Boris: "Why do you want to dance? Vicky: Why do you want to live?"
Powell Pressburger's filmation of the gruesome Hans Andersen tale which delightfully, then darkly depicts the eternal struggle all serious artists will face, here, impresario Lermontov (Walbrook), ballet dancer Page (Shearer) & Craster the composer (Goring), that is, the consuming, often selfish impulse to create, versus the need to live.
Like any 70s kid who tried to watch as much television as was parentally permitted, I grew on cartoons, westerns, epics, Disney & low budget crime dramas (noirgesse). But on viewing The Red Shoes, a true art noir, my film sense soared and hasn't landed yet. I've not seen a movie more dreamy, and like all nite visions, it is beautiful and inspiring and strange and frightening and though finally tragic and without certainties, leaves artists, lovers and sentimentalists with a lasting joy for having partaken in P&P's Technicolor® tale of the most talented love triangle in cinema history.
Ponder these dilemmas while watching The Archers visual (Cardiff Mills Heckroth Lawson), musical (Easdale) & scripted masterpiece (P&P Winter): 1) Is Boris jealous of Julian's place in Vicky's heart or just angered artistically as Craster blows her kisses; 2) Does Vicky breach a moral contract with Lermontov by engaging a workplace romance that proves incongruent to achieving artistic greatness ("You can't have it both ways!"), an act he'd seen before (Irina), or, is her behavior justified by what Ljubov calls the necessities of "human nature," and 3) at THE END as Page is torn by her love for Julian and passion for art that includes Boris (she'll dance no other ballet), the Shoes seem to decide her fate in life as on stage (her look of terror), or, is it Vicky who chooses death, making shoes the scapegoat, better that if she cannot work ("Why live")?
Appreciate too its charms and variation in voices. The evolution of conductor Livy (Knight), first jealous, fearful and finally supportive of Julian, the young genius: "It's marvelous (Craster score)! I just wish, oh, go on (pushes him on stage)!" At the Royal Opera House, Miss Page, who plots to mouse trap the impresario, upon hearing he's accepted the party invitation, gives an impressed eyebrow raise denoting her station & confidence. In the opening scene, life & death of a stairway event poster (Heart of Fire) is metaphorical, and drink in the raven haired beauty that is prima ballerina, Ludmilla Tchérina. Her Irina wanted love too, leaving Covent Garden to pursue it, but when Boris beckoned her back, le Parisian returned. The power of Lermontov.
And avoid the blame game. It has come in vogue to bash Boris, a "gifted monster," and Julian (ballet "2d rate") who coaxed his mate into a prison of love on her singular self-sacrifice. Yet, none of the trio began their collaberation seeking romance, quite the contrary. In truth, what impartial viewer could expect the two to be any more capable of giving up Vicky than could they? A lasting love, like great art, is a possessive pursuit. And keep in mind, Page did have choices, her last a matter of debate.
What I know about ballet you could fit on a matchbook (Waterloo Bridge: "entrechat 6"), even less of music composition, and yet, as I watch TRS, I feel I belong. That's great movie making. Even a fan of Caddyshack can feel wise in writing that P&P's work may be the greatest film ever made. And such claims are always flawed, but what an enchanting flaw it would be, if true. Ahhh, the power of The Red Shoes (4/4).
Powell Pressburger's filmation of the gruesome Hans Andersen tale which delightfully, then darkly depicts the eternal struggle all serious artists will face, here, impresario Lermontov (Walbrook), ballet dancer Page (Shearer) & Craster the composer (Goring), that is, the consuming, often selfish impulse to create, versus the need to live.
Like any 70s kid who tried to watch as much television as was parentally permitted, I grew on cartoons, westerns, epics, Disney & low budget crime dramas (noirgesse). But on viewing The Red Shoes, a true art noir, my film sense soared and hasn't landed yet. I've not seen a movie more dreamy, and like all nite visions, it is beautiful and inspiring and strange and frightening and though finally tragic and without certainties, leaves artists, lovers and sentimentalists with a lasting joy for having partaken in P&P's Technicolor® tale of the most talented love triangle in cinema history.
Ponder these dilemmas while watching The Archers visual (Cardiff Mills Heckroth Lawson), musical (Easdale) & scripted masterpiece (P&P Winter): 1) Is Boris jealous of Julian's place in Vicky's heart or just angered artistically as Craster blows her kisses; 2) Does Vicky breach a moral contract with Lermontov by engaging a workplace romance that proves incongruent to achieving artistic greatness ("You can't have it both ways!"), an act he'd seen before (Irina), or, is her behavior justified by what Ljubov calls the necessities of "human nature," and 3) at THE END as Page is torn by her love for Julian and passion for art that includes Boris (she'll dance no other ballet), the Shoes seem to decide her fate in life as on stage (her look of terror), or, is it Vicky who chooses death, making shoes the scapegoat, better that if she cannot work ("Why live")?
Appreciate too its charms and variation in voices. The evolution of conductor Livy (Knight), first jealous, fearful and finally supportive of Julian, the young genius: "It's marvelous (Craster score)! I just wish, oh, go on (pushes him on stage)!" At the Royal Opera House, Miss Page, who plots to mouse trap the impresario, upon hearing he's accepted the party invitation, gives an impressed eyebrow raise denoting her station & confidence. In the opening scene, life & death of a stairway event poster (Heart of Fire) is metaphorical, and drink in the raven haired beauty that is prima ballerina, Ludmilla Tchérina. Her Irina wanted love too, leaving Covent Garden to pursue it, but when Boris beckoned her back, le Parisian returned. The power of Lermontov.
And avoid the blame game. It has come in vogue to bash Boris, a "gifted monster," and Julian (ballet "2d rate") who coaxed his mate into a prison of love on her singular self-sacrifice. Yet, none of the trio began their collaberation seeking romance, quite the contrary. In truth, what impartial viewer could expect the two to be any more capable of giving up Vicky than could they? A lasting love, like great art, is a possessive pursuit. And keep in mind, Page did have choices, her last a matter of debate.
What I know about ballet you could fit on a matchbook (Waterloo Bridge: "entrechat 6"), even less of music composition, and yet, as I watch TRS, I feel I belong. That's great movie making. Even a fan of Caddyshack can feel wise in writing that P&P's work may be the greatest film ever made. And such claims are always flawed, but what an enchanting flaw it would be, if true. Ahhh, the power of The Red Shoes (4/4).