|
The Virgin Spring (1960)
An extraordinary tale about error and faith. The powerful image of a man betrayed by his god, left alone and without comfort or redemption but still giving himself to what he knows must exist is a poignant statement, and even if God has given up on this father we are given the chance to forgive him. Bergman's use of such a confined space here is intruiging, and the film's tone has echoes of Kurosawa in it. Shadows can be warm blankets or cold rashes, and what is originally set up in the mise-en-scene as comfortably quaint evntually becomes suffocating. Max Von Sydow is spectacular in an extremely revealing role, and Birgitta Valberg is tragically innocent. A breathtaking achievment.
And I introduced a friend to one of my all-time favorites last night:
City Lights (1931)
One of the most beautiful motion pictures I have ever seen. There is a gorgeous simplicity in Chaplin's stories, and sometimes by engaging the most direct and sincere emotions he succeeds far more triumphantly than the heaviest human dramas. If casual viewers are only going to be exposed to one Chaplin film, this is it; the sheer delight found in scenes like the dance hall and boxing ring is indescribable, a kind of joy found exclusively in this film and never quite duplicated within this artist's career or any other. The Tramp here is a dependent character, a man who has been down far too long and finds himself degraded, abused, and falsely accused constantly. He gets up, though, time after time, a true testament to faith in oneself and to the rewards that follow endurance like this. If there was ever a more touching romance put on celluloid I am unaware of it; when the famous ending brings the picture to a close there can be no doubt that Chaplin was a genious and a humanist, a man who felt the work he did rather than just produce it. Deeply moving and impossible to resist.
__________________
|