Thursday, December 30, 2010

My Last Sigh


The surrealists were a group of post-World War I painters, writers, and other artists who generally believed in expressing subconscious thought through free form and startling juxtapositions.  There were different factions of surrealists with different philosophies, many of the surrealists regarded their work as a form of political or social protest, and some of them took themselves quite seriously despite the facetious nature of much of their work.  With all of their in-fighting and arguments about who was a true surrealist, they remind me the People's Front of Judea from Monty Python' s Life of Brian.

At least that's the impression I got from reading My Last Sigh, the entertaining autobiography of Spanish-born surrealist filmmaker Luis Buñuel (translated by Abigail Israel).  The surrealists seemed to regard themselves as high-minded revolutionaries who were challenging false rationality and other constrictive aspects of society, yet Buñuel's descriptions make them seem like a petty high-school clique obsessed with the power to ostracize people from their inner circle.  Buñuel's description of the surrealists and other topics seem rather candid (although I have no idea if they're entirely accurate), and even people who don't like his films, or haven't seen them, may find My Last Sigh enjoyable.

Buñuel does have an impressive career as a filmmaker, however.  Born in a small provincial town in Spain in 1900, he moved to France in the 1920s, became in involved in the Surrealist Movement, and directed the landmark surrealist films Un chien andalou (1929) and L'Âge d'Or (1930).  Then he returned to Spain (where he directed the documentary Las Hudes (1933)), moved to the United States (he has some choice comments about Hollywood), and relocated to Mexico.  His Mexican output includes the highly regarded Los Olvidados (1950) and several other movies that were more mainstream than his earlier work, although he still managed to incorporate some surrealist imagery into his relatively commercial films.  He also directed some films in France during the 1960s and 1970s, including Belle de Jour (1967) and The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie (1972), before passing away in 1983. 

Buñuel enjoyed criticizing the bourgeoisie, yet he also seemed to fit comfortably in it.  Indeed, he seems like he would have been a charming dinner guest who loved sipping martinis (which get quite a bit of attention in the book), making gossipy comments about his famous past associates (including Salvador Dali, with whom he had a fractious relationship), and delivering clever bon mots.  Of course, I don't know if he was as pleasant in real life as he seems in his book, and his views on politics and religion (he was an atheist who was highly critical of the Roman Catholic Church) would not have been well received in some households, where people might not share his attitude about the time that Spanish workers formed a firing squad and "executed" a statue of Jesus Christ

I think part of the charm of the book is that Buñuel is highly opinionated (for example, he hates John Steinbeck’s books and loves marinated herring) but not full of himself, at least by the standards of famous film directors.  He doesn't seem pretentious when describing his own work -- indeed, he doesn't like when other people get pretentious when describing his films -- and he is perfectly willing to admit, for example, that even though he "had been such an ardent subversive, who had so desired the overthrow of the established order," he was terrified by the lack of order and control during the Spanish Civil War.  He also has a knack for seeming both bemused and matter-of-fact, whether he's describing how to mix the perfect drink or how French surrealist André Breton was obsessed with Leon Trotsky's dog.

Monday, December 6, 2010

The Mascot and other films


The Mascot is a circa 1933-1934 short film featuring stop-motion puppet animation.  It was written and directed by Wladyslaw Starewicz, a Russian-Lithuanian-Polish-French filmmaker whose name has several different spellings.  It's a mostly silent film (not counting the musical score) and stars a stuffed dog that goes on a perilous journey to bring an orange to sick child.  The dog ventures onto the street and even goes to the nighttime Devil's Ball; meanwhile, the canine protagonist encounters human-like toys, some of them are made out of random materials such as utensils, as well as infernal vegetables.

OK, it's a weird film.

The animation is really interesting.  According to his granddaughter, Starewicz made the faces of the puppets by sticking wet chamois-leather on their wooden structure and changed the puppets' expressions by modifying parts of the faces frame-by-frame with dentist's tongs.  Someone who posted a copy of the film online mentioned that Starewicz created a blurring effect for fast movement by moving the puppets during the actual exposure.  Anyway, here is the movie:

By the way, there are different versions of the film online. There are also other Starewicz films online, including Frogland (1922)...



and Cameraman's Revenge (1912).


I agree with Terry Gilliam, who listed The Mascot as one of the ten best animated films of all time, that Starewicz' surreal, imaginative work was a predecessor to subsequent films by Jan Švankmajer and the Brothers Quay.   So I'll use that as an excuse to link to Czech surrealist filmmaker Jan Švankmajer's Ossuary.

Thursday, December 2, 2010

Silent Frankenstein


The first film adaptation of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein is a black-and-white (and color-tinted and color-toned black-and-white) one-reeler made in 1910 by Edison Studios.  This silent movie is only about 15 minutes long (give or take a couple minutes), so it's not surprising that it isn't completely faithful to the novel.  It disregards the book's epistolary form, ignores most of the philosophical issues raised by Shelley, avoids some of the more violent and macabre elements of the story, and both condenses and changes the plot.

While the film seems stagy compared to some other silents of the time period, I have to give it credit for at least one thing: the monster has long hair, as he did in the novel.  Compare the following illustration from the 1831 edition of Frankenstein...  


to Boris Karloff's famous portrayal of the monster in the 1931 film version.


One of the advantages of the film adaptations is that we get to see the creation of the monster. In the 1910 film, the monster isn't created by assembling body parts from corpses and animating them with electricity, as his creation is portrayed in the 1931 movie.  Instead, the monster is created by a form of alchemy.


Despite its flaws, I think the 1910 film is kinda interesting.  It is in the public domain and is available for viewing at the Internet Archive.


By the way, this wasn't the only silent version of Frankenstein.



There was a feature-length (5-reel) version released in 1915 (and re-released with additional footage in 1916) called Life Without a Soul.  Unfortunately, the film is presumed lost, although at least one person has claimed to have seen a print.