Anyone expecting a silent biopic of Freddie Mercury would
have been doubly disappointed tonight; one this wasn’t really a Bohemian affair
(it’s the other side of Slovakia) and two, whilst Queen’s music is ideally
suited to the silent format (except their early stuff…), John Sweeney had
other, more impactful themes in mind, perhaps inspired, like the film, by Liszt
as well as the gypsy spirit that informed the composer’s 19 Rhapsodies. John hadn’t
seen the film but he was more than ready for it and when a party of soldiers
shouts for a Csárdás dance, we get one and the pianist’s hands were a blur of masterful
syncopation – all the notes in the right order, on the beat and always in
service to the story. At the end there were whoops as well as an extended
ovation for John, projectionist Dave Locke and this lovely film on super crisp 35mm.
Directed by Hanns Schwarz, Hungarian Rhapsody is a German film and thus fits perfectly and
co-incidentally with the current Weimar Cinema strand over at the BFI and reinforces
the breadth and variety of cinema from this time – second only to Hollywood in
quantity and more than capable of equalling the quality.
 |
| Where there's wheat, there's a way: Dita and Willy make hay whilst the Sun shines. |
Hungarian Rhapsody
looks stunning, a symphony of wheat (just like Murnau’s brilliant City Girl which is on next at the
Bioscope!) that paints a stunning picture of the Hungarian countryside and the farm
work that can make an honest man of you. Carl Hoffmann’s camera seems to catch
every blade of crop amongst the grandeur of vast fields and the visuals are as fluid as
they are controlled. In one sequence, the camera pulls away from a humble fireside
across the courtyard to a sophisticated soiree where the violin catching our
heroine’s attention is being used to serenade the woman who will be her love
rival: it’s a movement that references a sound we cannot hear and provides a
warning for the love triangle to follow.
The camera was also more than a little in love with our
three photogenic stars, Germanic John Gilbert, Willy Fritsch as Franz Lieutenant
Graf v. Turoczy, Lil Dagover as Camilla, the General’s wife, and Dita Parlo as
Marika, the kind of girl you’d like to work on a farm with or even a barge; she’s
a natural, outdoor type.
 |
| Blimey, Lil's here! |
Marika’s father Gutsverwalter Doczy (Fritz Greiner) is not
at all convinced by her smiling lieutenant – he doesn’t have the wherewithal to
provide for his daughter being, seemingly, a stuffed shirt: all rank with no
riches. We’ve hit the halfway mark and the romance goes further on the rocks as
Franz, repulsed now by Marika whose no one’s bit on the side, becomes enamoured
with the stylishly sexy Camilla, a woman of the World who is also his commanding
officer’s wife.
Initially he wants to make Marika jealous but he ends up
falling under the spell of the unobtainable, foolishly enlisting the help of a
violinist to serenade her. The fiddler has designs of his own and dobs his
rival in it by calling the general who thunders across the countryside seeking
retribution.
 |
| Yeah, but DITA! |
It is a stylishly slight story and there’s a probably-propagandist
feel to the dénouement – it’s not enough that the aristocratic soldier must pay
respects to his true love he must also commit himself to a more honest life
style in the fields. Well, who wouldn’t for Dita and, possibly, the Fatherland?
The film was a smash hit and was re-released with a
soundtrack in 1929 making it one of Germany’s first sound films... a fine example of the other side of Weimar, not expressionist or darkly-unsettled but thorough entertainment.
For the first half tonight, there were four shorts all
accompanied with Meg Morley; after recent accidents with accompaniment what a
treat to hear these pros along with Mr Jonny Best at the BFI; there’s an art to
silent music and these three have spent years perfecting it.
 |
| A spring in their step (really sorry) |
Around Versailles
(1909) was a quite lovely hand tinted travelogue showing the gardens at
Versailles in as much glory as the technology of the time could muster; this
was filled out regally by Meg’s classic lines and crescendos – this must have
hit audiences with the full-force of Endgame in rural fairs and picture houses.
Little Moritz Épouse Rosalie (1911), starring Maurice/Moritz Scwartz, was madcap, breakneck and confusing! Moritz is eloping with his sweetheart and leaves a trail
of devastation as he tries to escape for true love! Also answers the question of just how many people you can fit in a horse-drawn carriage: a fair few!
Watching Louis Feuillade’s Spring (1909) I started getting flashbacks to the previous evening’s
screening of Opium, as nymphs danced in the French countryside in the manner of Robert
Reinert’s drug-induced fairies… still, spring had most definitely sprung.
Sémiramis
(1910) provided the most dramatic of climaxes with the hand-colourful story of
Babylon starring the statuesque Yvonne Mirval as the title character who
loved, then killed a King before ruling through force of personality and
elaborate shows in those famous hanging gardens. When she died after a glorious
reign she literally ascends to Heaven borne by a host of doves and the walls of
Babylon fall under attack from Arabian invaders… pretty much all eight series
of Game of Thrones in 16 minutes; a
bewildering array of tableaux on a screen barely able to contain Miss Napierkowska
hair. Great fun; I’m a sucker for stencil colour and Ms Morley went to town on
this one.
 |
Yvonne Mirval as the Babylonian Beyonce
|
+colour.png)
No comments:
Post a Comment