The Shop on Main Street (1965)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Shop on Main Street (1965) – J. Kadár and E. Klos

A horror film or a tragedy or both – what else can you say about a film that examines the effects of fascism (in this case instituted by the provincial Nazi supporters in Slovakia) on two people (seen as a microcosm).  Tono Brtko (Jozef Kroner) is an underemployed carpenter who is granted the role of “Aryan Controller” by his brother-in-law, a local official, and told to take over the titular button shop run by elderly widow Mrs. Lautmann (Ida Kaminska) who is Jewish.  We can see that Tono is suspicious of the fascists and reluctant to be a part of their movement but his wife is overjoyed at the prospects of a change in their fortunes.  Some of their interactions (and a drunken night with the brother-in-law) are played for comedy but it is an unsettling sort of humour and the dissonant musical accompaniment heard in these early scenes strikes a tone of warning.  When Tono does head out to take over Mrs. Lautmann’s store, he finds that his instinct (spurred on by a local friend of the Jews) is to simply accommodate her, as she is elderly, hard of hearing and seemingly unaware at all of the changes in her political fortune.  And since the coterie of Jewish business owners offers to pay him a weekly wage (since Lautmann’s long bankrupt store wouldn’t anyway), Tono is content.  However, this arrangement does not last long and the film darkens considerably as the fascists begin to round up the Jews.  Their friend is captured and beaten.  Tono is afraid and vacillates between wanting to protect Mrs. Lautmann and thinking of turning her in.  Directors Ján Kadár and Elmar Klos keep the focus on the individuals in question but it is clear that their reactions are meant to stand for those of the larger populace, who may find themselves as either the beneficiaries or victims of fascism, with complicated motivations and emotions and even more difficult relations.  Although it seems obvious where the moral high ground sits, The Shop on Main Street argues humanistically that the actual predicament of confronting this plague is more fraught than one can anticipate.  True bravery may be required and not everyone is made of such strong stuff.  In the end, the film is a lament for humanity (and a brutal shock to the system).  Stay alert.

Chimes at Midnight (1965)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Chimes at Midnight (1965) – O. Welles

The culmination of Orson Welles’ re-visioning of Shakespeare’s plays, after his filming of MacBeth (1948) and Othello (1951) and his many staged versions, including Julius Caesar and something called “Five Kings (Part One)” which was the forerunner for this production. Chimes at Midnight extracts bits and pieces from several of the Bard’s history plays (principally Henry IV, Parts One and Two) in order to focus on the relationship between Sir John Falstaff (played merrily by Welles himself) and Prince Hal (later to be crowned Henry V). And although he filmed in Europe on a low budget, the result is never less than magnificent, with beautiful black and white cinematography, perfect sets and costumes, and fine acting from Welles himself, Sir John Gielgud (Henry IV) and Keith Baxter (Hal) with Margaret Rutherford (Mistress Quickly), Jeanne Moreau (Doll Tearsheet), and Fernando Rey (Worcester) in support, along with a large number of quirky character actors.  If Welles cut-and-paste from footage shot in different times and places (and dubbed his own voice in for others) you can’t really tell (his magic works). As with Othello, existing locations were utilised (including for Henry IV’s stone castle) but a set was built to represent the Inn where Falstaff resides, idling away his time on “sack” (booze) and women and occasionally engaging in highway robbery.  This is where Prince Hal also slums it, to his father’s chagrin.  The centrepiece to the film is an astounding battle sequence, with men in suits of armour hacking away at each other (and Falstaff hiding on the fringes or playing dead).  This is the first glimpse we get of Hal taking on his royal role, as he assists his father to stave off a rebellion by Henry (Hotspur) Percy.  Of course, later, when Henry IV is dead and Hal ascends the throne, the relationship with Falstaff is necessarily quashed, making for a melancholy (but not unexpected) finale.  Welles is perfect in the role, perhaps his best; he hears the chimes indeed. 

The Round-Up (1965)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The Round-Up (1965) – M. Jancsó

I was afraid to watch this film about a government’s detention of political rebels in a distant Hungarian outpost for fear of seeing images of torture and degradation.  Unfortunately, however, the film has lost its ability to shock in the era of Abu Ghraib, Guantanamo, Manus, Christmas Island, Villawood, etc.  The time is the 1860’s and the captors make good use of psychological techniques to divide and conquer the prisoners.  For example, one poor soul is told that he will escape execution if he can find another rebel who had committed more crimes against the government than he.  Things spiral downward as he acts in increasing desperation.    Jancsó moves people and horses around in geometric patterns out on the bleak Hungarian plains with only a sort of corral with cells and a white-walled interrogation building to break the monotony.  His trademark longshots are also in evidence.  Having seen The Red and the White (1967) and Red Psalm (1971), also about conflicts and revolts in panoramic landscapes, before this one seems also to have weakened the impact of The Round-Up.  Otherwise, as it likely did in the 1960s with its direct allusion to the Hungarian Uprising of 1956, the film would hit one as a bold declaration of man’s inhumanity to man (and woman), something the world already knew too much about.

  

The Ipcress File (1965)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The Ipcress File (1965) – S. J. Furie

The word “Ipcress” is the key to the movie and not really a Macguffin at all (as it might first seem to be when a newly minted spy comes across it in an abandoned warehouse).  As with all spy thrillers (and I was in the mood for a good one), the plot here has many twists and even the different British spy agencies can’t seem to trust each other.  Young Michael Caine (seeming more and more a contradiction in terms these days) is full of Cockney insubordination and an eye on the birds.  This could be a parallel universe to the Bond series with a more realistic bent – until the Manchurian Candidate-styled conclusion (which takes things to a definite psychedelic place).  So, in the end, it’s not quite the grey world of Le Carré but rather a bit of adventure for the lads (and lasses). 

The Spy Who Came in from the Cold (1965)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The Spy Who Came in from the Cold (1965) – M. Ritt

Exceedingly grey picture, both visually and in tone.  Richard Burton is Leamas who has been running Britain’s East German operations, until his primary double agent/defector is killed and he is called in by Control.  Therein lies the seed of a new plot, to oust the enemy agent who killed the defector, with Burton asked to pretend he has been called on the carpet, demoted, and as a result embittered enough to defect himself.  He gives a tired hangdog performance.  Claire Bloom gets dragged into things as his love interest, who is flirting with communism in a youthful idealistic way.  The plot seems straightforward but it is not and we learn, unsurprisingly, the wicked lengths to which spy agencies will go to achieve their ends. A slow burner.

The War Game (1965)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The War Game (1965) -- P. Watkins

In Bergman's Winter Light, Max Von Sydow is depressed because the Chinese have the bomb. In Peter Watkins' 48 minute meant-for-the-BBC "documentary", we see what impact an actual nuclear attack would have on Britain. And it is brutal: the costs of evacuation, the actual blast (both heat and shockwaves), firestorms, physical effects of radiation, psychological effects of trauma, dealing with corpses. This is a truly horrific film told in newsreel style as straight reportage. Even today, the doomsday clock stands at 6 minutes to midnight, closer than it was when Watkins made this film...

Chimes at Midnight (1965)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Chimes at Midnight (1965) – O. Welles

Chimes at Midnight allows Orson Welles to strut his stuff as the larger than life Falstaff -- but also behind the camera (aided by his crew) with stunning shots, cinematography, art design, editing. The melancholy tale of Prince Hal's eventual rejection of his decadent mate stays true in spirit (and much dialogue) to Shakespeare, although that means it is dense and furious and I'll have to watch it again to extract more meaning.

The Saragossa Manuscript (1965)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Saragossa Manuscript (1965) – W. Has

Quest through the surrealist landscapes of Spain that multiplies into layer upon layer of narratives with a supernatural, mystical, and romantic theme. Cybulski is the amiable puzzled center of the action. Would take several watchings to understand the riddle of the plot!

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The Saragossa Manuscript (trailer) from Cinefamily Archive on Vimeo.