Thursday 28 May 2015

Head-to-Head: Michael Redgrave v.s. Albert Finney v.s. Ian Holm, 'The Browning Version'

Michael Redgrave, Albert Finney, and Ian Holm all played Andrew Crocker-Harris in 'The Browning Version' in 1951, 1994, and 1985.

The 1951 version of 'The Browning Version' is a superb cinematic adaptation of the Terrence Rattigan play, centered around an ailing Classics master, whose last days at the all-boy's boarding school he has taught at for nearly twenty years bring him revelations about others and himself. It's a small-scale, deceptively reserved character study about a seemingly unremarkable individual, and it's right up there with Akira Kurosowa's 'Ikiru' as one of the finest cinematic examples of the beauty and glory of the ineffectual being slowly realized. And there are good performances, and great performances, and then up there's Michael Redgrave as Andrew Crocker-Harris. Always a fine actor who was equally adept at being the comic relief (see 'The Lady Disappears') as a good straight man ('The Importance of Being Earnest', 'Way to the Stars'), and who later on morphed into a respected character actor in the likes of ‘Loneliness of the Long-Distance Runner’, there is no doubt however that the greatest challenge, and greatest reward, of Redgrave's career lies in this motion picture.

It's curious to note that Redgrave's not exactly the most obvious choice for the role--the usually extroverted, easygoing characters he usually played preceding and after this performance don't bear much resemblance to the rigidity and precision with which the character of Crocker-Harris must be handled. As the 'Himmler of the lower 5th', as his pupils nickname him, Redgrave's major challenge from the outset is to make good on these claims, and he is incredibly good in painting the initial strokes of this very particular portrait of a man who's ill at ease with the rest of the world, but has grown rather accustomed to it. The way he half-squints, half-glares with those tired eyes of his, how he postures his gigantic six-foot-five physique in such a manner that's not exactly broken nor worn out, but rather just indifferent; Asquith direction must also be credited here with how it practically contorts itself around Redgrave's controlling manner, allowing Redgrave to in a way dominate the screen despite having such an intentionally lacking manner.

Crocker-Harris is lacking in all respects—emotionally, imaginatively—save for his intellect. Redgrave is rather wonderful in showing how the Classics master still holds an unyielding expertise on his subject; rather than making it an inspirational factor, however, Redgrave masterfully shows it to be a deeply unpleasant aspect of his character as he (seems) to regard anyone without his intelligence/passion in matters of Latin, somehow beneath him—namely, the whole of his lower 5th set. When coldly berating his class for their ineptitude in a translation of Latin texts, he delivers the lines of the texts with a sort of eloquent sensitivity, almost musical in its intonation. Yet rather than making it an endearing quirk of eccentricity, keeps it close to the chest and reserved; it is a similar manner with which he interacts with his wife Millie (played well, if a little to broadly at times, by Jean Kent) and her illicit lover and his co-worker Frank (Nigel Patrick, decent if a bit bland, but not in any way which distracts from the film), that distancing factor of his reserve.

He nicely differentiates the different approaches of his soullessness by making Crocker-Harris have a somewhat more chilly, professional reserve in the classroom, whose occasional puns are not for the joy of others, not even for himself, but just to maintain this epistemic, intellectual distance from his students that comes more out of tiredness than arrogance; with his wife, a somewhat more casual yet still cold relationship, a sense of familiarity with emotional disconnect that borders upon cuckolded weakness upon his behalf, laying hints of a later revelation that he has always known about her affair, and just cannot be bothered to do anything about it; and with his co-workers and the Headmaster, a slightly more sociable stiffness that still comes across as highly off-putting yet incredibly natural. Redgrave gives a performance that is tough to watch because he is just so, so very good at being such a lifeless figure; it is not even necessary for him to show the effects of his ailing disease on his behalf, the psychological passivity of his character encompasses it all, the regrets of the past and lack of hope for the future, like the disease taking its toll on him, all meaning nothing to him at all.

It is a series of altogether different interactions with one of his students, Taplow (Brian Smith who gives an incredibly endearing performance) where Crocker-Harris reveals a different side to himself, mainly through their discussion of The Agamemnon. Earlier on in the play we were presented with the intellectual astuteness of the Crock, but in the scene where he and Taplow work on the latter’s weaknesses in translation is a beautiful scene because of how two such distinctly different characters work together to bring out new shades to Crocker-Harris. Redgrave reserved approach pays off with his slight release of emotion—his joy for the classics, gradually instilling more passion to the notes he hits when reading the text and interacting with Taplow. He’s still reserved and cool, but opens up a bit to Taplow about his past, when he had worked on a rhyming couplets translation of The Agamemnon. It’s an emotional release that almost seems involuntary but also well-earnt as Redgrave had expertly played the Crock beforehand as not being entirely soulless shell, but rather a shell with remnants of former hopes and dreams amidst its small cracks, just waiting to burst into the open.

When he interacts with Taplow, Redgrave masterfully strikes the balance between a sort of grudging affection for Taplow’s naturally endearing character, as well as seeing not so much a reflection of his former self in Taplow, but rather a desire for a similar imaginative and emotional engagement with the world that the young man has. Redgrave is equally good in showing more to his quietude in his interaction with his schoolmaster successor (solid reactive work by Ronald Howard), lamenting his ‘utter failure’ as a schoolmaster and acknowledging that he warrants the title of ‘Himmler of the lower 5th’; this impressively unshowy transition, such a moving revelation of this newfound sensitivity and weakness within the man, that’s not at all out of character (he still maintains the reserve and distance) yet somehow makes it so moving; but that’s nothing compared to the next stage of Redgrave’s performance.

The ‘gift-giving’ scene is one point in the performance where lesser actors may well have flubbed with the sheer array of emotions Crocker-Harris conveys at this scene, but Redgrave pulls them all off masterfully. From his awkwardness at receiving Taplow to hints of happiness at seeing him, to a slight annoyance that gradually progresses to confusion at the whole concept of a ‘gift’ (a Robert Browning translation of The Agamemnon), to finally an overwhelming sense of an emotion he probably hasn’t felt in a long time: genuine, flowing, unhinged sadness and remorse. In his breakdown the camera focuses solely on Redgrave, and boy is he great in showing how Taplow has finally broken through his defences; making it all the more excruciating when his vindictive wife convinces him that Taplow’s deeds had ulterior motives, whereby he transitions back to his former self, with an added hint of anger and discontent. Through little over ten minutes Redgrave runs through a whole tumult of emotions that most actors will take a lifetime to successfully cover.

I have praised and lavished Redgrave so much up to this point that it seems almost pointless to say more about how well he carries the rest of the film to its very end; even when the focus strays away from him to the supporting characters, his presence is always omnipresent, the centre and heart which is slowly beating once more. And the final speech. Oh, that final speech. In the original Rattigan play, and most adaptations of it since then, we never actually get to see the departing speech of Crocker-Harris, only what leads up to it; Redgrave is obviously very good in building up this slow confidence to the end of the play, bolstered by his final determination to leave his wife, but it really is the last speech he gives in the film that is his true showcase, and he is magnificent in it. It does not compromise Rattigan’s ending in any way since it is a quietly delivered speech and incredibly understated, not sugar-coated nor saccharinely uplifting in any way, but rather an expression of Crocker-Harris’ regrets for not being a better, kinder teacher, lamenting his failure to inspire his pupils and himself, and warning them against the pitfalls of passivity and emotional distance. Here Redgrave’s challenge is to strike the perfect note between reserve and emotion; too much of the former and the ending’s power would be muted, too much of the latter and it would perhaps be a bit too much.

In this speech Redgrave maintains the dignity just up to the point that it all just breaks apart; as the tear flows from his eyes and emotion flows from his speech, so will your heart break. The headmaster’s reservations that it will be all an ‘anti-climax’ is strangely both played with and against; it is certainly a much more downplayed speech in terms of overt emotions than one may expect, but it also packs such a punch for anyone who’s followed Crocker-Harris on this spiritual journey of his. It is only strengthened even more by the final bookend of Crocker-Harris promising Taplow that he will, indeed, continue his rhyming couplets translation of The Agamemnon and also informs him of his successful ascension to the sixth-form science set. With this footnote, Redgrave successfully realizes Crocker-Harris stepping out of his off-putting reserve and into a brighter future, without ever losing sight of his original characterization; an amazing conclusion to a breathtakingly wonderful performance.

The 1985 version of ‘The Browning Version’, in contrast to the other two adaptations I’m examining here, is a decidedly more stoic affair. I actually saw this one first out of all the adaptations, after having as a young chap of about 14? 15? years of age, been treated to a rather grand production of the play (with a good friend in the role of Taplow—although he’s grown like 9 inches since then and developed a voice veering on the baritone, I can never quite get that squeaky little Freddie Highmore-esque boy out of my head). Perhaps truest to Rattigan’s original play by constraining the action to one setting, it has a very oppressive and unrelentingly cold air to it all. I most certainly prefer the 1951 version in terms of the whole stylistic approach and directorial flair (which this version is remarkably lacking in, but again staying true to its stage roots I guess), and even the 1994 version I feel has more of a distinctiveness about it.

Nevertheless, these incredibly subjective feelings aside, it is a very solid re-interpretation of the original. I would say Jean Kent and Judi Dench are just about on par as the adulterous wife (although I think Kent reaches the higher heights, Dench is much more consistent if somewhat less primeval in her impact), and Michael Kitchen is actually rather good and charming as Frank, far surpassing Nigel Patrick. And Ian Holm? Well, one thing I certainly can’t accuse Mr. Holm of doing is trying to ape Redgrave’s inimitable portrayal of the character, and rightly so. If anything, he seems to be deliberately going out of his way to conceive the character of Crocker-Harris in a manner different to any other I’ve ever seen, stage or screen. It’s an intensely physical approach Holm gives his performance; from the depiction of the man’s illness through how he constricts his vocal manner with his tough, coarse, almost aggressive delivery of his lines. I will say I would take Redgrave’s mellifluous, distancing diction every day of the week but I can certainly see what Holm is going for here, and it does work well in establishing his Crocker-Harris as a decidedly more assertive, tougher figure.

I would imagine Rattigan would have actually quite liked the sheer intensity of Holm’s barbed delivery and biting wit when dealing with Taplow. The way he raises his eyebrows and gesticulates with his spectacles, arches his mouth, all seem a long way away from Redgrave’s outwardly listless, inwardly heartfelt approach to teaching. We never actually get to see exactly how inadequate a teacher Crocker-Harris is in this version, again harkening back to the stage roots of ‘The Browning Version’. Holm’s performance, is therefore, full of implication of the life outside his home, and therefore I really can’t fault him too much for playing the role so close to the chest.

I’ve sounded a bit negative about Holm thus far but I can assure you, this stems purely from the comparison to Redgrave’s performance. Viewed by itself, Holm’s performance has moments of incredible power; while I do feel he could’ve perhaps given a little more in his speech about his former ‘success’ to his successor of the lament and regrets, when he denounces himself as an ‘utter failure’ there’s a sense of rage and fire boiling from within that actually works incredibly well in harmony with Holm’s characterisation. Also, his reaction to receiving the gift of Robert Browning’s translation of The Agamemnon is arguably on par with Redgrave’s in terms of the emotions it stirs, albeit in an entirely different way. His initial astounded expression is pitch perfect, and when he breaks into tears it is absolutely heartbreaking, and fitting to his more aggressively emotive performance. I must confess that this violent onslaught of emotions was somewhat painful to watch because Holm gives such a vivid portrayal of a man shattered by kindness; it’s a bit of a shame that he so quickly reverts back to his former barbed, emotionally shut down and coarse self since, I feel, the emotive aspects of Holm’s performance when he really lets loose, are his best.

When I first watched Holm’s performance as Crocker-Harris I must confess I was quite underwhelmed by his approach; but after comparing him alongside Redgrave, funnily enough though his weaknesses become all the more apparent, his willingness to distinguish himself from the landmark 1951 portrayal also makes his depiction all the more remarkable. I found this particularly evident in the scene where he muses to Frank aboutbeing ‘a subject for farce’ due to his henpecked husband predicament. Redgrave found power in just how shattered and done over by life he is, his quiet contemplation over the next few scenes setting up the finale of the film where he confronts how it all went wrong; Holm, on the other hand, finds power in the strength his character finds, a more overt strength that perhaps is less of a challenge than Redgrave’s more understated approach, but is nevertheless effective. His dynamic with Dench is pretty effective in showing Crocker-Harris’ gradual transition; in this production, the main focus is placed upon how Crocker-Harris finds the strength to stand up to his wife and the headmaster, not so much himself (as was the very internalised approach of Redgrave).

I cannot fault Holm for not having a final speech to himself since the original play did not have one either, and this links into the 1985 version being a rather faithful take on the original. Nevertheless when doing a head-to-head matchup one must take into account these things. And on one hand Holm’s lack of this final grandstanding moment in his performance does not lessen the original power he packs into it, on the other hand it just makes Redgrave’s performance resonate all the greater. I will say though this is a performance which simply grew upon re-watch. I will say that Ian Holm really takes the characterisation of Crocker-Harris as much out on a limb as is possible, it doesn’t work 100% for me but when it does, it works very well.

Watching Mike Figgis’ 1994 adaptation of ‘The Browning Version’ was a rather strange affair for me. I can’t say I quite know what it was going for, with the character of Laura in particular, getting Greta Saatchi (quite miscast) to act like an absolute bitch for like 90% of the film before giving her the most incredulous heel-face turn of 1994 (well, besides that whole deal with Butch in ‘Pulp Fiction’, but I guess if you’re Bruce Willis you pretty much have carte blanche to do as you please, contingent with characterisation or not). And um, Matthew Modine as a science schoolteacher…the fact that he’s an American isn’t really detrimental to the film as a whole (in fact he kind of reminded me of a Religious Studies teacher at my school, though not nearly as charismatic and exuding considerably less intelligent), but he’s also very much miscast. It’s quite odd that Figgis directed the acclaimed ‘Leaving Las Vegas’ just a year after this since in contrast ‘The Browning Version’ (1994) is such a messily handled affair, it does evoke a certain sense of time and place and the school grounds are beautifully shot by Jean-Francois Robin (at the cost of sometimes seeming a bit like a prestige documentary), but it’s definitely the weakest adaptation I’ve seen in terms of asserting what sort of film it wants to be—the updated setting is at times quite at odds with Rattigan’s script (although Ronald Harwood does his best), and at times it appears almost an odd combination of the 1951 and 1985 versions.

Albert Finney’s long and varied career has had one predominate recurring theme. From the ‘Angry Young Man’ of ‘Saturday Evening and Sunday Morning’, to the very bombastic theatre actor in ‘The Dresser’, or even his lighthearted charmers in ‘Big Fish’ and ‘Tom Jones’, all are extremely extroverted characters. I will get the negative out of the way first with Finney’s portrayal first. He doesn’t seem to quite fit Crocker-Harris physically as well as Holm and Redgrave do. He has a similar hulking, big physique as Redgrave does but is not nearly as good at diminishing himself into the non-entity that the Crock is, and looks rather wholesome for someone enduring a career-ending disease, this however is just a pretty minor reservation so far as reservations go, that he kinda lacks the extreme ‘nothingness’ the character requires.

I think Quentin Curtis, in his review for The Independent, puts it best. ‘Think of Finney—of his fondness for wine, women and race-horses—and you think of a bon viveur, rather than a corpse. Finney’s voice lacks the correct pedantic whine…too posed in his stiffness…coiled stillness of a heroic actor…a magnificent physical specimen’. I think in addition to this I have to note I just recently re-watched Finney’s excellent performance as the most badass of gangsters in the Coen Brother’s ‘Millers’ Crossing’, which probably didn’t help much in helping Finney disappear into the role of Crocker-Harris.

Finney’s natural screen presence is just so domineering that the rigidity of his portrayal becomes almost a sign of strength and power, not of weakness and subservience to the facts of life. I don’t find the lack of a ‘pedantic whine’ quite as detrimental as Curtis, since I do think Finney does try his best to nullify his usual bombastic delivery into something quite quiet, quite reserved. Still though, I got the sense even before watching the film that Finney was not perfectly cast, and that perhaps, say, Anthony Hopkins in Remains of the Day-cum-Shadowlands mode would have more effectively disappeared into the role.

Yet despite all these reservations and slight feelings of uncertainty to the nature of Finney’s casting, I must confess—his performance worked for me, completely. Not in the sense of a pitch-perfect performance like Redgrave’s, or even an interesting characterization like Holm’s. No, Finney’s performance worked solely because of the emotional chords he struck within me with his performance; working against a mostly messily scattershot film he somehow managed to find within it all the weight and dignity to Crocker-Harris’ gradual transition to a better man.

Since the film as a whole does quite resemble the 1951 version in terms of the sequence of events, I will focus here on specific moments that stood out in terms of how they diverged/differentiated from the portrayals of Redgrave and Holm. Firstly, in his final lesson with his Classics division, Finney takes a rather different tact from Redgrave by instilling his reading of the play with some rather rousing passion. Perhaps realizing that his natural screen presence was impossible to completely nullify onscreen, Finney chooses to imbued his Crocker-Harris with a certain sort of charm that really works quite well for the character, but merging it with perhaps the strictest, most coldest brand of discipline any Crocker-Harris I’ve ever seen has displayed, so as to not forego the emotional ineptitude of the character Rattigan conceived. It’s a very interesting take on the character which may not work for everyone, but it certainly did for me. Also Finney’s depiction of Crocker-Harris’ isolation from the world is equally interesting as he doesn’t show it to be the result of pure powerlessness in vein of Redgrave, or a strain of stubbornness and disillusion like Holm. No, Finney conveys a sense of unhappiness with himself that stems largely from a self-conscious shame—that Finney imbues the most domineering screen presence of all the Crocker-Harrises does not really matter since he blends it into his portrayl of a lonely man who knows that his tough, ironclad and intimidating exterior has scared off many a hopeful friend and companion amongst his pupils—bar one.

He is perhaps helped by an excellent performance by Ben Silverstone as Taplow (arguably the best interpretation of the character onscreen—if you’re reading this Hugh, I did say onscreen, my dear, onscreen), but Finney’s scenes with the young pupil is some of the best work he’s ever done. I’ve mentioned the ‘gift-giving’ scene so many times now that I need not mention the intrinsic power it has, but Finney’s execution of that single moment of realization, when the kindness of Taplow flows into his face and veins and sets it aglow with momentary joy, then melancholy, then sadness, then in his eyes a sense of hope that slowly begins to break his stoic barrier down, is perhaps the most emotionally impactful note of not just Finney’s performance, but of all the Crocker-Harris performances I’ve ever seen—it’s arguably the best handling of the scenes in all versions, yes, even Redgrave who’s in my top 10 performances of all time. In a few seconds Finney will send tears strumming down anyone’s cheeks—that’s a guarantee, folks.

I will say that the film slightly nullifies some of the play’s original impact by firstly focusing on some rather irrelevant subplots like Taplow’s encounters with a rather stock British bully, and also by the fact that the decision of Laura to leave her husband is by her own accord, removing Finney of an outlet for the quiet strength of his in the same way that Redgrave and Holm did, and putting a slight wrench in his performance. His final speech, however, is still a knockout despite the slightly saccharine, overly uplifting way in which it is handled. It does not quite have the depth and duality of Redgrave’s speech which was not only deeply moving, but also somewhat unsettling (intentionally so) in warning against letting promise and potential to go to waste, and also felt more personal than Finney’s speech, which is kind of used by the film in lieu of a rousing, emotional motivational speech. Nevertheless Finney handles it excellently, and despite having some pretty significant reservations about how Rattigan’s streak of pessimism is all but nullified by the inspirational nature of the ending, I will admit to being deeply moved by the well-warranted applause by the audience for Crocker-Harris, and more importantly the joy in Finney’s face and eyes at having done one right thing to make up for his failures. As I mentioned before the parting on good terms between himself and Scaccchi’s Laura does not really work for me either, but it is nicely handled enough I guess, and gives the ending a more hopeful, uplifting beat than the Holm version (though I’m sure Rattigan would have probably disapproved), though I do prefer the more melancholic route the 1951 version took that focused more on the relationship with Taplow.

Well this was a lot harder than I expected. I guessed (and was right in guessing) that Redgrave would end up top—after all, he’s in my top 10 best leading actor performances of all-time. I did not consider, however, how strong and therefore, how difficult to place/grade Finney and Holm would be. I will say that though both performances are very good performances I do have some reservations about both, but bringing them into comparison with Finney also serves only to heighten some of their strengths. Re-watching Holm gave me newfound insight into just how effective some parts of his performance was (which I’d previously overlooked); I was conflicted between a 4 and a 4.5 because even after re-watch I still don’t love his performance, rather I quite like it now, but I feel almost obliged to give him that extra .5 because of the daring approach he takes that pays off, and he is amazing when he really hits his stride. I was absolutely astounded too, by how great Finney’s performance was (which I had not been impressed by brief snippets I had seen before and was wholly prepared to be underwhelmed/dislike). I will say that I will for the time-being rank them in accordance with my very subjective, personal preference, but it’s subject to change after further re-watches:

1. Redgrave (5/5)
2. Finney (4.5/5, verging on a 5, the film holds him back a bit)
3. Holm (4.5/5)


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Tuesday 26 May 2015

Head-to-Head: The Batmans (Michael Keaton, Val Kilmer, George Clooney, Christian Bale)

I haven't quite had the time (and probably won't have) to get around to rewatching 'The End of the Affair' (1999) as of yet, so I thought just to appease everyone to post something brief I'd worked on a while ago about who, in my humble opinion, the best Batman is. I haven't seen Adam West yet but I'll try to do so ASAP. I have also chosen their best performance/only performance for each Batman/Bruce Wayne (note to Louis: I will probably do Bond in a similar manner) (GM: Sorry I shall do my best ASAP)

The Tim Burton Batman films have always held a special place in my heart. They're most certainly not perfect as I feel he does go overboard with some of his quirks, and some of their stylistic aspects do feel quite dated, but I do rather enjoy them as just plain entertaining comic book films.

'Batman Returns' is a very fine film in many respects and I will defend it to the death. It would be my Best Picture win for 1992 if not for 'Reservoir Dogs' and 'The Crying Game'. Kim Basinger is gone (phew), replaced by Michelle Pfeiffer as the definitive Catwoman/Selina Kyle (sorry Anne), who gives one of the sexiest, sultriest, alluringly deadly, and just plain entertaining portrayals of a villain ever. Also good is Danny DeVito who is every bit as uncouth as you'd expect as the criminal mastermind, although he does certainly overplay some moments; his penguin-isms may not work for everyone but they certainly did for me, and he's also unexpectedly moving when the film requires him to be. Add in a devious Christopher Walken and you might think, where'll Batman/Bruce Wayne end up amongst all this? 

Well unlike the first film where he occasionally was overshadowed by Nicholson's incredibly OTT portrayal, resulting in his performance being somewhat bland, here however Keaton seems more comfortable in the role. I won't say he's completely at ease yet in the action scenes as one should probably be as the Dark Knight, but what he does do well is show this very particular sort of Batman, one who's not averse to spilling a bit of blood here and there. Keaton's somewhat distant approach to both Bruce Wayne and Batman does well to emphasise both the quirky but perhaps more disillusioned billionaire, and the cold-blooded crusader.

What I do really like about Keaton's portrayal here is how he differentiates Wayne/Batman's approach to each major character he interacts with. With Michael Gough's Alfred, as always, they share this warm and rather loving bond that I've always thought a welcome respite from the otherwise moribund nature of the film; with Selina Kyle he's actually rather charismatic, and enjoyably deadpan as Batman, the two characters frissoning with sexual tension. With the Penguin I would say he's slightly overwhelmed by DeVito's bombasticness, but he still is good in showing the inherent sympathy for the villain yet also that determination to achieve the greatest good. And with Max Schreck he's just a likably straightforward crusader for justice. All in all while I don't love this performance, I still quite like it even though he is slightly overshadowed by the film and his co-stars.
'Batman Forever' is probably the least 'inspired'out of all the Batman films as it just doesn't seem to really have any sort of style of its own. Which isn't a bad thing I guess if you compare it to the 'style' of say, 'Batman and Robin'. Still it's a pretty bland experience throughout, any sort of potential from Two-Face and Riddler as villains is completely wasted by the rather glitzy, camp approach given to them both, and Robin is one hell of a dullard, Chris O'Donnell's performance doing nothing to help matters.

Val Kilmer follows much in the same vein of his film: uninspired. He's pretty bland and boy can you tell he's doing this one for the paycheck. I like Kilmer enough when he's on form in say, 'Kiss Kiss Bang Bang', or 'Tombstone', but here he doesn't show much of the talent he displays in those films. His Bruce Wayne is fairly charismatic, and I guess he handles himself in his fight scenes well enough. I just never feel like he goes that extra mile, or even few metres, for some sort of interesting take on the man and the legend. I can't even really accuse him of being boring because he's not really, but it's just that all he does is be fairly charming and fairly adept at kicking ass, and that's that. So good, but not much to write home about.
'Batman & Robin' is the more enjoyable of the two Joel Schumacher films--and not in a good way. Whereas there was extreme blandness (and some not very effective OTT from Jim Carrey) in 'Batman Forever', everyone seems to have forsaken any sort of self-respect and dignity in this installment. Schwarzenegger as Mr Freeze is unbelievably game to any degree of hamtastically bad dialogue, Uma Thurman is given even more trite lines but doesn't nearly have as much fun, Bane is just a wuss and O'Donnell is this time round bland to the point that he becomes funny.

George Clooney as Bruce Wayne/Batman actually seems to be trying his best to make his way out of the shitfest he's in. I have to give him quite a bit of credit actually for making his scenes with Alfred (Gough again) genuinely heartfelt, but I also have to take some marks away from his failure to make any sort of positive impression in his scenes as Batman. I actually didn't mind his Bruce Wayne at all even though it kinda is Clooney just doing Clooney, I'm no fan of him but hey he's doing it well enough. But as Batman he really is severely lacking any sort of intimidation factor nor conviction. So on one hand I appreciate that he tries to make something out of nothing of the dramatic beats in the film (however few there are), on the other hand he just doesn't really get in on the 'fun' of all the badness around him (which isn't necessarily a bad thing in itself) and can't really find his way into Batman (bad).
I love all three Nolan Batman films. 'The Dark Knight' is by far the best made film out of the three, and most certainly my Best Picture win for the year. 'Batman Begins' is also a very solid origins story and contains perhaps the second most rousing moment in the whole series with the first appearance of Batman. I chose not to review Bale in those two though for various reasons. One, though he's solid as always in 'The Dark Knight', he's kinda overshadowed by (naturally) Heath Ledger, Gary Oldman, Aaron Eckhart, and the film itself which is great in its sheer scope and intensity of vision, but which also at points kind of reduces Bale's Batman into just an action hero (which he's good enough at and does work for the film). He's very solid in 'Batman Begins' particularly in his transition of harnessing the darkness within him, but he's also fairly constant throughout and his arc as Bruce Wayne is kind of overshadowed by the whole Batman-dominant third-act.

'The Dark Knight Rises' is a film that is both incredibly flawed and incredibly well, incredible. A re-watch only solidifed some of the major reservations I have with it, namely: a certain character's death scene, Joseph Gordon-Levitt's pretty uninspired character and performance, that final twist with Marion Cotillard, the bomb...and yet its moments of brilliance are really, really some of my favourite Batman moments ever. Some of the choices Nolan makes aren't necessarily the best ones, but when he strikes gold he really strikes gold with some of the just plain epic moments in the series. I'll be mentioning some of them in a bit, but first off though Bane and Tom Hardy's character creation of him is tremendous. I shall probably be reviewing him some point in the future but there's a reason Hardy is in my opinion the best actor working today; he can make so much out of so very little.

Bale's not far off though (but he really needs to start picking some good films to star in, his recent track record hasn't been very good). I've always found Bale to be an incredibly invested, compelling onscreen presence no matter the role or film. From his masterful, incredibly complex portrayal of genius in 'The Prestige' to his incredibly assured child performance in 'Empire of the Sun' to his terrifyingly viscreal work in 'The Machinist' he's always a wonder to behold onscreen. 'The Dark Knight Rises' is no different as from the outset we are presented with a distinctly different Batman than we're used to seeing; downtrodden, out-of-shape, tired of life and limping. Bale is brilliant in these opening moments in showing how years of inactivity, and the machinations of the Joker, have taken their toll on Bruce Wayne. His very physical creation of Wayne's diminishing physicality works in perfect harmony with the listless manner he carries himself with.

Of course when the baddies come into the play, it's time for Bruce to take up the mantle once more, and Bale is very good in slowly building up to that point. It's not to sudden nor is it out of character, Bale shows it as just being something very natural to him to want to put things right. He merges this very well with a rather moving series of interactions with Alfred (Michael Caine, giving his best performance in the whole series). Both actors are tremendously good as always in showing that father and son bond between the two with hints of frustrations on noth sides; it's the little touches to Bale's performance, like the

Obviously we have badass Batman getting back into action which is all good and swell, but for me the highlights of this point in the film is his chemistry with Anne Hathaway's Selina Kyle. Together they're pretty darn entertaining and have wonderful chemistry, making their eventual partnership one of the most winning aspects of the film. Bale is very good in bringing just the right amount of sparring deadpan to his interactions with Hathaway, separating it well from his more understated approach to Levitt and Oldman, and his more straightforward heroic attitude towards Bane.

Bane's breaking of Batman is a great scene for Hardy, but what it sets up makes for the meat of Bale's performance, for me the highlight of the film, and the greatest heights the trilogy reaches. Bale is simply outstanding in the sheer intensity and pain he shows Bruce Wayne to be in, with not a hint of the Batman persona within him; completely broken, Bale conveys the inner turmoil of the man so effectively, that his eventual turnaround becomes all the more resonant. Technically speaking it's pretty improbable how anyone could possibly get back into shape in short span of time after such a heavy beating, but with Bale's excellent portrayal you don't really care. The best scene in the whole series, in my opinion, lies on Bale's shoulders as he escapes the prison; obviously the music, the way the whole scene plays out is incredibly rousing, but Bale's performance is what makes it all work with that understated yet uplifting strength he gives the role. It's this journey he shows in Bruce Wayne within such a short span of time that makes the somewhat messily structured ending of the film pack the emotional wallop it does; as incredulous as you are of Bruce Wayne's survival, you want it to be a reality due to the incredible power of Bale's portrayal.

1. Bale in The Dark Knight Rises (4.5/5, verging on a 5)
2. Bale in Batman Begins (4/5)
3. Keaton in Batman Returns (3.5/5)
4. Bale in The Dark Knight (3.5/5)
5. Keaton in Batman (3/5)
6. Kilmer in Batman Forever (2.5/5)
7. Clooney in Batman & Robin (2.5/5) (he would probably a low 2 if not for his scenes with Gough)

Also, my ranking of all the villains:

1. Heath Ledger (The Joker) in The Dark Knight (5/5)
2. Tom Hardy (Bane) in The Dark Knight Rises (4.5/5)
3. Michelle Pfeiffer (Catwoman) in Batman Returns (4.5/5)
4. Cillian Murphy (Scarecrow) in Batman Begins (4/5)
5. Anne Hathaway (Catwoman) in The Dark Knight Rises (4/5)
6. Aaron Eckhart (Harvey Dent/Two-Face) in The Dark Knight (4/5)
7. Danny Devito (The Penguin) in Batman Returns (3.5/5)
8. Jack Nicholson (The Joker) in Batman (3/5)
9. Liam Neeson (Ra'as Al Gul) in Batman Begins (3/5)
10. Jim Carrey (Riddler) in Batman Forever (2.5/5)
11. Arnold Schwarzenegger (Mr Freeze) in Batman & Robin (2/5)
12. Uma Thurman (Poison Ivy) in Batman & Robin (1/5)
13. Tommy Lee Jones (Two-Face) in Batman Forever (1/5)

Batman Wikia
imgbuddy.com
nytimes.com
slumz.boxden.com

Sunday 24 May 2015

Head-to-Head: Norman Bates and 'Psycho', Anthony Perkins/Vince Vaughn/Freddie Highmore

Anthony Perkins, Vince Vaughn, and Freddie Highmore all played/is playing Norman Bates in Psycho (1960), Psycho (1998), and Bates Motel (2013-) respectively. (SPOILERS)

'Psycho' (1960) is in my books an effective psychological horror flick, good but not great. I can already feel hellfire and accusations of blasphemy raining down upon me as I type, but I must confess to just not loving the film as most people/Hitchcock fans seem to. It has a terrific sense of atmosphere, and some brilliantly directed scenes, but the cumulative effect just never really adds up for me. I certainly would not call it Hitchcock's masterpiece (that's either 'Vertigo' or 'Saboteur' for me) since it is let down quite considerably by some of the supporting actors, I've never been enamoured with the whole third act, and that final psychiatrist's monologue does hurt it a bit. 

In contrast to most of the other cast members (with one glowing exception), who mostly just sort of stroll into the film and out of it without making much of an impact, Anthony Perkins enters the film and makes his presence both felt and not felt (if that makes any sense) with incredible ease. 'Not felt' in the sense that Norman Bates is an incredibly withdrawn, shy man. Perkins is incredibly good in the opening scenes theough his character creation of Norman as someone you could easily see being pushed around and berated by his mother, and having little to no day-to-day social interaction. Every little nervous tic, the way he reacts so eagerly yet awkwardly towards Marion Crane (Janet Leigh) and her friendly disposition, that soft, soft voice of his and his smile which strikes the perfect balance between the young man trying to make a good impression, and the confused man insecure about his attempts. It's a wonderful start to the performance as we learn so much yet also so little about who Norman is, since Perkins does not give the game away just yet.  

Leigh and Perkins have terrific chemistry and it is unfortunate how short-lived their dynamic is. We learn a bit more of what makes Norman what he is when he is discussing his hobby of taxidermy and his relationship with his mother, and it's amazing how he jumps from being a passionate animal-lover to a deeply disturbing mommy's boy without ever lpsing sense of who Norman is. Perkins rightly maintains Norman as an enigma, but one who feels his defences broken down gradually by Marion. Leigh's tenderness works incredibly well in first bringing out the soft side of Norman before bringing it back over the edge with his love-hate relationship with his 'mother'. The way he talks about 'Mother' is so unsettlingly viscreal, from his trembling voice to his fearful eyes with a tinge of venom in them that you can almost feel the very presence of the woman herself. Perkins makes both the odd and quirky Norman, and the unsettling and quite possibly deranged Norman, a realistic character and yet a highly enigmatic one, especially in contrast with the straightforwardness of Leigh's great performance.

Well once Leigh leaves the picture, in my books so does any potential for true greatness in the film. Her death scene is effectively jarring and Perkins' reactions in that scene are great as he makes such a strange and disturbing figure oddly sympathetic. He shows the guilt and fear of Norman so viscerally that despite having become so attached to Marion Crane, we almost root for him to get away with disposing of her body. Afterwards however, I kind of feel all the potential of Perkins' characterisation is kinda thrown out of the window, for various reasons. 

Firstly he is not really given anyone else to work with.  Vera Miles and John Gavin unfortunately become the focus of the film for much of the latter second act, and the third act, and they are rather dull. Martin Balsam as Aborgast is actually rather good and strikes a pretty interesting dynamic with Perkins in their one scene together, his casual yet forceful approach working well alongside Perkins' slowly crumbling facade of cheeriness. Unfortunately his performance is cut short, no pun intended, though the viscreal impact of his departure is amazing, though I have to credit Hitchcock more than Perkins for that. Secondly, Perkins kind of just starts to go round with his characterisation in cocentric circles by the second half, he continues to put the audience off with his secretive, unsettling nature but it's not nearly given as much dramatic heft as his first half of his performance. The enigma is too distanced from the audience to let Perkins to find new ways of showing the underlying madness of Norman till the very end.

The twist, I feel, of Norman and 'mother' being one person is not one of my favourite Hitchcockian twists since it is fairly rushed and overly expositioned. It's not perfectly executed, even though I like the idea behind it, and Perkins handles it well. It makes sense alongside his performance thus far, though he's not given enough time to truly shine in all his revealed deparavity. Instead of the psychiatrist's monologue I definitely would have much preferred a longer extension of Perkins' final scene, since at the end of the film I felt like Perkins had definitely succeeded in shocking me, but there was potential for more. His final reaction shot from confusion to his 'mother' persona is great though, shame about those sequels which failed to build on from this interesting case of dual identity.

In the end, I feel Perkins gives a great performance in the first half of his performance, and lays the necessary seeds for the final reveal. However after that shocking first twist he's not given nearly enough to do other than just continue being creepy and unsettling which is a shame, but this is still a mostly impressive, occasionally amazing performance which reaches great heights, though he can't quite maintain them.

Psycho (1998) is one of the more pointless remakes ever, as it is basically a shot by shot recreation of the of the original. Gus Van Sant is not one of my favourite directors but I don't usually mind his films as they are all usually interesting one way or the other, despite his very milquetoast approach to direction (I do enjoy 'Elephant' and 'Good Will Hunting' quite a bit) but the sheer blandness of this film really fails to give me any sort of enjoyment, whatsoever. Not even in a 'so bad it's good', 'The Room'-esque manner. I guess one good thing about it is Julianne Moore in a very thankless role, who I actually found rather good and a considerable improvement over Vera Miles.

What Vince Vaughn does here with Norman Bates is that he tries to play the EXACT same notes as Perkins did with his performance. It's so glaringly obvious that Van Sant's attempt to mimic each shot of Hitchcock's scenes necessitated Vaughn to copy Perkins, and it's not a seamless transition at all. I guess like Perkins he seems off in every scene, but in a different way; whereas Perkins' Bates manner was slowly revealed to be off-putting through his gradual characterisation of Norman, Vaughn just doesn't seem comfortable in his own skin from the very start. As in he seems almost like one of those aliens from 'Invasion of the Body Snatchers' taking over Vince Vaughn's body, or Vince Vaughn from 'Swingers' being filmed on a drunken prank by Jon Favreau.

Vaughn just fails at not only being creepy, but being interesting at all. By trying to mimic Perkins' performance he really can't make anything worthy of discussion come out of the role, since he basically enforces unflattering comparisons by he and Van Sant's approach. Vaughn can be a good actor, as he's shown in 'Thumbsucker'; but he is firstly just so incredibly miscast, and secondly takes on the role in such a dull manner, that really I see no reason to go on discussing his performance. It's that dull.

I rather love 'Bates Motel'. Its first few episodes do take a while to really get going but once it starts turning the suspense and psychological elements up it becomes a pretty fascinating exploration of two very fascinating characters.

Freddie Highmore, known best for his endearingly sweet child performances in the likes of 'Finding Neverland', 'Charlie and the Chocolate Factory', imbudes some of that sweetness into his rather adroably awkward character conception of Norman Bates. He's polite, affable to others, and quite winning actually in how shy yet eager he is to make a good impression on the inhabitants of the new neighbourhood he's moved into. It's definitely the most slight aspect of his portrayal of Bates but he handles it rather well.

The other side of his performance is his intensely strong bond to his mother, Norma (Vera Farmiga). The two actors work incredibly well with one another in conveying this very specific type of love, one which is warm yet of-putting. What's remarkable is that they really do take very contrasting styles to their approaches--Farmiga is more overt, Highmore understated--yet together they mesh perfectly. Highmore is great in showing that unlike his brother Dylan, he is very much a mummy's boy, which lies at the root of all his psychological problems--and one of the great things about television is that time is permitted from this transition from underlying madness to full-blown psychopathy. I particularly love how Highmore, in the third season, begins to gain the upper hand in his relationship with Norma and gradually begins to assert himself, but still retains weakness and subservient hints of some greater affection, which Farmiga shows very well with the sheer intensity of her overbearing portrayal.

At the beginning of the show Highmore is actually uncannily reminiscient of Perkins in how he pays heed unquestioningly to every command of his mother's. 'Bates Motel' is not canonical with the original but it would certainly work as such, as Highmore's individualistic style both works as its own, and as a foreboding sense of what's to come. One reservation I do have with the show is that it's supporting characters/subplots aren't quite interesting enough to measure up to the central relationship, but it only goes to show the strength of Highmore and Farmiga's portrayals that their interactions with the townspeople always bring a bit more out of them.

The Oedipal complex in 'Bates Motel' is handled incredibly well as it takes quite a while for it to ne explicitly stated. Highmore is great in showing fleeting glimpses of sexual frustration towards Norma, and gradually finds his way into a fuller realisation of just how messed up Norman Bates really is. In the episode, 'The Last Supper', when he finally is questioned directly about his attraction to his mother, his reaction is absolutely pitch perfect. The love he conveys is incredible in that it's wholly creepy and yet, oddly tragic; Highmore approaches these mostly silent scenes of repressed lust so amazingly well that you can't help but kind of feel for him. It's in those silent glares and hollowness of his voice when handling his jealousy with his mother's lovelife that Highmore shines most brightly. He is suitably creepy but also incredibly sympathetic.

Of course when talking about Norman Bates we have to talk about killing, and interestingly enough Highmore is the only Bates we actually get to see kill someone onscreen. In this respect Highmore is amazing. The first season is essentially a slow-burn towards Norman's first kill, the second and third a depiction of the ensuing fallout (and a lot more killing). The killer within him is slowly brought out by Highmore that when he does kill in defence of his mother it completely makes sense, but his viscerally amazing depiction of pure fury and later, anguish, in his murder (s) is amazing. The dual personality of Norman/mother is played perfectly by Highmore as a facet, but not all-encompassing, of his insanity, and it is amazing to see how he strikes the perfect note between an uncontrollable madness that stems from his Oedipal attraction, and a more measured, cold-blooded and assertive psychopath who learns to kill with increasing efficiency.

Well there goes, my comparisons of the three portrayals of Norman Bates I've seen. I must confess that Highmore's review is incomplete in the sense that 'Bates Motel' has yet to reach its full conclusion. So if he really fucks up in the latter stages of his transition into the Norman Bates we know and well, um...then the standings might change. But I doubt it. Highmore's portrayal of Bates' conflicting impulses and his gradual progression from insecurity to jealousy to madness, which could easily have been too scattershot but in his hands is pure brilliance, and I would say that he does have an incredibly fascinating arc to explore, something which Perkins does not have. Although don't get me wrong I think Perkins is great too. It's just that he does not nearly have as much he can do with the role.

1. Highmore (5/5)
2. Perkins (4.5/5, verging on a 5)
3. Vaughn (1/5)

Next Up, my next major Head-to-Head will probably be with Deborah Kerr and Julianne Moore, 'The End of the Affair' (though I need a bit of time to find/re-watch the 1999 version first), I may do another smaller set of reviews before that though from Luke, Louis and GM's recommendations.

Photo credits:
Wikipedia
cinemajam.com
pixshark.com


Head-to-Head: Celia Johnson v.s. Sophia Loren, 'Brief Encounter' 1945/1974

Celia Johnson and Sophia Loren both played Ms (Laura/Anna) Jesson in 'Brief Encounter', in David Lean's 1945 version and Alan Bridges' 1974 version, respectively (P.S. for the sake of convenience, I will refer to both actresses by their real names only throughout as the name-change really does not matter much, it was possibly done only to take into account the Italian background of Loren)


                         (Left) Sophia Loren as Anna Jesson (Right) Celia Johnson as Laura Jesson

Even prior to watching the 1974 version of 'Brief Encounter' I was pretty certain that it would take an AMAZING performance to even think of challenging Celia Johnson's definitive performance, not just as Laura Jesson, but as the embodiment of a truly great lead performance: one which not only dominates the film but literally seeps throughout it, so in control of the film while still being contingent within it. Never a huge star, Johnson's filmography is comparatively small in contrast to many of her 1940's contemporaries who would go onto bigger productions in the Hollywood scene, but within her brief career (which she forsook for concentrating on her family life, acting taking a secondary place to that and stage work), she made the most out of every performance. In her first substantial role in 'In Which We Serve' she basically steals the film away from acting heavyweights Coward and Mills with her heartfelt, poignant portrayal of a woman impacted by war, goes against type marvellously in 'This Happy Breed', a wonderfully deadpan figure in the delightful 'The Captain's Paradise', and her outstanding supporting work to Maggie Smith in 'The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie'. In contrast, I must confess to being unfamiliar with a large part of Loren's work. I thought she was very good in 'A Special Day', and 'Marriage Italian Style', both films where she shared the screen with the excellent Marcello Mastroianni, but besides those two I really have not seen her in much. This however does not really matter when evaluating two performances in themselves together.

It is 'Brief Encounter' Celia Johnson's former collaborators Coward and Lean--who had worked with her on 'In Which We Serve' and 'This Happy Breed'--sought her talents to play the great role of Laura Jesson. Johnson deserves to be placed among Peter O'Toole in 'Lawrence of Arabia', Daniel Day-Lewis in 'There Will Be Blood', Marion Cotillard in 'La Vie en Rose', James Stewart in 'It's a Wonderful Life', Vivien Leigh in 'Gone With the Wind', and Toshiro Mifune in any of his lead roles, as a great example of how an actor/actress can take hold of the silver screen and fully earn the camera's love. She was born to play the role, something that cannot be said for Loren, whose stiff, unnatural handling of both her character is just...uncomfortable, from the outset. Dr Harvey's comment on how she seems to 'try to be very English to me' is an unwittingly spot-on description of just how silly Loren sounds trying to act like a British housewife; an explanation is given as to the origins of her accent, but the film really cheats this point by also trying to mould her into a woman of her environment, an embodiment of the British middle-class lady. Which she really isn't; I have to say, I could never get past the glamorous, movie star Loren being not only a housewife, but also a professional woman.

I don't think Loren fares nearly as badly as Burton firstly because she does put some sort of life to her character. In fact, I do find her fairly endearing in some portions of the film, particularly in her scenes with her husband (although it's problematic that she has more chemistry with him than her illicit lover), The only problem with her charm I guess is that it feels much too exotic, an approach that works wonders with the other work I've seen from her but which makes her a bit too, as I said, glamorous. In terms of stylistic approach, Johnson is miles ahead of establishing the vary particular position of a lady in dilemma; as I've mentioned before, she has perhaps the benefit of a recurring voiceover narration. Then again, this could also have been a major minus point on her behalf, as narration can sometimes comes across as wholly unnecessary (see 'The Killing'), incredibly dull (see Kevin Costner + 'Dancing with the Wolves'), or just very 'meh' and not add very much to the film.

Johnson's voicework adds so much to the tapestry of the film precisely because she delivers it in such a manner that is most dialogic and realistic, like she's really talking to us/her husband. It feels wholly natural that Laura would be relaying these thoughts internally due to her reserved nature, but the narration really flourishes also as an added layer to Johnson's portrayl. Loren, on the other hand, has to make do with a series of subplots that don't really go anywhere. She actually plays them about as well as anyone could possibly do with the dire dialogue and damnably boring co-stars, but she's still very much miscast in a very particular sort of role.

Johnson as I mentioned fits perfectly into the tapestry of the film, but beyond that she does even more than just being lovely and polite. Early on in her performance she shows hints of boredom with her family life and husband Fred, particularly with the latter, and I really do love how she and Cyril Raymond generate this sort of amiable dynamic between the two which shows that passion is waning, but their affection hasn't yet. Loren and her onscreen husband unfortunately go for the more standard route of 'love is lost, we're here for the kids', although I have to admit they're Tristan and Isolde compared to Burton's poor excuse of a love interest.

As the relationship between herself and Dr Harvey progresses, we get to the main meat of Celia Johnson's performance which is suffice to say, effortlessly wonderful stuff. Lean basically takes what she did so well in 'In Which We Serve'--those subtle longing looks of affection and regret, insecurities brimming in her eyes, anguish at having deceived her family--and makes it the heart of his film. And she is marvellous, especially at showing how her neuroses are intertwined with her joys of spending time with Alexlc.

Loren does her best but can't quite make good on her claim that 'every second is agony'. At least, not in the way I assume the film intended, as some scenes she seems more tormented by Burton's lack of interest with her, than any sort of burgeoning passion that Johnson does with aplomb. In fact, I will say that one single reaction shot of Johnson's, after she's been on the phone to a friend over a 'white lie'; her realisation that perhaps she's gone much too far is so beautifully conveyed through her poignantly haunted expression, her inwards glancing. In a mere few seconds she brings more weight to the affair than Loren does in a whole film, though I can't blame her wholly for that.

I've always found that the last 20 minutes of romance films are what makes or breaks them for me. The 1974 version ends on a very sour note for me because it's handled in such an undignified, rather crude way, and there's not much sense of a departure on either side of the affair. Loren, as she watches Burton's train ride away, shows a sadness that unfortunately is not well-earnt, at all. Johnson on the other hand, handles her story's end fabulously. Walking around town late at night pondering her future, hearing of Dr Harvey's departure, her final moments with him are so quietly moving, not in a Richard Burton sort of way, but by having set up the magnitude of their love before, impacts the viewer deeply with the tragic now.


And that face. Externally her last few minutes of her performance are almost completely silent. Within a few seconds she runs the whole range of disappointment, depression, and pragmatic realisation of her need to survive. She doesn't know what kept her from killing herself, she states, but the audience knows: it is strength of her character, of the underlying sort which she showed through her selfless love for others and not just her own affective pursuits, which Johnson bookends her performance beautifully, turning the downer end of the affair into a hopeful future ahead. Her final reconciliation with her husband Fred really strikes a chord as we feel the enormity of her internal journey hitting us right in the moment. Whereas with Loren it all just ends like another day, another two people reconciling. Loren is destitute and broken enough I guess, but not much more beyond that. Realistic enough I guess, but makes you wonder: I sat through all that, for THAT?

The unfortunately cast Loren tries her best and unlike Burton does make some sort of impact, but I can't, simply can't, deny an undeniable performance. Therefore, my results are as such:

1. Celia Johnson (5/5) 
2. Sophia Loren (2.5/5)

Next up: I'll give it some thought, but Louis, Luke and GM have all made some excellent recommendations.

Photo Credits:
https://fanwithamovieyammer.wordpress.com
https://thestorytellinghour.files.wordpress.com/2012/11/celia_johnson_brief_encounter1.jpg
http://www.lorenarchives.com/film_1974_brief_encounter.html

Monday 18 May 2015

Head-to-Head: Trevor Howard v.s. Richard Burton, 'Brief Encounter' 1945/1974


Trevor Howard and Richard Burton both played Dr Alec Harvey in 'Brief Encounter', in David Lean's 1945 version and Alan Bridges' 1974 version, respectively



 

I can think of no better starting point for my head-to-head match-ups than this thoroughly one-sided affair. Before moving on into the waters of adaptations/interpretations of the same characters and stories with equal merit, it seems only fitting to firstly examine how, and why, some 'remakes' of classic characterizations can go so, so very wrong...

Nowadays David Lean is more known for his large-scale epics 'The Bridge on the River Kwai', 'Lawrence of Arabia', and 'Dr. Zhivago'; and indeed, these a great films, wonderfully directed with Lean's all-encompassing flair, and featuring some unforgettable performances. Unfortunately, their claims to cinematic posterity has had the unintended effect of unfortunately overshadowing some of the smaller-scale, but no less sterling work done in the fringes of these epics. To name but a few--his faithful yet incredibly individualistic adaptations of Dickens' 'Great Expectations' and 'Oliver Twist'; the enjoyable comedy 'Hobson's Choice' which shows an entirely different side to his abilities, without eschewing his usual cinematic verve; and hidden gems 'The Sound Barrier' and 'The Passionate Friends' which provide fine showcases for the great Ralph Richardson and Claude Rains, to name but a few.

Among them all, however, 'Brief Encounter' (1945) is the one that holds a very special place in my heart; and is, without question, one of my favourite films of all time. Based on Noël Coward's one-act play 'Still-Life' (and adapted by the famed playwright himself), it depicts your typical 1940's British suburban housewife, Laura Jesson (Celia Johnson), whose highly conventional life is thrown into a flux when, by a chance 'brief encounter' she meets Dr Alec Harvey (Trevor Howard). Lean had worked with Coward and Johnson previously on 'In Which We Serve' (1942), which was an effective enough WWII propaganda piece, if a little overbearing in the notes it hits, perhaps, and led by a strangely muted lead performance from Coward himself. In this tale of repressed romance and respectability, however, each of the trio found themselves completely in their element. The flashback structure, the lighting, the employment of closeups and lighting to bring out adaptational intimacy and grandeur...all coalesce into a most incredible cinematic experience, Lean's unique vision merging with treading over the well-worn territory of forbidden love Coward's dialogic blend of wit and world-weariness. As for Johnson...I'll get onto her later, but I can say without hesitation that her impeccably moving work is my #1 female leading performance of all-time.

'Brief Encounter' (1974) is most certainly NOT one of my favourite films of all-time. To put it bluntly, it's a remarkably unremarkable film of its sort. A melodrama that plays its notes too quietly to the point of blandness. I guess it avoids the pitfalls of over the top, hammy acting that sometimes comes with films of these sorts; but on the other hand, everything becomes dreadfully dull, one of those films which raises a resounding 'why', and little more to say beyond that. Whereas the 1945 version found within repression and reserve a slowly brimming surge of emotions, Sophia Loren is simply not up to task with conveying any sort of transition from the initial quietude, and is INCREDIBLY miscast as Anna (not Laura here) Jesson...but more about that later. Suffice to say, where sparks flew in David Lean's masterpiece, this version keeps everything much too muted for its own good.

                                   

'Muted', I think, is a good way to start off describing Richard Burton's performance--and by muted I don't mean it in a good, quiet, Robert Duvall in 'Tender Mercies' sort of way. He's so incredibly quiet in how he plays Dr Alec Harvey, that it seems like he's almost phoning it in.In 'Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf' he actually initially uses a similarly quiet approach to his performance in 'Brief Encounter' to character creation, but there it actually made sense for the meek professor character of George. His method of underplaying there worked effectively with his well-earned outbursts over the course of the film, although I felt he could have brought a bit more to the savage intellect of the attacks on Martha (Elizabeth Taylor), which original Edward Albee choice James Mason could've probably done splendidly (think a more dispassionate, more calculating Humbert Humbert). But I digress. He's good there, and in that this approach of his works for the lack of passion and life to his character.

'Who's Afraid of Virginia Wolf' shows that it's entirely possible for Burton give a performance that's both understated and has resonance with the viewer, but Burton's approach in 'Brief Encounter' is flawed from the outset.  I have to confess, I've never really felt Burton's reputation as one of the all-time British acting greats to be entirely deserved. He had a rather good run of films in the 1960's, including two very well-deserved Oscar nominations which I will mention next; but most of the time I find him either overshadowed (in 'Becket' by his drinking buddy Peter O'Toole, in 'My Cousin Rachel' by Olivia de Havilland--granted he has the less flashy role in both) or unnecessarily hammy (his rather amateurish take on Henry VIII in 'Anne of the Thousand Days', his hilariously overblown failure at holding together a Biblical epic in 'The Robe'). His take on the 'Angry Young Man' in 1958's 'Look Back in Anger' was well-received, but I don't think he ever reaches the heights of say, Tom Courtenay in 'The Loneliness of the Long-Distance Runner', or Albert Finney in 'Saturday Night and Sunday Morning'. More importantly, towards the end of his career he committed the cardinal sin of taking roles in bad films (not a sin in itself) and really, really phoning it in for a large number of them (though he had a decent enough swansong in '1984'). He was a very good actor, but in my view, not one of the greats.

The problem with his take on Dr Alec Harvey is this very strength of the aforementioned two performances. When he first comes into Anna Jesson's life--to help pick out a piece of grit in her eye--Burton is so nonchalant about it all that it doesn't really make sense how this 'brief encounter' would resonate with Anna at all. His entrance is just so lifeless in the way Burton almost mumbles his lines, that I would argue he makes even less of an impression than, say, the lady serving Anna her tea, or her husband Graham (Jack Hedley). The fact that Burton's Alec Harvey is so much more charmless and forgettable than the supposed dullard of a husband immediately puts a nail in the coffin for Burton's performance. You can't develop a character into an object of desire, no matter how gradually the progression will take, if you can't bring any sense of passion and charm to your initial appearance. Burton could be charming, as he showed in 'Taming of the Shrew' (where he was surprisingly quite a hoot as Petruchio), so it's confusing why he didn't instill some of that here. He's not horrible like he was in, say, 'The Robe', or 'Exorcist II' (shudder), but he's just...dull.

Trevor Howard, on the other hand, from his very first (chronological) appearance, opts for a very different approach. He really emphasises the 'doctor' side of Alec with the compassion he shows when tending to the grit in Laura's eye. Howard, throughout his career, was perhaps most well-known for playing gruff characters, embodied most through perhaps his most famous role in the Graham Greene-cum-Carol Reed noir masterpiece 'The Third Man' (1949); the world-weary, haunted authority figure of Major Calloway is a great example of how Howard could turn what was, in essence, an expositionary role (and an authoritarian figure, no less) into a fascinating, witty, and at times deeply affecting portrait of a man just trying to enforce what's right and just. Underrated throughout most of his career, Howard always gave his everything in every role, from his grandstanding lead turn as a moral degenerate in 'Outcast of the Islands' (1951) to a small but very effective cameo in 'Ghandi' (1982) as a judge with more than meets the eye. He was somewhat limited in many of his roles where he played the 'straight man' but nevertheless gave effective performances in the likes of 'Green for Danger' and 'I See a Dark Stranger', where he facilitates the more showy work of Alistair Sim and Deborah Kerr; he does a similar thing here with Celia Johnson, adding even more layers to her terrific performance with his masterfully crafted work.

                                           

Dr Harvey's kindness is simple work by Howard, but the tenderness he shows in Alec Harvey from the outset should not be overlooked--he easily could have come across as overbearing or even somewhat creepy/caddish with the enthusiasm he has towards helping Laura, but Howard is way, way too good an actor to let this happen. His warm presence immediately sparks a great dynamic between himself and Celia Johnson as they are just so well-suited immediately from the very start, unlike Burton and Loren who looked decidedly uncomfortable in the presence of one another from start to end. Another thing Howard does so well, that is also so often overshadowed by the complexities of Celia Johnson's brimming love for Dr Harvey, is the essential gentility and easygoing manner with which Howard approaches his role.

It's interesting to note that both he and Burton were more known for playing the brusque, blunt sorts more than the charming romantic leads, but whereas Burton seemed to really struggle in trying to set up any sort of chemistry (admittedly difficult with the stiff, unnatural Loren), Howard simply flourishes. I appreciate that perhaps Burton's intent all along was to present Dr Harvey as a cold presence from the beginning, shy and reticent; but as I said, it just doesn't work for me. Beyond his first appearance, when he re-encounters Loren, Burton's manner of blunt, gruff direct questioning and muttering over her life is ever so slightly unsettling (surely not the intent?). Howard, on the other hand, has perhaps the benefit of a (much, much, much) better screenplay which doesn't ladle him with dull declarations that 'life is really dangerous business'. His first re-encounter with Celia Johnson is marvelous in how he seems to slowly seep not only into her life but through the whole film; when Laura states that she had no 'premonitions' because it all seemed so 'natural, so innocent', you both believe her as you see two lovely people so at ease with chatting away to one another. I particularly like his delivery of 'would you mind, very much, if I came to the pictures with you?' In the wrong hands this may have come across as an indecent, thoroughly inappropriate proposition; in Burton's hands he would have perhaps delivered with brevity, served with a coldness more fitting to the somber darkness of Alec Leamas; but in Howard's hands it is a beautifully balance of charm, hopefulness, and the hints of an understated, growing passion.

Back to the 'doctor' aspect of both characters. Burton's character, when asked about why he's a doctor, says he doesn't know. It's a strange direction to take a character who should be the driving force of the relationship, to make him so incredibly directionless in his profession; Burton's performance is so clenched and forced that really, the best medicine for one another would be for the two to take a breather from one another. He just feels like he's tiredly reciting out words of a doctor's handbook; and again, not all the blame can be placed onto Burton as clearly some of the writing is at fault here. I hate having to continuously undermine the attempts of the writers of the 1974 version to take a different tact in portraying Dr Alec Harvey, but suffice to say they put it on themselves through even daring to remake this! Anyway, making Alec into a stiff robotic bore of a doctor who looks anything but at home when talking about his profession (when he declares that there's 'nothing wrong with a little relaxation', one almost chuckles at the irony when listening to Burton roll off medical terms uncomfortably off his tongue) may well be a 'different' way of approaching the character, but it just doesn't jive with me. Alan Bridges seems to be going for a less romanticized view of the world here; but he seems to forget that while it's all good to infuse realism into melodrama, the script and actors must be up to task to making it seem natural. Suffice to say, Burton's wooden delivery of what is supposed to be his passion in life does him no favours.

In both films, it can be argued that neither Burton nor Howard are actually the 'lead' insofar as the female characters of Loren and Johnson have a much stronger perspective, and particularly in the case of Howard the male figures of the film are always viewed from a female perspective. In particular, the 1945 version employs Celia Johnson's mellifluous, perfectly enunciated delivery for a first person voice-over that does wonders for establishing the inner conflicts of her mind with the outer reserve she maintains. Which leaves, however, Howard with pretty much a 'supporting' role to Johnson's performance, but he never lets it seem that way. One sequence in the film where Howard does indeed dominate the screen is one of the few instances where the focus of the camera fixates solely upon him. David Lean and Robert Krasker's exceptional work on the use of close-ups throughout the film is simply exceptional, and in this scene Howard makes great use of a hint of his natural domineering screen presence as he implores Laura that it's time to stop being sensible, and to truly, passionately act upon their passions. Howard here is magnificent in showing how Laura has changed his life with each and every subtle gesture he makes. He asks whether he see her again with such longing and genuine conviction, that stands in stark opposition to Burton who murmurs 'next week' as an appointment no more important than a trip to the grocer's.
                 

Burton, though the film often strays away from him in terms of numerous (quite dull) subplots taking up a fair bit of time, actually has a scene to himself away from Loren, with his wife (Ann Fairbank), a dullard literary critic. I will say that in this scene Burton's stoic approach actually works for once in showing how his relationship with his wife has withered into nothingness; it's nothing incredible, but it works well enough in establishing the tired, passionless nature of the man. Only thing is, then, if the dynamic between he and Loren is so equally listless as that with his wife, then 'why', why the affair? The relationship suddenly seems to hinge too much upon Loren's exotic good looks and becomes almost artificially cold...not what you want from any sort of melodrama, good or bad.

                                                             
                                                             
Another crucial scene for both performances is the near-consummation of the affair by both parties. I know I'm being nitpicky here, but quite frankly Loren and Burton exude none of the passion exuded by Howard and Johnson in a far less 'sexual', yet infinitely more intimate scene. I won't even bother posting a picture of the highly uncomfortable-to-watch almost-sex scene in the 1974 version, but I will put in a screenshot of one of the most passionate moments in the 1945 version where, Laura and Alec, retreating into the latter's flat, finally lay bare their hidden desires...almost. Howard is an absolute charmer yet, as I stated before, most certainly not a cad; unlike Burton, when confronted with the errors of his ways, does little more than just stand around and act without much remorse, not even when Loren cries that she feels 'exposed, like a prostitute', Howard's more defensive stance when confronted by a colleague over his adultery does well to differentiate from the usual trope by imbuing a strong sense of guilt and conflicting morality to his performance; he still believes in love, but alas, also understands finally that it cannot be. His seeking of forgiveness from Johnson for 'causing you so much misery' always breaks my heart not by how heartfelt, and how genuine Howard's anguished, final overt declaration of love and care is played so delicately. His exit from the film is absolutely devastating for the viewer as the shattering inadequacy of Laura's existence becomes all the more prevalent by the loss of his kind nursery; while when Burton leaves, he just leaves, almost brushing off Loren, and neither party earns the conclusion the 1974 film wants us to experience; there is an emotional disconnect to the end of the affair, an awry end note to a film if I ever saw one.
                                   

I admit, it seems almost unfair to do a head-to-head encounter between one of (in my opinion) the greatest romances of all time with what was degraded by many critics as a disastrous re-hash of something that didn't need to be remade. But really, I do think comparing Burton's wholly uninspired work does so much to bring out exactly what's so brilliant about Howard's, a performance which has unfortunately been often neglected by critics and audiences for its part in making 'Brief Encounter' (1945) such a great film. Perhaps Robert Shaw, the original choice for the 1974 remake, may have brought more style and impact to the role--after all, he was by far the more versatile and exciting actor of the two, and was on a great roll in the late-60's to early 70's with scene-stealing supporting roles in 'A Man for All Seasons', 'The Taking of Pelham 1 2 3', 'The Sting' and of course 'Jaws', and a hugely underrated romantic lead turn in 'The Hireling'. However, I'm doubtful that even the talents of Shaw could have salvaged the train wreck of the 1974 version and its portrayal of Dr Alec Harvey. Therefore, the victor of this match-up is:

1. Trevor Howard (4.5/5 as a lead role, 5/5 as supporting)
2. Richard Burton (1.5/5)

Next up, 'Head-to-Head: Celia Johnson v.s. Sophia Loren, 'Brief Encounter' 1945/1974

Photo credits:
http://www.gonemovies.com/WWW/Drama/Drama/BriefAlec.asp
https://movieclassics.wordpress.com/2008/11/11/brief-encounter-1974/
https://gorillafilmmagazineblog.wordpress.com/tag/trevor-howard/

Sunday 10 May 2015

Introduction to Blog

'Different Strokes for Different Folks'; just about as pithy a title I could think up of for this new (hopefully fruitful) satiating of my critical inhibitions. What's it all about? Well, first off, allow me to meander for awhile.

I've always been fascinated by the mediums of film, of novel, the transition from one to another through adaptation. And indeed, the next step of variations from one film version to another; different interpretations through adaptation. All of which is good for many a ponderous trawling through countless versions of effectively the same stories, treading and re-treading the same themes with effectively, different strokes for different folks.

Partially as a means of ordering my thoughts, partially a way of embracing the medium of nabbing readership in the modern-day world, and wholly centered around a desire to spit out what's on my mind and (hopefully) providing some interest among anyone who chances upon this blog, I've decided to start this blog. http://actorvsactor.blogspot.co.uk is not a URL I'm entirely happy as of yet as it only encompasses the preliminary sketch of what I'm aiming for here; but it'll do, for the time-being.

What will it involve? Well, as a starting point, I'm going to be doing a series of head to head adaptational matchups. Essentially a fancy way of describing how I'll critically review/analyse multiple adaptations/remake of a particular story (i.e. comparing the 1951 and 1970 Christmas Carol stories, the Olivier and Branagh adaptations of Henry V and Hamlet, the 1969 and 2010 versions of True Grit, etc.) In my amateurish exploits as an aspiring theatre critic, my main interest has been analysing the specific actors themselves; so this is the route I'm going to take at first (i.e. who plays the best Heathcliff, Elizabeth Bennett, George Smiley etc.). Though somewhere along the line as I (hopefully) improve the scope of my writing we'll move onto bigger and better things.

So what's the format of these match-ups going to be like? I'll be doing a little trial run in a bit, but effectively, I'll be pitting different actors' performances against one another and declaring a victor between the two. Look out for my next post, where I'll be posting my thoughts on who wins out in the casts of the 1945 and 1974 adaptations of 'Brief Encounter'.

For these matchups, I'm open to any suggestions anyone has; fire away. Those who know me, know that I LOVE to write about anything, especially literature; so don't be surprised if, say, some little discourse on John Donne's poetry, a review of some hidden gem of a novel I've just uncovered, or a critical analysis on some literary theory reading of some text/play across my studies pops up. Again, for these I'm open to suggestions.

Thanks for taking the time to read this, and hope you like what's coming up!