Friedrich Wilhelm Murnau - 1927
Murnau uses some pretty distant framings at times. Most notably, putting the couple low down in the frame, and using the top. He creates some of the greatest images in the cinema with the somplexity of the lighting, and this tiered composition, in the dance hall sequence. He also uses variations for entirely different effects, for loomings and overhangings, of the vamp near the end, for example.
Pictorially, the off-centre hard backlight provides beyond beautiful images. Murnau won't cut on these too quickly. This allows for two of the greatest performances of the cinema; not overdone, full of nuance and depth (whatever that is...), but also clear and simple, of the country folk.
Their is really a plethora of effects here, that would be verging on ridiculous anywhere else, but are used so perfectly to work. Endless impositions, of a city, a dream, cinema across time. And of course the wonderful movement. We have slow tracks, so smooth, so sensual, that are, yes, erotic, in a more gentle than brutal way. The horizontals across the city, at once calm but wildly exciting.
This is what the city is; the place of beauty, coming from the tram window (simple, but sharp), surrounding with love, with hope. But often the place of predators, despair, the couple caight in the traffic, for all the beauty, across time and space, of their tracking walk through it. The city is at once the storm, but how can one live without it?
What is 'Sunrise'? It is the most beautiful day of our life. And with that I take a short break to these entries.
Showing posts with label Silent. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Silent. Show all posts
Monday, 29 August 2011
Sunday, 28 August 2011
Tartuffe
Friedrich Wilhelm Murnau - 1925
The often referred to 'mobile camera' of Murnau, and Freund, has often confused me, for, for all the innovations in movement, as an aesthetic principle it is pretty minimal in a lot of shots. But here I felt great mobility in the camera, despite its stillness; precisely because their is mobility in the set up; Murnau, as Griffiths, introduces the idea of the camera as being able to shoot from any point, any angle, not constrained by stage constaints. His camera can be below, behind, through a window, wherever.
This surprised me for the pace of the edit, and for how close the framings are. And I mean really close; facial close-ups even, medium shots could be as far out as we get for a few sequences. This is not what one expects of silent cinema. There is also some long stuff, on that slightly abstract, deeply beautiful studio set look that Murnau has, with light expressionism (cinematic, German) infusing the air; a kind of slightly lighter one than, say, Murnau's 'Faust'.
I didn't find this his most distinctive work, we basically have a tale set out in front of us (or around us, as above). Of course the compositions are [refect, hang-up able. I watched a copy with a lot of yellow tints, high contrasts, and pretty scratchy, faded sides. Also note we have the Murnau-ish back of the leering man.
The obvious point of interest is the framing device; why? There is quite a shock here. Is it modernist (why categorize?)? Yes and no. Yes, in that we are told 'Tartuffe' and asked explictly to reflect on it, consider even the morality of telling a tale. No in that what it sets up is simply a very middle-ages esque tale, pure and simple; it is a morality play, modernist only if you are being difficult.
There are recurring elements of Murnau found even in Moliere's story. The odd attitude towards woman, showing their power, yet disgust with them is obvious; as is a kind of lust (the director's sexuality notwithstanding, perhaps). Also the fear of unemployment, and the need to communicate, say something. This moral part (not that I necessarilly agree..), with the tale like structure, put me in mind of the slightly more detailed, though admittedly less ornate and baroque, 'Master Of The House'.
The often referred to 'mobile camera' of Murnau, and Freund, has often confused me, for, for all the innovations in movement, as an aesthetic principle it is pretty minimal in a lot of shots. But here I felt great mobility in the camera, despite its stillness; precisely because their is mobility in the set up; Murnau, as Griffiths, introduces the idea of the camera as being able to shoot from any point, any angle, not constrained by stage constaints. His camera can be below, behind, through a window, wherever.
This surprised me for the pace of the edit, and for how close the framings are. And I mean really close; facial close-ups even, medium shots could be as far out as we get for a few sequences. This is not what one expects of silent cinema. There is also some long stuff, on that slightly abstract, deeply beautiful studio set look that Murnau has, with light expressionism (cinematic, German) infusing the air; a kind of slightly lighter one than, say, Murnau's 'Faust'.
I didn't find this his most distinctive work, we basically have a tale set out in front of us (or around us, as above). Of course the compositions are [refect, hang-up able. I watched a copy with a lot of yellow tints, high contrasts, and pretty scratchy, faded sides. Also note we have the Murnau-ish back of the leering man.
The obvious point of interest is the framing device; why? There is quite a shock here. Is it modernist (why categorize?)? Yes and no. Yes, in that we are told 'Tartuffe' and asked explictly to reflect on it, consider even the morality of telling a tale. No in that what it sets up is simply a very middle-ages esque tale, pure and simple; it is a morality play, modernist only if you are being difficult.
There are recurring elements of Murnau found even in Moliere's story. The odd attitude towards woman, showing their power, yet disgust with them is obvious; as is a kind of lust (the director's sexuality notwithstanding, perhaps). Also the fear of unemployment, and the need to communicate, say something. This moral part (not that I necessarilly agree..), with the tale like structure, put me in mind of the slightly more detailed, though admittedly less ornate and baroque, 'Master Of The House'.
Friday, 26 August 2011
Der Letze Mann
Friedrich Wilhelm Murnau - 1924
So incredibly beautful, but not without difficulty, not too smooth or shiny. This is like a great ancient classical work; perfect, but with that air of the primitive.
More sepcifically, many low angles for the very strong whites, like on fire. The money is even white. This all goes with the themes of smoke throughout, hell... Deleuze.
We have a mixture of long shots, but the film seems at once modern for its mediums, more than I can think certainly most black and whites, nevermind silents... The edit is precise, but never pnderous, very exact moves, often nintety or one eighty.
In a way, this is two different films; we have a real change from the hotel to the housing estate; there we have remarkable non-centering, the windows come alive across the frame in that great early stil shot. I don't know what to say but the ridiculous; neo realism? Cramped interiors, everyday washing, life, little moves, dirty faces. There is a slightly odd attitude to the woman gossips, sympathetic but cruel...
The hotel is shot more precise ly, with those wonderful singular (literally) moves towards or away from an action. Also note similar moves for travelling sound; into the ear. The earline match.
And the epilogue; at first quite a smart inversion, of excess, moving the film from parochialism of a single kind of consciousness one could say, for all the obvious absurdity. Once this exercise is clear through, it becomes downright odd
This film is still for me sensational; just Jannings against that wall. Perhaps my favourite silent film; or just film, long with a few incomparable others.
So incredibly beautful, but not without difficulty, not too smooth or shiny. This is like a great ancient classical work; perfect, but with that air of the primitive.
More sepcifically, many low angles for the very strong whites, like on fire. The money is even white. This all goes with the themes of smoke throughout, hell... Deleuze.
We have a mixture of long shots, but the film seems at once modern for its mediums, more than I can think certainly most black and whites, nevermind silents... The edit is precise, but never pnderous, very exact moves, often nintety or one eighty.
In a way, this is two different films; we have a real change from the hotel to the housing estate; there we have remarkable non-centering, the windows come alive across the frame in that great early stil shot. I don't know what to say but the ridiculous; neo realism? Cramped interiors, everyday washing, life, little moves, dirty faces. There is a slightly odd attitude to the woman gossips, sympathetic but cruel...
The hotel is shot more precise ly, with those wonderful singular (literally) moves towards or away from an action. Also note similar moves for travelling sound; into the ear. The earline match.
And the epilogue; at first quite a smart inversion, of excess, moving the film from parochialism of a single kind of consciousness one could say, for all the obvious absurdity. Once this exercise is clear through, it becomes downright odd
This film is still for me sensational; just Jannings against that wall. Perhaps my favourite silent film; or just film, long with a few incomparable others.
Thursday, 25 August 2011
Storm Over Asia
V.I. Pudovkin - 1928
Compared to your average work, this is a piece of the Soviet montage aesthetic. It frequently uses still, quite close shots, in fast excahnge, to convey its ideas. There is much evocation of place, here, largely the steppes. In many ways it reminded me of the great 'Earth', with these wide open spaces.
And like 'Earth', it is not exactly like one expects of the montage school. The takes are a bit longer, and here they are often not canted. There isn't much glorification of the human figure; even the capitalist is bad because we are told so, rather than from any paricular framing choise. There are some very long shots, and not short takes, of the steppes, along with just medium or full body stuff. The story, while not psychological, does have a main character, who conflicts with events (those he is buffeted aroumd rather than initially dcisive).
The end really is remaraklbe; incredibly quick cuts and effects, no sense of realistic space, powerful and stirring. There are some pretty noutceable effects throughout, either using gauzes or distorting angles, al combined with the classic Soviet lights from two sides approach. Half the film one might expect.
Compared to your average work, this is a piece of the Soviet montage aesthetic. It frequently uses still, quite close shots, in fast excahnge, to convey its ideas. There is much evocation of place, here, largely the steppes. In many ways it reminded me of the great 'Earth', with these wide open spaces.
And like 'Earth', it is not exactly like one expects of the montage school. The takes are a bit longer, and here they are often not canted. There isn't much glorification of the human figure; even the capitalist is bad because we are told so, rather than from any paricular framing choise. There are some very long shots, and not short takes, of the steppes, along with just medium or full body stuff. The story, while not psychological, does have a main character, who conflicts with events (those he is buffeted aroumd rather than initially dcisive).
The end really is remaraklbe; incredibly quick cuts and effects, no sense of realistic space, powerful and stirring. There are some pretty noutceable effects throughout, either using gauzes or distorting angles, al combined with the classic Soviet lights from two sides approach. Half the film one might expect.
Tuesday, 23 August 2011
Charlie Chaplin: Essanay Shorts
Charles Chaplin - 1915
His New Job, A Night Out, The Champion, The Tramp
Pretty early Chaplin. This is obviously in the earlier stages of the cinema, with the specific kind of oblong cinematic space, the (inaccurate) attempt to represent the theatre. Chaplin does use depth, but obviously the pinned against the wall horizontals are much more in place. Chaplin has mastered the continuity cut from space to spcae, as well as the match on action (I think); he can cut in in the middle of a scene, to get a better look, if on one angle. One interesting thing about the compositions is the Chaplin is not overly fussy, or perhaps even avoids, centered framings. Not that this is exactly 'Machorka-Muff', but it's just a little off-center in nearly all of them. The compositions are also very complex, with tiny actions, often a hand, not centered but revealing a gag, or even a 'plot' point all of their own.
To get to important matters; every location change, indeed every shot change, seems to reveal an entirely new location, even though the actions (i.e. direction of movement) can show it continous with the last. Moving to a road next to a forest, or a stage next to a dressing room, seems to give a new kind of way of living, a new way to approach life.
And approach life is what Chaplin's figure does, even before the Tramp is really developed. Using feet and hands, he intereacts with the world by striking against it. And he finds it difficult, he gets it wrong. Nearly everything in all these films relates to the difficulty in finding, keeping a job. Surviving employment. Everything else is rather secondary to this, which is revealed is difficult, extremely difficult. Obviously, the physical usages are not 'realistic' in one sense; yet that very physical idea of 'here I am, i am meant to do this, do that', is remarkable. It is the classic modernist position of defamiliaridation, in a way. And with this is combined some really subtle psychology; just a little look.
His New Job, A Night Out, The Champion, The Tramp
Pretty early Chaplin. This is obviously in the earlier stages of the cinema, with the specific kind of oblong cinematic space, the (inaccurate) attempt to represent the theatre. Chaplin does use depth, but obviously the pinned against the wall horizontals are much more in place. Chaplin has mastered the continuity cut from space to spcae, as well as the match on action (I think); he can cut in in the middle of a scene, to get a better look, if on one angle. One interesting thing about the compositions is the Chaplin is not overly fussy, or perhaps even avoids, centered framings. Not that this is exactly 'Machorka-Muff', but it's just a little off-center in nearly all of them. The compositions are also very complex, with tiny actions, often a hand, not centered but revealing a gag, or even a 'plot' point all of their own.
To get to important matters; every location change, indeed every shot change, seems to reveal an entirely new location, even though the actions (i.e. direction of movement) can show it continous with the last. Moving to a road next to a forest, or a stage next to a dressing room, seems to give a new kind of way of living, a new way to approach life.
And approach life is what Chaplin's figure does, even before the Tramp is really developed. Using feet and hands, he intereacts with the world by striking against it. And he finds it difficult, he gets it wrong. Nearly everything in all these films relates to the difficulty in finding, keeping a job. Surviving employment. Everything else is rather secondary to this, which is revealed is difficult, extremely difficult. Obviously, the physical usages are not 'realistic' in one sense; yet that very physical idea of 'here I am, i am meant to do this, do that', is remarkable. It is the classic modernist position of defamiliaridation, in a way. And with this is combined some really subtle psychology; just a little look.
Friday, 19 August 2011
He Who Gets Slapped
Victor Sjostrom - 1924
It is difficult not to think of 'The Blue Angel' here. Sjostrom certainly attacks the idea of alughter as a palliative, it rather seems an aspect of horror here; this is not on the surface a funny film at all. Keeping the nature of the plot nice and unspecific lets us project our own situation onto the film.
The whites of the face form a powerful view, quickly cut here with quite a lot of tight views. There is some great 180' degree switching of view, quite a few eyeline matches. Some of my favourite shots were the geometrical ones of the crowd, and how they morph into the clowns, the fade to that.
There is some harsh stuff as we move from face to face of, frankly, idiots; a curious sort of disgustingness, degradation. This is what this film is about; knowing you have degraded yourself, not knowing it, physical violence.
It is difficult not to think of 'The Blue Angel' here. Sjostrom certainly attacks the idea of alughter as a palliative, it rather seems an aspect of horror here; this is not on the surface a funny film at all. Keeping the nature of the plot nice and unspecific lets us project our own situation onto the film.
The whites of the face form a powerful view, quickly cut here with quite a lot of tight views. There is some great 180' degree switching of view, quite a few eyeline matches. Some of my favourite shots were the geometrical ones of the crowd, and how they morph into the clowns, the fade to that.
There is some harsh stuff as we move from face to face of, frankly, idiots; a curious sort of disgustingness, degradation. This is what this film is about; knowing you have degraded yourself, not knowing it, physical violence.
The Phantom Carriage
Victor Sjostrom - 1921
There are some scenes of beauty beyond beauty here; the whole thing is a masterwork. What struck me so was the incredible slowness, the remarkable ability of Sjostrom to stay on a slow movement, of a person turning their head, or of the coach trundling through. They are often framed just feet-up. Sjostrom doesn't mind cutting in quite a lot, one feels this is because he is worried for the chracter. The lighting, the images, are superb. Using usually a single frontlight, seemingly, even for the supposedly outside scenes. This light is harsh, horror stuff lighting, and the lack of fill....
He frames against sides of rooms often, and we have various yellow, blue, or otherwise filters, for night or different effects. His film is hard, deep, oh and the sea, the sea.
This film is at its most sensational when we have the carriage, the slow movement, framed from either long or diagonally. It's superimposed presence, the impostions and slowness scene to scene, put me in mind of Von Sternberg. Quiet, creeping, dread, yes, but also great beauty.
The family drama is perhaps a little less than the incredible deathly carriage scene, but is necessary, perhaps; Sjostrom is not making just another silly horror tale. Horror resides in realism, he seems almost to be saying. The remarkable beauty, the slow crawl, the film.
There are some scenes of beauty beyond beauty here; the whole thing is a masterwork. What struck me so was the incredible slowness, the remarkable ability of Sjostrom to stay on a slow movement, of a person turning their head, or of the coach trundling through. They are often framed just feet-up. Sjostrom doesn't mind cutting in quite a lot, one feels this is because he is worried for the chracter. The lighting, the images, are superb. Using usually a single frontlight, seemingly, even for the supposedly outside scenes. This light is harsh, horror stuff lighting, and the lack of fill....
He frames against sides of rooms often, and we have various yellow, blue, or otherwise filters, for night or different effects. His film is hard, deep, oh and the sea, the sea.
This film is at its most sensational when we have the carriage, the slow movement, framed from either long or diagonally. It's superimposed presence, the impostions and slowness scene to scene, put me in mind of Von Sternberg. Quiet, creeping, dread, yes, but also great beauty.
The family drama is perhaps a little less than the incredible deathly carriage scene, but is necessary, perhaps; Sjostrom is not making just another silly horror tale. Horror resides in realism, he seems almost to be saying. The remarkable beauty, the slow crawl, the film.
Monday, 15 August 2011
The End Of St Petersburg
Vsevolod Pudovkin - 1927
This is so perfectly, classically what one thinks Soviet montage cinema is. Clear, fast cuts, striking angles, harsh lights, still powerful figures. The gesture is very significant, pointing, outstretched arms. Also the statue, later arrayed in flowers.
Pudovkin's montage can be very fast, incredibly so, but one always feels he is in control of it- even the frenzy is controlled. Along with the hands, actions in the montage is a lot of food, nature. The sky is low. There is a real 'Earth' -esque sense of poetry here, a few lingers on those fields, and generally on the beauty of the photography. The face is also studied with a sense of beauty in the detail.
The stillness of the grand poses, the perfection of the offcentered compostions, the men photgraphed, with Kuleshov, against the factory owners from their high angles (actually, all are high angles) in their huge empty rooms, is deeply stirring, poetic, powerful, cinema. The actual attempt at personal story isn't the point here; this is a height on cinema just the way it is.
This is so perfectly, classically what one thinks Soviet montage cinema is. Clear, fast cuts, striking angles, harsh lights, still powerful figures. The gesture is very significant, pointing, outstretched arms. Also the statue, later arrayed in flowers.
Pudovkin's montage can be very fast, incredibly so, but one always feels he is in control of it- even the frenzy is controlled. Along with the hands, actions in the montage is a lot of food, nature. The sky is low. There is a real 'Earth' -esque sense of poetry here, a few lingers on those fields, and generally on the beauty of the photography. The face is also studied with a sense of beauty in the detail.
The stillness of the grand poses, the perfection of the offcentered compostions, the men photgraphed, with Kuleshov, against the factory owners from their high angles (actually, all are high angles) in their huge empty rooms, is deeply stirring, poetic, powerful, cinema. The actual attempt at personal story isn't the point here; this is a height on cinema just the way it is.
Thursday, 11 August 2011
Entr'acte
Rene Clair - 1924
Short film; I would genuinely call it surrealist. This is because it deals with the everyday; not larger than life characters, or in costumes, but just part of life. The trick as that this life moves; from one thing to another, without one knowing or understanding the sequence. The speeded up procession, a camel (why not?), the pointless chase, the magician at the end. The exciting montage of the chase is cinema creating for the purpose of pushing on a narrative, though there isn’t a narrative; it is positively Rivette-esque.
Clair also uses various possibilities of the cinema, its capacity to make these ‘illogical’ moves. It’s capacity to evoke images, ideas that aren’t ‘really’ there; for creating an emotion through its ability to make people disappear, double the screen. This even extends to those extremely fast, though smooth, pans.
I’m not going to pretend the film discusses or uses these kind of possibilities with any of the same kind of intelligence, depth, or power as ‘Qui Sauve Peut’ (always stupid to compare to Godard). It rather shows them, and its historical in that sense.
Short film; I would genuinely call it surrealist. This is because it deals with the everyday; not larger than life characters, or in costumes, but just part of life. The trick as that this life moves; from one thing to another, without one knowing or understanding the sequence. The speeded up procession, a camel (why not?), the pointless chase, the magician at the end. The exciting montage of the chase is cinema creating for the purpose of pushing on a narrative, though there isn’t a narrative; it is positively Rivette-esque.
Clair also uses various possibilities of the cinema, its capacity to make these ‘illogical’ moves. It’s capacity to evoke images, ideas that aren’t ‘really’ there; for creating an emotion through its ability to make people disappear, double the screen. This even extends to those extremely fast, though smooth, pans.
I’m not going to pretend the film discusses or uses these kind of possibilities with any of the same kind of intelligence, depth, or power as ‘Qui Sauve Peut’ (always stupid to compare to Godard). It rather shows them, and its historical in that sense.
Tuesday, 9 August 2011
Un Chant d'Amour
Jean Genet - 1950
Genet's only film, a bit under half an hour. We have a real focus on the body obviously, with many many close views, a great physicality. The taking of individual body parts in quite abstracted backdrops made me think of Cocteau, who is after all the obvious reference point. The skin, the licks, the saliva, even the smoke, is given great plasticity. This is perhaps due to the light spots on the bodies being just a touch overexposed, with satisfyingly grainy rest of the prison cells.
The real achievement I got from this film was the sense of their not being any reality / fantasy distinction; each of the different kinds of images functioned on an equal plain, to make an expression of at once a story and a feeling. Moves from one to another could be cued, but there is really no differnce. When a guard is with a prisoner, looking at him, why should the next shot not be of a flower failing to be grasped, or of some naked bodies? We know what Genet is saying, or rather expressing, even if it does not follow a strict deductive logic. This lack of embarrasement about showing the different images together was, for me, very impressive.
Genet's only film, a bit under half an hour. We have a real focus on the body obviously, with many many close views, a great physicality. The taking of individual body parts in quite abstracted backdrops made me think of Cocteau, who is after all the obvious reference point. The skin, the licks, the saliva, even the smoke, is given great plasticity. This is perhaps due to the light spots on the bodies being just a touch overexposed, with satisfyingly grainy rest of the prison cells.
The real achievement I got from this film was the sense of their not being any reality / fantasy distinction; each of the different kinds of images functioned on an equal plain, to make an expression of at once a story and a feeling. Moves from one to another could be cued, but there is really no differnce. When a guard is with a prisoner, looking at him, why should the next shot not be of a flower failing to be grasped, or of some naked bodies? We know what Genet is saying, or rather expressing, even if it does not follow a strict deductive logic. This lack of embarrasement about showing the different images together was, for me, very impressive.
Tuesday, 2 August 2011
L'Argent
Marcel L'Herbier - 1928
L'Herbier's mis-en-scene is always thoughtfully positioned. The camera can start in and move out (still usually feet-less), mirroring the moves from subjective, visceral and 'impressiionist' (to be used advidely, but I'll crack on) and a more Zola-esque naturalism (not that Zola lacks that scent of blood, I don't mean that). The camera can make some extravagant bobs, and often a move to the left side. The tracks can be huge, flying very perpendicular to walls, and there is even one 360' move. Often a horizontal track for a bit, along a room, a pan to finish.
We have the cinema that is objective, and the subjective, to simplify. The very high angles, direct overhead, where they look like rats (or maybe we are rats, in the rafters, looking at them). The slightly high angle, perhaps a default for SRS. Lots and lot of low-angles, to extend a room, and often P.O.V. There are lots of, and some remarkable, subjective P.O.V. shots here, with special lens effects, hazing. Also the simple use of someone's angle has the expressive affect.
So we have this idea of personal, yet also a major work across time and space. It takes place in such a busy setting, people flying back and forth, in front of and behind our centre of attention. The stock market scenes are my favourite here; hugely wide, deep, busy mis-en-scene, some people very close to the camera, all in action.
The story? Saccard is really rather sympathetic; at first he could nearly be a hero. Manipulated, he has his flaw that so overwhelms him that he goes beyond redemption, and we have to disslike so much of what he does. The film's wish to critique capitalism is clear, and it certainly critiques something, but I think it is really better for its general critique of male obsession; the plane as much as the car. What would be needed was an analysis (that I would sign for) that all male obsession is money related; that all fetishism (which is here) is to do with exchange, commodities, capital.
I wouldn't like to call this though anything but one of the fine late silent epics, with slightly longer takes and more 'pyschological' focus than, say 'Metropolis', and huge reserves of beauty, novelistic rigour, social analysis, silent cinema.
L'Herbier's mis-en-scene is always thoughtfully positioned. The camera can start in and move out (still usually feet-less), mirroring the moves from subjective, visceral and 'impressiionist' (to be used advidely, but I'll crack on) and a more Zola-esque naturalism (not that Zola lacks that scent of blood, I don't mean that). The camera can make some extravagant bobs, and often a move to the left side. The tracks can be huge, flying very perpendicular to walls, and there is even one 360' move. Often a horizontal track for a bit, along a room, a pan to finish.
We have the cinema that is objective, and the subjective, to simplify. The very high angles, direct overhead, where they look like rats (or maybe we are rats, in the rafters, looking at them). The slightly high angle, perhaps a default for SRS. Lots and lot of low-angles, to extend a room, and often P.O.V. There are lots of, and some remarkable, subjective P.O.V. shots here, with special lens effects, hazing. Also the simple use of someone's angle has the expressive affect.
So we have this idea of personal, yet also a major work across time and space. It takes place in such a busy setting, people flying back and forth, in front of and behind our centre of attention. The stock market scenes are my favourite here; hugely wide, deep, busy mis-en-scene, some people very close to the camera, all in action.
The story? Saccard is really rather sympathetic; at first he could nearly be a hero. Manipulated, he has his flaw that so overwhelms him that he goes beyond redemption, and we have to disslike so much of what he does. The film's wish to critique capitalism is clear, and it certainly critiques something, but I think it is really better for its general critique of male obsession; the plane as much as the car. What would be needed was an analysis (that I would sign for) that all male obsession is money related; that all fetishism (which is here) is to do with exchange, commodities, capital.
I wouldn't like to call this though anything but one of the fine late silent epics, with slightly longer takes and more 'pyschological' focus than, say 'Metropolis', and huge reserves of beauty, novelistic rigour, social analysis, silent cinema.
Monday, 18 July 2011
Master Of The House
Carl Theodor Dreyer - 1925
Initially, the fast, late silent edit seems to move around fast; from a pretty wide, deep, realist establishing of the house, to side-views and others, which is definitively not continuity. It analyses the scene. Then it strikes; Dreyer has put huge amounts of this film around eyeline matches.
Considering Dreyer, in my experince, is one of the great directors who reinvents their cinema with every work, I was surprised, in that way, how formally similar this was to 'Jeanne d'Arc' (just three years later). That is; close-ups, the study of the face, eyeline matches (studies of a face; 'Vivre Sa Vie'). With generally strong side light, strong but misty, and the average tone of the palette being a dark grey.
Dreyer, like Hitchock (or rather Hitchcock, like Dreyer; I am sure Hitchcock knew and fully took in Dreyer), not only uses these matches but also displays sheer brilliance, thought, an exciting camera position, invention, in every shot. The embrace from behind the head, so we only see the hands come around the neck, for example..
Dreyer is also deeply creative in his montage. Cutting in the father's entry with the smiles or cries of the baby, for example, who is not plot-wise key to the action, gives the sense of the whole tone. Kuleshov at work
The plot is incredibly simple; yet it is a joyful and engrossing film to watch. The focus on the everyday chores is done briskly but, in the scheme of film time, arguably slow. We usually have a still camera, but occassionally those very neat horizontal tracks are made. These are revelatory moments; a connection is made across the field where people seem ignorant of each other. Even from one hand making a sandwhich to another.
What is the abiding sense of the film. Dreyer makes his actor's great; they express straight, primal emotions, daring to go to each other, yet retain a complexity and the enigma of the face, perhaps due to the cinematic medium and the eyeline matches. This film can be upbeat, brisk, but one also can't say there isn't a sense of impending doom as well. They are all watching each other, voyeurs even. One binds the other, as the plot goes the relations are reversed. There is something deeply sado-masochistic in the conclusions. Dreyer goes beyond the accepted emotions.
One more thing; Dreyer is here pretty sociologically acute. This is the baseline, an often seen as 'unglamorous' social issue, which Dreyer deals with. As he does economic hardsip, unemployment. This is perhaps Dreyer's, of what I have seen, most economically minded film, which I particularly appreciate. It, like all his films, deals with the seemingly average lives, not spectacular in on the surface overlarge; but gives them weight, lets us see, for all their mistakes, a dignity and the truth there.
Initially, the fast, late silent edit seems to move around fast; from a pretty wide, deep, realist establishing of the house, to side-views and others, which is definitively not continuity. It analyses the scene. Then it strikes; Dreyer has put huge amounts of this film around eyeline matches.
Considering Dreyer, in my experince, is one of the great directors who reinvents their cinema with every work, I was surprised, in that way, how formally similar this was to 'Jeanne d'Arc' (just three years later). That is; close-ups, the study of the face, eyeline matches (studies of a face; 'Vivre Sa Vie'). With generally strong side light, strong but misty, and the average tone of the palette being a dark grey.
Dreyer, like Hitchock (or rather Hitchcock, like Dreyer; I am sure Hitchcock knew and fully took in Dreyer), not only uses these matches but also displays sheer brilliance, thought, an exciting camera position, invention, in every shot. The embrace from behind the head, so we only see the hands come around the neck, for example..
Dreyer is also deeply creative in his montage. Cutting in the father's entry with the smiles or cries of the baby, for example, who is not plot-wise key to the action, gives the sense of the whole tone. Kuleshov at work
The plot is incredibly simple; yet it is a joyful and engrossing film to watch. The focus on the everyday chores is done briskly but, in the scheme of film time, arguably slow. We usually have a still camera, but occassionally those very neat horizontal tracks are made. These are revelatory moments; a connection is made across the field where people seem ignorant of each other. Even from one hand making a sandwhich to another.
What is the abiding sense of the film. Dreyer makes his actor's great; they express straight, primal emotions, daring to go to each other, yet retain a complexity and the enigma of the face, perhaps due to the cinematic medium and the eyeline matches. This film can be upbeat, brisk, but one also can't say there isn't a sense of impending doom as well. They are all watching each other, voyeurs even. One binds the other, as the plot goes the relations are reversed. There is something deeply sado-masochistic in the conclusions. Dreyer goes beyond the accepted emotions.
One more thing; Dreyer is here pretty sociologically acute. This is the baseline, an often seen as 'unglamorous' social issue, which Dreyer deals with. As he does economic hardsip, unemployment. This is perhaps Dreyer's, of what I have seen, most economically minded film, which I particularly appreciate. It, like all his films, deals with the seemingly average lives, not spectacular in on the surface overlarge; but gives them weight, lets us see, for all their mistakes, a dignity and the truth there.
Monday, 4 July 2011
Greed
Erich von Stroheim - 1924
I watched the restored version, which uses still photographs, cutting around them, and pan and scan. It's difficult to say much about this; except to note that the framings are closer than in the film footage, and that it is not entirely succesful as a storytelling device.
Stroheim's camera frames a little off; from a slightly (actually, quite extreme) low or high angle, but for his shots and reverses he also uses an angle at a slight diagonal. His faces are lit from the side, often with one side quite harsh, or both ears lit but the centre in relative darkness.
The editing is quick here, breaking down scenes from establishing, closer, then surprisingly out again, in an around. This is the principle of a thousand different angles, different views on what we see, enhanced by the use of narratives that are not causally connected. It is trying to, by small displacements, gain the clearest and most subtle view possible.
Stroheim uses some extremely long shots, most notably at the end, but throughout he is happy to show, say, a whole house with closer small figures. Yet there is great variety here, he goes closer as a principle than, say, the Griffiths of 'Intolerance', with medium shots (waist) seeming to be the point moved from.
Depth also comes into it. Though the photography in this print can be very soft, he frequently uses two plains that are connected (though depth enhanced by different shades overlapping).
That brings us to the use of colour; with some photos in full paint, and throughout the gold as gold. Their is a terrific use of filters also, notably at the end, where the gold horizon gives that horrible washed out view, half way horizon and endless sand all the same.
There is a remarkable scene of McTeague behind Marcus, with depth, when we focus on that, and only half way through is the establishing shot made, we realise Marcus is at a table of people. von Stroheim doesn't follow the perhaps obvious 'establishing first', though it seems to always be there. His use of intertitles has a similar schema; it is only once we have had the image, or half way through the action, that we get the title. Focus on the image? It seems to all be used to concentrate the viewer on one aspect.
This idea of focussing on one thing is combined with a camera that almost never moves, completely refuses expressive movement, as indeed the narrative refuses 'expressive' detail, little titbits. Obviously von Stroheim comments, but his comment is in choosing what to show, not what he does show. There is a distance through this lack of expressiveness, certainly. But he is keen in giving a critical protrait of a society. This is real nineteenth century realism. It is perhaps closest, though, to Zola's naturalism (this reminded me of 'L'Assomoir') in its idea of subterranean brutality, sexual motifs like a locomotive, running underneath.
And this idea, and the double character of our complex hero, also put one in mind of 'Berlin Alexanderplatz'; Franz Bierkopf too would be capable of cuddling a bird, then killing a man. McTeague remains, thoughout, unkowable; von Stroheim, and again naturalism here, seems not so much interested in giving us consciousness, but rather its consequences, its actions (in contrast to Griffiths wanting to give us actions that have never once been mediated by consciousness).
The film is obviously about capitalist asceticism; it breeds pure insanity, not even as logical as Bunuel. McTeague's pleasures may be wild and unruly, but the complete renunciation is the real madness. In fact, the two meet.
I watched the restored version, which uses still photographs, cutting around them, and pan and scan. It's difficult to say much about this; except to note that the framings are closer than in the film footage, and that it is not entirely succesful as a storytelling device.
Stroheim's camera frames a little off; from a slightly (actually, quite extreme) low or high angle, but for his shots and reverses he also uses an angle at a slight diagonal. His faces are lit from the side, often with one side quite harsh, or both ears lit but the centre in relative darkness.
The editing is quick here, breaking down scenes from establishing, closer, then surprisingly out again, in an around. This is the principle of a thousand different angles, different views on what we see, enhanced by the use of narratives that are not causally connected. It is trying to, by small displacements, gain the clearest and most subtle view possible.
Stroheim uses some extremely long shots, most notably at the end, but throughout he is happy to show, say, a whole house with closer small figures. Yet there is great variety here, he goes closer as a principle than, say, the Griffiths of 'Intolerance', with medium shots (waist) seeming to be the point moved from.
Depth also comes into it. Though the photography in this print can be very soft, he frequently uses two plains that are connected (though depth enhanced by different shades overlapping).
That brings us to the use of colour; with some photos in full paint, and throughout the gold as gold. Their is a terrific use of filters also, notably at the end, where the gold horizon gives that horrible washed out view, half way horizon and endless sand all the same.
There is a remarkable scene of McTeague behind Marcus, with depth, when we focus on that, and only half way through is the establishing shot made, we realise Marcus is at a table of people. von Stroheim doesn't follow the perhaps obvious 'establishing first', though it seems to always be there. His use of intertitles has a similar schema; it is only once we have had the image, or half way through the action, that we get the title. Focus on the image? It seems to all be used to concentrate the viewer on one aspect.
This idea of focussing on one thing is combined with a camera that almost never moves, completely refuses expressive movement, as indeed the narrative refuses 'expressive' detail, little titbits. Obviously von Stroheim comments, but his comment is in choosing what to show, not what he does show. There is a distance through this lack of expressiveness, certainly. But he is keen in giving a critical protrait of a society. This is real nineteenth century realism. It is perhaps closest, though, to Zola's naturalism (this reminded me of 'L'Assomoir') in its idea of subterranean brutality, sexual motifs like a locomotive, running underneath.
And this idea, and the double character of our complex hero, also put one in mind of 'Berlin Alexanderplatz'; Franz Bierkopf too would be capable of cuddling a bird, then killing a man. McTeague remains, thoughout, unkowable; von Stroheim, and again naturalism here, seems not so much interested in giving us consciousness, but rather its consequences, its actions (in contrast to Griffiths wanting to give us actions that have never once been mediated by consciousness).
The film is obviously about capitalist asceticism; it breeds pure insanity, not even as logical as Bunuel. McTeague's pleasures may be wild and unruly, but the complete renunciation is the real madness. In fact, the two meet.
Sunday, 3 July 2011
Intolerance
D.W. Griffiths - 1916
Throughout the ages, intolerance has reined... as, obviously, has lust.
Griffiths' style uses, and we'll here compare him to his successors, longer shots. We have fully body stuff, or only the legs off. What Griffiths then does is break down the scenes, usually not going closer than plan americains or medium shots (though there are a few extreme close-ups, which are startling). The establishing shots of rooms are often huge long shots, especially for the emptier rooms of the richer elements of the stories.
There is a real sense of the excitment of simply filming some spectacular events. It is made sure we get the full shots for Babylon and a few other spectacular set-ups (and there is that repeating track in on the great hall of Babylon). The sets are so incredible, so monumental, it seems almost like a situationist spectacle being recorded at times. The spectacular element is that this was done at all; the cinema's job is to capture it.
Not that Griffiths does not use the camera spectacularly, often using complex images, juxtaposing far horizons (mattes, surely), complex shapes and colours and different walkways and so on. Although his interior scenes are pretty flat, he isn't overly interested, just moderately so, in centering. Also note his use of irises, and those few shots where our screen becomes a rectangle standing vertically, for the seige machines. This is surely to emphasise that shape.
What we notice here is Griffiths lingering on the made-up women of Babylon, erotic stuff of legs and white flesh. Though he'll happily imply and partly show a rape in any period. There's also some gratuitous swords plunging through the flesh.
Griffiths' editing is simple; he shows what he needs to show, which can be very fast. The crosscutting is heavily telegraphed, but nicely worked out. Each story, in this essay, has a clearly marked locale. We stay in each, usually but not always, for a long period of time. The focus is clearly on Babylon and the modern day, the other two are at best shading and at worst a little clumsy (though spectacular of course, especially at the end).
One interesting element is how he crosscuts within the stories, not just across. They have complex narratives individually, he really throws us between them. Not in a 1-2-3-4 pattern either; we can almost forget about one strand for half an hour, and we have had perhaps 5 or 6 before the Babylonian one is introduced at all.
And the intertitles; self-conscious, with notes about history and set design (adding to the situationist feeling) (also in 'Birth Of A Nation'), they are a little flowery, but I wouldn't really call them overblown or pompous; a little wheedling, maybe.
The big theme of 'Intolerance' is hammered home, I finished the film being rather unsure what the word meant, as the stories are so different it seemed impossibly general (who is an 'intolerant'). I get the feeling Griffiths wanted to say everything he could in the entire world, animals, the dowdiness of reform league woman, aren't sets wonderful, let's read some history books.... and wanted to connect them together, very loosely. Completely spectacular, hugely ambitious, magnificently executed.
Throughout the ages, intolerance has reined... as, obviously, has lust.
Griffiths' style uses, and we'll here compare him to his successors, longer shots. We have fully body stuff, or only the legs off. What Griffiths then does is break down the scenes, usually not going closer than plan americains or medium shots (though there are a few extreme close-ups, which are startling). The establishing shots of rooms are often huge long shots, especially for the emptier rooms of the richer elements of the stories.
There is a real sense of the excitment of simply filming some spectacular events. It is made sure we get the full shots for Babylon and a few other spectacular set-ups (and there is that repeating track in on the great hall of Babylon). The sets are so incredible, so monumental, it seems almost like a situationist spectacle being recorded at times. The spectacular element is that this was done at all; the cinema's job is to capture it.
Not that Griffiths does not use the camera spectacularly, often using complex images, juxtaposing far horizons (mattes, surely), complex shapes and colours and different walkways and so on. Although his interior scenes are pretty flat, he isn't overly interested, just moderately so, in centering. Also note his use of irises, and those few shots where our screen becomes a rectangle standing vertically, for the seige machines. This is surely to emphasise that shape.
What we notice here is Griffiths lingering on the made-up women of Babylon, erotic stuff of legs and white flesh. Though he'll happily imply and partly show a rape in any period. There's also some gratuitous swords plunging through the flesh.
Griffiths' editing is simple; he shows what he needs to show, which can be very fast. The crosscutting is heavily telegraphed, but nicely worked out. Each story, in this essay, has a clearly marked locale. We stay in each, usually but not always, for a long period of time. The focus is clearly on Babylon and the modern day, the other two are at best shading and at worst a little clumsy (though spectacular of course, especially at the end).
One interesting element is how he crosscuts within the stories, not just across. They have complex narratives individually, he really throws us between them. Not in a 1-2-3-4 pattern either; we can almost forget about one strand for half an hour, and we have had perhaps 5 or 6 before the Babylonian one is introduced at all.
And the intertitles; self-conscious, with notes about history and set design (adding to the situationist feeling) (also in 'Birth Of A Nation'), they are a little flowery, but I wouldn't really call them overblown or pompous; a little wheedling, maybe.
The big theme of 'Intolerance' is hammered home, I finished the film being rather unsure what the word meant, as the stories are so different it seemed impossibly general (who is an 'intolerant'). I get the feeling Griffiths wanted to say everything he could in the entire world, animals, the dowdiness of reform league woman, aren't sets wonderful, let's read some history books.... and wanted to connect them together, very loosely. Completely spectacular, hugely ambitious, magnificently executed.
Wednesday, 29 June 2011
The Crowd
King Vidor - 1928
I'm very underdone on silent Hollywood, so this mught apply very generally; we have longer shots, longer than plan americains, and lots of short takes, cutting back and forth from closer views. Also there are a few long takes, i.e. the wonderful emotion picture at waterfall.
Throughout, especially the earlier stages, we have a focus on that beeming, overexposed face.
The framing of the individual is interesting. There are some great tracks, and staging decsisions, usually to show either connection or disconnection from the crowd. Often using a kind of V-shaped formation, the lead can move higher to cover the camera view of the crowd, to be individuated. This is clearest perhaps in the early scene at the stairs; an early example of a longrunning motif, that only a day of tragedy (never a week) can let one temporarily be distinguished. From then on, higher framings and staging decisions have a sinking into this V,
We have some fastish montages of different crowds moving (continuity of direction), often against quite abstract backgrounds. These scenes are some of the most beautiful with the film, edited close to the spectacular simplicity of entry to new york; a few views of skyscrapers, a long reverse on him looking. As far as the streets go, the high angles at the crossroads can first be referred to Vertov, or perhaps 'Berlin: Symphony Of A City'.
Narrative wise, there is so much shading going on. There may not be 'great' incidents, but the use of excitment-conventions makes the sheer ordinariness seem remarkable; yet then we reflect, we again see ordinariness.
This is really a pretty remarkable study of urban alientation, caused, after all, by capitalism. His dreams of the advert are ridiculous, but shared by so many, is the abiding message. It is cruel at times; the last shot has a Langian sarcasm on entertainment, a harshness to it. We can love John, but that's no succour to the world.
I'm very underdone on silent Hollywood, so this mught apply very generally; we have longer shots, longer than plan americains, and lots of short takes, cutting back and forth from closer views. Also there are a few long takes, i.e. the wonderful emotion picture at waterfall.
Throughout, especially the earlier stages, we have a focus on that beeming, overexposed face.
The framing of the individual is interesting. There are some great tracks, and staging decsisions, usually to show either connection or disconnection from the crowd. Often using a kind of V-shaped formation, the lead can move higher to cover the camera view of the crowd, to be individuated. This is clearest perhaps in the early scene at the stairs; an early example of a longrunning motif, that only a day of tragedy (never a week) can let one temporarily be distinguished. From then on, higher framings and staging decisions have a sinking into this V,
We have some fastish montages of different crowds moving (continuity of direction), often against quite abstract backgrounds. These scenes are some of the most beautiful with the film, edited close to the spectacular simplicity of entry to new york; a few views of skyscrapers, a long reverse on him looking. As far as the streets go, the high angles at the crossroads can first be referred to Vertov, or perhaps 'Berlin: Symphony Of A City'.
Narrative wise, there is so much shading going on. There may not be 'great' incidents, but the use of excitment-conventions makes the sheer ordinariness seem remarkable; yet then we reflect, we again see ordinariness.
This is really a pretty remarkable study of urban alientation, caused, after all, by capitalism. His dreams of the advert are ridiculous, but shared by so many, is the abiding message. It is cruel at times; the last shot has a Langian sarcasm on entertainment, a harshness to it. We can love John, but that's no succour to the world.
Saturday, 4 June 2011
Visages d'Enfants
Jacques Feyder - 1925
Long shots, real feeling for the landscape (a mountain film, at times). Lovely low-contrast photography. Focus on flowing water and the real 'woodniness' of where they live. Vertical levels used. Long shots of conversation (body and a bit), with a few analytical cut-ins.
Some interesting use of P.O.V.; start from one's view on another, stay ong enough on that other so the scene becomes theirs, and the reverse shot back is a new point of view on what was our own vantage point.
Interesting and affecting story, confronting a difficult theme of a stepmother, that avoids patronising, for all the rather melodramtic landscapes it plays out in.
Long shots, real feeling for the landscape (a mountain film, at times). Lovely low-contrast photography. Focus on flowing water and the real 'woodniness' of where they live. Vertical levels used. Long shots of conversation (body and a bit), with a few analytical cut-ins.
Some interesting use of P.O.V.; start from one's view on another, stay ong enough on that other so the scene becomes theirs, and the reverse shot back is a new point of view on what was our own vantage point.
Interesting and affecting story, confronting a difficult theme of a stepmother, that avoids patronising, for all the rather melodramtic landscapes it plays out in.
Tire-au-Flanc
1928 - Jean Renoir
Good fun, slower montage but still at a decent pace. Noitceably Renoir. Idea of chaos, authority being undermined. Pillow fight extremely similar to one if 'Zero Par Conduite'. Michel Simon takes on his bear-like fool presence.
Good fun, slower montage but still at a decent pace. Noitceably Renoir. Idea of chaos, authority being undermined. Pillow fight extremely similar to one if 'Zero Par Conduite'. Michel Simon takes on his bear-like fool presence.
Catherine, ou, Une Vie Sans Joie
1924 - Jean Renoir and Albert Dieudonne
Quick takes, perhaps un-Renoir like. Deeply impressionist, blurring cameras and subjectivity. Quite a few twos, but a surprising about of ones in the fast montage. Sympathetic tale of an outcast, wrongly chastised. Sympathetic portrait of bumbling foolish upper class.
Quick takes, perhaps un-Renoir like. Deeply impressionist, blurring cameras and subjectivity. Quite a few twos, but a surprising about of ones in the fast montage. Sympathetic tale of an outcast, wrongly chastised. Sympathetic portrait of bumbling foolish upper class.
Wednesday, 1 June 2011
Menilmontant
Forty minute long piece from Dmitri Kirsanoff, 1926
Quickly cut, but following a narrative, however it may look associational at times. This has a frenzied pace to it, with fast camera movements, the quick cutting, blurs. Even the action seems to happen at a kind of intensified pace, though the acting is wonderfully understated. It tells its story with great charm, and very impressively considering the lack of intertitles.
One really finds Paris here; there is a realism in the obviously street-shooting, in the lack of sentimentality regarding the part-players. The fast montage takes us all around. A tough film to take in, clearly very innovative.
Quickly cut, but following a narrative, however it may look associational at times. This has a frenzied pace to it, with fast camera movements, the quick cutting, blurs. Even the action seems to happen at a kind of intensified pace, though the acting is wonderfully understated. It tells its story with great charm, and very impressively considering the lack of intertitles.
One really finds Paris here; there is a realism in the obviously street-shooting, in the lack of sentimentality regarding the part-players. The fast montage takes us all around. A tough film to take in, clearly very innovative.
Thursday, 19 May 2011
Diary Of A Lost Girl
Pabst, with Brooks, again 1929
Since the six months ago 'Pandora's Box', Pabst has started moving his camera (but not compromising on his idiosyncratic framing). He incorporates his style with a good few tracks and some very fast pans. We also noted here how often in his SRS schema's Pabst breaks the line; though this isn't disorientating, as the usual stillness and over-the-shoulder bring in a lot of redundancy. The soft style is also occasionally mixed in with some harder depth.
Visually, the squares of colour are again evident, often blocks of all one shade. Pabst should also not be considered unexpressive; misty shadows, shapes and startling compostions are a feature of the heavily stylised institution Brooks ends up at.
Again, we have a speedy opening narrative and shot length-wise, which settles down, spurting again on a few occassions. All of this is within reasonably classical norms, excepting that Brooks is usually controlled from the outside, not motivating herself. She is chucked about constantly, though we wish their wasn't the subtext (which may be my fault) that she's to blame. Brooks again transforms constantly. She often has paler sotumes than the others (or all black), and really exposes out in these scenes.
We have deep eroticism and mania within the stuff, inclosed bourgeois interiors, indeed all the interiors and institutions (the freest is the brothel). This is editing through editing speed, move to closer shots, and some straight symbolism. The places are all either male or female dominated; no relation between the sexes seems possbile except sexually, and manically at that (indeed, one could say between anyone). Pabst's direction, and his characters, look deeply uncomfortable on the occasional move outside; Pabst's world is too eaxct, their is little contingency or the possbility of a cow wandering off.
This is at times a powerful scene; Pabst has some remarkable closse-ups, timed wonderfully, coming very, very close. I would argue it is better executed, while sharing much visually, than 'Pandora's Box'.
Since the six months ago 'Pandora's Box', Pabst has started moving his camera (but not compromising on his idiosyncratic framing). He incorporates his style with a good few tracks and some very fast pans. We also noted here how often in his SRS schema's Pabst breaks the line; though this isn't disorientating, as the usual stillness and over-the-shoulder bring in a lot of redundancy. The soft style is also occasionally mixed in with some harder depth.
Visually, the squares of colour are again evident, often blocks of all one shade. Pabst should also not be considered unexpressive; misty shadows, shapes and startling compostions are a feature of the heavily stylised institution Brooks ends up at.
Again, we have a speedy opening narrative and shot length-wise, which settles down, spurting again on a few occassions. All of this is within reasonably classical norms, excepting that Brooks is usually controlled from the outside, not motivating herself. She is chucked about constantly, though we wish their wasn't the subtext (which may be my fault) that she's to blame. Brooks again transforms constantly. She often has paler sotumes than the others (or all black), and really exposes out in these scenes.
We have deep eroticism and mania within the stuff, inclosed bourgeois interiors, indeed all the interiors and institutions (the freest is the brothel). This is editing through editing speed, move to closer shots, and some straight symbolism. The places are all either male or female dominated; no relation between the sexes seems possbile except sexually, and manically at that (indeed, one could say between anyone). Pabst's direction, and his characters, look deeply uncomfortable on the occasional move outside; Pabst's world is too eaxct, their is little contingency or the possbility of a cow wandering off.
This is at times a powerful scene; Pabst has some remarkable closse-ups, timed wonderfully, coming very, very close. I would argue it is better executed, while sharing much visually, than 'Pandora's Box'.
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