Screening Room

by Ari

Hamlet - Kenneth Branagh

The great thing about Kenneth Branagh's film is that it represents Shakespeare’s full, uncut play - the first and only film to do so. It runs over 4 hours in length, split into two parts in the tradition of the classic 60s epics. It’s also the last studio film to be shot in 70mm, which I’m sure is something spectacular to see on the big-screen. And though Branagh’s film is expertly acted and highly ambitious, it still has trouble working as an actual film. Shakespeare wrote plays, and his work is meant to be seen on the stage. Branagh has filmed the play in its entirety with a stupendous cast, but adds very little cinematic interest to the experience. I suppose this is to focus solely on the language, which, of course, is the most important aspect of the work. After all, Shakespeare is the star of the story, not Branagh. The camera usually tracks around the characters as they speak, rarely cutting, and only sometimes moving in for a close-up. Most of what you see is filmed in master shots, and when Branagh does use a few quick edits, it feels distracting instead of engrossing. The production design is especially theatrical, the score is practically non-existent (and also intruding when it does come on), and the atmosphere feels like a stage instead of a lived in world. This is what Orson Welles constantly avoided with his Shakespeare films. Welles told Shakespeare’s stories with his trademark visual mastery, allowing the characters to breath in a cinematic sense. His Othello is a perfect example of this. You’re not watching a play, you’re watching a film. With Branagh’s Hamlet, you’re watching a play on the screen. Now as a play, it’s epic. As I previously stated, the film is expertly acted by a stupendous cast. Branagh is incredible as Hamlet, Julie Christie and Derek Jacobi are magnificent as his mother Gertrude and uncle Claudius, and Kate Winslet is nothing short of astonishing as Ophelia. The supporting cast also includes Jack Lemmon, Billy Crystal, Robin Williams, Rufus Sewell, Gérard Depardieu, and Charlton Heston among others. For Shakespeare purists, Branagh’s film is it. For film audiences, I still recommend Franco Zeffirelli’s underrated adaptation.

Pierrot le Fou - Jean-Luc Godard
It’s always nice when a classic or foreign film you haven’t seen is screening at a theater near you. It’s the best thing about LA too. We have all the great revival houses (Egyptian, New Bev) and great independent theaters like the Nuart, that showcase obscure and eclectic titles such as this one. I’m a huge fan of Jean-Luc Godard, however not every one of his movies appeals to me. There are very few filmmakers with flawless filmographies, and Godard is one of those artists who fascinates at the same time he can baffle. As much as I adore films like A Woman is A Woman or Band of Outsiders, I’m confounded by things like Alphaville or this particular film, Pierrot le Fou. Made in 1965, Pierrot le Fou takes the influence of American films from the 40s and 50s and just goes crazy with it. Sometimes Godard’s acts of lunacy can be brilliant, sometimes they can be obnoxious. Unfortunately, this free-spirited and surreal romantic fiction is the latter. When it tries to be hip and cool, it’s a bit too much. When it tries to be funny, things can get a little ugly. I love actors Jean-Paul Belmondo and Anna Karina, but some of the things Godard has them do are a bit too ridiculous for my particular taste. A Vietnam sketch between the two is especially moronic. Such moments of humor are childish instead of intelligent, and the movie is filled with them. Belmondo and Karina are on the run from Algerian assassins, traveling from their boring, ordinary lives in Paris to the freedom and eventual boredom near the sea. On imdb it says that Godard made the film without a screenplay, and I believe it. Pierrot le Fou is a series of sketches that hardly connect, the idea being that the episodic structure represents the spontaneous nature of the characters. And for a while, it works very well. It’s impossible to dislike Belmondo and Karina, two of the great personalities in french film. But after an hour or so it just becomes grating, especially as the lunacy escalates towards the end. It has its endearing moments, the cinematography is tremendous, and it certainly isn’t lacking in originality, but Pierrot le Fou is a bit too outrageous for its own good.

Scenes from a Marriage - Ingmar Bergman
The film that influenced Woody Allen’s Husbands and Wives is one of the most powerful dramas I’ve seen. Bergman was the master of the close-up, and with Scenes from a Marriage, he keeps everything at an intimate, personal level. Almost every scene is between actors Liv Ullman and Erland Josephson, and the intensity and realism between the two is extraordinary to watch. The separation and emotional upheaval of the characters is brutal and ugly, and Bergman demands that you watch their destruction and eventual reunion. Husbands and Wives moves at a similar pace, compelling the viewer with the immediacy of the story, but even that brilliant film can’t touch the emotional depth of Bergman’s masterpiece. Once Johan (Josephson) reveals his secret affair with a younger woman, Scenes from a Marriage becomes a piercing look into the fragile state of both he and his shocked wife. There’s nothing Bergman is afraid to explore. The hatred, the disgust, the humiliation, the desperation, the fear....it’s all there. Scenes from a Marriage gives you the full picture. It’s never sappy or fake, not for a single moment. By the end of the film you’re tired, shaken, and deeply, deeply moved. As with most of Bergman’s films, he shows you the overwhelming power film can achieve.