Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors

Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors (Tini zabutykh predkiv)

1964

Director: Sergei Parajanov

Starring: Ivan Mykolaichuk, Larisa Kadochnikova, Tatyana Bestayeva

In watching Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors a second time in order to review it, I borrowed the DVD from the local library and wanted to watch it on the big TV in our living room.  My husband was in the room as well, so I asked him, “Is it okay if I put on a really weird Soviet movie?”  He looked up from his video game and said, “Yeah, that’s fine.”  Ten minutes later, he turned to me and said, “You really weren’t kidding, this is weird.”

Indeed.

Alright, “weird” is not exactly the most fitting adjective here, but still, Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors is hardly typical cinema.  The story is about young Ivan (Mykolaichuk as an adult), a boy growing up in a Hutsul village in the Carpathian mountains of Ukraine.  As a boy, he falls in love with Marichka (Kadochnikova as an adult) despite the fact that her father killed his father.  The two grow up together inseparable, but when Marichka dies in an accident, Ivan is grief-stricken.  Ultimately he marries Palagna (Bestayeva) but still thinks of Marichka.  After not producing any children, Palagna turns to sorcery which causes a rift between her and Ivan.

  

I can understand why Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors is included in 1001 Movies, but it is not a movie I enjoy.  So, why is it in 1001 Movies, then?  Because first and foremost, Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors is about the Hutsul tradition.  It’s essentially a fictionalized ethnography, for lack of a better term.  Part of why I am so committed to not just watching but writing about the 1001 Movies book is because I know it will stretch me outside my comfort zone, and this film is exactly that.  The culture and traditions in Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors are wholly unlike those I am familiar with; the movie has exposed me to a time and place I would otherwise not have known, and that’s important. 

There are many cultural traditions on hand here, starting with the simple church service that opens the film, but is full of such colors and sets to feel very different.  There are the requisite weddings and funerals, but also the Christmas holidays, simple pub outings, a winter market, and tending to the farm.  What makes me prefer the type of cultural education presented in Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors to that in a more traditional ethnography is that this is all presented in terms of a fictionalized and fantasized story.  We see all these events through the window of wistful nostalgia and mysticism.  Parajanov’s manages to weave cultural education together with a fairytale-like atmosphere of images and sounds and feelings.  I prefer that Parajanov leaves many ceremonies completely unexplained; I’m still not sure why those villagers were wearing ridiculous masks in one scene, but I don’t think I really care.  It was as if I was an impartial observer, simply sitting back and watching this village without knowing the language.  What results is a whirlwind of color and dance and costume and sound, and it’s pretty heady.  

  

Additionally, on a personal level, I live in an area with a rather high Ukrainian population.  In my classes over the years I’ve been teaching, I’ve had several Ukrainian students; last year alone, in a class of only thirteen students, I had a Rostislav, a Petro, and a Vladimir, and they would frequently speak Ukrainian to one another.  Heck, sometimes they would go back and forth between Ukrainian and English in the same sentence. (and really, the amusement factor of watching two high school students yelling in Ukrainian at one another because they each think the other botched their chem lab results is pretty damn high… I will always remember Rostislav barking out incomprehensible orders to Petro from across the room.)  Because of this fact, I am a bit more interested in discovering Ukrainian traditions now than before I started teaching, if for no other reason than having a better understanding of where my students are coming from.  I understand that my students are separated by years from the traditions on display in Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors, but it is still interesting to discover nonetheless.

Speaking of sound, I rather enjoyed the music in this film.  Having played symphonic and large group classical music all my life, Russian and Soviet music always stems from its small town cultural roots.  When you listen to Tchaikovsky’s works where he is not writing to please Western European tastes (as in “Capriccio Italien”, for example), there is – obviously – significant Russian undertones and thematic elements.  Some of my favorite pieces of classical music are from the Eastern European composers, such as Shostakovich (forever associated with Stalin’s regime, unfortunately), Rimsky-Korsakov, Rachmaninov, Stravinsky… the list goes on and on.  One of my favorite concerts I’ve ever performed with a community band was when we played Tchaikovsky’s “Marche Slave”, Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition (yes, all of it), Shostakovich’s “Finale” from Symphony No. 5, and assorted smaller works, like Rimsky-Korsakov’s “Dance of the Tumblers” and Prokofiev’s “March” from The Love for Three Oranges.  It was staggering music, full of such cultural richness and tones, and an absolutely drop dead fantastic concert.  The soundtrack in Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors, all music composed directly for the film, is ripped from that same tradition.  It could fit right in beside Rimsky-Korsakov easily.  If nothing else, the aural and visual components of Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors are very striking, and this is why I understand why it makes it into 1001 Movies.

  

But.

Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors is not exactly a fun watch.  It’s not brutal or tortuous, in the way that horrific war films are, and nothing bad really happens, but it’s… trying.  Plot is not the point.  Subtitles that precede the film call it a “poetic drama.”  A visual tone poem, if you will.  At only an hour and a half, it’s not too long, but it’s still a bit of a task to sit through it.  The pace is decent enough, never really too slow or lingering too long on one thing, but I still struggled to pay attention.  In short, there is a great deal to appreciate about Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors, but much less to actually like.  I wouldn’t exactly recommend this film to anyone who wasn’t going through 1001 Movies, not because I think it’s a crap film, just because I don’t think anyone would really like it. 

And ultimately, this is my final opinion of Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors.  I can appreciate it, but I don’t particularly care for it.  If I’m looking to watch a Soviet visual tone poem, I’ll reach for Tarkovsky’s Zerkalo or Stalker in a heartbeat over Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors.  The colors and music and cultural richness is fine, maybe even important, but this movie is also the filmic equivalent of being forced to eat my vegetables.

Arbitrary Rating: 5/10.

The Masque of Red Death

 

The Masque of Red Death

1964

Director: Roger Corman

Starring: Vincent Price, Jane Asher, Hazel Court, Patrick Magee

Old school horror films like The Masque of Red Death are certainly very different from the horror films of today.  Is it scary?  Not exactly, not ‘scary’ in what I’d consider a typical manner.  But having said that, I think that today’s horror films could learn a lesson or three from horror classics like this.

Based, like so many other Corman movies, on an Edgar Allen Poe story, The Masque of Red Death focuses on evil Prince Prospero (Price) who retreats to his castle when the vicious plague the Red Death comes to the village in his land.  He abducts peasant Francesca (Asher) to keep as his new pet, a fact that displeases the Lady Juliana (Court).  Prospero eventually reveals to Francesca that he is a Satanist and he attempts to teach her his religion, while Prospero’s friend Alfredo (Magee) generally looks evil and acts dastardly in the background.

 

There are several moments of honest to god creepiness in The Masque of Red Death.  Take Prospero’s speech about terror in the court scene early in the film.  “What is terror?” he asks.  The fact that the court falls so suddenly quiet to listen to Vincent Price’s lyric and hypnotizing voice, which echoes ever so slightly, as Price speaks such eloquent yet disconcerting words, and yeah, it’s creepy.  The dwarf dancer Hop-toad exacts an incredibly vicious, if not undeserving, death on a character that is absolutely horrifying to watch, especially if you know what he’s planning all along.  To watch him so coldly and seductively ensnare the character in question into his trap is chilling.  And lastly, the whole of Prospero’s court I found rather disturbing.  The people Prospero has surrounded himself obey his every word without a single question; they actually delight in doing his bizarre and cruel bidding.  He’s a sadist who has found twenty odd masochists who will do whatever he asks.  In said early court scene, Prospero starts ordering his court members to act like animals for him.  They do, and everyone laughs at them.  It’s not the laughing, the mocking that’s disturbing in this scene, oh no.  No, it’s the relish with which the lords and ladies carry out Prospero’s ridiculous wishes.  Act like a donkey?  Absolutely, nothing would make me happier!  This is so disconcerting that it gives the whole scene a thoroughly creepy atmosphere, despite all of the laughing characters.  

All of these moments, however, are heightened by the awesome production value of The Masque of Red Death.  By filming in England, Corman was able to make his money go further and also use many of the castle sets from Becket.  The Masque of Red Death is a gorgeous movie, there is no denying it.  With brilliant colorwork and cinematography by none less than Nicolas Roeg, you will not get bored looking at this film.  Brilliant greens and blues and reds pop off the screen, and the costumes are just as sumptuous.  A highlight are the “colored rooms,” one each of nothing but yellow, purple, white, then black.  I even noticed the candles in the film.  They aren’t simply white candles, oh no, that’s too normal.  No, the candles color match their respective rooms, and even in the banquet hall, they are bright blue or green.  Horror films today shy away from color like it’s the plague, delighting in shadows and darks and blacks and greys.  The Masque of Red Death proves you can make a creepy film that is drenched in primary colors and filled with lush costumes.  The film hardly looks realistic, but what does that matter if it creates such an atmosphere?

 

All this isn’t to say the film is without flaws.  It’s certainly dated in some aspects, but less so than other B movie counterparts of its time.  I can easily forgive that.   No, my biggest confusion with The Masque of Red Death was in Prospero’s character.  I didn’t understand his random acts of kindness.  He’s supposed to be our Evil Genius of Evil, and yet he gets overcome with unexplained sympathy for humanity at the oddest of times.  For example, take Francesca.  He keeps on making vague threats to her, but never follows through on any of them.  He even treats her, dare I say it, well.  Sure, he kills everyone around her and treats those she loves with cruelty and violence, but to Francesca, he’s a positive lamb.  He doesn’t even try to come on to her in any way.  He protects her from the other madmen in his keep, even protects her from the Red Death.  And then there’s a scene where he orders the execution of six villagers, but spares the life of a young girl.  Why spare the life of the little girl?  It’s so out of character, or at least it doesn’t fall in line with expectations for what an Evil Genius should be.  Given how utterly cruel he is to everyone in the film, his acts of kindness are just… weird.  

 

But really, I suppose I shouldn’t be too nitpicky at a fun schlock fest that actually manages to be legitimately creepy, especially given that they just don’t make ‘em like this anymore.  I love the language and the colors and the cinematography.  I wouldn’t say I totally love the movie overall, as it’s not exactly my style, but I appreciate the hell out of it.  Bring back gothic horror films, I say!

Arbitrary Rating: 7/10

Marnie

Happy October! I've decided to focus my reviews this month on horror/thriller films, with a particular emphasis on Hitchcock (mostly because I have access to a lot of Hitchcock). Unfortunately, though, my first Hitch review of the scary season is, um, not a favorite.

Yeah, this poster pretty much sums up the movie.

Marnie 1964  
Director: Alfred Hitchcock  
Starring: Sean Connery, Tippi Hedren

Everyone makes a such a big to-do about Hitchcock’s glory period, late fifties to mid sixties, when he produced a string of unquestionable masterpieces. However, no artist, especially not one as prolific as Hitchcock, can produce such great films without having a stinker every now and then. Enter Marnie, a great reminder that not everything made in that period belongs in a “Best Of” list.

Marnie tells the story of a beautiful thief and con artist, the eponymous Marnie (Hedren), who both loves and hates her mother and appears to have nervous breakdowns when she sees the color red. On her latest job, she gets caught, or should I say cornered, by wealthy zoology enthusiast Mark Rutland (Connery). Inexplicably fascinated with her, he gives her an option: get turned in to the cops with the evidence he’s been collecting on her, or marry him. She decides to make her prison with Mark instead of the cops, and we are then treated, or rather mistreated, to one of the vilest relationships ever and some nonsensical psycho-babble. Fantastic.

Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb

Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb
1964
Director: Stanley Kubrick
Starring: Peter Sellers, Peter Sellers, Peter Sellers, George C. Scott, Sterling Hayden, Slim Pickens

In 1964, Hollywood produced two films about the threat of nuclear war. The country was in high paranoia, and there was constant fear about nuclear attack. One of these two films was a harrowing drama. The other was a satirical black comedy. Few people remember the drama (Fail Safe, starring Henry Fonda), but the satire, Dr. Strangelove, is still revered to this day.

An off-his-rocker general, General Jack Ripper (Hayden), issues the go codes for B-52 bombers to drop nuclear bombs on Russia and manages to convince his air force base that the US is under attack from the Russians. The US President, Merkin Muffley (Sellers), summons his heads of state to alert the Russians and call back the bombers, which works… except for one plane that doesn’t get the message. Sounds serious!

Practically the textbook definition of “Black Comedy,” this is a wickedly funny and shockingly scary film. Kubrick had the presence of mind to understand that the comedy was needed to help Americans swallow the bitter pill about the possibility of nuclear war. The laughs come at some of the most unexpected places, intercut with the seriousness of a nuclear war. A fantastically funny early sequence has George C. Scott’s character, General Turgidson, with his “secretary,” tanning herself in a bikini in their “office.” A commander calls him to tell him about the deployment of the bombs, but the secretary answers, and starts making purring noises at the commander on the other end of the phone as well. It’s so unexpected when she says, “This is his secretary,” and then later, “Oh hi, Freddy, how are you, baby?” Probably the last thing you’d expect to see in a movie about nuclear war.

A Hard Day's Night

I am amused that the title, in French, is "Four Boys in the Wind."

A Hard Day’s Night
1964
Director: Richard Lester
Starring: John Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison, Ringo Starr, Wilfrid Brambell

Perhaps initially popularized by Elvis and propagated in this day and age by such fine cinematic fare as Justin Bieber: Never Say Never, Hannah Montana: The Movie, and Katy Perry: Part of Me, the movie industry has never shied away from capitalizing on the hot pop music act of the day. These films tend not to make for incredibly profound viewing, and A Hard Day’s Night is no exception. However, it does benefit from having Beatles’ music in it (while not exactly a devotee, I enjoy their stuff) along with some fantastic lines of dialogue.

The plot, such as it is, focuses on the Lads from Liverpool getting to and preparing for a televised gig. At the beginning, they pick up Paul’s grandfather (Brambell) – no, his other grandfather, not the one that lives with him at home – and let him tag along. Problem is, granddad likes to run amok, so keeping tabs on him keeps the boys on their toes. Numerous musical numbers pop up along the way.

The main impression I got when I watched this the first time (about four years ago) was that of total and utter incoherence. Oh, you were looking for a plot that actually developed from point A to point B? I’m sorry, you clearly looked in the wrong place. In terms of cogency, A Hard Day’s Night falls somewhere between an episode of Monty Python’s Flying Circus and El Topo. All of which is to say, the film feels as if it’s barely held together at the seams, as if it’s about to careen over a cliff. The first time I saw this, the lack of logic rather bothered me, and it was all I focused on. I admit I left with a slightly bitter taste in my mouth.