SPECIAL SCREENING FILM REVIEW: A Nos Amours Chantal Akerman Retrospective || Seen at ICA, London, Thursday 17 July 2014 || My Rating very good
As the apparently-forbidding auteur of such austere 1970s masterpieces as Jeanne Dielman, the last thing you might expect Belgian director Chantal Akerman to do is a musical, but that’s exactly what she did in the mid-1980s, even prefacing it with a work-in-progress feature of the same scenario called Les Années 80 (The Eighties, 1983). Of course, it may be somewhat unsurprising that the resulting product hardly throws its arms round the generic clichés of the musical romance, but it certainly shows an awareness of them. If it has a line of descent, it would be Golden Era Hollywood filtered via French director Jacques Demy (of The Umbrellas of Cherbourg fame). There’s a quotidian drabness to these shopworkers, almost entirely confined to a subterranean shopping centre, where Jeanne Schwartz (Delphine Seyrig) and her husband run a fashion boutique opposite a well-staffed hair salon belonging to the flirtatious Lili (Fanny Cottençon), while between them is Sylvie (Myriam Boyer) and her small bar which in the opening number almost seems to entrap her. There’s also a similar eye for the brightly-coutured; where Demy’s most famous film’s credit sequence opens with a top-down shot of umbrellas passing, here we get a ground-level shot of women’s feet moving briskly across the imitation-marble floor of the mall.
I wrote this review for the wonderful Silent London site to celebrate the rerelease of the Lubitsch in Berlin box set, and you should read it there, as it is accompanied by five better reviews of the other films in that box set. The set is from the ever-reliable Eureka on their Masters of Cinema imprint, and I can highly recommend it.
FILM REVIEW || Director Ernst Lubitsch | Writers Hanns Kräly and Ernst Lubitsch | Cinematographer Theodor Sparkuhl | Starring Ossi Oswalda, Julius Falkenstein, Victor Janson, Harry Liedtke | Length 60 minutes | Seen at home (DVD), London, Saturday 1 February 2014 || My Rating excellent
One of the wonderful things about silent cinema is that film techniques and technologies we nowadays take for granted were still evolving. This occasionally means we get stagy affairs with huge melodramatic emotions matched to over-the-top gestural acting and a sense of decorum a hundred years removed from our own sensibilities. Sure, some may live up to this stereotype (like the 1920 Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde I recently reviewed), but for every ten of those there’s a film like Die Austernprinzessin: constantly inventive, filled with laughs, and with a satirical sense that doesn’t feel hugely out of step with anything being made today. The director is Ernst Lubitsch, who at this point was still making his name but would go on to become one of the world’s most famous directors upon moving to Hollywood in the 1930s. He even had a brand of sorts, the “Lubitsch Touch”, which is sufficiently vague a term to have prompted much subsequent speculation. Whatever it may be, he certainly does have a way with a film, no less in this early effort than in many of his ‘mature’ works.