The Best Films I Have Never Seen Before: War of the Worlds (1953)

The War of the Worlds (1953) ****

Directed by: Byron Haskin.

Written by: Barré Lyndon based on the novel by H.G. Wells.

Starring: Gene Barry (Dr. Clayton Forrester), Ann Robinson (Sylvia Van Buren), Les Tremayne (Maj. Gen. Mann), Robert Cornthwaite (Dr. Pryor), Sandro Giglio (Dr. Bilderbeck), Lewis Martin (Pastor Dr. Matthew Collins), Houseley Stevenson Jr. (Gen. Mann's aide), Paul Frees (Second Radio Reporter / Opening Announcer), William Phipps (Wash Perry), Vernon Rich (Col. Ralph Heffner), Henry Brandon (Cop at Crash Site), Jack Kruschen (Salvatore), Cedric Hardwicke (Commentary).

The original The War of the Worlds from 1953 holds up remarkably well almost 60 years later. Yes, special effects have come a long way in that time – and are capable of doing things that were inconceivable in 1953 – but even the effects in this movie retain their creepiness and ability to scare. Modern audiences may find some of the movie cheesy, but if they give it a chance to work its magic on them, then they will find a truly wonderful sci-fi film.

The movie transplants the original H.G. Wells story from Victorian England, to 1950s America. It all starts with what looks like a meteor landing in a field outside of Los Angeles. The army is called out, and they also bring leading scientists, including Dr. Clayton Forrester (Gene Barry). Forrester is immediately struck by how little damage this supposed meteor has done. Something is not quite right here. He meets the beautiful Sylvia (Ann Robinson), who uncle is the local Pastor, and the two of them immediately bond. But then more and more of these “meteors” start landing across the country – and the world. And soon, they start moving. Once they do move, they lose contact with that area.

I enjoy 1950s science fiction movies, even the ones that can be a little cheesy. What surprised me about The War of the Worlds is how little cheese there is in the film. True, the character of Sylvia is hopelessly dated to the 1950s (she has an advanced degree in science, but spends the whole movie making tea and eggs for all the men), but other than that, the film holds up amazing well. There are several truly scary sequences – especially the long, slow moments as the Martians unscrew their exit hatch that becomes almost unbearably suspenseful. The scenes where the Martians make their ways across the landscape, laying waste to everything in their sight, are also wonderful.

Alien invasion movies have become common place in movies. I don’t even think you could say that The War of the Worlds was the first but it certainly did set the standard. Every alien invasion movie, from Invasion of the Body Snatcher to Independence Day to Spielberg’s War of the Worlds remake (which I know I am in the minority in thinking is actually a pretty great film, except for the terrible ending), has to be compared to this one. It establishes the clichés that every other film will play with in their own ways.

It must be said however, that the film doesn’t quite have the same impact it once did. Yes, it had groundbreaking special effects for its time. And yes, you can hardly call the movie clichéd since it establishes the clichés, not just mindlessly regurgitating them. For these reasons, The War of the Worlds will forever be placed, and rightfully so, right near the top of any list of the greatest alien invasion movies of all time. The only problem is, that once you see what this movie inspired – in dozens of other movies – it simply cannot have quite the same impact it once did. This is a wonderful movie – a must for sci-fi fans – and whatever faults we see in it now, really aren’t the film’s fault.

The Best Films I Have Never Seen Before: Tinker, Tailor, Solider, Spy (1979)

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (1979) ****

Directed by: John Irvin.

Written by: Arthur Hopcraft based on the novel by John le Carre.

Starring: Alec Guinness (George Smiley), Michael Jayston (Peter Guillam), Bernard Hepton (Toby Esterhase), Ian Richardson (Bill Haydon), Hywel Bennett (Ricki Tarr), Anthony Bate (Sir Oliver Lacon), Ian Bannen (Jim Prideaux), Michael Aldridge (Percy Alleline), Alexander Knox (Control),Terence Rigby (Roy Bland), George Sewell (Mendel), Alec Sabin (Fawn), Duncan Jones (Roach).

John le Carre has written some of the best spy novels of all time. They are among the best, because they are most believable, the most realistic. Spy work isn’t like what James Bond or Mission Impossible movies make it look like. Rather, it is a painstakingly slow process of gathering information and intelligence and informants, and then utilizing that information to the best of your advantages. The people who do it appear normal. Yes, it can be a deadly game, but rarely are there car chases. The violence, when it happens, is quick. Among his best works is Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy and in 1979, John Irvin made an excellent TV miniseries out of it. He doesn’t try and make the book more exciting, but pretty much films it scene for scene and takes his time. It is among the best miniseries’ I have ever seen.

As George Smiley, Alec Guinness gives one of his last great performances. Before the action of the movie starts, Smiley has been forced out of “The Circus”, the British network of spies. He was loyal to The Circus’ head man, Control (Alexander Knox), and when a scandal breaks out, Control cannot survive it – and is soon dead anyways – and they want to clear away Control’s loyalists, of whom Smiley is at the top of the list. But he called back into action because of a story of an agent, who says he met a Soviet spy named Irina, and she told him that one of the top men at The Circus is a mole, being run by the infamous Karla, a Soviet master spy. Unable to trust anyone high up in the Circus, Lacon, an emissary of “The Minister” turns to Smiley to try and figure out the truth. All this has to do with the last mission that Control ran, which went so horribly wrong. He sent Jim Prideaux to Czechoslovakia to meet with a disgruntled General who says he knows the identity of the mole. Control has it narrowed down to five men, and gives them each nickname out of the nursery rhyme Tinker Tailor, so Jim could let him know his identity. Out of the five suspects, four are now the leaders of The Circus – Percy Alleline, Bill Haydon, Roy Bland and Toby Esterhase. The fifth is Smiley himself.

Through six hours of running time, John Irvin (with an excellent screenplay by Arthur Hopcraft) builds his story through the small details. Conversations take place at their own pace; they aren’t rushed through simply to get the plot points down. The movie is about mood and attitude just as much as it’s ever tightening plot. Guinness, hidden behind his large glasses, is perfect as George Smiley. He never raises his voice, he never gets angry – even when someone needles him about his wife, which everyone does with the upmost respect exteriorly, while trying to dig the knife in deeper. Although he has emotions, ambitions and jealous’, he keeps them bottled up. He wants to see how others react to him, as much as what they say. He is supported by an excellent supporting cast, who revolves in and out of the movie (my favorite is probably Alexander Knox as the aged Control, trying to hold things together).

When I read the book a few months ago, I wondered how they made a six plus hour miniseries out of it, as it is hardly an epic novel. Having seen the miniseries, which captured the book so perfectly, I have to wonder how Thomas Alfredson has made it into a two hour movie. Irvin gets the details right, and a story like Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy is all about the details. The new film now doesn’t just have the novel, a masterpiece of spy fiction, to live up in my mind, but this wonderful miniseries as well. It is perfect as it is. The new film has big shoes to fill.

The Best Movies I Have Never Seen Before: Johnny Got His Gun (1971)

Johnny Got His Gun ***

Directed by: Dalton Trumbo.

Written by: Dalton Trumbo based on his novel.

Starring: Timothy Bottoms (Joe Bonham), Kathy Fields (Kareen), Marsha Hunt (Joe's Mother), Jason Robards (Joe's Father), Donald Sutherland (Christ), Alice Nunn (Third Nurse), Marge Redmond (First Nurse), Jodean Lawrence (Second Nurse), Diane Varsi (Fourth Nurse).

Dalton Trumbo was one of the most successful screenwriters in Hollywood history, despite the obvious handicap of being blacklisted by the McCarthy hearings in 1947. While blacklisted, Trumbo continued to work under assumed names – and saw two of his screenplays (from The Brave One and Roman Holiday) win Oscars. He eventually received an Oscar for The Brave One in 1975, one year before his death, and 19 years after it won the Oscar, and in 1993, the Academy finally awarded him an Oscar for Roman Holiday, even though by then he was dead. He only directed one film in his career – based on his own novel Johnny Got His Gun in 1971. Trumbo wrote the novel based in WWI in 1939, on the eve of WWII, and made the film during the height of the Vietnam War. It is relevant no matter what war it is about because it makes the point that all wars are wrong. The great Luis Bunuel had wanted to direct the movie, but for various reasons, it never happened with him at the helm. So instead, Trumbo took over. The result is not a great movie – it bares all the flaws that many first time filmmakers have in trying to accomplish too much, and being weak visually, but its impact remains immediate and painful. As long as wars continue to rage, the film will remain relevant.

The film stars Timothy Bottoms as Joe Bonham, who on the last day of WWI, gets hit with an artillery shell that blows off his arms, legs and face, but miraculously he survives. The doctors believe that he is a vegetable, and he is a fascinating patient – by all rights he should be dead, but he isn’t. So they keep him alive. What they do not know is that Bonham’s mind still works, although he has no way to communicate with anyone else, and cannot hear or see them. He lives in his dark world with nothing to keep him company. The army doesn’t even know what his name is.

The movie is made up of flashbacks to Bonham’s life before the war – with a strict father (Jason Robards), sympathetic but weak mother (Marsha Hunt) and loving girlfriend (Kathy Fields), surreal fantasy sequences (that apparently, Bunuel had a hand in writing), that include Bonham as a sideshow freak, and a Christmas party, and his present, lying in the bed with nothing. The only thing that keeps the present bearable are a series of four nurses, who treat him kindly. While the doctors and the army think he’s a vegetable, and so they needn’t worry about him, these four women take care of him, and treat him with dignity.

The scenes in the present are shot in stark black and white, and while Trumbo could hardly be called a gifted visual stylist, the images are memorable, mainly because of what is being shot – namely Bonham wrapped in bandages, with his face covered. A haunting moment where his bloody bandages are cut off, and fall to the floor, is subtle, and yet more effective than something more graphic would have been. The past and the fantasy sequences are shot in color, but it is color that looks drained and fuzzy – these were happier times than the present, but still not particularly happy.

For the most part, the performances work. Bottoms, would along with this film starred in Peter Bogdanovich’s masterpiece The Last Picture Show, seemed on the edge of greatness that he never quite achieved (the last time I saw him on screen was as the drunken, oblivious father in Gus Van Sant’s Elephant in 2003). Here though, he captures the young man who went off to war because it was the right thing to do, and now wants nothing more than to die. Robards is fine as his father, who believes in America, and democracy, and even though he cannot say what precisely America is fighting for, believes his son should be fighting for it. Donald Sutherland is in fine form in a small role as Jesus Christ, in Bonham’s fantasy sequences, who offers no real guidance.

There are far too many moments in the film that do not work for Johnny Got His Gun to be a great film – the worst example is of a strange Christmas party, with a man saying over and over again “I’m the boss, this is champagne, Merry Christmas” for reasons that I could never figure out. I also think that the film at times gets too preachy for its own good – hammering points home again and again until it becomes redundant. But having said that, I do have to admit that there are moments in Johnny Got His Gun that are unforgettable and haunting – ones that will likely stick with you forever. Johnny Got His Gun is not a great film, but it contains greatness in parts of it.

Note: The heavy metal bank Metalica was apparently a big fan of the book and movie, and wrote one of their best songs, One, in 1987, based on them. The music video for that song is included in the DVD, and at 8 minutes long (it is a long song), incorporates many of the best moments from the film. I actually think the 8 minute version on display in the video is more vivid and effective than the longer movie. The band apparently bought the rights to the movie outright, which is why it took so long to make its way to DVD.

The Best Movies I Have Never Seen Before: Antoinne et Collette (1962)

Antoine et Colette (1962) *** ½

Directed by: François Truffaut.

Starring: Jean-Pierre Léaud (Antoine Doinel), Marie-France Pisier (Colette), Patrick Auffay (René), François Darbon (Colette's Stepfather), Rosy Varte (Colette's Mother).

There has never been a cinematic alter ego for a director as well known Antoine Doinel was for Francois Truffuat. Truffaut’s first film, The 400 Blows, followed Doinel as a young teenager, struggling at home and at school, and eventually turning to street life and petty crime, before being sent to a reform school. This was the film that made Truffaut’s reputation, and remains one of the seminal works of the French New Wave. Truffaut based the film on his own experiences growing up. In 1962, he was approached to be part of an omnibus film, Love at Twenty, and decided to make a sequel to The 400 Blows, called Antoine et Colette, where we know see Antoine a few years older, on his own and supporting himself working at a record factory. He becomes obsessed with a beautiful girl named Colette, who he meets at the orchestra. The rest of the film follows Antoine’s attempts to win her over – but she just wants to be friends.

The film is short – about a half hour – but it certainly does stand the test of the time, and is one of the best films about unrequited love I can remember. Jean-Pierre Leaud once again plays Antoine, who has settled down a little bit in the year between the movies, become more mature and responsible. He no longer has to depend on anyone but himself for support – his parents are out of the picture, he doesn’t go to school, etc. He can do what he wants. What he really wants is Colette.

The early scenes in the film are brilliantly staged by Truffaut. We see Antoine settle into his seat at the orchestra, and then catch a glimpse of the beautiful Colette. Again and again, he shows up there to try and catch a look at her, and later, he tries to maneuver himself into a position where he can sit next to her. Eventually, the two of the talk, and flirt, and agree to meet again. What this means to Antoine, and what this means to Colette, of course, mean two entirely different things.

Antoine et Colette is an amusing, light hearted film. I’ll bet most people can relate to poor Antoine, having a crush on someone as a teenager, and believing their relationship is far more than it is to the other person. I enjoyed the scenes where Antoine meets her parents, and tries to be respectful, and how much sympathy they have for him. But if nothing else, Antoine should have clued in that Colette thinks of him as little more than a friend when her response to his love letter begins “Your letter was very well written…” Not exactly the response he was hoping for.

Antoine et Colette may be a minor work by a major director, but that doesn’t mean it is not worthy of attention. This is the film that often gets overlooked in the Antoine Doinel catalogue, because it is a short. But there is genuine emotion here – the last scene is almost heartbreaking – and it really is Truffaut pouring out his soul. For some reason, I had not seen any of the Doinel films after The 400 Blows, but after watching this film, I intend to correct that as soon as possible.

Thoughts on the First 100: The Best Films I've Never Seen Before

I started this series at the beginning of 2011 because I love watching older movies, and yet I never really wrote about them on the blog. In 2010, I went back and did a top 10 list for every year since the Oscars originated in 1927, and in preparation for that, I went back and tried to watch a few key films from every year that I missed. I loved it, but there were times when I was disappointed. This was because I saw a great movie, but what I could write about it was limited to a paragraph. Or sometimes, because I didn’t like a classic movie – or didn’t like it enough for it to be on a top 10 list, so I didn’t write about it at all, even though I had something to say about it. When that project finished, I wanted to keep going, so that is essentially what I have done. I thought of doing something like Roger Ebert’s Great Movies series, and while this series shares similarities with that series, this one is different because I don’t necessarily love all of these movies. Plus, I’m writing about films that I have not seen, rather than films I have seen, and are rewatching.

When I started, my goal was to use the They Shoot Pictures, Don’t They? Top 1000 list, augmented by Roger Ebert’s Great Movies and the 1001 movies You Must See Before You Die series, but as you may have noticed, I quickly abandoned that. I felt it was too restrictive, and their were movies that weren’t on any of those lists that for whatever reason piqued my interest. So I just started to watch whatever the hell I wanted to. I enjoyed it.

The Best Movie I’ve Never Seen Before series has provided me with 100 interesting movies to contemplate so far – and at a much higher rate of positive to negative reviews that current movies. Of the first 100, I only gave “negative” reviews to 8 films. I didn’t love the other 92 (only 45 got 4 stars), but I liked them enough to award them at least 3 stars. But the rating for me is always secondary. It is a handy classification tool, but little else. I hope these 100 reviews helped to shed some light on some great classic films – both ones that are well known to movie lovers that somehow I missed, to other, lesser known films.

I look at the directors I have reviewed so far, and I am amazed. 82 different directors from 17 different countries (Germany, Italy, France, Canada, America, England, Spain, Greece, Japan, China, Thailand, Iran, Portugual, Denmark, Sweden, Hong Kong, Russia), spanning over 100 years and I am simply amazed. What an eclectic group of filmmakers, spanning all genres and eras of filmmaking. I couldn’t be more pleased, and I look forward to continuing the series.

As a final aside, I’ll give you my list for my 10 favorites and five least favorites out the first 100 films seen, in reverse order, with just a few brief words about each. They are completely meaningless lists, with no real parameters, but hey, I wanted to do, so I did.

10. Love Streams (John Cassavetes, 1984)

The final “Cassavetes” Cassavetes film (he made one after, but it was one his “director for hire jobs”), Love Streams is a bizarre, operatic examination of a truly strange relationship between a brother and sister – played by Cassavetes and his wife Gena Rowlands. Only Cassavetes could have pulled this one off.

9. Kings and Queen (Arnaud Desplechin, 2004)

The stark contrast between how we see ourselves and how the world sees us is the subject of this painful and painfully film by modern French master Despleschin. Emmanuele Davos gives an incredible lead performance here.

8. Petulia (Richard Lester, 1968)

One of the most bizarre films about the swinging ‘60s is Lester’s incredibly strange film about George C. Scott as a doctor who lives his wife (a brilliant Shirley Knight) and has an affair with world class cook Julie Christie. Words cannot describe this disturbing, cruel film.

7. The Servant (Joseph Losey, 1963)

Harold Pinter likes his characters to play games with each other, and nowhere is that more apparent than in this film, with Dirk Bogarde giving a great performance as a manservant who gets the best of his master. Losey’s direction is brilliant.

6. The Gunfighter (Henry King, 1950)

An underrated Western with Gregory Peck as an aging gunfighter who wants out of the life, but knows he will probably never be able to leave. If it was directed by Ford or Hawks, it would be recognized as one of the best ever, like it should be.

5. The Traveling Players (Theo Angeloposlos, 1975)

A hugely epic (four hour) film about Greece from 1939 to 1952, but harkening back to Greek mythology for its characters and action. A challenging film, but a richly rewarding one.

4. Two-Lane Blacktop (Monte Hellman, 1971)

The studio thought they were getting the next Easy Rider when the funded it – and were disappointed when it turned out they got the anti-Easy Rider instead. Hellman’s film will be the one he is remembered for – a story about the emptiness of the open road.

3. Greed (Erich von Stroheim, 1924)

The fact that we’ll never get to see all 9 hours of Stroheim’s opus is one of the biggest losses in cinema history. The fact that we do get to see what is left of it – nearly four hours including stills – is cause for celebration. Quite simply one of the best silent films ever made.

2. Solaris (Andrei Tarkovsky, 1972)

I put off seeing Tarkovsky’s most celebrated film for more than a decade because of my mixture of awe and boredom that I normally get from watching his films. But this is a sci-fi masterpiece – all awe, no boredom.

1. Chungking Express (Wong Kar Wai, 1994)

The only film I’ve watched for this series where I watched it twice in a row, simply because I didn’t want Wong Kar Wai’s dreamy, romantic film to end (even if it is about the fleeting nature of romance, and how infatuation can be more satisfying than the real thing). Wong has made more complex film, more beautiful films, but never one I loved so much as this one.

And the five worst.

5. Wait Until Dark (Terrence Yong, 1967)

There have been a number of occasions over the years when someone will ask me if I’ve seen Wait Until Dark, and told me that it was one of the scariest, most intense movies they’ve ever seen. I thought it was just plain silly, with one unlikely twist following another in a plot that makes no sense if you think about it for about 2 seconds. Audrey Hepburn is pretty good in it, I guess, but that’s about it.

4. Wavelength (Michael Snow, 1967)

A slow zoom on a mostly empty room last 45 minutes. There are a few minutes with people in at the beginning, about half way through and at the end, but they are meaningless. There is no plot, and while there is editing, it is done in a way that is seamless, so the eye perceives no change. The camera zooms closer and closer to a picture on the far side of the room. The film had the effect on me that Michael Snow wanted it to have – he wants you to watch closely, and be bored by the inaction, because he’s making a point about the illusion of cinema. Point made. I just don’t quite understand why I needed to watch it.

3. Funny Girl (William Wyler, 1968)

I have never been a Barbara Striesand fan, even if I barely know her film work. Having said that, she is pretty much the only reason to watch William Wyler’s epically long and epically dull Fanny Brice biopic. Striesand throws herself into the musical numbers with gusto, but there is nothing beyond those musical numbers remotely interesting or entertaining. Omar Shariff has got to be the dullest leading man in film history.

2. Rose Hobart (Joseph Cornell, 1936)

Joseph Cornell’s surrealist short film from 1936 may have been the film Salvador Dali saw in his dreams (he even accused Cornell of stealing his thoughts), but it certainly wasn’t the film of mine. It is 18 minutes of the B-movie East of Borneo, divorced from its soundtrack, and focusing entirely on the female lead – Rose Hobart. The film forces us to evaluate the images themselves, because they are devoid of context or sound, so the images take on a different meaning then they were intended to. I think I get the point, but like with Wavelength, I’m not entirely sure I needed to watch it.

1. Death in Venice (Luchino Visconti, 1971)

After loving him in Joseph Losey’s The Servant, I rented Death in Venice with Dirk Bogarde, because of him, and Visconti – a director I normally love. And while I love the visual look of the film – making a city I visited and fell in love with look its best – I found Death in Venice to be a hollow film. The main thrust of the plot is dull and limp, and mainly consists of Bogarde starring dreamily at a beautiful teenage boy until he dies. I understand why Bogarde, as a closeted gay man, would want to make this film. But the result is painfully dull. If I want to see Bogarde and Visconti working together, I’ll stick with the over the top The Damned, thank you very much.

The Best Films I Have Never Seen Before: The Go-Between (1971)

The Go-Between (1971) ****

Directed by: Joseph Losey.

Written by: Harold Pinter based on the novel by L.P. Hartley.

Starring:  Julie Christie (Marian - Lady Trimingham), Alan Bates (Ted Burgess), Margaret Leighton (Mrs. Maudsley), Michael Redgrave (Leo Colston), Dominic Guard ('Leo' Colston), Michael Gough (Mr. Maudsley), Edward Fox (Hugh Trimingham), Richard Gibson (Marcus).

On the surface, The Go-Between resembles many other films. It is about a relationship between an upper class British woman, Marian (Julie Christie) and a lower class farmer, Ted (Alan Bates) who truly do love each other, but can never be together because of their difference in class. This has been a standard story in British literature for as long as there has been such a thing. And yet, Joseph Losey’s The Go-Between is still a stunning film. Harold Pinter adapted L.P. Hartley’s novel, which looks at this relationship over one summer through the eyes of a 12 year old boy – and how the consequences of what happened that summer reverberates through the years, forever scarring everyone involved.

The film stars young Dominic Guard as Leo, who is school friends with Marcus (Richard Gibson) and is invited to spend the summer with them. Leo is middle class, doesn’t have all the advantages or money that Marcus does, and at first, he seems at awe of their huge estate. The family is nice, if a little condescending towards him – especially Marian, who takes a shine to Leo, even going so far as to take him into town to buy him a summer suit, when it becomes clear that he does not own one. Leo is smitten with Marian, and will do anything for her. Something she uses to her advantage. Things really get started when Marcus gets sick and has to stay in bed all day – leaving Leo to wonder the countryside by himself. One day he ends up stumbling upon the farm on the family land that is rented to Ted Burgess. Ted is nice to Leo, but also probes him with questions. Does he ever see Marian alone? Could he take her a letter without anyone else seeing it? Leo doesn’t understand the implications of this before it is too late. Soon, he is running back and forth almost daily with letters between the two lovers. He becomes confused when he is told that Marian is going to marry not Ted, but Hugh Trimingham (Edward Fox), the scarred war hero with a title. He will eventually ask Marian why she cannot marry Ted. She simply replies “I cannot”. When he follows this up by asking her why she is marrying Hugh she simply says “Because I must”. It won’t be until the end of the film when all of this comes together.

The Go-Between is an expertly calibrated mood piece. Losey has an eye for period detail, and everything in the film looks just right. The cinematography by Gerry Fisher is expert, with a camera that is constantly moving, constantly watching. The score by Michael Legrand is ever present, and sets the tone. Like the previous Losey-Pinter collaboration, The Go-Between experiments with time, flashing forward to the end of the story, or the epilogue, during the second half of the film, rather than simply using it as a bookend. This helps to put the cause and effects next to each other, to see what will become of the characters, and why, as it happens.

Pinter’s screenplay here is one of his best. It is one where what isn’t said is emphasized – one where we get layers that fly right over poor, young, naïve Leo’s head. The lovers may be older than they were intended to be (Julie Christie was almost 30, and Marian was originally written as a teenager), but this adds to the sad poignancy of her character. She has not yet married, she is in love for the first time in her life, but instead of being able to pursue that love, she is stuck with Hugh. One of the nice things about the film is that Hugh is not portrayed as a bad guy. He is nice to Leo – nicer than most of the rest of the family. It isn’t his fault that Marian is in love with someone else.

The performances work beautifully. Dominic Guard is wonderful as the child on the brink of sexual awakening, but still naïve about it. Julie Christie is wonderful as the tragic heroine – caught between what she wants and what she is expected to do. Alan Bates is in fine form as the lower class farmer, who nonetheless is kind and gentle. And Margaret Leighton is magnificent as Christie’s mother, who knows far more than she lets on.

Out of the three Losey-Pinter collaborations, I think The Go-Between is probably the weakest. It doesn’t quite have the subversive kick of The Servant (1963) or the complexity of Accident (1967). And yet, it is still a great film. These two simply knew how to bring the best out of each other – push each other farther. It is one of the best writer-director collaborations in film history.

The Best Films I Have Never Seen Before: Harold and Maude (1971)

Harold and Maude (1971) ***

Directed by: Hal Ashby.

Written by: Colin Higgins.

Starring:  Ruth Gordon (Maude), Bud Cort (Harold), Vivian Pickles (Mrs. Chasen), Cyril Cusack (Glaucus), Charles Tyner (Uncle Victor), Ellen Geer (Sunshine Doré), Eric Christmas (Priest), G. Wood (Psychiatrist), Judy Engles (Candy Gulf), Shari Summers (Edith Phern).

Harold and Maude was pretty much dismissed by critics back in 1971, and was initially a box office failure. And then, almost immediately afterwards, it became a cult hit – playing in some theaters for years on end. Watching the film for the first time now, it’s easy to see why critics initially hated it, and why some audiences fell in love with it. It reminded me at times of Mike Nichols’ The Graduate, and its influence on filmmakers like Wes Anderson is pretty clear. Yet the humor in the movie is dark and strange, and at times somewhat creepy. The whole premise of the movie – a 20 year old man falling in love with a 80 year old woman – is creepy as well (for the record, this isn’t a double standard thing – I’d be just creeped out by a romantic comedy starring Peter O’Toole and Emma Watson). Yet there is something about Harold and Maude that kept me fascinated by it – and enough of the comedy is laugh out loud funny that I have to admit, despite my reservations, that I enjoyed the film.

The best thing about Harold and Maude is Bud Cort – the talented young actor who had just made two movies with Robert Altman the previous year (MASH and Brewster McCloud). He is Harold, a 20 year, rich kid who is bored by life. His only joy is faking his own suicide again and again and again, to the point where his mother (Vivien Pickles, who is absolutely hilarious in her role) has stopped caring. His fake suicides are a running gag in the film, and provide some of the funniest moments (my favorite is when he apparently sets himself on fire, done all in one shot in the background). He is a child of the 1960s, facing possible drafting into a war that he (and the movie) sees as ridiculous. He is the classic disenfranchised youth.

Ruth Gordon plays Maude, an 80 year old Holocaust survivor (this isn’t, to the best of my recollection mentioned in the movie, but you can clearly see a numbered tattoo on her arm in the film), who is the exact opposite of Harold. She has embraced life to the fullest, and lives every day with joy, always looking to try new experiences. She will not let life get her down. The two of them meet at a funeral – neither of them knew the deceased, but both simply like going to funerals – Harold because he’s obsessed with death, Maude to remind herself of what she’s fighting against). What starts as a friendship, quickly turns into something else entirely.

There is much to like about the film. Directed by Hal Ashby (who would go onto to direct much better films like The Last Detail, Shampoo, Bound for Glory, Coming Home and a personal favorite Being There) has an interesting visual style. He films much of the movie in static long shots that he holds just a second or two longer than most directors would to allow the humor to seep in. The songs by Cat Stevens are memorable, and help to give the film that The Graduate type vibe, with only the one voice all the way through. Cort is excellent as Harold – deadpan perfection in most of his humorous scenes, though he isn’t quite as convincing when the film becomes more emotional. Vivien Pickles may in fact give the best performance in the movie as his mother – the scene where she fills out Harold’s dating service application is the best in the film. Ruth Gordon is a little more problematic, not really because of her performance, but because of how the film is written. She can become a little cloying and annoying, and some of her lines are hackneyed. The ending of the film doesn’t work at all, because it seems to fly in the face of everything that went before it.

Yet, overall Harold and Maude is a satisfying, unique comedy. It isn’t the classic that the supporters claim it is – at least not to me – but there is much to like about it. Ashby would go onto better things than this, but he continued to have to battle the studios (as he did here) to get the films he wanted to get made done. Harold and Maude is a fine film – it just isn’t a masterpiece.

The Best Films I Have Never Seen Before: Muriel (1963)

Muriel (1963) ****

Directed by: Alain Resnais.

Written by: Jean Cayrol.

Starring: Delphine Seyrig (Hélène Aughain), Jean-Pierre Kérien (Alphonse Noyard), Nita Klein (Françoise),  Jean-Baptiste Thiérrée (Bernard Aughain), Claude Sainval (Roland de Smoke), Laurence Badie (Claudie), Jean Champion (Ernest),  Jean Dasté (The Goat Man), Martine Vatel (Marie-Dominique), Françoise Bertin (Simone).

The films of Alain Resnais are always a little more complex than they first appear – and that’s saying something as many of films appear to be very complex. His 1963 film Muriel – his third narrative feature following Hiroshima Mon Amour (1959) and Last Year at Marienbad (1961) – is slightly different as at first, it seems like a rather straight forward melodrama – although a superbly acted and crafted one. The only thing that appears strange is Resnais’ repeated rapid editing of empty spaces waiting to be filled by the characters. At first, I simply dismissed them as a director, who was used to more formally complex work, trying to add some artiness to a standard story. But as the movie moves along, and everything becomes much more complex, these sequences actually become quite important – and add to the complexity of it all.

The film stars Delphine Seyrig as Helene, a widow who sells antiques out of her apartment in a small, seaside French town. Her stepson Bernard (Jean-Baptiste Thierree) has just returned from his military service in Algeria, and seems haunted by his experiences there. He keeps mentioning “Muriel” so much, that Helene starts to refer to her as his fiancée – even though we see for the beginning of the film that he is seeing no one named Muriel, but is instead sleeping with Marie-Do (Martine Vatel). Helene has invited her former lover Alphonse (Jean-Pierre Kerien) to stay with her for a while, and he shows up with his “niece” Francoise (Nita Klein). Helene and Alphonse broke up because of the war (WWII), and he has supposedly spent most of his time since running a café in Algeria – but with the troubles there, he has returned.

The film is about the different ways these people are deluding themselves – and each other. They are hiding from reality, and putting up a front to those around. War has scared all of them in one way or another, much like the town itself (it is remarked that the town was destroyed in WWII, and is still in some ways building itself back up). The truth about all of these characters will be revealed throughout the course of the movie – but perhaps it’s not the real truth. The most memorable scene maybe when Bernard finally explains who Muriel is – his words juxtaposed against more banal news reel images of the Algerian war.

The film is a triumph for Resnais, as well as his actors. For Seyrig, her character fits in nicely alongside her other work in films like Last Year in Marienbad – where she plays a woman who either doesn’t remember a romantic tryst the year before or it never happened in the first place – and Chantal Ackerman’s Jeanne Dielman (1975), where she plays a housewife wholly devoted to her routines, until it is shattered and she snaps. Her Helene seems like such a nice woman – a typical, young widow – but her apartment cluttered with stuff that is for sale works as a metaphor for how chaotic her mind is. She is a gambling addict, at risk of losing everything, but she continues gambling anyway. She has romanticized her brief romance with Alphonse, and the two of them seem to be falling back into something, but then why does she continue to see her new suitor, Roland de Smoke? And why did Alphonse bring along Francoise, who is clearly not his niece, but his lover. And why did she come?

The film has been seen by some as homage to Hitchcock, and I think that fits as well. It is not a typical thriller, but it is one that builds suspense in interesting ways – and one where the characters are not quite as they appear to be. Resnais jump cuts work, because it disturbs the movie, as the characters are disturbed, and helps to emphasize their alienation for reality.

The final shot in Muriel is haunting. It takes place inside Helene’s apartment, but everything now seems to be in order. A woman we have never seen before, but we know who she is, comes in and finds the place empty. The meanings of this shot are complex, and are ones I just beginning to grasp. Muriel is a complex masterpiece.

The Best Movies I Have Never Seen Before: Salvatore Giuliano (1962)

Salvatore Guilano (1962) ***

Directed by: Francesco Rosi.
Written by: Suso Cecchi d'Amico & Enzo Provenzale & Francesco Rosi & Franco Solinas.
Starring: Salvo Randone (President of Viterbo Assize Court), Frank Wolff (Gaspare Pisciotta).

There is no doubt that Francesco Rosi’s Salvatore Guilano is a very influential film. You see echoes of this film in something like Gillo Pontecorvo’s much better known The Battle of Algiers – made four years after this, and even in something as recent at Matteo Garrone’s Gomorrah (2008). It is a film that jumps back and forth in time, to show how criminal Salvatore Guilano, and his mafia, influenced events in Sicily for almost two decades. The strange thing is that Guilano isn’t even a character in the movie – he only shows up in the movie as a corpse or as a barely seen presence running up the mountains.

The fact that Rosi chose to name his film after a character that is barely in it, and makes no impression on the film as a living character, is odd, but it works to a certain extent. Guilano himself isn’t important – and Rosi definitely did not want to make some sort of hero out of the outlaw, which many films seem to do. Rather, he wants to show the corruption in Sicily during this time period, the relationships between the criminals, and more importantly, the relationships these criminals had with the cops and politicians, who were supposed to be doing something about them. This is a complex portrait of a society that is rotten to its core.

The film is broken up into two halves – the first revolving around the discovery of Giulano’s body in 1950, that then flashes back to tell everything that happened between 1943 (when Guilano fought for Italy), through Sicily’s succession movement, and into Guilano becoming a criminal. The second half of the movie is about Guilano’s right hand man and Judas Pisciotta, who is put on trial for many things in 1960, and flashing back to what got them there from the time of Guilano’s death to the trial itself. The odd thing about the movie is although it is made up of flashbacks, Rosi doesn’t identify them as such. The present and the past play off of each other, cause and effect are next to each other, rather than the story proceeding in a chronological fashion.

I must say that I admired Salvatore Guilano more than I actually enjoyed or became involved in the film. Unless you are up on your Sicilian history, you may well get lost in the movies complex narrative, as I was at certain times. Perhaps a second viewing would help in that regard. But the filmmaking itself is impeccable. Rosi’s style mixes together neo-realism and the crime drama – something echoed in the film’s top notch cinematography and editing. I want to see more of Rosi’s work, because even if I didn’t love Salvatore Guilano, I can tell what a gifted filmmaker he was.

The Best Films I Have Never Seen Before: Fellini Satyricon

Fellini Satyricon (1969) ***

Directed by: Federico Fellini.

Written by: Federico Fellini & Bernardino Zapponi & Brunello Rondi based on the book by Petronius.

Starring: Martin Potter (Encolpio), Hiram Keller (Ascilto), Max Born (Gitone), Salvo Randone (Eumolpo), Mario Romagnoli (Trimalcione), Magali Noël (Fortunata), Capucine (Trifena), Alain Cuny (Lica), Fanfulla (Vernacchio), Danika La Loggia (Scintilla), Giuseppe Sanvitale (Abinna), Genius (Liberto arricchito), Lucia Bosé (La matrona), Joseph Wheeler (Il suicida), Hylette Adolphe (La schiavetta), Tanya Lopert (L'imperatore).

What can I say about Fellini Satyricon? I can’t say that I overly enjoyed the film, because I really didn’t all that much. But I was fascinated by the film. Here is a movie that is completely over the top with his violence and sexuality, which tells a story that keeps splintering off into side trips that have little to do with its main narrative. It is a film based on an epic, incomplete book written by Petronius during the reign of Nero, and is set during that time period, and yet it seems to be about a time and place that may never have existed. Fellini described the film as being a science fiction film looking backwards in time rather than forward, and that is as good as an explanation as any. Perhaps it’s best to look at the film as the sci-fi epic that Guido, the film director “hero” of Fellini’s 8 ½ tried and failed to make. The film seems to come from Fellini’s subconscious, and it contains some of the most beautiful, brutal and memorable images that the master filmmaker put on screen. Does it work as a movie? I’m honestly not sure.

The main thrust of the plot involves Encolpio (Martin Potter), who is very angry at losing his slave/lover Gitone (Max Born). This will happen again and again in the movie, and Encolpio will try to his boy toy back. First, he is stolen by Encolpio’s brother Ascilto (Hiram Keller), who has taken Gitone simply to screw with Encolpio, as he almost immediately sold him to a well known stage actor. Encolpio goes and gets Gitone, and brings him home, only to have him once again run off with Ascilto.

From there, the movie spins wildly off in many directions. We mainly follow Encolpio, but the movie makes many side trips. There is a banquet given by a wealthy man that contains him covering his wife in gizzards when she berates him for staring lustfully at two young boys, and also involves a poet being tortured for daring to suggest that the wealthy man stole his poetry from someone else. From there, Encolpio, now once again with Ascilto and Gitone, are imprisoned on a pirate ship, where eventually Encolpio has to marry an aging, ugly man. There will be more violence – the killing of a hermaphrodite for example, sex, a battle with a fake Minotaur and finally ending in cannibalism and the start of a new journey, that ends in mid sentence.

What one makes of all of this is up to them. To me, the movie was a little too needlessly complex – telling multiple stories within the story, and jumping around from one thread to another with sometimes little rhyme or reason. And yet, the film never ceased to fascinate me. Part of the reason is that this truly is one of the unique looking films I have ever seen. Filmed almost entirely in the legendary Cinecetta studio, the sets and costumes look almost like most Roman epics, but also distinctly different. There’s something off about them. The cinematography is gorgeous, but also somewhat otherworldly. The film doesn’t look like we imagine Ancient Rome to look, but like life on some distant planet. Even when I got lost in the film’s plot, there was rarely a moment when I wasn’t enraptured by the visuals of the film.

The film certainly does feel like a Fellini film – although his most extreme. Fellini started as a neo-realist, and his early films in the 1950s (like I Vittelloni, La Strada and Nights in Cabiria) certainly follow that mold. Starting in the 1960s though, Fellini started to move away from them – deeper into his subconscious and into his own fantasy world. We see moments in La Dolce Vita (my personal favorite of Fellini’s work), and it is certainly present in the two films that immediately precede Satyricon – 8 ½ and Juliet of the Spirits. All of those films are great – better than Satyricon in my mind – but they all seem to build to Satyricon, which is Fellini at his wildest, indulging every fantasy he ever had. Fellini would come back down to earth after this film, but this is one where he got to do anything he ever wanted to do.

In the end, I’m at a loss to try and explain this film, and whether or not it’s any good. I don’t know if watching it again would help to clarify the things that confused me, or that I didn’t like, or if it would simply bore me – so I don’t think I’ll try revisiting it any time soon. Yet, I cannot say the film is a failure. It is precisely the film Fellini set out to make – a film that looks back in time, although it feels like it takes place on another planet, and yet had messages about empty sexuality that resonated with people at the time was made. Fellini apparently viewed this as one of his personal favorites of everything he ever made. It certainly does feel like a film he felt he had to make. Whether you have to watch it or not is up to you.

The Best Films I Have Never Seen Before: Accident (1967)

Accident (1967) ****

Directed by: Joseph Losey.

Written by: Harold Pinter based on the novel by Nicholas Mosley.

Starring: Dirk Bogarde (Stephen), Stanley Baker (Charley), Jacqueline Sassard (Anna), Michael York (William), Vivien Merchant (Rosalind), Delphine Seyrig (Francesca), Alexander Knox (Provost), Ann Firbank (Laura).

Joseph Losey and Harold Pinter’s second collaboration following The Servant (1963) but before The Go-Between (1971) is probably the least remembered of the three films they made together. I haven’t seen The Go-Between yet, so I cannot comment on that one, but I think the reason why Accident isn’t quite as highly regarded as The Servant is because it’s more complex, more dense, less immediately satisfying than the previous film. This isn’t to say that it isn’t as good as The Servant – in some ways, it’s better, and is certainly more daring, just that Accident is a harder film to try and wrap your head around.

Like The Servant, Accident is essentially about people destroying each other while maintaining a mask of civility. I don’t think any of the characters in Accident – especially the male ones – like each other very much at all. Yet on the outside, they maintain a façade of pleasantness to one another. No one gets into a fight during the course of Accident – I’m not sure anyone even raises their voice - but lives are certainly ruined.

The film stars Dirk Bogarde in another of his great performances, as Stephen, a seemingly happily married Oxford don, specializing in philosophy. He has been tutoring William (Michael York) for a while now, and they have a friendly student-teacher relationship. Stephen’s new pupil is Anna (Jacqueline Sassard), a beautiful Bulgarian “princess”, who William is enamored with – but then again so is Stephen. William wants Stephen to introduce the two of them, and although he doesn’t, William and Anna start dating anyway. Being nice, Stephen invites the two of them to his country house to meet his wife Rosalind (Vivien Merchant) and his two young children. Unexpectedly, Charley (Stanley Baker), another Oxford don – but a more famous and successful one – arrives to visit his “friends” Stephen and Rosalind. He hints at marital discord in his own relationship – and like Stephen and William, also “falls in love” with Anna.

Anna is a typical Harold Pinter creation – a blank slate of a character that everyone else projects their own vision upon. Other than her beauty, there is nothing at all that defines her as a character. We never get to know the real person that lies beyond that beauty. That is mainly because the movie is told from Stephen’s point of view – everything we see comes from him. And he never really bothers to get to know Anna – he simply falls in love with her beauty. Why she is with William, and later why she starts an affair with Charley, is never made clear. The reasons for her actions are often murky – so much so that we cannot even tell if her actions in the title accident are really an accident at all. She defies explanation. I do not mean this as an insult on the movie, because that is what her purpose is. Without her, the male characters who probably simply trade banal, meaningless pleasantries with each other for the whole movie. With her, those banal, pleasantries become loaded with resentment and contempt. I’m not sure when it becomes clear that Stephen and Charley truly hate each other – despite being lifelong “friends” – but it certainly become clear over the course of the movie. I think perhaps it’s in a scene where Stephen comes back to his house in London, which he believes to be empty – to find that it is in fact occupied by Anna and Stephen, having one of their rendezvous, that up until that point, Stephen did not know about. Watch that scene to see the way Stephen bends over backwards to be polite to the two of them, and yet how every phrase is dripping with hatred for Stephen, and regret for not having bed Anna himself. It is a masterful moment for Pinter, Losey and Bogarde.

With Accident, director Joseph Losey pushes himself beyond where he was with The Servant. He and Pinter play with time more in this film – events happen out of chronological order, and the end swoops back around to the beginning of the film, and gives everything in it an entirely different meaning. The strange, off kilter cinematography, that lingers in empty rooms after the characters have left, the editing which sets the tone, and sound design which is haunting, is all interesting and unique. Unlike many directors in the 1960s, whose experiments in style where largely meaningless and an attempt to be cool, Losey’s visual experiments are perfect for Pinter’s sparse screenplay.

The performances help a great deal as well. You will not a see a better performance of repressed sexuality than that given by Dirk Bogarde in this film. It easily matches his brilliant work in The Servant, yet could not be more different. He comes across as rather pathetic by the end, but at least we feel sympathy for him. Stanley Baker as Charley, on the other hand, is even more pathetic in the end, and there is no sympathy for him. He seems to have it all – or at least all that Stephen wants – but he is an empty shell. In his first major role, Michael York is fine as the handsome, young William – who again Stephen envies. Vivien Merchant gives her few scenes as Stephen’s wife, who knows what is going on, but wouldn’t dream of saying anything about it, a nice bite. Poor Jacqueline Sassard is cast more for her physical presence than anything else – but she does what she has been asked to do.

Accident is a complex film. Its mysteries don’t readily reveal themselves, and instead the movie trusts the audience to do the digging into what is on screen. The film is not as famous as The Servant – but it is every bit as good.

The Best Films I Have Never Seen Before: The Ghost and Mrs. Muir (1947)

The Ghost and Mrs. Muir (1947) ***

Directed by: Joseph L. Mankiewicz.

Written by: Philip Dunne based on the novel by R. A. Dick.

Starring: Gene Tierney (Lucy Muir), Rex Harrison (Daniel Clegg), George Sanders (Miles Fairley), Edna Best (Martha Huggins), Vanessa Brown (Anna Muir – adult), Anna Lee (Mrs. Fairley), Natalie Wood (Anna Muir – child), Robert Coote (Mr. Coombs), Whitford Kane (Mr. Sproull).

The Ghost and Mrs. Muir is a classy romance/ghost story from the studio era. Watching it today, it seems rather quaint and simplistic, but that doesn’t necessarily negate all the joys that there are in watching the film. It didn’t sweep me off my feet in the way that grand romances should do, but it was an enjoyable time filler – with a few really special elements that make it worthwhile.

The film stars Gene Tierny as Lucy Muir – a young widow, raising her daughter (a very young Natalie Wood) while living with her mother and sister in law. She hates these in-laws, who are too smothering for her, and she wants out. Her husband left her little, but perhaps enough to get a small house on the seaside. She finds the perfect one, and it’s absurdly cheap. The realtor warns her away from it, telling her it’s haunted, but Lucy doesn’t believe him, and moves in anyway. It isn’t long before she discovers the realtor wasn’t lying. The former owner of the house, Captain Daniel Clegg (Rex Harrison), is still hanging around, and wants to be alone. This despite the obvious handicap that he supposedly killed himself in the house years before. We get mercifully few of the old ghost movie clichés – windows and doors opening and closing by themselves, gusts of wind, strange noises, etc before Lucy has had enough – and calls Clegg out. Strangely, he appears, and the two talk and come to an agreement. He’ll let them live there, if she’ll leave the house to old sailors when she dies, much like he wanted to do. She agrees.

But things aren’t that simple. Clegg, this brash, profane sea captain and Lucy, this upper middle class, prim and proper housewife seem to be complete opposites – so of course they fall in love. When Lucy runs into money problems, Clegg helps her out by dictating his memoirs to her as a book that she then sells for lots of money. Working on the book brings the two of them closer – but of course, how can two people really be in love when one of them is dead? Things are further complicated when George Sanders shows up, to play the George Sanders role as fop and playboy – and becomes a living suitor for Lucy.

There is much to admire about The Ghost and Mrs. Muir. While I have always thought that Joseph L. Mankiewicz is a better writer than director, he did know how to direct quite well. Here, working with someone else’s screenplay, he and cinematographer Charles Lang give the film a nice, gothic look. This is a romance along the lines of Jane Eyre (although far lighter), and Mankiewicz does an excellent job at capturing that look and feel to the movie. Bernard Hermann’s score is one of his very best – even if at times I think it overwhelms the movie – but it does an excellent job of hitting all the right notes – sad, plaintive, romantic, spooky. He was one of the best composers in movie history, and his work here is a triumph. The performances are rock solid, if not overly spectacular. Gene Tierny does a nice job with Mrs. Muir, but nothing really great. She keeps the audience at a little bit of a distance. Rex Harrison does what Rex Harrison does best – go wildly over the top, with his stereotypical sea captain. It’s a joy to watch him. George Sanders is saddled with his typical role, but no one plays it better than he does – which helps, because the role is completely underwritten.

Yet, the movie never really grabbed me like it should have. It is a fine film – made with intelligence, style and class – and I enjoyed it. But as the movie wore on, it starting to grow a little tiring. Especially unnecessary is the ending 20 minutes, which covers about 40 years of time, and simply goes on well past the point where it makes any sense. I enjoyed The Ghost and Mrs. Muir – but I didn’t love it.

The Best Films I Have Never Seen Before: The Passion of Anna (1969)

The Passion of Anna (1969) *** ½

Directed by: Ingmar Bergman.

Written by: Ingmar Bergman.

Starring: Max von Sydow (Andreas Winkelman), Liv Ullmann (Anna Fromm), Bibi Andersson (Eva Vergerus), Erland Josephson (Elis Vergerus), Erik Hell (Johan Andersson), Sigge Fürst (Verner).

Ingmar Bergman is one of my favorite directors of all time. His films are serious, probing examinations of faith, or the lack thereof, and human relationships. He was one of the first foreign language masters whose films I started watching – yet because his filmography is so large, there is still quite a few of his films I have to see. His 1969 film, The Passion of Anna (which should have simply been called The Passion) is not one of his masterpieces, but it is still a damn fine film.

The film stars Bergman regular Max von Sydow as Andreas Winkleman, an ex-convict, whose wife has left him, and who now lives a rather solitary existence on his dilapidated “farm” on a Swedish island. He comes into contact with almost no one, but doesn’t really seem to mind that. He likes his solitude. Things change one day when Anna (Liv Ullman) shows up at his door and asks to use the phone. Andreas listens to her phone conversation, and can tell that Anna is in a desperate state. She leaves, but forgets her purse, and curiosity gets the best of Andreas, who goes through it and finds a letter from her former husband – in which he explains why he must leave her, because if he doesn’t they are only “going to inflict more emotional and physical violence on each other”. When Andreas goes to return the purse, he meets the couple Anna is staying with – Eva and Elis Vergerus (Bibi Andersson and Erland Josephson) and their dysfunctional little family of friends is complete. By the end of the movie, Andreas will wind up working for Elis, sleeping with Eva once, and then living with Anna for months. Months in which she claims to live in “the truth”, while lying constantly – claiming her marriage was a happy one. He doesn’t know that the accident that caused the death of her husband and their son was Anna’s fault.

In some ways, The Passion of Anna continues some of the things that Bergman did in Persona – breaking through the fourth wall to remind the audience that they are watching a film. In Persona, there is a moment when the film seems to burn in front of our eyes, and in the end, he shows us the camera crew. In The Passion of Anna, Bergman conducts four interviews with the four principal actors, all of whom are given an opportunity to wax poetic about their characters. In Persona, this breaking through worked – but in The Passion of Anna, I found these interviews to be a distraction, and broke a cardinal rule of filmmaking – show don’t tell. The truth is that having these four great actors talk about their characters isn’t necessary, because their performances are so good, that they do not need to be explained. Max von Sydow, who made countless movies with Bergman, is excellent as Andreas, the man of solitude, who slowly gets involved with the world again, only to be left more beaten and broken than before. Liv Ullman is tremendous as Anna, the woman who is hard to get a read on, because she lies constantly, while proclaiming she lives in the truth. Bibi Andersson is excellent as the sexual, yet fragile Eva. Erland Josephson has the most straight forward role, but plays it well. Add in Erik Hell as a persecuted man on the island, and you have an excellent cast – one that doesn’t need to be explained.

It is quite clear that The Passion of Anna is one of Bergman’s angriest films. As they began to make the film, Bergman and Ullman decided to end their off-screen romantic relationship. Bergman seems to almost be punishing Ullman in the film – given her a wholly unsympathetic character to play (and according to Ullman, cutting out the moments where she tried to make Anna more sympathetic). They clearly had a complex relationship off-screen, and Ullman continued to make films for Bergman.

To me, The Passion of Anna fits in nicely with Bergman films like The Hour of the Wolf (1967) and Shame (1968). None of these are, to me anyway, among Bergman’s masterpieces, but they make up an interesting period for the director between Persona (1966) and Cries and Whispers (1972) – both of which are masterworks. Part of it is that Bergman is learning to film in color – The Passion of Anna followed only Shame in his color filmography – but part of it seems to be Bergman figuring out where to go from Persona. To use that favorite, and clichéd film critic term, The Passion of Anna is flawed. Yet it is still fascinating, and at times, masterful.