This 35mm screening is part of the 'Projecting the Archive' strand at BFI Southbank. There will be an introduction by Jason Morell, actor and son of Joan Greenwood.
BFI introduction: When a young dancer has her career cut short by illness, she marries an
eminent sculptor whose cruelty drives her into the arms of another man.
This early role for Joan Greenwood sees her perfectly cast as the
fragile ballerina trapped in an abusive relationship. Sewell’s
atmospheric evocation of the fin de siècle decadence of bohemian Paris
is enhanced by the camerawork of silent horror veteran Günther Krampf.
Based on a French play, which the director adapted four times across his
career, this macabre tale exploring jealousy and spiritualism serves up
a shocking final twist.
Chicago Reader review: Howard Hawks's grand, brassy 1953 musical about two girls from Little
Rock—Marilyn Monroe and Jane Russell—gone gold digging in Paris. The
male sex is represented by a bespectacled nerd (Tommy Noonan), a dirty
old man (Charles Coburn), and a 12-year-old voyeur (the unforgettable
George "Foghorn" Winslow), all of whom deserve what they get. The
opening shot—Russell and Monroe in sequins standing against a screaming
red drape—is enough to knock you out of your seat, and the audacity
barely lets up from there, as Russell romances the entire U.S. Olympic
team to the tune of "Ain't There Anyone Here for Love?" and Hawks keeps
topping perversity with perversity. A landmark encounter in the battle
of the sexes. Dave Kehr
Chicago Reader review: The mood of Kenji Mizoguchi’s 1953 masterpiece is evoked by the English
translation most often given to its title, “Tales of the Pale and
Silvery Moon After the Rain.” Based on two 16th-century ghost stories,
the film is less a study of the supernatural than a sublime embodiment
of Mizoguchi’s eternal theme, the generosity of women and the
selfishness of men. Densely plotted but as emotionally subtle as its
name, Ugetsu is one of the great experiences of cinema. Dave Kehr
This film, which also screens on June 1st and 26th, is in the Big Screen Classics strand at BFI Southbank. Full details here.
Chicago Reader review: George Roy Hill’s 1969 film moves with steady, stupid grace from oozy
sentimentality to nihilistic violence; you have to admire the craft and
assurance of the thing even as its artificiality hits you in the face.
Paul Newman and Robert Redford are the romantic couple of the title;
Katharine Ross is the interloper. With Strother Martin, Jeff Corey,
Cloris Leachman, and Henry Jones. Dave Kehr
Time Out review: Rarely has a film’s content been as overshadowed by its context as
1961’s ‘The Misfits’, re-released this week as part of a Marilyn Monroe
retrospective at BFI Southbank. Director John Huston drank his
way through the production, falling asleep repeatedly during filming. As
her marriage to screenwriter Arthur Miller collapsed, leading lady
Monroe checked herself into rehab: her recovery was so rocky that all
subsequent close-ups had to be taken in soft focus. Two days after the
film wrapped, star Clark Gable died of a heart attack. Monroe would
follow 18 months later, having loathed the film and her performance in
it. Third lead Montgomery Clift survived for five more drink-fuelled
years: his final words, to a friend who asked him if he felt like
catching a late-night TV showing of ‘The Misfits’, were ‘absolutely
not! 'The tale of a down-on-her-luck divorcée (Monroe) who
shacks up with a grizzled-but-lovable Nevada cowboy (Gable) and his
rodeo-riding pal (Clift), ‘The Misfits’ is a problematic but provocative
piece of work. Miller’s dialogue is as theatrically fruity as it gets –
‘You’re three dear, sweet, dead men!’ – while his overall treatment of
Monroe’s character – dim, dizzy, innocent but oh-so-lively – feels
patronising. But there are powerful moments too: Eli Wallach’s
performance as Gable’s widowed buddy is pin-sharp, his transformation
from pitiable sidekick to soulless creep the most convincing thing in
the film. And the climax is simply magnificent, as matters come to a
head out at a remote salt flat and Monroe finally gives vent to her
frustrations with the entire male gender. Tom Huddleston
BFI introduction for UK premiere of digital restoration: When a US plane is shot down in occupied France, its pilot finds
shelter in a convent. He encounters a young novice who agrees to help
him escape the country, to save him and his secret cache of documents
from the Nazis. The night casts a veil of intimacy over the couple, who
develop a bond beyond physical love. Full of suspense and
expressionistic chiaroscuro, this transcendental drama remains striking
for its mix of thrill, torment and wonder. Restored in 4K by Universal Pictures and The Film Foundation at
NBCUniversal StudioPost laboratory, from the original 35mm negative
nitrate, a 35mm composite fine grain and the 35mm optical sound track
negative nitrate. Special thanks to Martin Scorsese and Steven
Spielberg.
Time Out review: Frank Borzage's admirers - and who'll not claim at least associate membership
of that circle? - will find this movie to be in a familiar case. The
writing suggests melodrama at its most mechanical and life cheapening,
yet the director infuses individual scenes with such warmth and
spontaneity as to ensure that the affections are celebrated even as
they're being betrayed. This time the love affair is explicitly
non-sexual, since the plot is to do with shot down flyer Ray Milland and
virginal nun Britton pretending to be husband and wife while on the run
in occupied France - a situation requiring fancy footwork from all
concerned to keep the censors at bay. It's salutary to watch the usually
tight-lipped Milland transformed into a model Borzage hero,
enthusiastic and brimming with tenderness.
The
Prince Charles are showing this classic movie from 70mm in a season
that continues throughout May and the beginning of June. You can find the full details here.
Chicago Reader review: David
Lean's 1962 spectacle about T.E. Lawrence's military career between
1916 and '18, written by Robert Bolt and produced by Sam Spiegel,
remains one of the most intelligent, handsome, and influential of all
war epics. Combining the scenic splendor of De Mille with virtues of the
English theater, Lean endeared himself to English professors and action
buffs alike. The film won seven Oscars, including best picture and
direction, yet the ideological crassness of De Mille and most war movies
isn't so much transcended as given a high gloss: the film's subject is
basically the White Man's Burden—despite ironic notations—with Alec
Guinness, Anthony Quinn, and Omar Sharif called upon to represent the
Arab soul, and Jose Ferrer embodying the savage Turks. The all-male cast
helps make this one of the most homoerotic of all screen epics, though
the characters' sexual experiences are at best only hinted at. Jonathan Rosenabum
