Inna Burduchenko-Kiriliuk in The Flower on the Stone (1962)

Sergei Parajanov actually directed only a portion of the 1962 film The Flower on the Stone. Anatoly Slesarenko, began shooting the film under a different title, but the lead actress Inna Burduchenko-Kiriliuk (who played the character Christina) was killed in August 1960 while shooting a scene involving a burning building. Slesarenko went to prison and the project was shelved. When the Dovzhenko Film Studio decided to finish the film, Parajanov agreed to take on the challenge, shooting new footage and editing everything together into a “coherent” story.

Screen captures 1-10 are definitely Burduchenko. The remaining six images may be a different actress (or actresses) doubling as Burduchenko, but I am not 100% certain. One area where I see possible differences is in the shape and spacing of the eyebrows. Burduchenko also has a pronounced pout in her lower lip and very full cheeks.

Your comments are welcome…

Burduchenko 01

Burduchenko 02

Burduchenko 03

Burduchenko 04

Burduchenko 05

Burduchenko 06

Burduchenko 07

Burduchenko 08

Burduchenko 09

Burduchenko 10

Question 01

Question 01a

Question 02

Question 02a

Question 03

Question 03a

Man Follows Birds (1975). Image courtesy of Seagull Films.

Monday, March 19
Without Fear (1972)
Black and white, 96 minutes.
8 p.m., White Hall 205

Monday, March 26
Man Follows Birds (1975)
Color, 87 minutes.
8 p.m., White Hall 205

The cinemas of the Central Asian republics are still terribly underappreciated relative to both Soviet cinema and world cinema as a whole, although some films of the Kazakh New Wave did achieve festival screenings in the 1990s and limited distribution in the U.S. thanks to the efforts of Forrest Ciesol. Encouragingly, Ermik Shinarbaev’s Revenge (Kazakhstan, 1989) was restored in 2010 by the World Cinema Foundation.

During the Soviet era, Ali Khamraev was among the most widely seen filmmakers from Central Asia, thanks especially to his action films The Seventh Bullet (1972) and The Bodyguard (1979). Those films belonged to a genre of action films popularly known as “Easterns”–taking their cue from Westerns–which typically depicted the Red Army fighting the Basmachi movement in the aftermath of the 1918-1923 Civil War. Both were also based on scripts by Andrei Konchalovsky. (Another film in this genre, Vladimir Motyl’s The White Sun of the Desert (1970), remains among the most popular and widely quoted of all Soviet-era films.)

I have not seen Without Fear (1972), but a while back I did manage to see an unsubtitled print of the remarkable Man Follows Birds (1975), which stands out as an important contribution to the poetic cinema movement in Sixties and Seventies Soviet cinema. In his overview of Khamraev’s works the film scholar Robert Bird rightly points out that Khamraev’s visual style in Man Follows Birds consciously alludes to Andrei Tarkovsky and Sergei Parajanov. However, I do not think such influences flowed only one way. While I can’t speak for Tarkovsky, Parajanov himself was certainly familiar with (and I would argue was likely influenced by) the experiments of other regional filmmakers such as Yuri Ilyenko in Ukraine and Tengiz Abluladze in Georgia during the Sixties. With regard to Khamraev in particular, Parajanov later hired on Yuri Klimenko, the cinematographer for Man Follows Birds and other Khamraev films, for his own comeback film The Legend of Suram Fortress (1985).

By the way, Without Fear and Man Follows Birds remain completely unavailable on DVD both in the U.S. and oversees. This is likely to be your only opportunity to see them for some time.

If you have access to Turner Classic Movies, make sure to catch the Monday, January 23 program Max Ophuls in Hollywood, a rare opportunity to see all four feature films that Ophuls completed in the late Forties. The films are:

8:00 PM EST: The Reckless Moment (1949)
9:30 PM EST: Caught (1949)
11:15 PM EST: Letter From an Unknown Woman (1948)
1:00 AM EST: The Exile (1947)

Amazingly, none of these films has an official DVD release yet in the US. The Reckless Moment and The Exile are receiving their TCM broadcast premieres. I haven’t seen The Exile in its entirety, but the opening sequence of the film showcases Ophuls’ and the cinematographer Franz Planer’s expressive camera movements.

A source at Turner Broadcasting System has kindly provided the following information:

THE EXILE was the first film that Ophuls was able to make after some seven years of residence in the U.S. .Ophuls had fled Europe in the wake of Hitler’s rise, and it took him that long to get a project completed after he had settled in Hollywood. Ironically, it was the publicity garnered by Ophuls’ firing from a project for Howard Hughes that prompted another expatriate director, Robert Siodmak, to recommend the director for a film at Universal that Douglas Fairbanks, Jr. was planning to write, produce and star in: the story of Charles II’s exile in the Netherlands, in hiding from Oliver Cromwell’s Roundheads, the latter led by a villain played by Henry Daniell. The film was to be Fairbanks Jr’s tribute to the swashbuckling epics of his celebrated father.

Rejoined with his cinematographer Franz Planer, with whom he had last worked 15 years prior to THE EXILE in Germany, Ophuls was able to revel in the resources of top Hollywood studio craftsmen and technicians. The camera was able to track, swoop and crane effortlessly over the studio sets, utilizing to the fullest extent the director’s signature technique. Far from being a rousing swashbuckler, although it has all the requisite elements, the overall tone, befitting an Ophuls project, is a bittersweet one, as embodied by the romance between the exiled king and a farmer’s daughter, the latter played by Paule Croset (Rita Corday). Surprisingly, Universal contract siren Maria Montez also makes an appearance, and in just a couple of memorable scenes becomes part of the illustrious roster of Ophuls heroines, far from the camp appeal she embodied in films like COBRA WOMAN.

TCM’s showing of THE EXILE is unique and quite special for a couple of other reasons. The film transfer utilized by TCM is sourced from archival elements deposited at the Library of Congress by Universal, so pictorially the film will look its best. Additionally, after the film is shown, Robert Osborne will return to introduce the film’s alternate “European” ending which was also in the Library of Congress’s Universal materials. The alternate ending to THE EXILE (some 90 seconds) is basically appended to the existing ending of the domestic version of the film, followed by a close up of a commemorative plaque with which both versions of the film begin & end, bringing things full circle.  This “alternate” was the way the film was originally scripted to end – and is the way Ophuls preferred the film to end – but as it wasn’t considered an “essential” scene, the script pages were on the shooting schedule’s chopping block. Ophuls prevailed upon Fairbanks to let him shoot the scene anyway, and he did so, although it ended up not being seen by very many, even in Europe, where it was originally intended to be part of the foreign-release prints. Now, thanks to TCM, we get to glimpse this extremely rare footage. The ending, brief as it is, makes the film’s tone even more bittersweet and adds immeasurably to its overall impact.

Finally, a note on the director’s credit on the film: “Max Opuls.” This is not a misspelling, but a revision suggested by Douglas Fairbanks, Jr., and it was used as the credit for all the films Ophuls completed in Hollywood.

The only thing I can add is that the other broadcast premiere, The Reckless Moment, is also essential viewing. This smaller scale, tautly directed crime thriller features one of Joan Bennett’s finest performances, as a mother attempting to cover up her daughter’s possible involvement in a murder. The film was remade in 2001 as The Deep End, starring Tilda Swinton.

According to a source from Turner Broadcasting, “TCM paid for a broadcast master from MoMA’s print materials – which were in great shape, as the film has essentially remained unseen for so long.  Although it’s a Paramount film, Fox owns it, as they bought the underlying property, Faulkner’s SANCTUARY — & the original film – for a remake in 1960.”

I saw a poor-quality print several years ago and remember the film as an especially jaw-dropping pre-Code drama. I have not, however, seen the remake directed by Tony Richardson and starring Lee Remick as Temple Drake and Yves Montand (!) as Candy Man.

Image courtesy of The Criterion Collection.

Claire Denis is such a magnificently visual director that no one should miss the opportunity to see her latest film, White Material (2009) on the new Criterion Collection Blu-ray. I only wish that Beau Travail (1999) would receive such luxurious treatment! Working with a new cinematographer (Yves Cape) Denis manages to strike a fine balance between off-the-cuff spontaneity, precisely observed details and the pictorial beauty of the West African landscape. And yet, despite the film’s entrancing visual style, it doesn’t quite come off.

To my mind, the film falters in two areas. First, the main character of Maria Vial (Isabelle Huppert), the head of a coffee plantation on its last legs before the region falls to civil unrest, is too single-minded and unmoving. Her conflicts are wholly externalized; that is, we never see her work through any self-doubts or arrive at any meaningful turning points. This makes the film’s dramatic trajectory too single-minded and ultimately predictable. When she snaps at the end, her act of violence is also patently incredible. That said, Isabelle Huppert does a superb job of bringing the character of Maria physically to life, regardless of the limitations of the script.

The second flaw has do with the director’s decision to set it within “Africa” and not a specific country. Despite Claire Denis’ undeniable gift for establishing atmosphere and drawing fine performances out of even the smallest extras, we wind up with a fairly abstract parable about colonialism: a Decaying Coffee Plantation, the Woman Who Refuses To Leave, the Escaped Rebel, Child Soldiers, and so on. Ironically, as the accompanying interview with Denis makes clear, she draws upon a deep personal knowledge of Africa; details such as the ubiquitous transistor radios are very much grounded in quotidian reality. Even so, the narrative feels schematic. I’m not opposed to parables in principle, but in this particular case the story would have worked better if Denis and her co-writer Marie N’Diaye had grounded it more concretely in a specific context.

The director-and-cinematographer-approved transfer on the Criterion Blu-ray does an excellent job of conveying the look of a film that was shot largely with available light in a beautiful but unforgiving landscape. Special features include interviews with Denis, Huppert and actor Isaach de Bankolé, and a documentary by Denis on the film’s premiere at the 2010 Écrans Noirs Film Festival. White Material may not merit a purchase unless you’re a die-hard Denis fan, but it’s certainly worth seeking out as a rental.

Update (7/1o/2011):

David Denby offers a devastating critique of the film in The New Yorker. Among other things, he writes:

The movie is an attack on white postcolonial arrogance and stupidity, but none of the African characters are more than a handsome face.

This charge is difficult to refute. The critical character of “The Boxer” in particular lacks a meaningful backstory, although viewers closely familiar with African history and politics might be able to draw some inferences about him. The casual viewer (like me) ends up out in the cold with little more than beautiful faces, as Denby astutely points out. I still think the film is worth a look, but I am increasingly inclined to agree with Denby.

To be sure, not all of the 3D works equally well. At one point we see a couple of scientists standing in front of a wall painted with handprints, and the odd seams around them suggest that the 3D effect in this particular shot was created digitally, after the fact. But on the whole the format adds greatly to the emotional impact of the film.

On this second viewing I was even more impressed with Ernst Reijseger’s haunting score–I want to become more familiar with his work.

Clip from Cave of Forgotten Dreams, courtesy of IFC Films.

A product of the Upper Paleolithic Aurignacian culture, the oldest paintings in the Chauvet Cave date to 30,000-32,000 years ago–the earliest surviving cave paintings and not that much younger than the Venus of Hohle Fels, the earliest known example of figurative art. The Chauvet Cave paintings in particular are astonishing because of the sophisticated manner in which they employ expressive lines and shading, and how they are drawn to suggest movement. Around the same period one can find the first musical instruments such as an ivory flute, making this era the dawn of human culture as we understand it today.

Herzog interviews a number of scientists and thus provides the necessary context for understanding the cave art. And Herzog being Herzog, he also doesn’t shy away from the sheer alienness of the Upper Paleolithic culture and the mystical force behind the paintings. Ernst Reijseger’s otherworldly trance music works better than most scores of that type and certainly fits with the subject matter. I’m still not sure what to make of the ending, which shifts focus to a nuclear power plant and albino alligators; perhaps Herzog means to show the how the climate of that region is again in the process of changing, this time due to human activity. But between this film and Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans, he seems increasingly obsessed with reptilian points of view.

To my mind this new production is far more satisfying than the Metropolitan Opera’s 1990 production by Otto Schenk, also conducted by James Levine. I liked James Morris as Wotan, but Gary Lakes and Jessye Norman lacked the necessary chemistry as Siegmund and Sieglinde to carry off Act I. This new production, directed by Robert Lepage, opens compellingly with Jonas Kaufmann and Ewa-Maria Westbroek as the passionate siblings. Jonas Kaufmann in particular stole the show with his fluid singing and magnetic stage presence; I can’t wait to see him perform more Wagner roles in the future.

The rest of the cast was solid. Perhaps Deborah Voigt doesn’t have as much power in her voice as the greatest Brünnhildes, but I liked the almost childlike enthusiasm she gave the character in Act II. Over the course of the opera she and Bryn Terfel developed an emotionally convincing rapport as the god Wotan and his favorite daughter, especially in the farewell scene of Act III.

In his April 23 review in the New York Times, Anthony Tommasini complained about the obtrusiveness of Robert Lepage’s multi-bladed mechanical apparatus, which apparently creaks and has been notoriously prone to mechanical problems. (Saturday’s broadcast was in fact delayed by 45 minutes.) In some ways, I wonder if Lepage didn’t direct the opera with its afterlife on video in mind as much as live productions on the stage. The performances all display a great deal of nuance that is probably lost in the large Metropolitan Opera auditorium. Certainly, any creaking noises were not audible in the broadcast. The only thing I found distracting was that occasionally the actors blended into the background too much when the textured light projections fell on them; this was especially apparent when Jonas Kaufmann stood against the ash tree in Act I. Also, in the same scene it was odd to have Siegmund and Sieglinde stand below the level of the main stage so that they were cut off at the knees.

The video direction of the broadcast was skillfully executed, maintaining just the right balance between closer shots and larger tableaux. (The earlier Met HD broadcast of Nixon in China, directed by Peter Sellars himself, was overly enamored of details and too often forgot to pull back and show the stage as a whole, undercutting the impact of Sellers’ own, very striking stage design.) I, for one, look forward to seeing what Lepage does with Siegfried and Götterdämmerung next season.

This is the most impressive museum exhibit of any kind that I have seen in the past few years, and one of the most impressive that I have ever seen, period. During his very long life (1908-2004) Cartier-Bresson visited practically every country on the planet, some of them more than once. His works range from Surrealist-influenced work during the Thirties to photojournalism and portraits. What I found amazing is that using mainly a single kind of camera–a Leica with a 50mm lens–and almost exclusively black-and-white film, he demonstrated as much artistic range as a great painter. He also had a rare gift for capturing life as a series of spontaneous but expressive moments, his subjects seemingly oblivous of his presence. Exhibit highlights include the photo-essays on the daily operations American bank (depressingly familiar today) and the Great Leap Forward in China; photos taken during two separate trips to the Soviet Union; the Mexican photos; the celebrity portraits. I was so overwhelmed by almost every image that I would be hard pressed to pick a favorite. Another aspect which I found fascinating was observing how photographic paper and printing styles changed over the years. 

Plan to spend at least four hours for the entire exhibit, or break it up over two days. You won’t regret it. I’d like to go back for a second viewing.