“Hearts will never be made practical until they are made unbreakable.”

It truly is the happiest film ever made. And perfect to boot, like, literally, perfect, so much so that I don’t feel I need to say a lot more than that. I was really drawn to the sheer number of immediately identifiable icons in the movie this zillionth time watching it – it’s something I’ve really started to be interested in in a lot of movies recently: like just those props and simple images you can remove entirely from their context in the movie and yet their association is so indelible that pretty much anyone will know the movie from them. The gingham dress, the ruby slippers, the green-faced witch, a witch in a bubble, another under a house, the poppy field, the Emerald City, the yellow brick road, the red sand hourglass – and of course the scarecrow, tin man and lion. Any one of these things captures the imagination enough in itself. To put them altogether in one ninety minute swoop with the songs and the simply perfectly cast Judy Garland tying it all together is for me to practically bottle everything it means to dream.

For me it mostly comes down to those last scenes; the wizard declaring, “No I’m not a bad man – just a bad wizard,” bestowing the gifts upon Dorothy’s friends at the same time really highlighting the worthlessness of the societal things that package us like diplomas, medals and testimonials, in turn proffering the slightly cheesy but no less truthful notion that it really is just who we are that counts; and of course, “Oh Auntie Em … There’s No Place Like Home,” that swell of music that never fails to make me cry my eyes out.

Yes, I guess it comes to the same almost dreary happiness in its close that I hated in Enchanted – “But that’s so easy!” the Tin Man even declares when Glinda reveals to Dorothy the means to get home – but it’s the way it elevates that normality to something fantastic, never dismissing the wonder of imaginary Oz (if it is imaginary at all, I feel the urge to add) in the process. I was reminded of that wonderful line at the end of the last Harry Potter book, “Of course it’s all happening in your head … but why on earth should that mean it isn’t real?” I’m babbling and I’ve done too much of that lately. It’s just a perfect movie, okay?

Little to add to the first review here but on BAFTA night to single out Sam Riley. I was shocked by his exclusion from most of the awards, let alone the whole movie in other categories, when nominations were first announced; after watching his performance a second time, my mind simply boggles. I honestly think this whole movie belongs up there with the likes of There Will Be Blood and No Country for Old Men this year, and his performance up with Day Lewis and Depp, not to mention the cinematography … it of course baffles me even more that it’s excluded from so many categories at the BAFTAs, and I hope it wins all that it’s up for.

November 27th, 2007:

I really didn’t know how I’d fare with this one, not really being a huge fan of Joy Division nor really even knowing much of their story or music except for what was touched on by the brilliant 24 hour Party People ... to illustrate how little, I didn’t know anything about Ian Curtis’ epilepsy. And I’ll admit, in light of 24 hour Party People, I did find myself wondering about the need for this movie.

It didn’t take long for me to realise this was one of the best movies of the year, though. I can be pretty picky about movies like this if they don’t feel like they gel as a whole from the start – the ensemble, the design, the authenticity, especially these days when it’s so much more possible, everything has to be right about these movies – and if nothing else, this one is certainly the best “period” movie of the year technical-wise up with Zodiac and American Gangster. This one betters both those by far though with the other less technical stuff – the stuff that makes cinema get inside you. The performances are all perfect, believable – I think it says it all that even Craig Parkinson’s turn as Tony Wilson works following Steve Coogan’s, at the time, seemingly irrepeatable take on the guy.

The soundtrack, of course, is perfect. Mark Kermode has said all that needs to be said about how right the decision to have Sam Riley do his own singing was – the cool thing I think he didn’t mention though is how the band sounds too. Like I said, I’m not a Joy Division fan – I’m one of those people who know the songs but wouldn’t immediately name the artist … at best I’d be, like, “ummm … someone from the Manchester thing?” lol. But in addition to being a portrait of a doomed young artist to rank up there with The Doors, to a lesser extent Last Days, etc, this actually made me for the first time want to listen to the music too. The black and white photography is simply beautiful, it’s the kind of movie where almost every frame is an art print, and it’s far from being all misery like it could’ve been. It’s one of the best British films in ages, and I haven’t done my double bill recommendation thing in ages … even if it’s obvious, I can’t think of a better pair than this and the aforementioned Party People.

LOL additional – shows how much I’d given up even looking for this movie in the right places – it is now available on DVD, so apologies for bitching about the rights owners … I still got it cheaper from eBay, that’s what counts lol

Finally got hold of a nice digital copy of this – so stupid of me ditching all my VHS including this all those years ago assuming it’d be easy to find again; I don’t think it’s been on TV yet this millennium, grr, and the eBay auctions have been equally sparse, never coming close to as low a price I finally got it for this week.

This is an even more beautiful movie than I remember – you know exactly how dedicated the film makers are when you see the year – 1952 – coupled with the credit “advice on the tuition of the deaf” on the opening scroll. It’s by far the smartest “old” movie I’ve ever seen, so ahead of its time it even beat the first dramatic adaptation of Helen Keller’s story by 5 years. Just watch the sublimely subtle way the headmistress of the school gestures at Jack Dawkins’ Searle to look at her when he’s speaking during a meeting, and her growing frustration at the others who don’t. It leaves you better than any movie I’ve seen with this heightened awareness of what people with disabilities have to put up with – like, even during the movie I watched after this, I was looking at peoples’ lips and realising how often it’s really impossible to follow what someone is saying without the sounds they’re making. There’s this fantastic visual motif in the movie of people with their backs turned on people – every time you see it it carries some significance, right from the first use of it with the overwhelmingly touching reveal about the headmistress.

But all this intelligence and consideration doesn’t mean the movie isn’t full of heart too. Another visual motif is that of the camera simply tracking in on Mandy’s face, often coupled by the sound fading out, that face often streaming with tears; her confusion is profoundly communicated to us in this way. The movie is so good overall that I’d completely forgotten how adorable Mandy Miller was here, let alone the performance she gives which is so beautiful and real I still find myself checking up online whether she actually was deaf (she wasn’t – you might know her better as the voice singing “Nelly the Elephant” hehe :)) Those frowning, curious eyes staring silently over the wall at the other kids playing, it’s just one of the most moving images I’ve ever seen.

There’s the sharp, almost brassy humour of the best friend of Mandy’s mother, too – again remembering this is the early Fifties (note the solicitor’s scene: “Striking a woman is always a mistake – heaven knows they often ask for it but the courts take a dim view,” lol) – fearlessly putting Searle in his place, “I’ve already told her you’ve got no manners so you’ve no need to demonstrate it, now get on with it and show her around!” lol. In this frank talk and the whole issue of the broken family rearing its head towards the end of the movie, again the movie is just years ahead of anything else I’ve seen from the time.

The acting ensemble is all-round perfect. It’s easy to focus on the child’s performance in a movie like this, but Mandy Miller’s is really just the center of a whirlwind of talent on display here. If the end credits aren’t a little obscured by your tears, you should probably get your ducts checked I’ve seen a ton of the better known Ealing productions but this one remains by far the best in my opinion. Anyone involved with children – parents, teachers, whatever – could really learn a lot from this movie, the deaf thing doesn’t even come into it, if you’ve a child in your life you owe it to yourself and them to seek this one out, and anyone with the power practically has a duty to make it widely available again.

I wasn’t sure this weekend whether to watch this acknowledged silent classic version of the Joan of Arc story or Luc Besson’s lavish 1999 production first. I might’ve better understood what I wrote about the manic style of Milla Jovovich’s performance in The Messenger had I watched them the other way around – she was clearly trying to bring something of Maria Falconetti’s performance here in, in the same way there are some visual references I noticed like the cut between Jeanne’s burning face and the cross in the sky etc – but certainly watching that English language version first helped me understand the odd bits of the French interstitials here that I couldn’t quite translate (the DVD player’s still having problems with subtitles, lol – I was pretty impressed with myself how well I coped though :))

The difference between Jovovich and Falconetti’s performances is hard to put into words that don’t include, simply, “Falconetti’s is just better” – where Jovovich, like I said, came off mostly as plain crazy, Falconetti’s wide-eyed gazing comes across more like a superhuman degree of conviction obstructed by a mind too young and human to quite comprehend it; ie, simply closer to “the truth”. A sizable portion of the movie consists of simple headshots of her reacting to the men around her. It shouldn’t be anywhere near as compelling and hypnotic as it is … but it really is the greatest performance, male or female, I’ve ever seen and I don’t think I’ll ever tire of it on any number of repeat viewings.

This is before you even touch upon the aspects of the film outside of her performance. Though, like I said, it’s full of a lot of plain headshots, there are some camera moves that perhaps by sheer contrast blew my mind a little, like the rolling move that follows soldiers from an aerial angle to one level with the ground; one that tracks the spikes of a torture device down to the ground; another weird almost queasy motion while Jeanne burns, following maces thrown down to guards from a tower, up and back again, up and back again.

It’s not often I’m so immediately impressed by movies as old as this – though I consider myself to have a wider knowledge of cinema than most, it never really struck me as a given that older productions should necessarily be somehow better than modern stuff by default. Then you get exceptions like this – it is one of those movies, as François Truffaut has said, that simply “vibrates”, in this case sometimes so violently that it threatens to burst out of the screen. It amazes me that there are people who dismiss it so quickly as “just headshots” ... it’s the person who’s in those headshots. For the performance alone it’s a masterpiece. But it’s so much more besides.

Is this the earliest little girl “horror” movie? It’s certainly the earliest I’ve seen anyway, and the earliest I’ve seen of any genre where someone so young features so prominently. I seriously can’t believe it’s taken me this long to see it, especially considering it’s hardly an investment at 70 minutes.

I was surprised by the connection to the original – I’d heard it was mostly unrelated and it is, but there is still a strong connection you have to fill in the gaps of if you haven’t seen Cat People; or if, like me, you just haven’t seen Cat People in a long time. You kind of gather that Reed’s wife has died in circumstances they don’t speak of and Amy is suddenly seeing her etc, and you don’t really need to know any more than that.

But the story isn’t what the movie’s worth watching for. It is just one of the most beautiful looking older movies I’ve seen since Les Yeux Sans Visage, and easily one of the most interesting and watchable pre-60s movies too. It’s about loneliness and childhood fantasy etc and all of this is conveyed in beautiful images that completely transport you somewhere forgotten.

Another beautifully shot undeniable classic of the genre from the Sixties, though I’ll admit I have less to say about this one. Like The Innocents, it has a very highly strung woman at its heart, and Julie Harris as that woman is every bit as good as Deborah Kerr was at portraying, essentially, a disintegration of a very fragile notion of self. I’d entirely forgotten how this movie ended, and just as with The Innocents, I found myself questioning from the start, “and why is this scary again?” but being constantly hit by the reminders. That swelling door – just fantastic. And the final moments – poor Eleanor still changing her mind about what she wants at the wheel after it’s too late – the movie just leaves you exhausted yet almost relieved for her, to be finally at an end, whether or not it’s the end she wanted. Again, like The Innocents – and I think in this case my review kind of shows it – it’s a movie I still haven’t even begun to fathom, and perhaps never will. But each time there’s something more to keep me coming back, and if there’s a sign of a good movie, that must be it.

This is definitely my favourite Kevin Smith movie so far… it might have something to do with my own sordid state of affairs though, working in a supermarket and stagnating just like Dante. It’s not the director’s most cinematic of ventures, it could be easily interpreted to a stageplay. Smith’s knack is characterisation and dialogue, and his staple, Jay and Silent Bob.

The Quickstop and video store customers are perfectly sketched in quick cutaways… the egg man, the milk maid, the mother and child – and nothing is spared in granting us the joy of Jeff Anderson’s superb putdowns (“I don’t appreciate your ruse… your cunning attempt to trick me.”) When he finally literally spits on a customer, I can’t help but feel a slight rejoicing in my soul. “Bunch of savages in this town.” His monologues about “You ought to sh*t or get off the pot,” and one that ends with, “If we’re so f**kin’ advanced, why are we stuck here?” are completely perfect and one hell of a wake-up call to anyone in the same situation as Dante. I love the phrase he uses, “This is a life of convenience to you…”

This is the one of only two Smith movies to date (haven’t seen Jersey Girl yet, looking forward to it…) that doesn’t either venture into the surreal (Dogma or Mallrats) or skimp on the characters (Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back). Chasing Amy comes a very close second. Though I love Dogma for what it has to say and can just about sit through the other two, I feel like he works best in this reality based environment where he can just drop his camera in and capture real characters. Even Silent Bob’s trademark quip in Clerks. is much more understated and simple than the later ones. And the movie’s in black and white… it’s just gotta be better…