This is as much about the media as the message… Redwood Creek are a Kickstarting operation who specialise in “direct transfers” from original materials which don’t always match the look and the quality of “filmic” restorations. But they do what they say on the celluloid can and reproduce otherwise rare cuts and hard to find films. It does, however, come in a range of quality which may disappoint as much as it delights.
I’ve backed a few of their campaigns, The Magician
– no tints and not as pleasing to watch as the Warner Archive DVD – then L’Inferno
(1911) – one of the most important films in history and here in a slightly
murky “red tint”, “never seen before” apparently but again not as good as the
DVD from the Cineteca Bologna restoration which has a much sharper tone and texture
with a variety of tints and which runs slightly longer*? Warning Shadows,
which whilst being good in places, again just doesn’t even have the or clarity
of the Kino DVD, and then there’s Eerie Tales (1919) which shows on my
Blu-ray player as “Untitled Project” – it’s a writable Blu-ray again – but is pretty
clear, albeit a 720p type of experience more than a 1080p experience.
In each case Redwood Creek massively over-perform on
their targets and are clearly meeting a demand by picking some excellent films.
So, I don’t mean to criticise their choices but there’s enough debate on
Nitrateville and elsewhere on their quality and from people who know far more
than me**. All I can say is that whilst I have been disappointed with past
releases I did really enjoy watching this one!
Marguerite Gance
The reasons for this are a mix of the film itself, a
decent transfer – from a clean 16mm copy and without the tints of the Kino DVD nor the French
restoration of La chute de la maison Usher – and the intriguing accompaniment from Belgian composer Laurent
Pigeolet. A composer known for his
"extension" of Léos Janacek's works, most famously Sonata 1/X/1905, Pigeolet
also composed the music for the restorations of The Magician, Warning
Shadows and By the Law. It’s a very atmospheric and lyrically
satisfying score that feels of the period as much as the visuals and as uncanny
in the literal sense.
Poe wrote about the dangers of unfettered fascination and
in Epstein’s film it closes in all around us; a fog to shroud our hidden
passions from which, perhaps, for those who paint and for those who write, there
may never be any escape in life or in death. Jean Epstein’s take on Edgar Allen
Poe’s story reflects the writer’s style, his “totality” in which every aspect
of the tale has a bearing on the narrative but it was, apparently, too much for
co-scripter/assistant director Luis Buñuel who walked out over this divergence
from the original story, especially, one assumes the ending but I’m keeping
mush.
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| Jean Debucourt |
Usher is an outstandingly creepy film - pathetic
fallacy run wild with simply everything connected to mood and intention be it
architecture, weather, landscape, clothing, candles or oils. It’s oppressive
and there’s no respite from the get-go as the audience joins the un-named
visitor - Charles Lamy – on his mission to help his friend Roderick Usher (Jean
Debucourt). Summoned by a letter, which he studies using a magnifying glass almost
as if the meaning was buried deep within the script, we are pulled directly into
this close-up world of disorientation and distress.
The merest mention of his destination scares the
customers at an isolated inn – probably a freehold - and only one man is willing
to take him anywhere near this forbidding place. When he finally arrives, he sees
Roderick, who leans out from the strange house almost as if he’s bound to it.
His wife Madeleine (Marguerite Gance, married to Abel...) is almost a ghost, a
feverish presence who is painted obsessively by her husband, his every brushstroke
seeming to almost touch her as much as the canvas. Epstein frames Madeleine
within shadow, cuts to Roderick’s hands as he moves them to his pallet and
brushes and shows her fear as he paints her essence.
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| The house of the Ushers |
As elsewhere in the director’s work – see the recent
Eureka Blu-ray release of Finis Terrae (1929), slow motion is used to
emphasise the strangeness of these moments and nothing at all looks or feels
normal. The hall of the house is huge with monumental stone steps leading down
to a grand fire lighting a vast stone floor: more of a cauldron than a living
space. Unholy winds blow drapes suggesting uncanny movements filling the walls…
there’s dread and only the visitor’s good humour to sustain us.
“… she seemed to give the painting, the strength that
was ebbing from her body.”
Roderick must paint and his wife must pose, but it
doesn’t appear to do either of them any good. In this version, “by some quirk
of heredity, every male descendent of the Usher family devoted himself passionately
to painting his wife’s portrait…” and Roderick is compelled to see this through
to the end as, indeed, is his subject. As
his visitor studies, his host’s brush strokes seem to be transferring his wife’s
life onto the canvas then, suddenly, there are shots of melting candles on the
wane and Madelaine’s haunted desperate face falling into multiple exposures
including one of which is negative… showing her literally void of natural light
and life. Is this death by oil painting?
As in life so in death as the strangest of burials
follows as they carry Madelaine to the family vault, through damp paths, across
a lake and onto an island, her long white veil flowing out of the casket like
her soul fading away into the night. Roderick refuses to accept that she’s dead
and tries to get them to leave the coffin lid open… yet here’s a doctor strange
with his glasses often whitened out by reflection, blind to his pleas. All the
same, the story has someway to run as uncanny winds blow souls and silk alike
through the headstone-chill of the house. Unquiet slumbers indeed...
The Redwood Creek Blu-ray is pretty hard to find now but
copies occasionally turn up on eBay, it’s only real USP is the score and the
fact it is physical media. The French restoration is a superior watch and it
was restored in 1997 by the Royal Belgian Film Archive working with the Cinémathèque
française, in collaboration with the Cineteca del Comune di Bologna, the
Nederlands Filmmuseum, and the Archivo Nacional de la Imagen – Sodre (Montevideo).
A variety of sources were used including an original
French 35mm nitrate positive held in the archives of the Cinémathèque française
and a tinted black and white copy from the Nederlands Filmmuseum. A tinted
black and white copy from the Fernando Pereda collection the Archivo Nacional
de la Imagen – Sodre (Montevideo) was used as a guideline for the colours.
In 2013, the film was digitally restored by the French
Film Archive and set to music by Gabriel Thibaudeau, whose score was performed
by the Octuor de France.
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| The French restoration |
In comparison the Redwood Creek Blu-ray uses a 16mm
print source of unknown provenance they say it is “the first 4K restoration” but
whilst it’s definitely the first 4k transfer of this particular source the
amount of restoration is unknown. It matters not but, as I said, it looks fine and
is perfectly watchable!
The French version comes in at some 64 minutes and 10
seconds whereas the Redwood Creek source is 65:43, possibly running a bit
slower as I can’t find any difference in content.
At the end of the day, it is one of the finest French
silents so, whatever way you can, it’s important to view!
The French restoration remains free-to-view on the Cinematheque website – which can be found here.
Jean Debucourt checks la qualité de l'impression...
*If I was that sort of person (I am, and I will…) I would
compare the transfers of the “English” version of L’Inferno – running at
65 minutes and 44 seconds with the Cineteca version taken from the Italian
source. Just to muddy the waters we have Terror Vision distributing a 2024 Blue-ray
of their own, tinted, restoration of a 4k transfer of the English source which
comes with the Redcreek 2022 “restoration” “modified by Terror Vision”, a black
and white “alternative restoration”, Pigeolet’s score and others from Mike
Kiker and HALEY as well as an excellent commentary from James L Neibaur.
That’s five versions I have now if you include the DVD version
with the horrible Tangerine Dream score… I first saw the Tangs at the Liverpool
Empire in 1977, they made some great music but this isn’t their finest!
**I’m sharing again this link from DVDFreak which, amongst other things, found that the “new tinted print” and “a new 4K scan…" “shared the exact same crop values, film damage and stability issues (on identical frames) as a previous version aired on German / French TV station Arte back in 2003...” suggesting much about quality and control and specifically how “new” anything actually was.
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| Redwood Creek on left, Cinémathèque française on the right. |
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