Undercurrent#1

Undercurrent was one of the few Minnelli's films, outside his familiar territory of musical, melodrama and comedy. Surprisingly, it was a film noir. Probably one of the oddest films in Minnelli's career, it still bears some of key themes of Minnelli's world, especially those related to the darker side of him. Last night's screening of Under the Clock [US: Clock] at NFT, showed how ready was Minnelli for noir genre in the 1940s. In Under the Clock, there is a scene when newly married couple enter a run-down bar, where a mad woman and a loquacious drunk, in a low-key photography, talk about un-Americans, madness, corruption and "dogs" which is a disturbing scene, almost like a mistake, in a sweet melodrama. I thought that scene can be approached as an equivalent of Halloween sequence of Meet Me in St. Louis, made one year earlier, where a sudden destruction of the dream world shocks the Minnelli's characters. Here, from his autobiography, I Remember It Well, Minnelli, charmingly, tells the story of how he worked with three major stars in Undercurrent. This is part one of his memoirs about Undercurrent. Film will be shown tomorrow (8 April, 18:30) at NFT, and the second screening is 18 April, 20:40.

Bob Mitchum feels it was fiscal collusion between the studio and David Selznick, to whom he was under contract that brought him the part. For he admits he was never comfortable in the role of the sensitive Michael.

But Bob didn't need the later-developed Mitchum swagger to convey his innate strength. He's always underestimated his ability.

I can't deny that Selznick was being paid $25,000 a week to loan out Bob for my picture, and getting the same amount for a second Metro picture, Desire Me, which Bob was shooting in the afternoon. On top of this, Bob was working at night on The Locket at RKO. "I worked the three pictures for twenty-six straight days," Bob remembers. "We'd shoot all night at RKO, then I'd report for Undercurrent from seven in the morning until noon, when I'd be flown to Monterey to work all afternoon on the picture with Greer Garson." No wonder he became famous for his sleepy eyes.

On An American In Paris [repost]

مقاله زير واكنش من به يادداشت ديويد تامسون درباره يك آمريكايي در پاريس در كتاب Have you seen? است كه پيش‌تر در شماره 401 ماهنامه فيلم چاپ شده است.

يـك آمـريـكـايـي در پـاريــس: شـور عـشـق و خـلسـۀ هـنـر

آقای دیوید تامسون در کتاب مستطاب «اونو دیدی؟...پیش درآمدی شخصی بر هزار فیلم» که به تازگی منتشر شده و به شهادت مقدمه‌اش حاصل سال‌ها تلاش، دو دلی و از این ناشر به آن ناشر رفتن مولف است در یادداشتی بر یک آمریکایی در پاریس (وینسنت/وینچنته مینلی،1951) و ضمن مقایسۀ آن با کفش‌های قرمز (مایکل پاول و امریک پرسبرگر،1948) به این نتیجه می‌رسند که با یکی از فراموش شدنی‌ترین موزیکال‌های عصر طلایی روبروییم. تامسون در همان خط اول، فرضیۀ "هنر برای هنر" فیلم را به پرسش می گیرد (تلفیق نیش و کنایۀ انگلیسی با نقد مارکسیستی!)، اگر اصولاً چنین فرضی درباره یک آمریکایی در پاریس قابل طرح باشد.

آن چه در یک آمریکایی در پاریس – لااقل از نگاه ما – به عنوان هستۀ مرکزی فیلم دیده می‌شود، تفسیر هنر از هنر (یا هنر دربارۀ هنر و نه برای هنر) است. موضوع آن دشواری آفرینش هنری از خلال تلاطم زندگی، تضاد میان آرمان‌ها و ایده‌آل‌های هنر با تنگناها و مرزهای زندگی حقیقی است که به طور مساوی بین دو شخصیت ایده آلیست فیلم تقسیم شده است، یکی خوش بین و سرزنده که موسیقی در سرشت اوست (جین کلی) و دیگری شخصیتی بدبین (اسکار لِیونت) که به عنوان یک آهنگساز و رهبر، تصویری آکادمیک از هنر را به نمایش می گذارد؛ در حالی که هر دوی آن‌ها به شدت وابسته به یکدیگرند. تامسون فیلم را کپی شده از ایده و میزانسن کفش‌های قرمز می‌داند، از یک سو کفش‌های قرمز را منازعه میان شور عشق و خلسۀ هنر می‌داند و از سوی دیگر یک آمریکایی در پاریس را دربارۀ رابطۀ هنر و جلوۀ دکوراتیو و نمایشی آن می خواند و تبلور این ذهنیت را در سکانس بالۀ هر دو فیلم جستجو می کند. در یکی درامی پرشور را تشخیص داده و در دیگری لحن سرد کارگردانی شیفتۀ جلوۀ موزه‌ای امپرسیونیست‌ها.

Minnelli's Jazz Portraits

Recently attended a screening of Vincente Minnelli's I Dood It (1942) at National Film Theatre, I was amazed by its dedication to jazz music of the early 1940s. I felt one of the subtexts of the film is the transition from popular big band music to a more personal, wilder and challenging jazz which is soon about to happen in Minton's club. Though there is no reference to revolutionary bop music in I Dood It, the sharp contrast between early scenes in Jimmy Dorsey's MGM style club with its white sets, and overdecorated space with the last numbers played by Hazel Scott and Lena Horne alludes a change in life-style and art in which main characters with their social differences can reunite.

In the "segregated" concept of placing the musical numbers, when the it comes to the "black" numbers, sets are minimalist, or even empty, hence the emphasis has been put on music. The walls of Jericho in a number near the end of the film is a painted paperboard, but the manner in which the musicians are shown, the sound, choreography and dazzling camera movements create the complete space, as if Charlie Parker is rising from the ashes of big bands to give birth to a new sound and a new black identity.

The Pirate Isn't Just Decor [repost]

"In what kind of setting is the little image of the great Pirate (1948) lodged, with the signature luxury of its MGM sets that dazzled when their reds glowed, unrivaled, within the huge images being projected in a darkened theater?

And here comes the answer: What difference does it make, since The Pirate and its sets hold up splendidly? Because what they've lost in store-window impact they’ve gained in pure logic. Because, quite simply, this is not a “decorative” film. That’s the decisive point. For if there is a type of film that loses its aura by being deported to the small screen, it’s the decorative film, one that risks being less accomplished in matters of decor than the “interior” is seen. That confrontation, while unconscious, can be quite cruel.

Clockmaker of the World

كريستين ماركلي، زمان و طولاني‌ترين فيلمِ تاريخ

ساعت‌سازِ جهان

آيا فيلمي را مي‌شناسيد كه وقتي ساعت 8:45 شب وارد سالن سينما شويد، زماني كه روي پرده نشان داده مي‌شود 8:45 باشد و اگر تصادفاً يك ربع ساعت دير به نمايش فيلم برسيد، وقتي به پرده نگاه مي‌كنيد زمان روي پرده ساعت 9 شب را نشان دهد؟ آيا فيلمي را مي‌شناسيد كه طول آن 24 ساعت باشد و زمان روايي با زمان محلي – آن‌چه در ساعت مچي يا روي موبايلتان مي‌بينيد – يكي باشند؟ يك فيلم، و فقط يك فيلم، در تاريخ با چنين مشخصاتي وجود دارد، اما بايد پيشاپيش به چند نكته دربارۀ آن اشاره كنيم: اول – اين فيلم، به معناي واقعي كلمه يك فيلم نيست، بلكه هزاران فيلم است كه به يك فيلم واحد تبديل شده؛ دوم – اين فيلم تنها متعلق به دنياي سينما نيست، چون موزه‌ها آن را نمايش مي‌دهند، اگر چه در سينما يا خانه هم قابل تماشاست. براي توضيح اين پديدۀ استثنايي از كتايون يوسفي كه وقتش را در گالري‌ها مي‌گذراند و سه بار، در ساعات مختلف، به تماشاي فيلم (يا بخش‌هايي از آن) رفته خواستم تا چيزي دربارۀ فيلمِ عجيب و 24 ساعتۀ ساعت (2011) بنويسد:

Film Journals#2: Bright Lights

Long before the outstanding online film journal, Bright Lights, there was a glossy magazine with a chic collection of stills which were published in every issue, and a good variety of the articles.

Bright Lights film journal established in 1974, it was discontinued in 1980 to be restarted and re-discontinued in 1993 and 1995 respectively. The magazine moved to online publishing in 1996.

Frankly Reviewd

 

نقد و معرفي كتاب صادقانه بگم عزيزم: نگاهي دوباره به بربادرفته در ماهنامه سينمايي 24

A Chat With Laura Groves

I met Laura Groves in the last year's London International Women Film Festival, known as Bird's Eye View. There, Laura and her band, Blue Roses, accompanied the silent Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde with their electronic sound.

At the time, I wrote for Iranian Film Monthly about her imaginative work which was loaded with care for the meaning of every single image, and delivered a feminine sensibility throughout the film. Despite a personal dislike for electronic music for the silent cinema, and various forms of experimentation with the silent films, I was stunned by the brilliance of the Groves’s music and the way it contributed to the film. Her instrumentation was a combination of keyboards, synthesizers, guitar, piano, violin and innovative use of percussions. She even sang for two scenes.

What Laura Groves had achieved in Dr. Jekyll was interesting enough to persuade me to learn more about her work, so two weeks after the screening, I met her again, this time in the bar of the NFT.

Film Journals#1: Brighton Film Review

Brighton Film Review was the house journal of the film society of the University of Sussex in the late 1960s up to the early 1970s. It later became Monogram, and published in London. Students bought the journal for its listing of screenings and TV broadcasts of the classic and important contemporary films, and writers such as Thomas Elsaesser were "smuggling" their lengthy articles in the publication about their favorite filmmakers. 

"The convenient provincialism of a seaside university gave us the cover to argue, for instance, in favor our cinephile obsessions, while nonetheless keeping a watchful eye on what Screen and other film magazines were doing," writes Elsaesser about his role in the publication. He also says that unlike Movie and Cahier, Brighton was putting less emphasis on auteurist themes, rather than a stylist reading: "we tried to be informative and broadminded enough not to scare off our readers, but we nonetheless hoped that our expository manner carried a polemical edge that London would take note of (it did)."

Tonino Guerra (1920 - 2012)

«میكل‌آنجلو، هرازگاه، دوباره با هم نشسته بر قایقی روی آمودریای لغزان می‌رانیم، در حالی‌که با دندان‌هایمان تخمه‌های سیاه آفتاب‌گردان می‌شکنیم؛ در محاصره طناب‌ها و چلیک‌های روغن، و بقچه‌ای که زن کولی در مقابل موتوری صورتی می‌پیچد. در آن حال ملوانان با چوب‌های بلندشان قایقمان را از خوردن به کناره‌های شنی ساحل حفظ می‌کنند. ما در یک سوی قایق نشسته‌ایم و نمی‌دانیم ما را به کجا خواهد برد. به روبانِ آب در رود زُل می‌زنیم که در فاصله‌ای دور ناپدید می‌شود، در ابهام مهی رنگ پریده، که تو را به این فکر می‌اندازد، که سفر در فرارا به پایان خواهد رسید.» تونینو گوئرا

تونينو گوئرا، فیلمنامه‌نویس بزرگ ایتالیایی امروز درگذشت.