"Intuitively, I feel the stirring of the Emperor’s Shadow in response to my effort. If he was alive, he would deploy this wonderful intellectual dynamite of the cinema to be loved wherever he was absent, to be everywhere at once in people’s eyes and in their hearts. Dead, he cannot object to our modern alchemy transmuting his memory into a virtual presence to better enhance his Imperial Radiation."
Abel Gance
It happens about half way through Part IV when Napoleon
is talking about a boundary-free Europe in which all people are the same… a
spontaneous eruption of applause breaks out from throughout the auditorium: I
think something touched a nerve…
Three years on we were back, Abel, Albert, Carl and
Kevin, the fathers and sons of La
Revolution Cinématographique, standing tall in the Royal Festival Hall as
sure as the projections of Robespierre, Danton, Marat and Sante-Just in the Convention
Centre inspiring Napoléon before his Italian expedition. Behind them stand
hundreds of cast and crew, thousands of extras and tonnes of horses and when
Carl waves his baton he’s channelling Beethoven, Haydn and Mozart: mighty music
for colossal cinema. This was truly the greatest show in town: a European
adventure examining the nature of nationhood at a time when the UK and USA are
losing the plot.
Gance planned six films covering Napoleon’s life and this
was to be just the first. From 1923 onwards he began immersing himself in his
subject in an effort to not just tell the story but to re-create the spirit of
the founding days of modern France. Watching the results is a lesson in
historical contextuality: yes, Napoleon was the enemy of Britain at the time
but look what he did for his country? Gance lauds his leadership, intelligence
and legacy and, whilst as a modern viewer it’s hard to avoid anachronistic
political referencing we should recall that Napoleon was operating at a time
when Britain was ruled by an un-elected sovereign and a parliament of a few
hundred rotten boroughs elected by the property-owning classes.
 |
| The Gods of the Revolution |
In the Twenties, post-war politics were in flux with
hard-left/hard-right movements across Europe – British malleability enabled the
rise of the Labour Party whilst the French situation was more unstable… Gance’s
contribution would be to try and remind his countrymen of where their
nation-state came from: he wanted to help make France great again. Dangerous
territory for sure - that was him and that was then.
But what he really achieved was cinematically
game-changing – a decades-defying leap forward in technique and new ideas:
ultra-fast cutting, thrilling hand and horse-held intrusions and the widest
screens in history. More than anyone else from the silent era he can make the
audience feel like they are right there in the picture.
Kevin Brownlow has laboured for decades over Abel Gance’s
film – there’s a wonderful youthful shot of him as a youth with Gance in the late
sixties – now his work has reached something of a peak with the BFI’s sparkling
digital restoration (although rumour has it that the French are working on
their own using different source materials…).
I’ve been lucky enough to have seen a sample of the
completed work with the recorded score but to see the full film with composer,
conductor and the full Philharmonia is something else entirely: I am thrilled
and frazzled… once again I stand ready to invade Italy (in the nicest possible
way…).
This time round I noticed the humour more… you might expect
there not to be too many laughs but in Act III especially, we have a
love-struck Napoleon as well as a pop star General who, having saved Paris from
a Royalist insurrection, has to employ a double to distract the fans outside
his humble apartment: it’s a Hard Day’s
Napoleon and y’know, he looks a little like John with that fringe.
They’re selling dolls of our hero and he even has a would
be groupie in the form of Violine (Annabella) daughter of the ever-present
Tristan Fleuri (Nicolas Koline) - an “everyman” who follows our hero from
school to Italy. Violine’s worship is a little troubling but gains some
validation after Josephine (Gina Manès) discovers her makeshift shrine: Gance
clearly thinks his subject is worthy.
 |
| Making plans for Italy |
Act IV is very much a poetic tribute especially in
comparison with the more fact-filled earlier sections dealing with Napoleon’s
rise to power, his adventures in Corsica and the siege of Toulon. Gance crams
in a lot more title cards during the Revolution and The Terror but here the
triptych and music deliver crescendos showing his vision, passion for Josephine
and leadership of the Italian force. The soldiers are a rag-tag bunch when he
arrives but within hours he has them mobilized and up for anything.
On they march in red white and blue off into the wide
fields of Piedmont and beyond; new lands to conquer good fortune assured… if
only.
This film is so detailed there is always something new
and whilst the snowball and pillow fights get mentioned for their hand-held immersiveness,
the Victims’ Ball in the former prison cells deserves similar mention: it’s a
more adult version of the same game, a blur of bodies with Napoleon as perfectly
still at the centre as he would be in battle.
The Marseillaise
section is equally visceral as the revolutionaries learn the tune and a young
Captain congratulates its author: the song will save a few canons. The camera
rocks forth over the crowd: time and again Napoleon sweeps you away with
emotional intelligence far beyond most cinema.
 |
| Albert Dieudonné |
At the heart is a resolutely centred performance from
Albert Dieudonné as Napoléon following an equally impressive Vladimir Roudenko
as his younger self. Gance directs them both the same way: all that Imperial Radiation…
Carl Davis’ score becomes more remarkable with time: he
interweaves his source composers so well with his own themes, particularly the
main theme for Napoleon/The Eagle/The Vision. Interviewed for the new BFI set,
Davis recalls how Kevin Brownlow first remarked on the strength of this theme: “is that one of yours?” Most of this was
composed and arranged in under three months: a remarkable feat and one that,
like the film, has stood the test of time.
The Philharmonia were on fine form today with a tip of
the hat to Ray Attfield, guest principal on Hurdy Gurdy, which is shown being
played in Robespierre’s office as well as Sarah Oates leading the first
violins. Carl Davis conducted my uncle’s band, the Royal Liverpool
Philharmonic, and I know our Duncan would have enjoyed the strings more than
anything else.
Napoleon is
marching across UK cinemas throughout November – details on the BFI site – and
is also available on a new Blu-ray and DVD BFI set including a 60-page booklet
with an excellent essay from Paul Cuff from which I lifted the above quote.
More on this later but you can pre-order direct form the BFI – it’s out on 21st
November.
Do not miss it!
Do not miss it!
Vive la
Revolution!
.JPG)
No comments:
Post a Comment