Wednesday, 22 October 2014

So much monkey business… The Extraordinary Adventures of Saturnino Farandola (1913)

Marcel Fabre
Back to Italy, Turin to be precise (sadly not Pordenone… next year!) and more pre-war Italian comedy following on from my evening at the IIC – a familiar face too in the form of Marcel Perez aka Marcel Fabre who played the fool in general and more specifically Tweedledum/Robinet. Here he is both lead actor and director, presiding over a mad mash-up of Jules Verne, Edgar Rice Burroughs and George Méliès: Around the Bend in 77 Minutes!

Nilde Baracchi and Marcel Fabre
As Herr Graf Ferdinand Von Galitzien has pointed out, the film is based on an 1879 novel from Albert Robida The Very Extraordinary Voyages of Saturnin Farandoul in the World's Five or Six Continents, and in all the Countries Known - and Even Unkown - to Monsieur Jules Verene (Voyage Très Extraordinaires De Saturnin Farandoul Dans Les 5 ou 6 Parties Du Monde Et Dans Tous Les Pays Connus Et Même Inconnus De M. Jules Verne) which, er, almost, says it all for this proto-steampunk photoplay that you watch with an incredulous smile through each audacious leap of logic to the next.

You can see Marcel’s elevator pitch: baby survives disaster at sea and is brought up by monkeys, leaving their island after growing up without a tail he makes his way in adventurous society with his simian skills and outrageous fortune! Who wouldn’t buy that? Certainly not the studio bosses in Turin…

A city for Beavers... deep-sea diving troops
There are two versions doing the rounds, one at 58 minutes which is slightly more surreal than the more lengthy expositions of the 77 minute version restored to something like the original length. It is possible that this was a serial and the apparent missing footage along with the distinct episodes might well support that. In any event what remains has a compelling comic chemistry of its own and really shows the diversity of a period known mostly for its epics…

Hang onto your blog-reading hats for a plot summation that is itself a high-wire act combining supposition, badly-translated Italian and guess-work.

Look, no tail!
Oceana:  Saturnino Farandola is a baby thrown free of a sinking ship with nothing but a scribbled note revealing his true identity and a box to float in. All perish save for the tiny mite who floats with extreme good fortune towards an island ruled by kindly apes.  As primates go they make a fine bunch of monkeys, varying in size and agility all possessing tails and an uncontrollable urge to turn cartwheels and leap at every opportunity.

They raise Farandola as one of their own until, fully grown they cast him out for his lack of tail. Harsh perhaps but they’re understandably feeling short-changed after devoting the best years of their lives to his upbringing.  Distraught the man-child makes a raft and rows away from the island being eventually picked up by the crew of a passing ship, the Bella Leocadia.

The new captain
Carry on Jack: The sailors are confused by Farandola’s simian ways but he is eventually brought down to earth and their captain, opening the locket round his neck, discovers the explanatory note, raising his eyes to the sky in a miss-judged moment of acted recognition.

Faranadola begins an extraordinary sequence of adjustments to his new society. Pirates attack the ship taking the men as prisoners onto land where, at their leader’s instruction, they have an “orgy” (more like a booze-up but I’m not really an expert). Farandola frees himself and leads the counter-attack, defeating the drunken sailors and ending up getting himself appointed as captain.

The Wizard of Aus: The next episode hoves into view with Farandola and his new love, Mysora (Nilde Baracchi) deep-sea diving. They explore a Méliès-ian underwater world of giant-sized gold fish, random shrimps and a large paper mache whale that proceeds to swallow Mysora whole.  Distraught, Farandola tries to row after the whale but it easily evades capture…

A press report reveals that the whale has run aground and been captured by an Australian scientist. Now, I’m not so sure how qualified this man is because when Farandola’s shipmate is expelled from the whales mouth and climbs out of the tank, the aquatic academic thinks she might be a new species and resolves to keep her for examination.

The mad professor fights to keep his prize exhibit...
Farandola rushes to the rescue and declares war as the mad professor refuses to give up his new specimen. Things escalate rather alarmingly as Farandola has to enlist an army of his old money chums to storm the scientist’s remarkably well-defended laboratory. Overwhelmed the boffin blows up his own lab, but our hero manages to escape with Mysora in hand.

The famous Amazons of old Siam...
Amazons of Asia: The two enjoy a leisurely cruise to their next destination, old Siam in pursuit of a legendary white elephant (are there any other kinds?) which has been stolen from the King. They are greeted by Siamese Amazons (?!) who are trooping their colours or rather stripes...

Mysora becomes the prisoner of an evil advisor and Farandola and his men get captured after their attempt to find the precious pachyderm is uncovered. They escape only to be re-captured and stuck in barrels. But, through judicious mix of feminine wiles and opium (!?), Mysora manages to get them released and they float their way to safety… returning the elephant to the king who is mightily impressed gifting them with gold coins.

Death on the Nile: Off next to Africa where a hunting trip to the Nile is disturbed by the sight of two women being held captive by nasty natives.  Rather ingeniously, Farandola shoots two bears (who must have wandered a little too far south) and uses their skins to disguise himself and Mysora as they storm the camp and rescue the girls. After evading the rest of the angry tribe, Farandola puts on a spiked hunting suit to wrestle a lion to the death and then rescues the three women from kidnap by gorillas… He speaks their language you see…

We're not really bears at all!
Way out West: Farandola take the two girls back home but there isn’t time to tarry as he has to sail along the coast of North America… Here he somehow gets entangled in the late-running Civil War and, siding with “Milligan North”, gets captured by native Americans working with “Milligan South”. He is saved by yet another young woman who obviously likes his more feminist approach to adventuring.

The bad Americans are being led by one Phileas Fogg and as the conflict escalates, Farandola is made the good American’s leader and proceeds to lead his men ion an unorthodox campaign involving chloroform bombs and vacuum chutes.

Mild spoilers... The splendid climax involves a balloon battle high amongst the clouds… an impressively-bleak vision of the War to come.  Fogg has taken Mysora and Farandola has to fight through the skies to save her… Will he win the day and return to introduce his wife to his real family on their strange island in the sea…?

The Extraordinary Adventures of Saturnino Farandola is great value and whilst any missing the missing footage would make things a little clearer the story is pretty easy to follow… well certainly the second time round!

It’s packed full of invention and energy and co-director Luigi Maggi deserves great credit for not just holding Fabre’s imagination under control but making narrative sense of the frenetic adventures. There are many great shots from cinematographer Ottavio De Matteis and, considering how close this film is to the “tableau” era, it shows how free Turino cinema could be in support of a more pastoral photoplay.

A whale and a horse.
The film plays regularly on European art channels (merci to Andre for loaning me his copy) but I don’t think there’s a DVD currently available. Which is a shame: this is indeed an interesting film that adds more balance to my view of the output from the Cradle of Italian Cinema…

Albert Robida's book is available from Amazon and contains even more twists and turns than the above film: conquering Australia with Captain Nemo and traveling to Saturn for starters!

Saturday, 18 October 2014

Battleship Invincible… The Battles of Coronel and Falkland Islands (1927), LFF Gala with the Band of Her Majesty’s Royal Marines

Back to the Southbank’s Queen Elizabeth Hall for the London Film Festival archive gala performance of The Battles of Coronel and Falkland Islands (1927) a striking docu-drama with the emphasis on the latter and yet which manages to be authentic and even handed.

Of all the silent films at this year’s festival, Battles has had the most coverage and, remembrance to one side, one of the principle reasons is its revelation of another fine British silent film director in Walter Summers. Aside from marshalling eight Royal Naval ships in his re-enactments he also cuts, cross-fades and controls tempo with the skill of a Gance or an Eisenstein (although as the BFI’s Bryony Dixon points out, he probably hadn’t seen Potemkin at this stage).

Summers had fought in the Great War and he was at pains to keep any retelling of the conflict as respectful and procedurally-accurate as possible. Comic interludes and admirable-Admiralty (on both sides) apart, his drama is derived from the movement of the ships and his mastery of a compelling, historically-accurate narrative. Many sailors died in these battles – almost three and a half thousand - and he’s not going to make a drama out of their tragedy but a tribute.

Tonight was a special night with a magnificent, moving new score from Simon Dobson being performed by the Band of Her Majesty’s Royal Marines – a 24 piece ensemble in memory of the 24 bandsmen who perished on HMS Monmouth at Coronel. My cousin is a serving marine and whatever your politics and beliefs you have to respect the sacrifices these men and women have to make in the service of their country.

HMS Good Hope begins to slip away
This was a main them for Summers who showed the nobility of both sides, their discipline and willingness to follow the rules of engagement even down to helping to rescue the vanquished. There may have been broader political motivations behind this at the time but they shouldn’t diminish the director’s clear agenda. Born in Liverpool - as I'm contractually-obliged to point out - he described himself as a “workman”, constructing his pieces in methodological fashion with little or no aspiration to be an “artist”…

SMS Scharnhorst under attack
He had already made a number of Great War films by the time Battle came along but none on this scale. Working from a script co-written by John Buchan amongst others, this was to be the jewel in the crown of Harry Bruce Woolfe’s British Instructional Films re-telling of the greatest battles of the conflict still regarded as perhaps the “war to end all wars”; an alien event that, surely, could never happen again. The film’s international success suggested that hope was also shared outside of Britain.

There are no model shots in the film; everything is either in-studio or shot on the high seas using Summers' large grey acting fleet. The cinematography of Jack Parker should also be commended with the restored images revealing some dazzling compositions that help to create a believable spectacle under-pined by the close-quarters human drama in cramped cabins and over-heated boiler rooms.

Rapid-cut re-fit
There are strange echoes of more recent South Atlantic naval conflict as two Royal Navy battleships, HMS Invincible and HMS Inflexible are rapidly made ready for a revenge mission after the defeat of Coronel. This sequence shows men working around the clock on the two battle cruisers and is a masterpiece of montage that composer Dobson found almost musical, so regular was the rhythm of the cutting, the hammer strikes and the movements of men on and off board.

But whilst South American German colonists gather to celebrate their victory, von Spee refuses to toast anything but the nobility of the vanquished noting also that a large bouquet of flowers should be kept for when his time comes…

After the almost impossible dash to ready the British squadron, the remainder of the film gives a detailed account of the second, decisive battle. War at sea moved at its own deathly pace and the margins between success and failure were remarkably prosaic, depending on the accuracy and calibre of your guns as well as basic speed: when the balance of forces became clear to von Spee he knew in moments that he faced defeat. Yet, he had found the British squad re-fuelling in Port Stanley and, had he pressed on, there may have been a different outcome…

The skill of Summers' film is in creating such a compelling story around these fateful moments. There are good performances – especially from von Spee and Vice Admiral Sturdee - yet the actors are unnamed and instead the credits list the names of the naval vessels involved along with the twenties ships that acted in their place.

That’s as it should be with Battles celebrating the communal resolve of the Royal Navy, the collective greatness achieved by the unity of spirit contained in these warcraft. It’s a past the navy are proud to celebrate but also one that connects to their future, as Admiral  Sir George Zambillas’ introduction made clear with his reference to the new "Elizabethan age" with the Royal Navy’s long-awaited aircraft carrier Queen Elizabeth.

It watching silent film is a process of trying to re-connect with the sensibilities of their makers and audience, this event was lent additional poignancy by the naval presence - smartly uniformed marines were even handing out programmes. This along with the almost pristine restoration and the excellence of both music and musicians, created a moment in which the boundaries between past and present shifted just a little bit more than usual.

The Battles of Coronel and Falkland Islands is showing now in selected cinemas across the UK and is also available to view now on the BFI iPlayer.

Details of the battles are on the Naval History web pages and The Coronel Memorial  website.

The reality: HMS Inflexible picks up survivors from SMS Gneisenau (copyright IWM)
The Battle of Coronel was fought on 1 November 1914 with the loss of two Royal Naval ships: battle cruiser HMS Good Hope and light cruiser HMS Monmouth

1,570 British lives were lost.

HMS Good Hope
The Battle of the Falklands took place on 8 December 1914 with four German ships sunk: battle cruisers SMS Scharnhorst and SMS Gneisenau along with the light cruisers SMS Nürnberg and SMS Leipzig.

1,871 German sailors were killed and 215 rescued.

SMS Scharnhorst

Thursday, 16 October 2014

Lust for life… Why Be Good? (1929), LFF, BFI with Vitaphone

Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a …very big screen… Choose Colleen Moore!

This film is so full-on that there were times when I had a genuinely middle-aged reaction to the incessant movement, energy and Vitaphoned-Hi-NRG soundtrack! Parents, this film can still make you feel over-protective of your daughters!

Why be Good? Has been a lost film since a massive fire cleaned out many First National pictures at the Warner Archives… Luckily a copy was found in an Italian archive and this has been fully restored and placed alongside its existing Vitaphone soundtrack.

 It’s the missing link between silence and sounds with the perfectly-synced song-track and sound effects, mixed with witty inter-titles to create an intermediary experience that was surprisingly different from so many early talkies I’ve seen. The objective and the technology were different: the disc was never intended to provide the dialogue, even though the actors are clearly working from a script and the disc was there to provide a bespoke musical accompaniment that was almost an end in itself.

The music is frenetic and the perfect match to some of the most energetic dancing you’ll see in a teen movie – there’s a fair amount of abandon in Miss Moore’s dancing and the practical purpose of the legendary bob is revealed amidst much head shaking: the girl can’t help it and every hair falls back into place.

It’s a simple film but technically so well made by director William A. Seiter with smooth camerawork immersing the watcher in the midst of the Charlestons and general dance-floor argy-bargy: think Wigan Casino on a particularly frenetic Friday and you might get close…

Moore about to cut rug!
There’s a very witty script – I wish I could remember some of the one-liners – and a proto-feminist defence of the right of women to dress as they like and to be independent: a Flappers’ Charter with Moore’s character defending her fight for the right to party. With thoroughly-modern logic she fights back at the suggestion she is as she looks: woman only dress as men want them too but they also do this willingly and, overwhelmingly, for themselves.

Sound and fury aside, this is a film in which Colleen Moore’s energy and incisiveness shine through. This is only my third Moore film and she grows on me more with each viewing – there’s a simple integrity to her characters and she clearly worked so hard to portray women who were perhaps, younger, sassier and more extrovert than a relatively humble Irish girl who liked making dolls houses…

Late night drunken drive home...
The consistency of her portrayal of Pert Kelly (see what they did there?) is so impressive and she has the very definition of a winning personality. Pert is a hard-working shop girl who dances most nights away and has a string of trophies attesting to her considerable skill in the cutting of rugs.

She’s chatted up by neo-spiv Jimmy (a marvellously greasy Louis Natheaux) but catches the eye not once but – she makes sure – several times of handsomely square-jawed Peabody Jr. (Neil Hamilton who, if you didn’t know went on to become Commissioner Gordon in 1960’s Gotham City…).  The two leave a drunken Jimmy to sleep it off and start to hit it off in a big way.

Unbeknownst to Pert, her new beau is the son of the man who owns the department store where she works (Edward Martindel) and is due to start work there the next day as Personnel Officer. The two stay up to 3AM and whilst Junior makes his office on time, Pert is a little late…

Called to the HR department to explain herself, Pert thinks she’s in the clear when she realises who the new boss is but the surprise appearance of his dad means he has to put on a tough guy act and threaten to sack her. It’s all a game as son then explains to father but the latter is so concerned at his choice of girlfriend that he has Pert fired anyway…

Misunderstanding follows as Petr almost stands up Jnr: is she “good enough” for him and, let’s be honest, is he good enough for her in the eyes of an audience who were clearly wound up enough to have a collective “word” in his shell-like…

Junior and Pert
There are twists and turns on the dance floor and off before we can reach a resolution and Moore makes the absolute most of the script at the top of her considerable game.

There’s also superb support from Hamilton who responds to Moore’s glittering emotions with an understated energy of his own. Bodil Rosing is also good as Ma Kelly who knows her daughter better than she thinks, as is John St. Polis’ Pa Kelly as he wonders at the suitability of this gift-giving rich boy... what does want in return?!

Flapper Queen Colleen.
We watched the early matinee and it felt like a power lunch, propelling us out into the grey autumn sunshine with a spring in our step and an almost un-resistible urge to dance the Charleston…

The Flapper Queen is back and long may she reign!

Tuesday, 14 October 2014

Ruan Lingyu in The Goddess (1934) with Zou Ye & ECO, LFF, Queen Elizabeth Hall

It might seem curious that a “goddess” may be an ethereal protector of life as well as a sex worker… but in this case they are very much inter-twined: the lead character can only achieve one by being the other.

I know not even next to nothing about Chinese culture in the thirties and this film was like entering another cinematic universe with those dancing feet of 42nd Street represent a charming, sugar-coated parallel world in which good things happen to those who wait. Not so here where you may wait a lifetime and never gain happiness: a culture with a conflicted desire to modernise and which was still firmly rooted in the nineteenth century.

Ruan Lingyu
In the desperate Shanghai of 1934 there were as many as 100,000 women scraping a living as a prostitute: around one on thirteen… In the year of the Long March Chinese society was in flux as warlords and politicians struggled for control whilst a newly urbanised peasantry lived in squalor. For a society still viewed as relatively guarded in western eyes, it is surprising to find a film of such unflinching honesty.

The Goddess (神女) was showing in the splendid Queen Elizabeth Hall on London’ Southbank as part of this year’s London Film Festival and also as a continuation of the BFI’s Electric Shadows series of Chinese film past and present.

Another hotel morning...
The film was famously Ruan Lingyu’s last film as she committed suicide within a year of its completion – she was only 24 and on this evidence a performer of the highest order with a range of controlled, natural emotion that cuts through in a very modern way.  If not the Chinese Garbo of legendary cliché but maybe a forerunner of the Isabelle’s Adjani and Huppert: someone who works their interior world very hard and yet gives only glimpses of the powerful turmoil just bubbling below.

Ruan Lingyu and Zhang Zhizhi
She’s almost matched by the baby-faced Zhang Zhizhi who plays her pimp, a compulsive gambler and a bully who can smile and smile and indeed be a villain. But he’s not the clichéd control freak and psychotic bully boy; he’s weak and irresponsible another highly believable character.

Then there is the woman’s young son, played by one Shuiping who gives a very good account of himself… dare I say the Chinese Jackie Coogan? No, he’s his own boy.

The film was written and directed by Wu Yonggang who’s screenplay had been partly inspired by his observing prostitutes ‘forced smiles as they greeted customers: what horrors lay behind those phoney faces? Wu had spent time in Hollywood and his experience is clear from any number of clever tracking shots, expert close ups and a wonderful overhead as the woman engages with another client and the two walk off together to heaven knows how much hotel room misery…

The film is unflinchingly frank throughout as the woman seeks to find a way to support her son using the only option open to her. She is almost run in by the police but takes shelter with her soon-to—be protector who starts to make her work more… profitably.

But she wants more than just subsistence; she doesn’t want her boy to suffer for her faults and starts to hide away money in order to enrol him in school.

Delight at the school play
For a while she succeeds until gossip becomes too much and the kindly principal investigates to see if the boy’s mother is indeed a woman of ill-repute. She reveals the truth but he is impressed with her determination and willingness to sacrifice all to give her son the best possibly chance in life.

But prejudice is rife and the other school governors are not so open-minded nor are the parents. Meanwhile the gambling-pimp finally finds the stash of money, is he about the throw away the only chance the boy will ever get?

The Headmaster calls
No spoilers:  Even if this was a Hays dodging pre-code Hollywood film, there would be retribution in store but here the twists and turns have the ring of truth and you’re never certain of the end game as the story plays its course. It remains a genuinely moving experience and a story the resonated strongly for every parent in the room.

Chinese composer Zou Ye’s newly commissioned score moved with subtle grace alongside the film in perfect step courtesy of the thirty-piece English Chamber Orchestra conducted by Nicholas Chalmers. It was a perfectly judged accompaniment that interwove modern themes with more traditional sequences: a bridge connecting us to the time and the place…

There was long and loud applause at the end from the mixed audience of bearded silent cognoscenti and Jermyn Street bespoke-tailored concert buff-age: we really liked the music but, for most, I would think the vision of Ruan Lingyu will live in the min a while longer.

As Stanley Kwan said in the programme notes: “I was stunned by her performance, which was subtle and rich – an emotional tour de force. It was amazing to me that such a thing could be achieved in silent cinema…”

The Goddess is available in reasonable quality, free-to-view at the Internet Archive, not a patch on this crystal clear restoration though! Catch it if you can: the cinematic world was clearly always bigger than it seemed.

Sunday, 12 October 2014

Unimaginable… Damn the War! (1914)/ Airship Over the Battlefields (1919) w Stephen Horne, LFF, BFI

The first silent offerings at this year’s London Film Festival and a double bill juxtaposing a film imagining what a modern war could be like with one documenting the devastation after four years in which the mechanics of modern destruction had taken their horrific toll. One was a sad, technically-impressive drama and the other was reality almost beyond belief:  the smashed ghost towns of northern France and a land pock-marked with craters and scarred by the still-open wounds of never ending trench-lines.

Albert Hendrickx, Fernand Crommelynck, Suzanne Berni, Nadia D'Angely and Baert
Released in May/June 1914, just a few short weeks before the real war began, Alfred Machin’s Damn the War! (Maudite soit la guerre) was a plea for peace as Europe began to look far too small to contain the ambition within. A Belgian film directed by a Frenchman, the ironies can hardly be stacked higher given the Schlieffen Plan.

Machin’s film involved a war between two fictitious countries and the impact it has on the Modzel family as their son’s best friend Adolphe Hardeff (Baert) fights on the opposing side to their son, Sigismond (Albert Hendrickx). To add further spice their daughter Liza (Suzanne Berni) is in love with Adolphe.

Adolphe says farewell to Liza
Adolphe comes to train with Sigismond’s air squadron returning the favour his country had extended to his new comrade. Sigismond takes Adolphe home to meet his parents, Mother (Nadia D'Angely), father (Fernand Crommelynck) as well as his swell sister. The training goes well and relations all round are good but, out of nowhere, war is declared and the two friends find themselves on opposing sides.

Adolphe doesn’t believe in the conflict and hands Liza his photograph with the words “damn the war!” written on it. But he’s a professional soldier and he will do his duty.

The film looks sumptuous and has been restored by the Belgium film institute not just the print quality but also the coloured sections produced using a painstaking approach involving the stencilling of colours onto every frame. Two stencilled prints were used and one black and white: the result is stunning – the Edwardian era in colour.

The colours work especially well in the battle sequences, highlighting the troop movements as hundreds of Belgian army extras move into mock charges. There’s also an explosive sequence as Adolphe leads an audacious attack on an airbase, destroying a range of balloons and turning the screen red.

Sigismond is sent up to intercept Adolphe’s plane and succeeds in knocking him out of the sky, the two friends move closer in their unknowing pursuit of each other as the forces gather around a cornered Adolphe…  the heroic qualities of both men come to the fore and no one is getting out of this alive.

Lieutenant Maxime romances Liza
One of Sigismond’s squadron, Lieutenant Maxime (Henri Goidsen), delivers the news back to the family. He takes an instant shone to Liza and as time passes they grow close but there’s to be one final twist of the tale as the full human cost of the conflict is finally revealed…

Just off the plane from Pordenone, Stephen Horne illustrated the story with his trademark lyricism, with flute, piano and accordion used to good effect: intricately stencilled sounds to highlight this colourfully-sad vision of a war that might come…

Jacques Trolley de Prévaux
After the war that did happen, Airship Over the Battlefields (En Dirigeable sur les Champs de Bataille) was filmed in the summer of 1919 using a navy airship piloted by Jacques Trolley de Prévaux. The main cameraman was Lucien Lesaint although others were involved.

Introducing, the BFI’s Bryony Dixon, said this was part of a series of initiatives aimed at reminding people of the horrors of The War to End all Wars. The full film is 78 minutes long but we were shown about a third of that - enough to give full flavour of the scorched earth even nine months after the armistice.

Not even a spring and summer could return the leaves to so many of the trees, and the only real signs of renewal on this toxic ground were the new roads driven through flattened towns and blasted battlegrounds which even today still give up their annual harvest of unexploded ordinance.

Looking at the towns was like a flash forward to Dresden or Coventry, even Hiroshima, so expertly had the bombardments levelled almost every building. Town after town came into view and you kept one expecting to see something whole but there was nothing there but a few robust walls on roof-less buildings with empty windows all propped up by rubble.

The Great War is often characterised as a contest of military forces against each other – yet the huge “collateral” impact on non-combatants was there for all to see.

This was a difficult film to soundtrack and Stephen Horne used an electronic keyboard along with his piano to play moving accompaniment. His playing was sparse and restrained, subtly echoing the horrific implications of the destroyed landscapes on view and bringing out the humanity from the cathedral husks.

Both films will live long in the memory and for different reasons. Damn the War! may have been a fiction but if more people made films like Alfred Machin’s, perhaps we wouldn’t have to watch films recording the impact of conflict.

A version of Damn the War! is available on the European Film Gateway courtesy of the EYE Film Instituut Nederland. It's an unusual visual treat as the bonus screen shots below show...