Criterion Sunday 242: Le Carrosse d’or (The Golden Coach, 1952)

I think the tendency of post-war European cinema around this time, especially in Italy, was towards neo-realism, shooting on the streets, giving that documentary sense of gritty immediacy, and so Renoir shooting a very theatrical film on the soundstages of Cinecittà in Italy, with a very stylised use of saturated colour and glorious, ornate sets and costumes, with Italian and American actors speaking in English in a story set in Latin America (Peru, apparently) feels like a very studied riposte to all that. In fact, it feels like a more deeply-felt commentary on the nature of acting and performance to make this kind of film at this time, a film that dwells on spectacle as something which almost seems corrupting: the obscenity of the golden coach at the film’s centre makes the government lose their minds, and becomes a tool of bargaining between men and, ultimately, the church — in a penultimate speech by the Bishop which is interrupted by Renoir cutting between all the assembled faces, expressing wry delight or shocked disdain. There’s a subtle comment on the nature of imperialism, too, as this Latin American colony becomes enthralled to the Italian Anna Magnani and her troupe of actors, threatening to depose the viceroy and create a new life fighting for the rights and sovereignty of the native peoples (though this at least feels a little in passing). I think Renoir’s later films are some of his finest work, operating at a different register from much of contemporary cinema, and all the better for it.

[NB Criterion lists the year as 1953, although this film appears to have been released in Italy in December 1952.]


FILM REVIEW: Criterion Collection
Director Jean Renoir | Writers Renoir, Jack Kirkland, Renzo Avanzo, Giulio Macchi and Ginette Doynel (based on the play Le Carrosse du Saint-Sacrement by Prosper Mérimée) | Cinematographer Claude Renoir | Starring Anna Magnani, Odoardo Spadaro, Duncan Lamont | Length 103 minutes || Seen at home (DVD), London, Sunday 3 March 2019

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El olvido (aka Oblivion, 2008)

I’ve not seen a great deal of documentaries by Dutch filmmaker Heddy Honigmann, but all those I have are quite wonderful — no doubt she’s highly regarded in the documentary world, but that’s a fairly closed-off clique. Indeed, I only saw this film of hers because it was attached as a DVD to a documentary-focused magazine in a bargain bin at the BFI film shop. However, it’s a fascinating piece about Honigmann’s birth town of Lima in Peru, which uses its street performers and service industry staff to tell a story of political disengagement from society as it’s lived. Shop owners and waiting staff in restaurants and bars are asked if they’ve met the President or any politicians, and each of them has their own story, many of them fairly dismissive of these people — a minister of the economy who doesn’t know how much a newspaper costs, or a President who doesn’t know which way round the ceremonial sash is worn. Meanwhile there are poor families who rush out in front of cars at traffic lights to try and make a few coins, whose stories are the most affecting because the most bleak, particularly a young boy who stares out empty-eyed while being unable to recall any bad memories or any good ones either. Honigmann talks to her interview subjects in their places of work and at their homes, and there’s a subtle observance of how life is lived for society’s have-nots. Interspersed amongst these scenes are TV clips of Presidents assuming office, though the ongoing political context in Peru is only alluded to in passing by the interviewees (one gathers it involves dictators, corruption and, particularly in the 1980s, widescale economic collapse). An affecting and affectionate portrait of a capital city that is worth watching even for those — like me — with no knowledge of Peru itself.


FILM REVIEW
Director Heddy Honigmann | Writers Heddy Honigmann, Sonia Goldenberg and Judith Vreriks | Cinematographer Adri Schrover | Length 93 minutes || Seen at home (DVD), London, Monday 11 January 2016