Sunrise: A Song of Two Human (F.W. Murnau, 1927)

"Don't be afraid of me!"

 

Introduction

 

After reflecting on the technical prowess of Vertov’s Man with a Movie Camera, we now move onto F.W. Murnaus Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans. Crucially, Sunrise came at a time whereby the sound era was due to hit Hollywood, eroding all the hard-work established by the industry since Thomas Edison. Sunrise represents the pinnacle of the Silent Era – overshadowing the work of Charlie Chaplin and D.W. Griffiths. In Sight & Sound, Isabel Stevens notes how “a vote for Sunrise is a vote, of course, for a lost world”. Indeed, the irony in a title such as ‘Sunrise’, signifying the dawning of a new day, could not be more relevant – as it was the sound era that would change cinema forever following the release of The Jazz Singer in the same year.

 

The City Girl

 

On the surface, the film could easily slip into melodrama, as the story reflects a love-story between a man and his wife as they struggle within married life. The couple live within the country when the man falls for a woman from the city. The temptress tells him of the world she comes from; they fantasize about the possible future in a stunning use of layering. The bottom third shows the two looking to the sky, which then transforms into the city-streets and neon-lights. And she convinces him to murder his wife by drowning her in the river. He builds himself up to commit the crime but, wracked with guilt, he cannot do it. She becomes afraid, aware of his intent – before the two rekindle their love in the city.

 

The narrative itself progresses with a swift pace as a film could, and does, today. The techniques, innovative for their time, are used to great effect to ensure that the momentum of the story is not lost. In the initial set-up, we are shown in flashback the ‘happier times’ which the married couple had. This subtle plot-point informs you of the romance and tragic outcome of their marriage. You sympathise with the man as he has fallen out of love with his wife – but you can see that his wife has not lost hope in him. The characters are fully fleshed out – their challenges, difficulties and hopes are realised forcing you to truly root for them when they witness a Wedding and emotionally ‘remarry’ to begin a new life together.

 



Girl Interrupted at Her Music by Vermeer

The Influenced and the Influencer

 

In terms of the silent era, akin to many films of the time, the influences hark back further than cinema. In the case of Sunrise, there is a clear connection to the Dutch ‘Golden Age’ in the mid 1600's and, specifically the work of Vermeer, whose work often consisted of domestic-scenes within middle-class society. The man and woman seem to be of a similar ilk, whereby they clearly can support their child with a carer (though, without a clear description, it could be a relative). The couple own a farm, but have sold off many animals so it might be fair to consider their status as ‘lower’ middle-class. This social facet is not a major issue within the film, and the relationship with Vermeer is primarily within the composition and framing of each shot in the context of a village; Country women gossip about the couple; animals move across the frame under expressive-lighting.

Indeed, expressive lighting also relates the film to the German Expressionists that Murnau was affiliated with. His move to Hollywood in 1926 followed an extremely successful period whereby he directed Nosferatu and Faust. The use of lighting to gain a sense of expression directly feeds back to this time period in addition to a clear correlation between the role of the ‘City Girl’ and ‘Nosferatu’ as both characters lurk in the shadows and command our attention with outstretched arms and black-costume.

Following Sunrise, I am sure that the middle-act of the couple re-establishing their love influenced Leo McCarey’s Make Way For Tomorrow, a film which portrays an old-age couple reigniting their romance by walking around New York; visiting bars and venues which they recalled when they were on their honeymoon. Both couples reflect on their lives together and are aware of the lack of time they had given each other. In Sunrise, the couple are younger and we see the birth of a child stalling their romance. Whilst in Make Way For Tomorrow, it is the long-period of raising their children that has stopped them from committing to a holiday sooner. Though Make Way for Tomorrow was made a full-decade later, I am sure the success critically in Hollywood for Sunrise surely reached McCarey.

 

The Timelessness

 

I could state further influences; the city-girl in a ghost-like use of multi-layer tempts and haunts the man in his life akin to Teddy Daniel’s dreams in the outstanding Shutter Island; the hustle and bustle of the city seems to capture the mood that, in full colour would be reminiscent of Breakfast at Tiffany’s as Hepburn and Peppard walk the streets. The list goes on, with a “shadow looming” over films including Citizen Kane and Beauty and the Beast (from 1946) according to Joshua Klein. In terms of technique, in one instance Murnau manages to catch a state of bliss as the lovers walk through a city staring into each other’s eyes as the streets magically dissolve into a scenic, peaceful countryside, before re-emerging in the city and literally stopping traffic. These stylistic shots were ground-breaking. Crane shots as the camera glides from above in a continuous movement as we enter the fairground remains influential today whilst the dripping text for the title-cards could have marked a moment whereby text-on-screen was shown to be so much more than mere description or dialogue. Crucially, these techniques showed Murnau’s confidence and skill as he won over the hearts of a Hollywood that continued to grow. Fox must’ve been proud of their investment in Murnau.

 

Unfortunately Sunrise was a box-office failure on its release, but it garnered many awards – including one of the very-first Oscars. In 1927, the Academy Awards had two awards that eventually became the prestigious ‘Best Picture’. Originally, the two categories were for ‘Production’ and ‘Unique and Artistic Production’. Sunrise won the latter (Oscar-Movie buffs will note that Wings won ‘Production’). Mark Cousins, in The Story of Film commends the “poetic force” of Sunrise and truly, this is what has held the film in such high regard. Cousins notes how “Master, Vidor and Rey, already considered… the contrasting values of country and the city” but, even in 2012, it had not captured this with such beauty and clarity – invoking the gentleness of Vermeer and the bold elements of German Expressionism.

 

In many ways, Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans definitively marked the end of the silent era and you can see from this film alone why many believed that the use of sound was a ‘fad’. This type of poetic-beauty could not be recreated for many years to come – indeed you could ask the question; Has this type of beauty ever been recreated? You only need to watch it to decide, because it is not an easy question to answer.

 

Best Episode of The Simpsons? Season 9: Girly Edition

In an attempt to get completely up-to-date on one of my favourite TV-series The Simpsons, after I watch each season, I will choose my favourite episode...

When I decided which episode would become my favourite of the series it was an easy choice. Despite my fandom of U2, their appearance in Trash of the Titans is the only highlight (“Wanker”). The episode centred around Ralph Wiggum, This Little Wiggy, should've been brilliant, but missed the cut. Even an episode utilising Jim Varney and good ol' Cletus, in Bart Carny, should've been better but again didn't hit the mark. The season also kicks off with The City of New York vs Homer Simpson, a rare episode that is not often on TV as it is primarily situated at the base of the Twin Towers - Homer even manages to have his car clamped in between the two buildings. Jokes abound as he runs up both towers for the toilet and he witnesses staff from the South tower argue across to those in the North tower (Something the writers regret). It is a strange watch.

But Girly Edition pre-dates Anchorman as it pokes fun at the news-industry. Lisa wants to be the intelligent reporter as Bart is the sensationalist – even Milhouse has a small role informing kids how to get rid of urinated-on bed-sheets. This is, in turn, supported by a sub-plot whereby Homer has a monkey. The pure randomness of this subplot makes for great laughs too.

As an interesting aside, writer Larry Doyle (of Looney Tunes: Back in Action and I Love You Beth Cooper) wrote the episode – and it is the first of only seven he wrote. In that regard, it feels a little different. Additionally, Eric Stefani (brother of Gwen) had to be called back to the show to help animate the sequences between Homer and the monkey too. So strange – it only seems perfect that the monkeys last lines are equally obscure as he writes – “pray for Mojo” on a computer.

So, my favourite-sequence is not only memorable for such perfect timing – but it also introduced the Cat-Lady to the world. (And, luckily, there is a YouTube video of it too!)

Lisa: They call her the cat lady, people say she's crazy just because she has a few-dozen cats. But can anyone who loves animals that much really be crazy?

 

[Lady gets out of house, sees Lisa, and starts throwing cats at her, and chasing her]

Lisa: The old Union Pacific doesn't come by here much anymore.

[Train comes past, displaying the words 'Union Pacific' on each of the 30 or so carriages, when the train fully gets past, the lady with the cats is there, still chasing here]

After Lucia (Michel Franco, 2012)

"Ale!"

Introduction

Director Michel Franco broke out in 2009 with a small indie-hit Daniel & Ana. His follow-up, After Lucia, has garnered huge critical acclaim through winning the Prize Un Certain Regard at the Cannes Film festival and receiving the Silver Hugo Special Jury Prize at the Chicago International Film festival. At the London Film festival it was in competition but, late last night, it was revealed that Rust and Bone took the prize. The film has also been selected as Mexico’s entry for the Academy Awards so we have yet to see whether the film will continue to take awards between now and February. After Lucia introduces Father and Daughter, Roberto (Hernán Mendoza) and Alejandra (Tessa Ía), as they travel to begin a new life in Mexico City following the death of Roberto’s wife, Lucia, who died in a car accident.

Reality Bites

 

The opening sequence establishes a pace that doesn’t stop throughout the film as we see, from a static-camera inside a car, the Father pick up the car which has had a wide range of alterations before he drives away, parks the car, and leaves. The sequence lasts at least seven minutes and, as soon as he leaves the garage, you feel like something will break the tension. Akin to Little White Lies, it crossed my mind that someone may crash into him – or could he crash into someone else? Neither happens and, as noted, he merely drives away, parks the car and walks away.

 

This type of observation is what Franco utilises throughout the film as we are often situated behind characters, following and observing their movements. We think about where they are going and what they are doing. And Roberto is a character who is reserved and thoughtful – a man of few words. Alejandro, nicknamed ‘Ale’, is equally quiet and patient. Both are content on their own and, without a score or soundtrack, this creates an atmosphere that is rooted in realism - but also in the inevitable tropes of art house and indie cinema. Shots linger on characters on sofas; they look into the mid-distance. Car-journeys are long with questions that characters ask – but are given a mute-response, forcing us, as a viewer, to think about why no answer is given.

Extreme Bullying

 

The core-narrative revolves around Alejandro’s horrendous experience at school. She becomes the victim of bullying after she has sex with a boy in the group. He records the incident on his mobile phone (drawing parallels with the phone-footage showing the smashed-car which killed her mother) and circulates it around his friends. Consequently, she is taunted, molested, physically abused and raped. As a secondary school teacher, inevitably I found this entire story absolutely appalling. Why does she not tell the teachers? How can students be so brash – without any children even attempting to intervene? Why do the students go on a school trip whereby staff do not even check students in the evening; as students drink, smoke and make-out “under the supervision” of teachers. Even in the final few scenes, teachers would meet questions with blank expressions and no answers. This, I believe, is not representative of my profession and – as education is not the focus of the film – I believe this mishandling of the context is grossly exaggerated and ineffective. The sequences play-out more to shock, rather than investigating the reality of bullying.

 

The focus is her isolation and loneliness – her inability to express herself or turn to someone when she is in need. We hear how she was offered psychological support but her Father turned it down; she claimed her Mother was teaching her how to drive (Was she responsible for her mother’s death?). Therefore, this leads you to consider whether her decision to not involve anyone, or turn to anyone, may be rooted in a self-destructive attitude. Does her guilt weigh so heavy on her mind that she sees the bullying as penance for, what she believes, is her sins? Whether this is the case or not, akin to the ending of the film, it is unclear and unfulfilling.

Closure and Clarification

 

A story that is set-up as a film coping with loss and mourning can easily slip into an almost-cliché camp of indie-film expectations. Ambiguous scenes, unexplained set-ups and a slow-and-steady pace lends itself well to a film attempting to analyse the after-effects of loss; indeed, I can only imagine the frustration and timelessness you could feel when coping with the loss of a loved one. But in cinema, we have seen this before – and sometimes a little clarity would assist in the audience gaining closure. So that when we leave the cinema, we can reflect on the film personally without having to seek clarification for plot-points. We surely shouldn't be seeking clarification regarding the purpose of the film itself.

Man with a Movie Camera (Dziga Vertov, 1929)

"This Experimental Work Aims at Creating a Truly International Absolute Language of Cinema"

Introduction

In many discussions regarding the Sight and Sound 'Top 10', it was a fair point that films such as Birth of a Nation, Sherlock Jr and Battleship Potemkin were not included in the Top 10 itself. Cineastes would explain how you couldn’t ignore D.W. Griffiths technical skill and Buster Keaton’s wit. You cannot dismiss the use of editing within Eisenstein’s Battleship Potemkin. In all cases, until I saw Man with a Movie Camera, I would happily argue that they all showed innovative techniques that paved the way for the future, thus establishing a higher position. But in terms of the vast quantity of techniques and the purposeful sense of experimentaion, Man with a Movie Camera surpasses them all. Technically, this film experiments in every possible way. This is a film which, if you hold any interest in filmmaking, you can appreciate what Dziga Vertov is trying to do. In the opening credits, he admits that the film does not include a ‘scenario’ nor ‘characters’; but what the film does include is huge, concerted effort to capture the love, joy and passion of filmmaking. This is clearly what prompted critics to celebrate its importance to cinema.

'Building the Revolution' by Popova

Russian Constructivism

In terms of context, the film clearly explores the politics of the time. The film holds itself to a Marxist ideology and celebrates the hard-labour necessary of a Russian citizen. Though there is no ‘story’, the film depicts the expected day-to-day life of a citizen from waking in the morning, through the work-practices, commute to work and overview of the city itself. We see the city empty as very few people roam the streets – and the cameraman (directors brother Mikhail Kaufman), on his own, travelling. As the film progresses, the streets get busier and we see the various feats accomplished by man. Look at the wondrous plane take off whilst the trams happily take employees to and from their place of work.

But through the context of industrial and commercial enterprises- whether it be men in the mines or women at the cashier – the visual connection is clear. Akin to the posters created by the Stenberg brothers for the film itself, the shots are composed to evoke the Russian Constructivist movement, as shown by Popova and Rodchenko; artists recently celebrated at the Tate Modern in London. Sharp diagonal lines cut across many sequences – as factories are shown on a slant and steely faces, covered in soot, work tirelessly. This is a strong film - confident and bold in its goals.

Perspective

But, to a modern eye, this perspective is limited – and the glue that holds the film together is through the ‘character’ of the filmmaker. Viewing the film in 2012, you realise that Vertov must be filming another cameraman who is, in turn, creating their own film. The sense of control and perspective is integral to the loose ‘plot’ that you could create surrounding the film. We, the audience, are viewing someone’s perspective of a regime and city that, clearly, they deem exceptional and celebratory. But, akin to the barrage of inversed-filmmaking that we have seen recently (dreams within dreams in Inception; a sense of observing, obsessing and execution of oneself in Looper) - it seems filmmakers clearly enjoy the ‘meta’ level of filmmaking in this modern age; characters and stories are almost self-aware. Man with a Movie Camera is, as a documentary, recording and reflecting on itself through the film. As it explores the various filmmaking techniques, you cannot help but wonder whether the film is almost acknowledging the manipulative nature of filmmaking, and therefore its relevance to todays cinema is even more pronounced.

In addition to this sense of self-awareness, Man with a Movie Camera also shows the cameraman as a voyeur. He watches a woman sleep; the eye roams across the body, highlighting curves and creases. The same masculine-eye seems present later on too as we see a woman remove her stockings and bra – before, shortly after, showing a curvaceous woman rowing and then a different woman on a horse-riding machine. A day at the beach reveals topless women applying mud to themselves. Another technique of filmmaking as he, directly and indirectly, references sexuality and the lustful eye.

Music Video of the 20’s?

There is no apology for this manipulation; it surely is a documentary ‘documenting’ Moscow, Odessa and Kiev. But sequences that show the creation of cigarette boxes are simply fascinating in their organisation and composition. The sequences, edited together flawlessly by Vertov’s wife Elizaveta Svilova, are akin to a dance-music video as the pulsating percussion (from the soundtrack provided by the Alloy Orchestra in 1995, taken from Vertov’s notes) adds rhythm, urgency and pace to a sequence that, alongside a slower soundtrack (‘In The Nursery’ has a provided a soundtrack with less pace, but feels more ‘reflective’),would simply not give such a strong sense of importance to the assembly-line. This truly is the complete opposite to the depiction of the assembly-line in Modern Times. Vertov shows us how effective hard-labour is – and the necessity of it - opposed to Chaplin's criticism of hard-labour.

This is a masterpiece, and when I first began the film I was wary. I knew very little of this film – let alone my lack of knowledge regarding Soviet Cinema. I didn’t know how I would approach the film – would it drag? Could I truly appreciate the context? But honestly, at only 70-minutes long, you would have to be incredibly impatient to struggle during a viewing. Vertov employs such a broad range of camera manoeuvres and styles that every shot is an art piece unto itself - and a cinematic art piece at that. He shows static-shots, photographs, before showing the practical-editing that bring the film-reels to life. We see split shots that distort and change how a building is percieved. We see a plane, pre-figuring the use of widescreen - whilst we will then see the view when looking through two trams, making the focus become exceptionally slim and difficult to see.

I will end with a reference to a brief overview written by Russian-Film academic Josephine Woll: "A glourious tribute to everything that movie-making can be". To think that a film - an experiment no less - can be so influential, inspirational and important speaks for itself. One sequence attempts to imitate the movement of the eye - cutting between an eye/pair of eyes moving and the camera moving up and around in imitation. It doesn't work - and proves that cinema is not simply imitating the eye; it delves much deeper, and the multitude of techniques Vertov uses emphasises how much deeper film could go ... and indeed it did.

Rust and Bone (Jacques Audiard, 2012)

"I liked being watched..."

 

Introduction

Jacques Audiard completely shook the foundations of the Cannes Film Festival in 2009 when A Prophet competed against Michael Hanekes The White Ribbon. A Prophet won the Grand Prix whilst The White Ribbon took the Palme D'Or. This year, we are in a similar position whereby Audiards Rust and Bone is released the same year as Amour – Hanekes latest film. Amour won the Palme D'Or whilst Rust and Bone left Cannes with nothing.

Dangerous Creatures

Rust and Bone, unlike the sprawling A Prophet, is a personal story centred around two characters; Ali (Matthias Schoenaerts), who is violent, lacks effective parenting skills and ignores the expectations of the law and Stephanie (Marion Coitillard), an Orca Whale trainer who is a victim to a freak accident when a Marineland Orca Whale show goes wrong. Within the first thirty minutes, Stephanie loses her legs and incredible special effects win you round to accept Coitillard as an amputee. She swims and uses a wheelchair – shots are so natural and fluid, that you constantly ask yourself how Audiard and Coitillard managed to perfectly capture the reality of the situation she is in. If you didn’t believe she had lost her legs, the film would surely lose its credibility in the opening act.

Thankfully, it doesn’t. Both Schoenaerts and Coitillard deliver performances that are utterly convincing. The initial opening portrays Ali with his child, Sam (Armand Verdure), on a train eating the leftovers from other commuters. Is he a tramp? Is this a twisted, less-Apocalyptic version of The Road? Appearances are deceptive as both Father and Son have escaped to his Sisters home to provide a safe haven for the child, we are told. When we first see Stephanie, she has been assaulted in a club and Ali intervenes to protect her. The parallel between the Orca whales and Ali are immediate; Ali’s imposing and dominant figure, his soft-voice though alluring hides an aggressive edge that, when cornered, will attack. We see it first-hand as he assaults his own Son.

Outstanding Performances

Though stealing every scene she is in, Coitillard is not the centre of the story (though I wish she was), it is about Ali. It is Ali who is strengthened by Stephanie – we see him in an illegal street-fight and, at the point whereby he is struggling to defeat his opponent, it is Stephanie who emerges and inspires him to rise-up and win. Stephanie’s personal struggle to cope with her disability is supported by Ali, but in turn, she supports him. She likes the attention and she craves his passing-desires – but he, in turn, sees her physical challenge as an impetus to succeed.

The Channel Four coverage of the Paralympics 2012 broke many boundaries as we became comfortable with disability – specifically the comedy-show The Last Leg, managed to break down stereotypes and assumptions the general public may have towards those with a disability. Rust and Bone manages to highlight how limited that perspective truly is as Stephanie is clearly stronger than Ali. We see Stephanie build her life and re-establish who she is after an event which could force you to turn to suicide (Indeed she considers it). Ali, in the process of supporting her, ignores his own child and places himself ahead of his own Son time and time again; he directly affects his Sisters life too, only threatening her when confronted.

This is a film which manages to capture the arrogance of humans –whilst also showing the struggles people can overcome. Audiard has created a film that, through multiple watches, I’m sure will provide more scope and depth than it initially lets on – but on a first viewing, I can commend what it attempts and I would recommend viewing the film for Marion Coitillard’s performance alone.