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My current mission in life seems to be to watch all the war-era films by Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger.
A Matter of Life and Death
I loved this even though I found the het romance even less convincing and engaging than I usually do and was bemused by the sudden emergence of British/American relations as a theme towards the end. The film as a whole is just so strange and lovely, with its cool bureaucratic black-and-white heaven and technicolor earth, its dreamlikeness and the sharp realism of all those dead airmen and soldiers and nurses cramming the reception rooms of the afterlife. I can't imagine, when this played in 1946 to British audiences who would all, surely, know someone killed in the war, that there was a dry eye left in the cinema by the end.
David Niven is good in the lead as Peter, but Roger Livesey's Frank steals the show and I love the affectionate, non-rivalrous relationship between their characters. Also, the fact that Peter wakes up calling for Frank, not June, does a bit to reconcile me to the relentless heterosexuality of the ending.
A Canterbury Tale
An odd mix of the creepy (I think the Glue Man plot probably reads as much more disturbing and skeevy now than it did in 1944) and the luminous. The lack of romance among the three main characters gave their interactions a charming friendship vibe and also meant that Alison Smith gets to be a character rather than a love interest. Peter Gibbs, my favorite character, was unfortunately the one we learned the least about--or perhaps that's fortunate, as the lack of backstory means I can fill in the blanks, and you can guess how I interpret the lack of any mention of a wife or girlfriend. I sort of ship him with Colpeper; Colpeper is a creep, yes, but I think maybe a redeemable one. The film's biggest flaw is the casting of an untrained actor (one with what is apparently every English person's idea of an American accent, or at least their other idea of an American accent, after a Brooklyn one, namely a "gee whiz, ma'am" ignorant-hick accent) in the lead role. John Sweet seems to have been a good human being (he, a white man, donated his salary from the film to the NAACP. In 1944. How awesome is that?) but he's a terrible actor and his scenes fall flat as a result.
So, a mixed bag of a film, but some of the scenes--especially the outdoors scenes and the ending in Canterbury--are beautiful and the story has a gentleness that's tremendously appealing.
A Matter of Life and Death
I loved this even though I found the het romance even less convincing and engaging than I usually do and was bemused by the sudden emergence of British/American relations as a theme towards the end. The film as a whole is just so strange and lovely, with its cool bureaucratic black-and-white heaven and technicolor earth, its dreamlikeness and the sharp realism of all those dead airmen and soldiers and nurses cramming the reception rooms of the afterlife. I can't imagine, when this played in 1946 to British audiences who would all, surely, know someone killed in the war, that there was a dry eye left in the cinema by the end.
David Niven is good in the lead as Peter, but Roger Livesey's Frank steals the show and I love the affectionate, non-rivalrous relationship between their characters. Also, the fact that Peter wakes up calling for Frank, not June, does a bit to reconcile me to the relentless heterosexuality of the ending.
A Canterbury Tale
An odd mix of the creepy (I think the Glue Man plot probably reads as much more disturbing and skeevy now than it did in 1944) and the luminous. The lack of romance among the three main characters gave their interactions a charming friendship vibe and also meant that Alison Smith gets to be a character rather than a love interest. Peter Gibbs, my favorite character, was unfortunately the one we learned the least about--or perhaps that's fortunate, as the lack of backstory means I can fill in the blanks, and you can guess how I interpret the lack of any mention of a wife or girlfriend. I sort of ship him with Colpeper; Colpeper is a creep, yes, but I think maybe a redeemable one. The film's biggest flaw is the casting of an untrained actor (one with what is apparently every English person's idea of an American accent, or at least their other idea of an American accent, after a Brooklyn one, namely a "gee whiz, ma'am" ignorant-hick accent) in the lead role. John Sweet seems to have been a good human being (he, a white man, donated his salary from the film to the NAACP. In 1944. How awesome is that?) but he's a terrible actor and his scenes fall flat as a result.
So, a mixed bag of a film, but some of the scenes--especially the outdoors scenes and the ending in Canterbury--are beautiful and the story has a gentleness that's tremendously appealing.
