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JHGriffiths
Reviews
Le notti di Cabiria (1957)
Fellini's Neverending Circus
Federico Fellini's "Nights of Cabiria" is of all his films perhaps the most representative of the filmmaker and his art - it displays his cinematic genius, his ability to draw out fantastic performances from actors, his deluge of empathy, and his greatest weakness. Allow me to explain; for Fellini, much of life and art are a circus. This can be seen in the comic touch of "I Vitteloni", the farcically random events of "8 1/2", and in the three-ring music of Nina Rota. The theme of life as a circus is all very well, but it sometimes leaves you hanging - as if the movie will continue forever but you, the viewer, will not. This is the problem with "Nights of Cabiria" - it is the tale of a young prostitute who is trying to find some kind of salvation. She at first tries to find it in boyfriend, moves on to a movie star, then attempts to attain it through religion, and finally tries to discover it in love - but salvation seems forever out of reach, for each of those things listed above ultimately fail her, and thus the movie fails to really end; it simply goes on piping and marching as the viewer sits wondering where s/he is left. For these reasons, "Nights of Cabiria" doesn't fully work; but this is not to damn it, for it is for the most part a heart-wrenching, beautiful, and powerful film. 7.5/10
I vitelloni (1953)
For a Circus Full of Characters...
"I Vitelloni" is a wonderful, exorbitant, and messy movie - in other words, a classic Fellini film. Its subject is that of young men who are losing the charm of youth, whose lives remain drowned in childishness and whose ambitions are entirely evaporated; there number is five, and they all begin at this stage, at this mindset. The first scene is that of a party overtaken by a storm, and one can view the rest of the film as simply the consequences of that storm, that circus of what life can bring. Some characters emerge redeemed, others lost and defeated. Yes, Fellini's tale is episodic, clumsy, and random; and yet it still manages to capture something genuine about each of its characters; how each of them respond to what life gives them, and how each of them decide to go on. Their personas seem real, and their tales are moving - this is why Fellini's "I Vitelloni" gets 8.5/10
Ray (2004)
Ray: Your Typical Entertainment
Ray, a film chronicling the life and times of Ray Charles, is a thoroughly watchable, enjoyable, and unoriginal movie; it easily slides into the genre of films about pop stars' lives, and is filled with all that one would expect from such films - a rise to stardom, an addiction to drugs, a stage of high fame and isolation, a crisis and breakdown, and finally a reconciliation and feel good ending. Yet despite it being stereotypical, it has nonetheless completely mastered its type; the music is fabulous, the plot is smooth and enjoyable, and the acting is superb. It is the latter quality that really gives this movie its edge - Jamie Foxx seems to capture every nuance, tick, and motion of the real Ray Charles. While his performance may be critiqued as merely an 'imitation' of the real thing, it is nevertheless incredibly gripping. Thus, with all these things in mind, I give Ray a 7.5/10. For an enjoyable evening, Ray is recommended, for a surprising and unique experience, perhaps it is best left behind.
La strada (1954)
The Sublimity of Pathos
Federico Fellini's La Strada is a simple yet heartbreaking film about one man named Zampano - and this man is little more then a rough brute. Zampano abuses his tender and loving helper Gelsomnia, he responds with violence to all the difficulties of the world, and is trained like a pony to do only one trick: to snap, by the force of his "iron lungs", an iron chain wrapped around his chest. Zampano is a true beast, but by the end of the film we can feel nothing but compassion for him. This is the beauty of what Fellini has created, this is the brilliance - he shows us a man who is ugly, but then tells us how to love him. For a lesson in empathy, this film is highly recommended. 8.0/10
Tengoku to jigoku (1963)
A fascinating, but flawed film
Akira Kurosawa's High + Low is an intriguing film that is well thought out, but a tad clumsily executed. The work is divided into two distinct parts, one of which is the tale of Kingo Gondo (Mifune) who is faced with a tremendously difficult decision. A child has been kidnapped, and now the abductor is demanding a great deal of money from him as ransom - money that Gondo himself is in need of in order to stay in business. It ultimately comes down to a classic moral decision: to keep one's money or sacrifice it for the sake of others. Gondo (SPOILER) chooses the latter.
The second half of the film, although it continues that plot of the first, is in fact quite different. This is simply because Gondo plays little to no role in it; this is frustrating, for he is the character who we've become involved with and whom we expect the drama to revolve. In place of him, we are abruptly introduced to the kidnapper who is now biding his time in fear of getting caught. The police slowly but surely hunt down every lead to him - which often take them into the 'lowest' parts of humanity - until they finally (SPOILER) catch him.
While the film has a great multitude of finally staged scenes - the dropping of the money from the bullet train, the high tension and claustrophobia of Gondo's house, and the drug trade at the bar - he clumsy execution ultimately comes from its being divided into two halves; particularly when the second half does not focus on the character of the first. The fundamental problem with this method is that it creates two narrative arches, and in effect, two movies: we see Gondo's difficult decision and its resolution, there's one film, and then we see the cool depravity of the kidnapper and the police hunt for him which results in his (SPOILER) capture, there's the second.
Kurosawa is - being the master filmmaker he is - aware of what he is doing, and what he wants to do is to contrast the high (Gondo) and the low (the kidnapper). This is the fundamental theme of the movie; Gondo, in his house on the hill (a kind of Heaven), makes the morally right decision, and is thus to be commended. The kidnapper, living in the lower city amongst druggies (an unquestionable hell, perfectly represented by the extended bar scene), makes the wrong decision, and thus must suffer punishment. Kurosawa in many of his films makes this distinction between the good men and the bad men, and that though we may sympathize and empathize with the wicked, they are nonetheless different from us and are to be punished.
High And Low is a film to be watched for its variety of fascinating visuals, and more especially, the depth and complexity of its philosophy. I think that this is a quintessential Kurosawa film and though it has its flaws, is well worth seeing.
7.0/10
Umberto D. (1952)
An Elegant Simplicity of Emotion *SPOILERS*
Umberto D. is handsome, elegant film by the great Italian Neo-Realist director Vittorio De Sica. The story is simple - one might even say sentimental - yet poignant; it tells the tale of a crumpled old man struggling to retain what he has left in the world, which consists of little more than an apartment run by a spiteful landlady and an affectionate young dog. Though the world is ignoring him (and, as De Sica hints, perhaps many of the elderly) he feels the necessity of hanging onto these things - but he is old, and more importantly, he is poor.
Thus his apartment, one which he has kept for twenty years, slowly ceases to be his. But the dog does not, and herein lies the crux of the story: when our man gives up on his apartment, he decides to give up on life. Yet the dog, the young and living dog, is still with him, and he can find nowhere to dispose of it.
Like himself, this dog is unloved and unwanted, and thus the protagonist must remain with it, and more importantly, remain with life.
This plot sounds syrupy and cheap on paper: an old man who can only go on living because of his lovable pet dog? And yet nevertheless De Sica manages to take the surface simplicity of the tale and fabricate it into a deeply moving story, and that is just because De Sica is a 'Neo-Realist' director; the film never tries to pluck our sentimental heartstrings or wetten our eyes, rather it remains comfortable in simply presenting itself. The execution of the film is sparse: the characters are not heavily elaborated on, the plot is kept confined to its core, and the images - though stunningly handsome - never become overly sumptuous. A viewer might point out that many find their inner selves 'plucked' and twanged by the movie, but this is because De Sica knows how to use those few moments of sentimentality a movie need, and thus the glorious moments when the old man leaves his sole friend the young maid or when he decides on life again and dances with the dog are all the more powerful. Umberto D. is a sentimental film, but it is its simplicity of style and modesty of emotion that prevent it from becoming a syrupy one.
7.5/10