Les Enfants du Paradis (1945)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Les Enfants du Paradis (1945) – M. Carné

Filmed during the Nazi Occupation of France but released shortly after liberation, the movie became a symbol of French Resistance/Independence (this, even though some of its participants were later accused of collaboration). This is often called one of the greatest French films of all time and the masterpiece of the director-writer team of Marcel Carné and Jacque Prevert (who also made earlier poetic realist classics such as Le Jour Se Leve, 1939, with Jean Gabin, not featured here).  Due to Nazi-imposed regulations prohibiting films longer than 90 minutes, the film is divided into two separate halves, released separately but shown together. The first “The Boulevard of Crime” introduces us to the Parisian theatre district of 1828 and the many important characters:  Garance (played by Arletty), the much sought after beauty who has seen it all; Baptiste Debureau (Jean-Louis Barrault), the pantomime artist who falls for Garance; Frédérick Lemaître (Pierre Brasseur), the charismatic and flamboyant wannabe actor; and Pierre-François Lacenaire (Marcel Herrand), the philosopher-criminal resigned to his own fate. Late in this half we also meet Édouard comte de Montray (Louis Salou), another suitor for Garance (they all are, whether seriously or not), wealthy beyond reason. The melodramatic plot leaves us hanging as Garance is arrested as an accomplice for an attempted murder arranged by Lecenaire – but may have an out.  The second film, “The Man in White”, opens six years later.  The characters have all improved their lots, with Baptiste and Lemaître especially famous.  Life has moved on without Garance, who has disappeared.  When she does return to Paris, the plot mechanics move inexorably in a seemingly pre-ordained direction and end abruptly with the conclusions left for viewers to imagine. The film is justly famous, partly for its amazing sets (by Alexandre Trauner) and mise-en-scene, but also for its portrayal of the many varieties of theatrical performance, from base to lofty, that lend the film its main theme – the thin line between art and life, acting and reality.  There may or may not be metaphors here related to the plight of France in WWII but the film allows for many interpretations. In addition to the impressive acting on display, that’s another reason why it is great.   

Dead of Night (1945)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Dead of Night (1945) – A. Cavalcanti, C. Crichton, B. Dearden, & R. Hamer

Classic spooky horror omnibus film from Ealing Studios with contributions from four notable directors from their famed team. Basil Dearden handles the framing story, which is remarkable in its own right, with architect Walter Craig (Mervyn Johns) arriving at Pilgrim’s Farm but feeling a pronounced sense of dejá vu which only increases when he goes inside and sees a small group gathered. Soon, he realises that he is remembering a dream and goes on to prognosticate about events that will soon happen (and, of course, they do). One of the group is a psychiatrist who plays the role of Doubting Thomas throwing cold water on the idea of premonitions. But each of the characters then proceeds to tell a story about their own brush with the supernatural (each story showcased by a different director).  Dearden begins with a short story about a race car driver who receives a warning about his own death (“room for one more inside, sir!”) which allows him to avoid it. Then, with Calvacanti in the director’s chair, young Sally tells of her encounter with a young boy (while playing hide-and-seek) who turns out to be a murdered ghost. Next, Googie Withers stars in Robert Hamer’s tale of a haunted mirror that curses her husband. After this rather harrowing tale, a bit of light relief: Charles Crichton directs Naughton & Wayne (famous for their roles in Hitchcock’s The Lady Vanishes, 1938) as a pair of golfers who use 18-holes match-play do decide who will win the lady they both adore. The loser commits suicide and becomes a ghost who ineptly haunts his former friend. And then the most famous of tales (by Calvacanti again) features Michael Redgrave as a ventriloquist at odds with his dummy.  This might be the one to give you nightmares, if you are small.  Finally, we return again to the framing story and its haunting conclusion. If you love the sort of uncanny horror that leaves you with a weird suspicion that the world is far stranger than we think, then I highly recommend this masterpiece.   

 

Dead of Night (1945)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Dead of Night (1945) – A. Cavalcanti, C. Crichton, B. Dearden, & R. Hamer

My favourite of all horror anthologies and from Ealing Studios no less (famous for their delightful comedies:  The Lavender Hill Mob, The Ladykillers, Kind Hearts & Coronets, among them).  Four directors cover five tales (and a further linking narrative) that manage to capture that elusive spooky feeling that I remember so well from children’s books, the kind of books that told of lonely young people meeting and befriending new acquaintances in deserted locales (and of course, these new friends always turn out to be ghosts, long dead).  Perhaps Lafcadio Hearn’s spooky Japanese folktales (retold in Kaidan/Kwaidan by Kobayashi) also capture this feeling – is it what we call the “uncanny”?  Dead of Night manages to evoke this feeling in a number of different ways beginning with the linking story that shows an architect arrive at a house full of houseguests with the strong sense that he has been there before in a dream – indeed, he ominously begins to predict what will happen next.  This leads each guest to tell a spooky story from their own past, including a race car driver who is given a mysterious warning to avoid his own death, a young girl who meets a ghostly child when playing hide-and-seek, a wife who accidentally gives her husband a haunted mirror, the host telling a comic story of two golfers in love with same woman (featuring Basil Radford & Naunton Wayne, from Hitchcock’s The Lady Vanishes), and finally and most famously, a psychiatrist telling of his encounter with a ventriloquist who has a strained relationship with his dummy.  As anthologies go, this one is less uneven than most (although the golfing episode was dropped for the US release) and the four directors are equally strong (Cavalcanti, Crichton, Dearden, & Hamer).  The spooky feeling may stick with you for days!

Scarlet Street (1945)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Scarlet Street (1945) – F. Lang

Edward G. Robinson stars as the poor sap who is taken advantage of when he falls for a much younger femme fatale (Joan Bennett) after “rescuing” her from a bad man (Dan Duryea) who is beating her on the street in Greenwich Village.  Despite being married (unhappily of course), Robinson’s character, Chris Cross, falls for Bennett who thinks he is a famous artist rather than only a Sunday painter who has a day job as a cashier for a major company.  She (and her boyfriend Duryea) play him for a sucker, asking for money to set her up in her own apartment, money which he ends up stealing from his employer and from his wife (who is hoarding an insurance settlement from the death of her first husband).  So far, so noir – but it gets darker.  Director Fritz Lang freely adapted Renoir’s La Chienne (1931) to fit the New York setting and the conventions of noir.  I’d seen both this film and the earlier one before, years ago, but had forgotten the twists and turns of the plot that see Cross’s fortunes rise and fall through both serendipity and his own actions.  Ultimately, the laws of the noir film (and the Hays Office) seem to follow the principle of karma, such that Robinson’s moral failings have to result in his undoing, no matter how much we are on his side (even if we shouldn’t really be).  But truly this is a downbeat ending that grabs you and won’t let go.  One of the high water marks of the genre from a director who made guilt, jealousy, anger, revenge, and all of the negative emotions central to his work.

   

Cornered (1945)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Cornered (1945) – E. Dmytryk

Dick Powell is a shell-shocked Canadian airman at the end of his tether looking for the Vichy French collaborator who killed his wife (and dozens of others) and fled to Argentina.  He doesn’t listen to nobody but that’s probably a wise idea when the people he meet are like Walter Slezak’s oily guide (a.k.a. go between) who leads him straight to the fascists hiding his target only to double or triple cross him (although everyone is out for themselves here).  It isn’t clear whether we are meant to be seeing things from distrustful Powell’s perspective or whether the endless lies told by all of the secondary characters were craftily designed to fool us.  This is a film noir that is constructed to create a world that is confusing as hell.  Even at the end, I wasn’t quite sure until the final minute who had won.  Director Edward Dmytryk was notorious as a member of the Hollywood Ten, jailed for contempt of Congress for not speaking to the House Un-American Activities Committee, who eventually named names.  Whether he inserted a message willingly or not, Cornered does contain some pleas for solidarity against the fascists who could be anywhere, even today. Indeed, the fascists in this film attribute the credit for their own success to the policies and acts of major governments that keep people in poverty and refuse to take notice of them and to treat them with respect. The film looks grimy and burnt out, exactly as a post-war noir should.

  

I Know Where I'm Going! (1945)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

I Know Where I'm Going! (1945) -- M. Powell & E. Pressburger

I was truly captivated by this 1945 picture from The Archers (Powell & Pressburger, famous for the later Black Narcissus and The Red Shoes). A completely British film featuring a heroine who knows what she wants and that is to raise her social standing by marrying a rich but older businessman who is a symbol of Britain's new focus on corporate culture (he runs Consolidated Chemicals).  The film details her journey from Manchester to a tiny Scottish island (Kiloran) where the wedding will take place -- at last she is stopped by a tremendous gale blocking her passage.  She meets Roger Livesly who is more than he seems and they are stuck together waiting to cross the dangerous channel (where a well-filmed whirlpool lurks).  The film is thus a romance as well as a keenly wrought observation of down-to-earth Scottish values and culture (yes, some bagpiping here).  Powell and Pressburger go the expressionistic route (as usual) which lends a distinctly magical air to the otherwise realistic proceedings, full of dream sequences, superstition, ancient curses, and romance.  In the end, in what must be a political statement, humanistic values are championed over the military industrial complex. This makes the film sound dull but it is definitely not -- a moving mystical romance.