Wild Strawberries.

Review #2078: Wild Strawberries.

Cast: 

Victor Sjöström (Professor Isak Borg), Bibi Andersson (Sara - Isak's cousin / Hitchhiker), Ingrid Thulin (Marianne Borg), Gunnar Björnstrand (Evald Borg), Jullan Kindahl (Agda, Isak's housekeeper), Folke Sundquist (Anders, hitchhiker), Björn Bjelfvenstam (Viktor, hitchhiker), Naima Wifstrand (Isak's Mother), Gunnel Broström (Berit Alman), Gunnar Sjöberg (Sten Alman / The Examiner), Max von Sydow (Henrik Åkerman), Ann-Marie Wiman (Eva Åkerman), and Gertrud Fridh (Karin Borg) Written and Directed by Ingmar Bergman (#777 - The Seventh Seal and #1427 - Hour of the Wolf)

Review: 

"One thread goes through the story in multiple variations: shortcomings, poverty, emptiness, and the absence of grace. I didn't know then, and even today I don't know fully, how through Wild Strawberries I was pleading with my parents: see me, understand me, and - if possible - forgive me."

Okay, so sometimes you pick a film because of its reputation. I had a feeling that it was about time again to return to watching an Ingmar Bergman film, particularly one that happens to involve the last performance of another noted name and happens to be a really, really well known film. Bergman wrote the film while spending time in the Karolinska Hospital for problems related to the stomach and general stress. One can only imagine the qualities that come out in writing when also dealing with divorce and shaky relationships with their parents. Bergman stated different things upon the ideas that formed his film, with one book of interviews (Bergman on Bergman, released in the 1970s) relating a detail about a sudden impulse to visit his grandmother's house and experience the idea of going back into his childhood...only for him to say in a later book (Images: my life in film, written by Bergman in 1994) that in reality, he is "forever living in my childhood...living permanently in my dream, from which I make brief forays into reality." At any rate, being released on the cusp of films such as Smiles of a Summer Night (1955) and The Seventh Seal (1957) heightened the attention given to this film, which is considered by some to be one of his most moving films. As you might expect, this was the swan song performance for its lead actor in Sjöström, who as you may remember was an acclaimed director in his native Sweden (Bergman loved The Phantom Carriage (1921) enough to see it at least once every summer and noted its influence on his own work) before he reverted back to acting on a fulltime basis, particularly within the theatre. Regardless of how he came to be in this film (whether as one that came to mind from the screenplay or on the suggestion of a producer), he was on the cusp of turning 78 with this film, which was actually his second collaboration with Bergman, who directed him with To Joy [Till glädje] (1950). Bergman had his doubts about the reliability of Sjöström when it came to his age, but things eventually went well for all involved (interestingly, Bergman's parents seemed to enjoy what they saw when it came to Sjöström, because a letter exists detailing the gratitutde sent by his father about his career). Sjöström died at the age of 80 three years after the release of this film.

What can only really say about certain films of world cinema that other people of better qualification can say? Well, the only words worth saying are the ones you come up with after seeing it for yourself, particularly when it comes to interpretations and what you find from certain imagery. Right and wrong only matter when it comes to watching it in the most comfortable setting possible, not really so much about interpretation (unless you think all films are part of some sort of deep lobbying group, of course). To me, this is a basically a two-sided road movie, since we are talking about a film detailing the road of a man's life and the road to get to an actual location with a group of folks on the road. The road involves contradictions and complications because that is how life goes for people, regret or no regret. Being stuck with the images and memories of the once-lived moments is far more interesting than being stuck in the same ways of the "because it is". Undeniably, Sjöström is the best actor in the film, one with such a commanding presence that runs the gamut of the qualities that come through a great flawed man in contradictions that come in icy coldness (well, the name is a pun, but that doesn't make it corny), one that has to reckon with who they are and what that has created for themselves in the people around them and that in the end, all things must pass. Andersson makes a useful double role of a sweetheart of the would-be past and a hitchhiker sweetheart with their own suitors that is warm and obviously useful comfort to remember in the long run (judging by that final sequence that sees the pilgrimage reach its end). Thulin and her own part to play in this pilgrimage is one of persistence, one of moving confidence in who they are and how that strikes different when matched with Sjöström in nature and in practice that makes the eventual ending all the more useful. What seems obvious for some viewers in looking upon symbolism may seem elusive for others, but as long as one gets an actual feeling emanating from these films of existential questioning, they are on the right track, because the answers that matter are ones that are found in clarity, much in the same way that peace is found only through looking inward rather than running from affirming one's existence. The journey to Lund is not really one for ceremony but instead one for meaning beyond simple ceremonies. There is more to journeys beyond the milage and that involves people beyond words. In short: wild strawberry patches of one's youth in one thing, having the peace of mind to reach for closure is another. The man or woman with a long life to live will have one full of memories to look back upon in pain and pleasure, but the thing that matters most is the fact that we have the choice to move where we want to go with it in affirmation. All things will pass and we have the choice to go where we want to go on the multi-sided road.

Overall, I give it 10 out of 10 stars.

Next time: Germany and 1924.

A Lady to Love.

Review #2054: A Lady to Love.

Cast: 

Vilma Bánky (Lena Shultz), Edward G. Robinson (Tony), Robert Ames (Buck), Richard Carle (Postman), Lloyd Ingraham (Father McKee), Anderson Lawler (Doctor), Gum Chin (Ab Gee), Henry Armetta (Angelo), and George Davis (Giorgio) Produced and Directed by Victor Sjöström (#1327 - The Wind, #1731 - The Phantom Carriage, and #1771 - He Who Gets Slapped)

Review: 

Well, the foundation is tempting for this Pre-Code film. It is based on the 1924 play They Knew What They Wanted by Sidney Howard. The play won him a Pulitzer Prize for Drama that year while the production ran on Broadway for nearly 200 performances that featured Richard Bennett, Pauline Lord, and Glenn Anders as the key stars. There has been various restaging of the play since, at least when one isn't busy trying to stage The Most Happy Fella, a musical first done in 1956 based on the Howard play. There are two other film adaptations of the play with The Secret Hour (1928) and They Knew What They Wanted (1940). Die Sehnsucht Jeder Frau, a German-language version of this film, was produced and directed by Sjöström with Robinson and Banky retained. This was the penultimate film appearance for its star in Banky, but The Rebel (1933) is obscure enough to not even have its own Wikipedia page, so keep that in mind when talking about Banky and her varying surviving films (which is just a bit over a half dozen, and her one previous effort in sound were sequences in This Is Heaven, which has yet to be found). As for Robinson, this was his third major appearance in a film after The Hole in the Wall (1929) and Outside the Law (1930). Lastly, let us talk about Victor Sjöström. This was the first sound film for the director, who you might already recognize from his silent classics such as The Phantom Carriage (1921) and The Wind (1928). He would go on to direct two further films: Father and Son (1930) and Under the Red Robe (1937) before he retired to back to his native Sweden to act within the theater again.

You may be a bit confused when it comes to this film on the idea that a director like Sjöström could be constrained so hard with the standards that come with making a sound film. Banky apparently left film not because of anything to do with her Hungarian accent but instead to focus on spending time with her new husband, whom she married a couple of years prior. I can only imagine that the result of this film probably did not help matters, and this isn't to say she has a bad time here (the accent is obviously fit for films). It just so happens that in a film with two actors playing folks with distinct roots (one Italian), Robinson chews the scenery away from everything. There is probably supposed to be some sort of tragedy within her being trapped within this triangle of affection, but maybe it actually fit better when packed for a stage rather than what is presented here, because it just seems hollow. Robinson can only carry so far when playing to the seats with whatever is meant to play in this blustery act that is spent two-ways: before and after he is put in bedrest (yes not only is it a film about a woman discovering her soon-to-be husband looks different from the picture, but she also first sees him after he suffers an injury where he broke both legs). Ames (who died the following year from "delirium tremens" at the age of 42) happens to be in the middle as the "American" in the middle of this certain triangle, but he might as well be playing a block of wood with his lack of drawing power, no matter how much they try to make the eventual wooing of Banky seem inevitable. By the time the actual resolution happens, one can only throw up their hands. The attempt at cultivating a romance that starts with deception (heh, let's get a mail-order bride by showing my handsome buddy) only results a long and winding road of middling meandering. The fact that the film seems bound to stay firmly in the same place you usually see things only results in a very drawn out 92-minute runtime. Asking oneself "how does one go from The Wind to this?" is not a promising statement when trying to assess the quality of a very average movie, and yet here we are. As a whole, since this is a movie you can only find online rather than home video, the best way to enjoy it is for those who like to seek out these kinds of things and hopefully enjoy what they see, because I can't call it anything other than just a bit too average. It has a future star and a future retired star to go with a director who had seen better days, so take that for what it is worth.

Overall, I give it 6 out of 10 stars.

He Who Gets Slapped.

Review #1771: He Who Gets Slapped.

Cast: 
Lon Chaney (Paul Beaumont, aka HE), Norma Shearer (Consuelo), John Gilbert (Bezano), Tully Marshall (Count Mancini), Marc McDermott (Baron Regnard), Ford Sterling (Tricaud), Harvey Clark (Briquet), Paulette Duval (Zinida), Ruth King (Maria Beaumont), Clyde Cook (A Clown), Brandon Hurst (A Clown), and George Davis (A Clown) Directed by Victor Sjöström (#1327 - The Wind and #1731 - The Phantom Carriage)

Review: 

It should only figure that having a prime presence in Lon Chaney and a noted directing figure in Victor Sjostrom would result in an interesting movie. Sjostrom had moved to the United States when he was hired to direct Name the Man (1924), and he modified his name to "Seastrom". He would direct a handful of films in America in the silent era, and this was the first one to be produced by Metro Goldwyn Mayer (MGM) in its history (albeit not the first released, since it was released in November for the holiday season), which if you remember had Louis B. Mayer as studio chief and Irving Thalberg as supervisor of productions, and the latter knew Chaney well enough from Universal Pictures to bring him to contract with the new studio. Sjostrom and Chaney would each benefit from the overall success that the film brought (one that made double its budget while being shot in the span of nearly two months). The film is adapted from the 1915 Russian play of the same name by Leonid Andreyev, with Sjostrom and Carey Wilson adapting it to the screen.

The film runs at 71 minutes (at least for versions in the public domain and on television, owing to an increased frame per second rate), and it manages to do quite well in making grisly entertainment. Well, at least for a film that involves a man who experiences humiliation so great that he becomes a clown only referred to as "HE" that gets a chance at romance but also revenge. Folks familiar with the actor referred to as "The Man with a Thousand Faces" will find a worthy treat in Chaney's lead performance as a dutiful clown, which technically means he is doing a dual performance: the normal mild-mannered man in the opening and a clown that prefers to laugh at people within pain (of course, there is also exploitation too). In that sense, he does exactly what is needed in a resourceful performance of pathos that we are generally sympathetic to, as in the tradition most would know from his previous highlights like The Penalty (1920), and it probably made sense that he would portray a clown again with Laugh, Clown, Laugh just four years later (which also had a love triangle). In fact, he nearly overshadows the other two folks in this love triangle story. Thalberg took an interest in Shearer, and this worked out pretty well for each side (they married in 1927), and one can see why. She has the bright charm required for what is needed here, and she seems quite suited in matching with Gilbert. He was in the midst of turning into a leading man around this period, and even with a segmented role like this he rolls with it pretty well (i.e. he doesn't get lost as just a nice face to romance another nice face). It might qualify as a thriller feature, if you think about it, since one definitely gets curious over just what will happen with the (unstable) lead presence, particularly when Marshall and McDermott enter the picture. McDermott makes a useful adversary as a bully that doesn't need much screen-time to make it work out, while Marshall makes a worthy exploiting figure. As one of MGM's early standout features, one should certainly not hesitate to pick this feature out, particularly since it happens to now be in the public domain. As a whole, the film is breezy and always interesting when it needs to be when it comes to showing a look into the circus along with being a fairly built thriller that still holds well within the standards of its time. 

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

The Phantom Carriage.

Review #1731: The Phantom Carriage.

Cast: 

Victor Sjöström (David Holm), Hilda Borgström (Anna Holm), Tore Svennberg (Georges), Astrid Holm (Edit), Concordia Selander (Edit's Mother), Lisa Lundholm (Maria), Einar Axelsson (David's Brother), Nils Aréhn (Prison Chaplain), Olof Ås (The First Driver), Tor Weijden (Gustafsson), Simon Lindstrand (David's Companion), Nils Elffors (David's Companion), and John Ekman (Police Constable) Written and Directed by Victor Sjöström (#1327 - The Wind)

Review:

Sure, there have been a few arguments over what kind of genre this film belongs to, and one of those genres involves horror. Really when you think about it, the argument over whether something is horror or not is one that has persisted for over a century, where the lines between melodrama and horror start to feel blurred. As such, there have been arguments over calling this a morality tale along with a fantasy...and horror. Beyond involving effects or scenarios meant to scare oneself, there are also other things to consider, such as atmosphere, and one can see that here with a film dedicated to seeing the countryside (meant to look like the town of Landskrona, although it was filmed in the studio of Filmstaden, the first film to be shot there as one of the most modern studios in Europe) within all of its psychological effects here, complete with apparitions and the figure of Death that looms over the mistakes of the past. Well, that, and tuberculosis. The film is an adaptation of the novel Thy Soul Shall Bear Witness! [Körkarlen], written by Selma Lagerlöf (by that time a winner of the Nobel Prize in Literature) in 1912, done as a public education of the aforementioned disease in TB (also referred to as "consumption").  The book would be adapted twice more: 1939 by the French and in 1958 in Sweden; Sjöström was already quite familiar with the works of Lagerlof, since he had adapted two of her novels into features with The Sons of Ingmar (1919) and Karin, Daughter of Ingmar (1920); he apparently had to act out the whole screenplay to Lagerlof in order to have her approval to do the film. The film would prove influential to filmmakers such as Ingmar Bergman, who reportedly watched the film at least once a year after first seeing at the age of fifteen.

It is the credit of cinematographer and Julius Jaenzon and lab executive Eugén Hellman that the film endures in its most memorable aspect: its special effects, which involving double exposures and layers that mean one can see the ghostly figures in all of its dimensions (of course, the cameras had to be cranked by hand at the exact time and speed to make the exposures look natural, since one wouldn't have the option for optical printing for another decade); the result was that post-production took five months. It is also the key highlight for folks coming into it with the horror angle in mind, since what we have is a film with a careful pace involving flashbacks within flashbacks and a moralistic moment reminiscent of A Christmas Carol. In other words, it falls right along the lines of curiosities to enjoy for how much is accomplished in somber wonder than for creeping scares, although its view of second chances may vary from viewer to viewer. In other words, it's the ideal life-affirming story without succumbing to hokum, one that has Sjöström at the helm for all of the important aspects as the star and filmmaker with the interest to keep the viewer on their heels, whether that means an intensely driven performance that runs the gamut of what it means to look back into the abyss of memories long past, or with the inventive ways he keeps the narrative flowing in a way that draws every little thread together all at once (such as using flashbacks within flashbacks, for example). Holm plays well to the bone in pity as the suffering saint figure, while Borgstrom plays the withered wife off well to Sjöström. It is folklore and superstition that work out well here, showing a perspective that would make a worthy doubleheader with another Swedish silent film involving folklore in Häxan (1922). Indeed, it is the showing of trials and tribulations of the fight for one's soul (one that we dare hope indeed is mature before the reaping), since we are dealing with someone seeing a dead man ride a carriage because they died right before the year ended (weirdly enough, this might be the most worthy candidate of being the best film to watch on New Year's Eve, morbid or not); a century has followed the release of the film, and while effects certainly got better and better with making ghost stories, this film still proves worthy as one on the forefront of graceful execution of said effects to make a sobering accomplishment in visual storytelling, and it is easy to see why Sjöström was a sought after name in America (since of course the film, edited so the carriage scene came in later, was shown there) that led to him directing his next one in Name the Man (1924) with Goldwyn Pictures. Thankfully, one can see the film the way it was intended nowadays, since for decades it was only available as a black-and-white-print (in 1975, the Swedish Film Institute used incomplete prints of make a complete duplicate negative with a light tint and nearly four decades later they helped with a new digital scan of their 1998 restoration to make a digital master). Of course, the lasting fame that came with the film for Sjöström was that his last appearance on film was as the star of Bergman's Wild Strawberries, 36 years after directing The Phantom Carriage, as if the mentor and student became one (Bergman also would make a film on the production of the 1921 film for television in 2000). At any rate, this is a solemn triumph of world cinema, one that haunts the depths of one's soul with worthy effects and efforts from its director and star to result in a worthy 107 minutes that should be seen for all, whether for horror interests or not. 

Overall, I give it 10 out of 10 stars.

Next Time: The Magician (1926).

The Wind (1928).

Review #1327: The Wind.

Cast: 
Lillian Gish (Letty Mason), Lars Hanson (Lige Hightower), Montagu Love (Wirt Roddy), Dorothy Cumming (Cora), Edward Earle (Beverly), and William Orlamond (Sourdough) Directed by Victor Sjöström.

Review: 
For the year of 1928, change was imminent for film. Lights of New York, the first all-talking full length feature was released in July of that year (released through Warner Bros with the Vitaphone system, improving from their previous efforts). Sprinkled within the top grossing film list were mixes of silent and sound (or at least part-sound) films, such as The Singing Fool (the follow-up part-talkie musical by Warner Bros with Al Jolson) or The Circus (one of numerous Charlie Chaplin films that highlighted the decade) and so forth. The actors of yesteryear would either transition into the burgeoning era of voice or would find themselves doing other avenues of work besides film. Lillian Gish was a key pioneer as an actress for the silent era, who had transitioned from stage acting in the early 20th century to appearing films by 1912, with her highlights primarily being her work from D. W. Griffith, which I've noted before with Way Down East (1920). The rise of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer in 1924 led to Gish signing and starring in films with them, with this being the last of the three made with the studio. This was the last of the three films she made for MGM (along with her last silent role), which was not a huge success upon release, having been delayed a year before release. This was the penultimate American film directed by Victor Sjöström, who was noted for work in his native country of Sweden in the decade with films such as The Phantom Carriage (1921) before moving on to sign with Louis B. Mayer to direct in 1924 with Name the Man, and he and Gish had collaborated on The Scarlet Letter two years earlier. Gish went back to theater acting in the following decade, although she would appear in films from time to time until her death at 99 in 1993, while Sjöström directed four more films (his last being in 1937) and returned to acting in the theater and in film, with his last performance before his death in 1960 being Ingmar Bergman's Wild Strawberries (1957).

This film was an adaptation of the 1925 novel of the same name by Dorothy Scarborough, which depicted a lonely small town Texan life in the 1880s, ending with the main character being driven mad by the corpse of the man she killed (after being raped) being uncovered by the wind that leads her to wander into a windstorm. The ending for the film was notably different from the book in that it was a happy one - although it has been said that it was imposed onto the film over a filmed "sad" ending, this does not seem the case. Gish and Sjöström were not fans of doing this ending, but the sensibilities of a public wanting something happy to close their viewing experience in the 1920s wins out, I suppose. It doesn't harm the film as a complete whole, mostly because it is compels attention for 78 minutes without hesitation, a drama of suffering in the elements that resonates without needless extravagance or maudlin sentiment. The film was primarily made in the Mojave Desert (with over 90 degree temperatures), with eight airplanes being used to help simulate wind (no points for wondering how bad conditions must've been for crew having to deal with all that air and sand). Gish is at her finest form here, displaying fragility and depth with a steely soul that urges to persist on and confront her fate like poetry with grace, whether when having to handle the harsh conditions of a small windy town (which can seem quite literal at times) or some of the people that come from it. Hanson (a Swedish actor who had his career turn to Hollywood with a few successes) does fine with Gish, having a reasonable screen presence when needed. The rest of the cast do well with their parts when needed, whether villainous with Love or comedy relief with Orlamond. The film is an engaging one, wracked with chills that make for quite a moody piece to view for the curious at heart. It is one with plenty of entertainment through its direction, acting, and effects that make it a welcome gem for the silent era and film viewers.

Next Time: 1928 strikes again with In Old Arizona.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.