Revolution in the head… Le Giornate del Cinema Muto, Pordenone Day Five

With all this talk of Todd Phillip’s latest talkie, Joker (pronounced Joke-err…) perhaps it was appropriate that two of today’s most interesting films addressed the mind in the context of traumatic events. In place of a psychopathic comic book villain we have a traumatised soldier, Filimonov (Fyodor Nikitin) who has missed the biggest change in his country’s history.

Directed by Fridrikh Ermler, Fragment of an Empire (1929) takes an almost magical-realist look at the impact on this man as he is release from his pre-revolutionary shell-shocked amnesia into a Russia well into the Soviet project – Stalin was now in charge and the first Five Year Plan was well underway as forced industrialisation led to famine on an unimaginable scale in Ukraine and other rural areas.

Filimonov is, of course, a remnant of the old era himself and his observations on the New Russia are meant to make the audience appreciate them anew – revolutionary gains not to be taken for granted and still goals to be worked hard for. Further sacrifice is always going to be necessary and the personal must be subservient to the political. It’s propaganda that, despite of the censors’ eagle eyes, not only takes its audience seriously (like Powell and Pressburger) but which also allows for a range of interpretation: you ask if Ermler is for the Soviet or against? Ask yourself what you must do for Russia?!

Like the film the answer is complex and laced with humour; respecting the intellectual contribution required as much as the sacrifice for the communist state to achieve anything like its aims. Historian’s caveat: it must be presumed, unless otherwise shown, that Fridrikh Ermler was not aware of the inner workings of Stalin’s top-level strategies and that he, like 200 million others, could only view things from his own perspective. Which brings us straight back to the everyman Filimonov.

What happened?

Yes, dear reader, this is history as film and film about history as history, and you can never judge the efforts of the artists to try and find a way through for their meaning on the basis of subsequent knowledge of their time and place. This is one of the great films made about the interior life in a totalitarian state: and there’s another 80,000 words needed to fully cover that – if funding is available, I’ll give it a go.

The film’s opening says all you need to know about Ermler’s humanity. In a snowy night-time with rows and rows of soldiers’ bodies and the observation of one character that there are “so many boots...” Amongst the useless bodies and recyclable footwear there is a wounded soldier who is hefted into a barn by a kindly comrade - Filimonov. The soldier is thirsty and in desperation he suckles a dog, pushing her pups out of the way… he’s discovered by the enemy and an officer who shoots the dog dead: if that’s how they treat animals, imagine how they treat humans?

The rest is a whirlwind of some beauty, as Filimonov gradually comes to terms with modern life, his modern wife and sees exactly what remains of the old empire…

Why change your wife?

I had previously seen the dream team of Stephen Horne and Frank Bockius accompanying this film (and their music is on the new Flicker Alley Blu-ray) but tonight featured the original score from Vladimir Deshevov, played by the Orchestra San Marco and conducted by Gunter A. Buchwald who also had to tweak the score to make it fit the running time. He did an amazing job and the score was richly enjoyable reflecting the tumult of emotions with some gorgeous lines and the hard-hitting proto metal of contemporary Soviet composition.

Like Joker, it’s a film you want to analyse and externalise. Unlike Joker, it is an undeniable classic.

Elsewhere the Giornate’s waters were relatively calm with the exception of those around Kador where a devious guardian is trying to rob his ward of her life, love and inheritance in The Mystery of the Kador Cliffs (1912). Directed by Léonce Perret it is not so much a who-dunnit but a how-he-who-dunnit-gets-caught… a bit like Columbo only a bit snappier, with more forensic method and fewer cigars: Sherlock-Columbo if you will.

Suzanne de Lormel (Suzanne Grandais) must make it to 18 without going mad or else she will lose all of the inheritance to her uncle and tutor the Comte Fernand de Kéranic (Perrett).  It’s the usual troublesome arrangement that can lead to trouble…

I’ve always loved the sweet-hearted appliance of science in the film’s denouement involving Professeur Williams (Émile Keppens), a man who has a reputation for solving the seemingly un-solvable psychiatric cases through revolutionary use of cinematic techniques! Todd Phillips take note.

Filiming to catch the criminal of Kador!

Elsewhere today we had another cheerfully sexy dose of Ita Rina as a member of an opera chorus in Mario Bonnard’s sumptuous Das letzte Souper (1928). The stakes are high as a very strong cast take part in a murder we are sure to happen as opera director and shameless Lothario Boris Stroganoff (Heinrich George), lines up a list of his potential killers with unremitting bad behaviour. In detective terms this is like Hercule Poirot with more patience… end result, the same.

We also had more of the reliably conflicted William S Hart who was especially impressive in Wolf Lowry (1917), with , Exhibitor’s Trade Review raving “Exciting gun play, love interest, the sweep of the great out-of-doors country and the spirit of self-sacrifice exemplified in the central character…” in short, everything expected from this genre master at the time.

Neil Brand played as if he had 100 western themes to incorporate at will in improvisations informed by so much classic scores of the genre: Hart brought a shooter to a gunfight but Mr Brand had a piano: bang-bang (in “C”).

William S Hart faces another moral conundrum in Wolf Lowry

Last, but not least, we had Wait and See (1928) a very strong – i.e. funny – British comedy from Walter Forde, which was basically Trains, Planes and Automobiles as Walter pursues his love interest Pauline Johnson (Jocelyn Winton), in a break-neck mash-up of mechanised transport. Walt plays Monty Merton who is pranked by co-workers fed up with his groundless ambitions, into believing he has a fortune to collect. This flimsy device snowballs until Walter’s successful pursuit may well generate enough investor support to save his firm and guarantee his future and love life.

Schrodinger’s Comedy Cat OR Brexit Fever 1920’s style? You decide.

Either way it was made all the more enjoyable by Stephen Horne and Frank Bockius' accompaniment clanging along wonderfully well with Walter's weaving.

Boris Stroganoff before the off...

Cinematographic-therapy… The Mystery of the Kador Cliffs (1912)

This smart film uses cinema as a therapeutic resource helping to cure one of the key characters of her mania and revealing something of the power the new medium was recognised as having. The woman gazes intensely at the screen as the events that traumatized her are replayed almost as life… in shock she staggers towards the screen and looks around at the back to see if it’s real: how can these images be?

I have had a very boyish fascination with pre-war films that would demonstrate pre-Birth of a Nation innovation but it’s impossible and it’s pointless – largely – the true test is whether or not a film is entertaining. Inevitably this is more likely to be those films whose production values are more aligned to modern tastes but beyond a certain point films begin to resonate as entertainment rather than academic studies… although there are many ways to enjoy watching a film.

Émile Keppens and Suzanne Grandais

The Mystery of the Kador Cliffs shows the advanced state of French cinema in 1912 being slickly made, inventive and still carrying genuine jeopardy and anxious resolution. Directed by Léonce Perret it is not so much a who-dunnit but a how-he-who-dunnit-gets-caught… a bit like Columbo only a bit snappier, with more forensic method and fewer cigars.

Perret uses some great locations, not least the titular cliffs, all of which are captured very well by cinematographer  Georges Specht as well as evocative Bauer-esque sets from Robert-Jules Garnier; rich in detail and depth of focus. There are no short cuts on the budget and there are dozens of different shots in the film which is remarkably well-preserved.

Events begin as the last will and testament of the Marquis de Kéranic are read out to his expectant cousin, Comte Fernand de Kéranic (Léonce Perret no less!) and young niece Suzanne de Lormel (Suzanne Grandais).  It’s the usual troublesome arrangement that can lead to trouble: Suzanne must make it to 18 without going mad or otherwise blotting her copybook or else she will lose all of the inheritance to her other uncle and tutor the Comte.

Now, this is asking for trouble but the Comte seems easy-going enough, surely nothing can disturb his peaceful stewardship of his young ward’s coming of age? Well… turns out the Comte has a gambling problem and is deep in debt. Perret reveals his predicament with the unfolding of a letter rather than through intertitles, the film takes the time to reveal its story and has a well-paced narrative that might well not have been tolerated in say the United States.

Léonce Perret and Suzanne Grandais

The Comte now reveals his true colours as he takes Suzanne for a walk down by the rocky Kandor seashore… the shots here are well made as the couple walk over pebbles past the craggy outcrops. The Comte asks his niece for her hand in marriage but Suzanne recoils, not just in revulsion but also because she loves another.

She runs off leaving her satchel which the Comte opens to find love letters from her beau, Le Capitaine Jean d'Erquy (Max Dhartigny)…  now he knows everything and begins to plot… alone in his darkly-lit study.

But next we see the Comte apologising to Suzanne and trying to make good but then we see him slip a sleeping draught into her drink before the two go for a walk down to the remote cliffs. Suzanne duly feints just in time for another part of the Comte’s plan comes into play. He has written to the Captain pretending to be Suzanne and has organised for them to meet at the rocks… as the soldier’s boat nears the Comte hides in the rocks with a loaded shot gun and lets off a smoke signal to attract the young man.

When he’s close enough the Comte fires two shots and Jean falls to the ground. Presuming him dead the Comte leaves them both to the mercy of the incoming tide… killing two lovebirds with one foul stone.

Lost at sea without a paddle...

Yet, Jean isn’t dead, far from it – he recovers enough to pull Suzanne into his boat and as he feints from loss of blood the two drift off into the uncertain waters. The two are lucky though and float ashore sometime later to be rescued by fisherman… but the experience has cost them: the Captain is too ill to be interviewed by the police whilst Suzanne has been driven catatonic by the near death experience… her mind is closed to all enquiries.

Thinking himself safe from any comeback, the Comte has Suzanne declared mentally unfit and proceeds to reap the benefit of the clause in his brother’s will that means he is the sole heir in such an event. All of his financial problems look at an end…

And yet… Suzanne’s maid writes to the Captain when he has recovered and suggests they contact one Professeur Williams (Émile Keppens) a man who has a reputation for solving the seemingly un-solvable psychiatric cases through revolutionary use of cinematic techniques!

Avoiding the use of intertitles

I must say no more about this fantastical plot other than to urge you to seek out this film and its remarkable closing sequence for yourselves!

Clearly the modern mind may well find few surprises but imagine the impact this would have had at the time when the arts of psychoanalysis and cinematography were still new and developing apace.

Re-creating the crime!

The director doesn’t act quite as well as he directs – Perret’s background was in comedy and it shows; his villainy being merely expressed with a half-smile and a shrug as Suzanne rebuffs his advances – but he gets good performances from his cast, especially Suzanne Grandais who moves from being madly in love to mad with ease. Her scenes with the cinema screen are particularly affecting even now…

I watched the Kino DVD which is part of their excellent Gaumont Treasures collection and comes complete with a super new score from Philippe Dubosson. If you haven’t already got it, it’s available direct from Kino Lorber or from the creative accountants at Amazon.

Léonce Perret