It says so much about 'Swan Lake' that the ballet has appeared again and again in films that in any way revolve around the art form; save perhaps for the association of 'The Nutcracker' with Christmas, any average person who knows nothing else about dance is more likely to have heard about 'Swan Lake' than any other ballet. The choreography, score, and story are all legendary. Similarly, even when a specific work isn't being adapted or represented, cinema shows us again and again the enduring power of theater as countless films and TV shows have been set in and around the large complexes housing opera, dance, orchestral performances, and more. In all such regards and every which way, there's something both impressive and imposing about the architecture and the art that makes them perfect for the big screen. And so we have 'Etoile,' also known simply as 'Ballet,' with all this serving as perfect set-up for a tale of a young dancer and the strange goings on at a ballet school in Hungary. There's almost nothing about this picture that isn't altogether enchanting, and in some cases quietly unnerving. I think this is fantastic, and well worth exploring, and more than that - at the outset I was prepared to say it's not perfect, but now I'm inclined to think that gut reaction was sorely mistaken.
Substantial, meticulous care was clearly poured into every small facet of this feature, most of it geared toward successfully inculcating an uneasy, fanciful atmosphere - mystery, fantasy, thriller, even horror. Jürgen Knieper's original music alone does much to lend to that eeriness, bewitching yet disquieting themes that sound like something right out of a dark dream. Acácio de Almeida's cinematography is wonderfully fluid and mindful; along with very particular shot composition and use of lighting, the sense is only ever heightened of unnatural happenings, and more than that, it's as if our very presence as a spectator were an uninvited intrusion. This is to say nothing of Peter Del Monte's exceptional direction, orchestrating scenes with vibrant finesse; Giuseppe Crisolini Malatesta costume design, and the work of the hair and makeup artists, enriching the gloomy tale with fabulous, fetching small detail; the very filming locations, and the production design and art direction that dress them up, are simply beautiful. Zarko Prebil's choreography is exquisite, and so too are the performances of all on hand. By this point in her young career Jennifer Connelly was already making waves, and she again demonstrates why with a pointedly airy, spellbound and spellbinding display of tremendous subtlety and poise. Not to be outdone, even when they're not in a scene Laurent Terzieff and Olimpia Carlisi loom in the background like grim shadows, and their hushed presence is magnificent. Given roles of considerably more heightened emotions, it rather seems at times as though Gary McCleery and Charles Durning are overacting by comparison, yet there's a vitality in their performances that's just as great and essential to the weaving of this story. And it must be said: kudos as well to Raffaella Renzi, the dazzling dancer who stood in for Connelly as scenes required.
And that story! True, 'Etoile' is familiar in some capacity; in this moment I can't conjure a specific example, but the core of the narrative is something we've definitely seen before. One might also note that the climax is resolved a little too neatly, with the ending coming a bit abruptly - though in fairness, I think this is quite in keeping with the sensibility of a fairy tale that follows from the very essence of 'Swan Lake,' so I can forgive the ease thusly. Otherwise, I'd be lying if I said I weren't completely smitten with the story and screenplay whipped up between Del Monte, Sandro Petraglia, and Franco Ferrini. The plot at large is terrific, deeply absorbing and more sinister than it seems at first blush; it takes a little bit to begin to truly come together, but once it does, it's splendidly compelling. I love the characters, and the dialogue seems to roll out so smoothly. The scene writing, above all, feels especially painstaking, as though each moment and movement were precisely calculated and brought to life with fastidious attentiveness on the screen in a fashion that nevertheless comes off as totally natural. To that point: there's less dialogue in the feature than one may be accustomed to in broad terms, and that seems like a very deliberate for a title that relies quite strongly on visual storytelling. This could almost be rendered as a silent film, with only Knieper's score or Tchaikovsky's in the soundtrack, and it would have much the same effect from start to finish. With that in mind, both in its writing and execution there's bountiful detail filling every scene, and much to take in at every turn. Ultimately, even if there is a tinge of familiarity in the narrative, the contributions of all on hand give it a stupendous polish that well outpaces any comparison.
I'm a little taken aback that I haven't come across this until now. Of course there are many reasons why I haven't, yet I find the whole experience marvelous and captivating from top to bottom; not least with someone of Connelly's caliber and fame starring, I find it curious the movie isn't talked about more. In every respect - writing, direction, acting, unsung craftsmanship behind the scenes - I think this feature is outright superb; it is, after all, perfect. Anything that initially comes across as a slight weakness is smoothed over and at length seems to be rolled into the grand vision of the title. More than that, rarely have I found myself so enthralled by a picture as I was here as the plot thickened. I can appreciate that personal preferences vary, and this won't appeal equally to all comers, but all I can say is that for my part this is one of the most roundly rich, satisfying, mesmerizing features that I've watched in a while. Frankly, I think I'd call this a must-see: suggested most for those who admire ballet generally, 'Swan Lake' specifically, or are fans of Jennifer Connelly, I believe this would hold prime fascination for most. I, for one, love 'Etoile,' and it earns my heartiest, highest, enthusiastic recommendation!
Substantial, meticulous care was clearly poured into every small facet of this feature, most of it geared toward successfully inculcating an uneasy, fanciful atmosphere - mystery, fantasy, thriller, even horror. Jürgen Knieper's original music alone does much to lend to that eeriness, bewitching yet disquieting themes that sound like something right out of a dark dream. Acácio de Almeida's cinematography is wonderfully fluid and mindful; along with very particular shot composition and use of lighting, the sense is only ever heightened of unnatural happenings, and more than that, it's as if our very presence as a spectator were an uninvited intrusion. This is to say nothing of Peter Del Monte's exceptional direction, orchestrating scenes with vibrant finesse; Giuseppe Crisolini Malatesta costume design, and the work of the hair and makeup artists, enriching the gloomy tale with fabulous, fetching small detail; the very filming locations, and the production design and art direction that dress them up, are simply beautiful. Zarko Prebil's choreography is exquisite, and so too are the performances of all on hand. By this point in her young career Jennifer Connelly was already making waves, and she again demonstrates why with a pointedly airy, spellbound and spellbinding display of tremendous subtlety and poise. Not to be outdone, even when they're not in a scene Laurent Terzieff and Olimpia Carlisi loom in the background like grim shadows, and their hushed presence is magnificent. Given roles of considerably more heightened emotions, it rather seems at times as though Gary McCleery and Charles Durning are overacting by comparison, yet there's a vitality in their performances that's just as great and essential to the weaving of this story. And it must be said: kudos as well to Raffaella Renzi, the dazzling dancer who stood in for Connelly as scenes required.
And that story! True, 'Etoile' is familiar in some capacity; in this moment I can't conjure a specific example, but the core of the narrative is something we've definitely seen before. One might also note that the climax is resolved a little too neatly, with the ending coming a bit abruptly - though in fairness, I think this is quite in keeping with the sensibility of a fairy tale that follows from the very essence of 'Swan Lake,' so I can forgive the ease thusly. Otherwise, I'd be lying if I said I weren't completely smitten with the story and screenplay whipped up between Del Monte, Sandro Petraglia, and Franco Ferrini. The plot at large is terrific, deeply absorbing and more sinister than it seems at first blush; it takes a little bit to begin to truly come together, but once it does, it's splendidly compelling. I love the characters, and the dialogue seems to roll out so smoothly. The scene writing, above all, feels especially painstaking, as though each moment and movement were precisely calculated and brought to life with fastidious attentiveness on the screen in a fashion that nevertheless comes off as totally natural. To that point: there's less dialogue in the feature than one may be accustomed to in broad terms, and that seems like a very deliberate for a title that relies quite strongly on visual storytelling. This could almost be rendered as a silent film, with only Knieper's score or Tchaikovsky's in the soundtrack, and it would have much the same effect from start to finish. With that in mind, both in its writing and execution there's bountiful detail filling every scene, and much to take in at every turn. Ultimately, even if there is a tinge of familiarity in the narrative, the contributions of all on hand give it a stupendous polish that well outpaces any comparison.
I'm a little taken aback that I haven't come across this until now. Of course there are many reasons why I haven't, yet I find the whole experience marvelous and captivating from top to bottom; not least with someone of Connelly's caliber and fame starring, I find it curious the movie isn't talked about more. In every respect - writing, direction, acting, unsung craftsmanship behind the scenes - I think this feature is outright superb; it is, after all, perfect. Anything that initially comes across as a slight weakness is smoothed over and at length seems to be rolled into the grand vision of the title. More than that, rarely have I found myself so enthralled by a picture as I was here as the plot thickened. I can appreciate that personal preferences vary, and this won't appeal equally to all comers, but all I can say is that for my part this is one of the most roundly rich, satisfying, mesmerizing features that I've watched in a while. Frankly, I think I'd call this a must-see: suggested most for those who admire ballet generally, 'Swan Lake' specifically, or are fans of Jennifer Connelly, I believe this would hold prime fascination for most. I, for one, love 'Etoile,' and it earns my heartiest, highest, enthusiastic recommendation!