jules shows her a knife he collected from his travels, cuts himself with it and she is shocked and sticks out her tongue for a second, as if she was about to lick his wound. You probably will not any moment in like that American pre-Code cinema.  

All this is interrupted by the madly jealous Jean who tears apart Jules' room. Jean yells mostly at Jules for having collected too much junk but he's mostly mad at Juliette. Promises of a night out in the town of Paris are cut short by Jules who takes off with his young cabin boy assistant to see a fortune teller, and steals a horn for his phonograph! Meanwhile, Juliette and Jean eventually visit a merry dance hall where they encounter a happy-go-lucky street peddler who flirts with Juliette and dances with her. Jean gets jealous again and they return to the barge. Eventually, Juliette sneaks out at night to Paris and Jean leaves abruptly on the ship, insulted and raving mad at her for leaving their bed. 

"L'Atalante" has a potentially flimsy story that is transformed by Jean Vigo's heart and attention to detail specifically the harsh conditions of the ship, and of Paris itself with its lack of jobs and crime in the streets, that makes it sing heartily. The movie is at times joyous and pulsates with the vibrancy of this couple's love - it gives you a lift to see the happiness in this couple and Juliette's genuine smile (I was quite moved when they sort of wrestle with each other on top of the barge). When their marriage goes sour, we feel for them and want them together - they are clearly naive and inexperienced in love. They need to mature and respect each other and know their love can overcome anything. Jean becomes a stoic man, unable to play checkers with Jules. We get parallel actions of them in bed, writhing with pleasure and wanting to be close. It is saddening for a second, then finally heartrending to see them reunite. There's a mere hesitation only because maybe neither one knows where they really stand. You embrace, you love, and now there's the rest of your life. It is a genuine romantic movie and, though it is not nearly at the level of 1927's "Sunrise," it will still give you goosebumps for days. 

C for Cinematic, H for Hitchcock

 DIAL M FOR MURDER (1954)
Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

It is no accident that the perfect murder is near impossible in reality, not to mention in movies and mystery books, because there is always a slip up. Tony Wendice (Ray Milland), a former tennis pro, is cocksure that a planned murder by a former associate of his will be delivered without a hitch (no pun intended). Just when you think of every conceivable aspect of a planned murder, however, some small detail is always overlooked. When you watch "Dial M for Murder" unfold, you are thinking where the slip up could be. Considering Wendice doesn't commit the murder, he did not think about unplanned and unforeseeable actions that derail his plans. 

The opening introduction of Wendice with his soon-to-be accomplice, Charles Swann (Anthony Dawson), and the initial discussion of buying a car leads to Swann's criminal background and the perfect murder is truly riveting stuff and holds your attention. The whole scene takes place in a single room in an apartment and director Hitchcock cleverly stages the scene with various angles, including the customary low angles and high angles of his later work. No shot is repeated twice and by consistently switching it up with occasional pans across the living room to a desk with curtains in the background and selective master shots, it becomes a master class in how to make a room with two people talking crackle with excitement. That the actors involved are suave, sophisticated Ray Milland and inquisitive, dapper Anthony Dawson are sufficient yet we also get angelic-looking Grace Kelly as Wendice's not-so-angelic cheating wife and Robert Cummings as a mystery novelist who is in love with Kelly. Adding enormously to the proceedings is John Williams as the fastidious Scotland Yard detective. You never think for a moment you are watching a filmed stage play.

"Dial M for Murder" is not great Hitchcock but it is tight, formal storytelling where everything falls in place precisely. It's just the murder that doesn't.