50 new things in 2023, part 4/50
Jan. 24th, 2023 03:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kindkitThis week's new-to-me thing was the 1947 Powell and Pressburger film Black Narcissus. It stars Deborah Kerr as the leader of a group of English nuns trying to establish a new branch of their convent in the Indian Himalayas, and David Farrar as the English agent of the local prince; it's based on a novel by Rumer Godden that I haven't read.
Apparently this is widely considered to be among their greatest films, but to me it's an interesting failure at best. It felt like it was trying to tell a story too big for its length (just under 1:45) and for the limitations of the studio set + matte paintings. As I said, I haven't read the novel, but I'd guess based on the film that it's intensely focused on its characters' inner lives, which doesn't translate easily to the screen, and the script doesn't allow the characters to express anything much in words. So there are a lot of actors straining to convey complex emotions, and the result is what looks a lot like ferocious overacting to me. (Deborah Kerr, brilliant in three roles in The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp, is the second-worst offender, after Kathleen Byron as Sister Ruth.)
Plus, the film also relies on the soundtrack to heighten and sustain the emotional tone of scenes. And it definitely does that. I was never for an instant in doubt about what the soundtrack wanted me to feel. Swelling at the occasional sentimental moment, shrieking at moments of danger, pounding drums to convey anxiety. Ugh. One of my pet peeves in any film is feeling manipulated by the soundtrack, and I have a low bar for it. 95% of the time, if I notice the soundtrack at all on first viewing, it's because it's Too Damn Much for me.
The whole thing's very stiff, very mannered, mostly devoid of the delicate touch and the willingness to let the story breathe that P&P bring to the films I like best.
And then there's the content which is, well. Orientalist in the negative/horror (rather than the exoticizing/romanticizing) sense--to misquote Chinua Achebe, why should all of the Himalayas be just the backdrop for the breakup of one petty little European mind? There are English actors in brownface, although at least the main Indian role, the Young General (son and heir of the ruling prince) is played by an actual Indian actor, Sabu. There's a breathtakingly ableist depiction of mental illness (which scoots right up to the edge of suggesting it may actually be demonic). There are some hints of postwar sexist backlash, of the "poor little women can't handle isolation and responsibility, they should all be looked after by husbands" sort, although not as much as I had feared having seen The Red Shoes.
What I liked best in the film was David Farrar's Mr. Dean, louche and moderately dissipated, with beautiful eyes and a tendency to walk around half naked. Second best was Judith Furse's Sister Briony, a sensible pragmatic person who ought to have been in charge, and who was the only one of the nuns I really wanted to know more about. And there's a very brief dance sequence by Jean Simmons (in brownface as Kanchi, the uncontrollable orphan girl) that is startling and delightful in the midst of an otherwise rather staid, motionless blocking. Kanchi's another character whose POV I'd have liked more of, especially at first when she seems more rebellious than just flirtatious.
I also loved the costumes, especially the Young General's princely clothes and Mr. Dean's outrageous hat and short-shorts. And, because I'm me, I loved the hint of queerness when the Young General tells Sister Clodagh that he thinks Dean is "lovely." (The film cites the story of the King and the Beggar Maid as a precedent here, and in that story, the king is absolutely uninterested in marriage or women until he meets the beggar maid.)
But, overall, not the film for me. I've loved every single wartime P&P film I've seen, and not cared for either of the two postwar films. I'll keep trying, though, and I have hopes for The Small Back Room if I can find it streaming anywhere.
Apparently this is widely considered to be among their greatest films, but to me it's an interesting failure at best. It felt like it was trying to tell a story too big for its length (just under 1:45) and for the limitations of the studio set + matte paintings. As I said, I haven't read the novel, but I'd guess based on the film that it's intensely focused on its characters' inner lives, which doesn't translate easily to the screen, and the script doesn't allow the characters to express anything much in words. So there are a lot of actors straining to convey complex emotions, and the result is what looks a lot like ferocious overacting to me. (Deborah Kerr, brilliant in three roles in The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp, is the second-worst offender, after Kathleen Byron as Sister Ruth.)
Plus, the film also relies on the soundtrack to heighten and sustain the emotional tone of scenes. And it definitely does that. I was never for an instant in doubt about what the soundtrack wanted me to feel. Swelling at the occasional sentimental moment, shrieking at moments of danger, pounding drums to convey anxiety. Ugh. One of my pet peeves in any film is feeling manipulated by the soundtrack, and I have a low bar for it. 95% of the time, if I notice the soundtrack at all on first viewing, it's because it's Too Damn Much for me.
The whole thing's very stiff, very mannered, mostly devoid of the delicate touch and the willingness to let the story breathe that P&P bring to the films I like best.
And then there's the content which is, well. Orientalist in the negative/horror (rather than the exoticizing/romanticizing) sense--to misquote Chinua Achebe, why should all of the Himalayas be just the backdrop for the breakup of one petty little European mind? There are English actors in brownface, although at least the main Indian role, the Young General (son and heir of the ruling prince) is played by an actual Indian actor, Sabu. There's a breathtakingly ableist depiction of mental illness (which scoots right up to the edge of suggesting it may actually be demonic). There are some hints of postwar sexist backlash, of the "poor little women can't handle isolation and responsibility, they should all be looked after by husbands" sort, although not as much as I had feared having seen The Red Shoes.
What I liked best in the film was David Farrar's Mr. Dean, louche and moderately dissipated, with beautiful eyes and a tendency to walk around half naked. Second best was Judith Furse's Sister Briony, a sensible pragmatic person who ought to have been in charge, and who was the only one of the nuns I really wanted to know more about. And there's a very brief dance sequence by Jean Simmons (in brownface as Kanchi, the uncontrollable orphan girl) that is startling and delightful in the midst of an otherwise rather staid, motionless blocking. Kanchi's another character whose POV I'd have liked more of, especially at first when she seems more rebellious than just flirtatious.
I also loved the costumes, especially the Young General's princely clothes and Mr. Dean's outrageous hat and short-shorts. And, because I'm me, I loved the hint of queerness when the Young General tells Sister Clodagh that he thinks Dean is "lovely." (The film cites the story of the King and the Beggar Maid as a precedent here, and in that story, the king is absolutely uninterested in marriage or women until he meets the beggar maid.)
But, overall, not the film for me. I've loved every single wartime P&P film I've seen, and not cared for either of the two postwar films. I'll keep trying, though, and I have hopes for The Small Back Room if I can find it streaming anywhere.
no subject
Date: 2023-01-24 11:37 pm (UTC)It's on Criterion if that does you any good.
I have come around to enjoying Black Narcissus for its sheer stacked artifice, but I bounced off it on first try and am not about to attempt to persuade you to give it another.
David Farrar is magnificent. I saw him first as Mr. Dean and have been faintly surprised ever since whenever I encounter him actually wearing pants.
(He and Kathleen Byron are great in The Small Back Room, which I have never written about and should.)
no subject
Date: 2023-01-24 11:47 pm (UTC)I have come around to enjoying Black Narcissus for its sheer stacked artifice
*nods* Normally I like a good bit of artifice--I loved it in Singin' in the Rain--but it didn't work for me here. I think I like artifice best when it's in-your-face, whereas the artifice of Black Narcissus felt like we weren't supposed to notice it.
That is an excellent screenshot of Dean. I have been admiring his hat and his legs.
no subject
Date: 2023-01-25 12:05 am (UTC)I have found it to be entirely worth its subscription! I watch most of my movies these days off a combination of Criterion and TCM, with a judicious admixture of free sources like Kanopy, Tubi, and YouTube.
I think I like artifice best when it's in-your-face, whereas the artifice of Black Narcissus felt like we weren't supposed to notice it.
As a sort of counterweight, Jean Renoir's The River (1951) was also adapted from a novel by Rumer Godden and is similarly concerned with a British community in interwar India, but was actually filmed in India and features zero brownface; the protagonist and her siblings exist in an interesting space between the Raj and third culture kids. Satyajit Ray assistant-directed.
You may also like Powell and Pressburger's The Tales of Hoffmann (1951), which is equivocal as a version of the opera, but really spectacular as a musical film aware of and playing with its own theatricality. (I should be clear that I do like several of its choices as a version of Les contes d'Hoffmann, but for one thing there is no getting around the fact that it is sung in English that scans to the original libretto and this creates what
That is an excellent screenshot of Dean. I have been admiring his hat and his legs.
I love how much the film just looks at him. It is the only sensible thing to do, obviously, but a lot of movies from that time wouldn't have acknowledged it.
no subject
Date: 2023-01-25 12:27 am (UTC)I love how much the film just looks at him. It is the only sensible thing to do, obviously, but a lot of movies from that time wouldn't have acknowledged it.
*nods* In a film where almost all the women are completely covered, clearly it was decided that someone had to be sexy. And it does seem like P&P's films, at least the ones I've seen, have an appreciation of male beauty that's unusual. Neither of them was queer as far as I know, but there's definitely a queer vibe to some of their films.
no subject
Date: 2023-01-25 03:52 am (UTC)You're welcome! And that's still good to know about HBO Max.
And it does seem like P&P's films, at least the ones I've seen, have an appreciation of male beauty that's unusual. Neither of them was queer as far as I know, but there's definitely a queer vibe to some of their films.
I really think that's true. They showcased queer actors (Anton Walbrook, Eric Portman, Robert Helpmann, Conrad Veidt, among others; Judith Furse, whose Sister Briony you wanted to know more about, was lesbian) and characters easily read as queer exist prominently as people rather than types or devices in their films (Colpeper in A Canterbury Tale, Frank in A Matter of Life and Death, I am aware of criticism that construes otherwise but personally I have no heterosexual explanation for Lermontov in The Red Shoes), but it's also their ability to recognize other modes and motives than heterosexual romance to the point where I thought of it as one of the defining traits of their cinema when I was beginning to watch it. It was very refreshing. And Black Narcissus looks at David Farrar, and I Know Where I'm Going! looks at Roger Livesey, and A Canterbury Tale looks at Eric Portman even though he's paired romantically with no one in that film unless obliquely Dennis Price and I appreciate it.
no subject
Date: 2023-01-26 02:51 am (UTC)their ability to recognize other modes and motives than heterosexual romance to the point where I thought of it as one of the defining traits of their cinema when I was beginning to watch it.
*nods* Even in I Know Where I'm Going the het romance is not entirely central, and in a lot of their other films it seems downright peripheral. Certainly it's important in A Matter of Life and Death, but the whole films takes that weird and wonderful left turn.
no subject
Date: 2023-01-26 10:16 am (UTC)Yes, the impresario of the Ballet Lermontov, played by Anton Walbrook. Any criticism of The Red Shoes that ships him with Moira Shearer's Vicky can be immediately discounted on grounds of talking through its hat.
no subject
Date: 2023-01-25 02:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2023-01-26 02:52 am (UTC)