Perhapses » Auteur Tennis

S. Ray v. Wajda, Match #2, Set #5

Britt — Thu, 30 Jul 2009 16:21:04 +0000

The final set of the match between Satyajit Ray (India) and Andrzej Wajda (Poland) takes us to the year 1977, and once again the two directors find themselves on similar ground. Ray’s The Chess Players and Wajda’s Man of Marble both open with a newsreel-type sequence, Wajda’s a historical bent and Ray’s an educational one. Both films take a critical look at the practices and ways of their country and countrymen, in addition to the negative influences of outside parties.

Both films also include their own touches of the seventies funky vibe. Wajda does so more through music and character while Ray’s cinematography and set design lends its own brand of funk at times. The Chess Players portrays a much earlier period in history, the mid-nineteenth century, and stays there. Man of Marble, meanwhile, looks at Stalin-era Poland through the lens of a present-day filmmaker, flashing back smoothly between the present and the past.

England takes more of the Indian cake

Ray serves first and sets up his style of play with a broad mixture of shots. As previously mentioned, the opening educational-style newsreel gives way to the sheltered lives of two upper-class Indian men who while away their days playing chess and huffing on hookas. He even includes touches of a popular English comedy troupe as yet another reference to the influence of British culture. The Python-like cartoons encapsulate the appetite of English generals for Indian states. The newsreel eventually gives way to the lives of Mir and Mirza, which consists of their ongoing quest to find a spot to play chess where they won’t be bothered. The secondary story focuses on the King of Avadh and the English general who prepares to depose him. The drastic cuts between stories is startling at times but the stories parallel each other.

The search for Birkut begins

Wajda returns with a more hectic pace. His historical newsreel opening jumps quickly into a mad dash to a museum where a small film crew, led by a woman who is completing her film degree, digs up information on the man shown in the initial newsreel. The man, a bricklayer named Birkut, was once a folk hero in Poland but has completely disappeared from Polish society. The film student, Agnieszka, is determined to find out the complete story, much to the chagrin of her advisor, who would rather have her focus on more mundane subjects. I must admit, when I first saw Man of Marble, I was so taken by the opening tune that I made finding it a top priority. The score by Andrzej Korzynski is excellent. Point goes to Wajda for an intense start.

Birkut can't lay another brick

Wajda’s next shots examine more of Birkut’s life as he rises to an unimagined fame. How does a bricklayer rise to fame? By laying lots of bricks. Worker productivity was its own game and Birkut became its poster boy. Bit by bit, Agnieszka discovers more about Birkut but not without difficulty. The moments where she is able to slow down and watch old newsreels of Birkut and his bricklaying expertise are the most intimate moments between filmmaker and subject, both of whose own lives seem to lack intimacy. Wajda does a great job of bringing the two people together, although the focus and the details remain on Birkut.

They'll do anything for a game of chess

Ray lobs a few obstacles in the way of his chess players, as the British prepare to take control from King Nawab Wajid Ali Shah, who is more of a poet than a ruler. The jealous wife of Mirza makes playing chess in their home a bit difficult, so the wo men go in search of a new place to play. Without chess, the men are desperate and cannot function. Mirza gets upset at Mir when he shows interest and bets on a goat fight. They eventually move to Mir’s house, where he remains oblivious to his own wife’s unhappiness that he is now home. The point goes to Ray for creating an light-hearted portrayal of two men amid a broader, and more serious, struggle.

The eventual meeting

Wajda’s final serve wraps up the mystery of Birkut while also leaving the future wide open. The pacing toward the end of the film works perfectly and is upbeat even though the news is not good. The downfall of Birkut ends in his own rebirth. The filmmaker knows that she has succeeded and will be able to open up some old Polish wounds, something Wajda has made a career out of himself. Birkut’s son said it best when he ran into Agnieszka the second time. He basically said he figured she wouldn’t go away. She was able to persist and control her destiny, while Birkut had no control and suffered when he tried to exert it.

No where to play

Ray ends with a bang. Mir and Mirza venture outside of the city to find a quiet place to play chess. Mir, certain there was an old abandoned mosque across the river, finds nothing. Fortunately, the two men run into a boy, who takes them to his house, which is now abandoned because his family heard news that the British were coming. The boy stayed behind because he likes to look at their red coats. As they settle in to their games, sending the boy to fetch lunch, their perfect world is shattered by their own disagreement. As the boy returns with lunch and the British ride past, the two men realize their world will have to change and begin by playing chess the English way. Ray’s ending is a bit too spot on, but as upbeat as Wajda’s. I give the point, set, and match to Wajda, however, for a tighter and overall better shot film.

S. Ray v. Wajda, Match #2, Set #4

Britt — Fri, 10 Jul 2009 20:57:39 +0000

After the initial sets of trilogies, set #4 of the match between Satyajit Ray and Andrzej Wajda maintains the consistency through a common theme for each of their next films: they must be about an actor and include trains as a significant aspect of the story. Ray, always the train enthusiast, jumps at the chance and arrives on the court first, unveiling Nayak (1966), which is indeed about a famous Indian actor and is set almost entirely on board a train.

Wajda, unfortunately, does not arrive on time. He sends a message that he had trouble boarding a train. He puts up Everything for Sale (1969), which might be about an actor who was killed when jumping on a moving train, quite possible an actor he worked with in the previously reviewed film. Wajda, it seems, might be trying to put to rest the trains and death theme.

Arindam Mukherjee, a popular Indian actor

Ray doesn’t bother waiting for Wajda and serves his opening shot of a famous Indian actor, Arindam Mukherjee (Uttam Kumar), who is in a hurry to get to Delhi to receive an award. His assistant didn’t have time to book a flight or reserve a coach, so Arindam must ride on the train with other passengers. Once on the train, he is met with both admiration and derision, the latter mostly a result of a recent tabloid article about his involvement in a brawl. He admirably deals with everyone until approached by a young, female journalist named Aditi (Sharmila Tagore).

The wife of the missing actor attempts suicide

Wajda sends a representative to deliver his equipment as he tries to find a way to get to the match. Everyone waits patiently while making sure the show goes on. They realize there might be a problem, however, and do their best to hide their feelings. In Wajda’s film about an actor, the director has to fill in for the actor for a critical scene, one of the actor falling under a moving train. Much confusion ensues as the director tries to keep the cast and crew focused on completing the film without the lead actor. The point goes to Wajda for a more compelling opening, without even being there.

His journey is just beginning

Ray allows Arindam time to reflect on his position in society through ongoing meetings with Aditi. Arindam seems both attracted to and repelled by her, but finally opens up to her, providing information that he keeps from the other journalists who hound him. She secretly takes notes, hoping to write an article that digs deeper into the life of the famed actor. Their volleys cause fitful sleep for Arindam as his dreams reveal his misgivings about his own life, even while being admired by his fellow travelers (a woman and her ill daughter). He seeks the advice of Aditi on what his dreams mean, providing more material for her article.

A reference to Ashes and Diamonds

Wajda finally shows up to reveal that his actor did indeed die while attempting to jump on a moving train. A moment of silence is observed to honor Zbigniew Cybulski, the subject of the film. The shot to the left is a reference to a scene from Ashes and Diamonds when the character played by Zbigniew lit eight glasses of vodka to honor the fallen comrades of his and the character played by Adam Pawlikowski, who is shown here in his brief cameo in Everything for Sale. The point, however, goes to Ray for letting the complexity of Arindam’s character unfold along with the train journey, whereas the foreshadowing of Wajda’s opening makes the actual announcement of the death seem trite.

The director contemplates himself

Wajda hurries to complete the set which is now overcast by news of the actor’s death. The director is confused about where to go. His intentions are for the best but the subject is perhaps too personal. Wajda wrote the script as well as being a character in the film. At times, it feels as if Everything for Sale is Wajda’s own 8½, except that it only adds up to five and three-quarters. The film seems like a rushed response to a tragedy. The initial concept was interesting, having the actor not be there, but once his actual death was announced, the film fell apart, which could be the director’s intention.

Peace at last

Ray, however, wraps things up for his actor, who has a final, drunken confrontation with Aditi, which is one of the stronger scenes in the film. It proves to be cathartic for both of them. She rips up the article she was writing, realizing it was for the wrong reasons. He ends up with a more humble view of himself, which finally allows him to sleep soundly. Turns out he just needed a good therapist. Uttam Kumar, who was a popular actor at the time, gives an outstanding performance. Ray paces the film perfectly, providing just enough material in the beginning before the journey on the train, and through Arindam’s life, begins. The point and set go to Ray.

Next up: Set #5, The Chess Player and Man of Marble

S. Ray v. Wajda, Match #2, Set #3

Britt — Wed, 24 Jun 2009 18:17:34 +0000

Set #3 of the match between Satyajit Ray and Andrzej Wajda brings us to the end of their trilogies and to the end of the 1950s. Wajda steps onto the court first, bringing along Ashes and Diamonds (1958), which chronicles a day in the life of a handful of resistance fighters on the last day of WWII. Ray jumps into 1959 with The World of Apu, which takes Apu into adulthood, still alone but well-educated and living a simple life.

The last two films of each trilogy bring them closer together in story time. The Apu trilogy covers a greater span of time following the life of Apu and began in the early part of the century. The adult Apu, therefore, experiences life closer to the time of WWII, which is the short time period of Wajda’s trilogy, and closer to Indian independence. Although Ray never gets into politics in the Apu trilogy, it serves as a metaphor for the changes that India experienced when it finally gained independence in 1947. Poland, on the other hand, lost its independence, which is the theme of Wajda’s trilogy.

In walks the man they were supposed to kill

Wajda serves first, delivering a fast pop that lands in the wrong area. The successful assassination of a communist official carried out by a small band of resistance rebels turns out to be the wrong person, although the rebels don’t know it yet. While they are celebrating in town at a hotel bar, in walks the man they were supposed to kill. As they regroup, Maciek, the younger of the rebels, can’t keep his eyes off the bartender while his older commander reports to the major in charge of the operation to decide what should happen next. Excellent pacing and acting for the opening.

Apu off to scrounge some rent money

Ray returns a lazy lob, letting Apu lounge for a bit before his life gets complicated. Apu’s friend talks him into going to a wedding and he agrees. (I think this scene may have been the inspiration for Wedding Crashers.) The opening of The World of Apu does have a more upbeat, modern feel to it but this can’t last. There are two certainties in the life of Apu: trains and death. But, wait a minute, Apu and his friend take a boat to get to the wedding. This could be a new beginning for Apu. The point, however, goes to Wajda, who, despite his inability to stage a good shootout, mixes death and humor in an intriguing beginning, with large credit to the acting of Zbigniew Cybulski as Maciek.

Apu's wife, Aparna, we hardly get to know ya

Ray comes back with a spin. Apu, while lounging when he was supposed to be getting ready for the wedding ceremony, is drafted into a minor role in the wedding. The groom! Seems the original one had a mental breakdown and the mother of the bride refused him access to her daughter. Apu, not really having any other options, agrees to the arrangement on the condition that his friend get him a job. Everything works out well, except Apu’s new wife, Aparna, doesn’t seem so happy having to follow him to Calcutta. We get a few moments to replay the relationship between Apu and his mother but now in the guise of Apu and his wife. She cleans and cooks while Apu lounges, but she prefers the silent treatment instead of the vocal despair that Apu’s mother used.

Maciek, conflicted between love and duty

Wajda returns with a spinning shot of his own. Maciek, who wore his independent spirit on his sleeve, tells the bartender to stop by his room that night, knowing that she is scheduled to work all night. Just as he drops a piece of his gun while cleaning it, she knocks on his door, leading to some great sequences where Maciek, his mind on his duty to assassinate a man, transitions from a rebel to a man in love. As he escorts the bartender down stairs after their interlude, the first person he runs into is the man he is supposed to kill, sending Maciek back into conflict. The point goes to Wajda again for his portrayal of a human in conflict with himself (not to mention a humorous sub-plot involving one of the other members of the group).

A death and a celebration

Wajda’s next serve intensifies the focus on Maciek’s conflicting emotions. As he tries to balance his duty with his new-found love, he tries to talk his commander into letting him out of the assignment. As the night nears morning and the end-of-the-war party comes to a close, Maciek paces and waits. He finally decides to finish his duty. He goes back to the hotel but the bartender will not speak to him once she learns that he cannot stay. As everything falls apart for the group of rebels, the remnants of the party are all that remains of the hopes of a free Poland.

Apu reveals his feelings toward the son he's never met

Ray finishes with a tough decision for Apu. Not having seen his own son in the five years since his birth, Apu’s friend pleads with Apu to go see him. Apu, conflicted by his feeling of blame toward his son for his wife’s death, relents. Apu’s offer of a toy train is tossed aside by the youngster, who has a bit of a wild streak in him. Apu decides to leave his son behind, his duty having been carried out. But he runs into his son on the path out of the village, and his son asks if he will take him to see his father in Calcutta. Apu agrees. The uplifting but open-ending finish brings a happy closure to the hard life of Apu. The point goes to Ray for a quick and uplifting ending, but the set goes to Wajda for a more intense and well-paced film.

Next up: Set #4, Nayak and Everything for Sale (both films about actors, coincidentally)

S. Ray v. Wajda, Match #2, Set #2

Britt — Fri, 19 Jun 2009 17:42:30 +0000

Set #2 of the match between Satyajit Ray from India and Andrzej Wajda of Poland brings us into the years 1956 and ’57. Ray arrives on the court first and unveils Aparajito, the continuing saga of Apu, again based on the novel by Bibhutibhushan Bandyopadhyay.

Wajda takes his time getting out onto the court, wrapping himself in red and white, the national colors of Poland. He uses an original script this time, one that continues his theme of Poland’s struggles during WWII. Kanal shows how the Warsaw Uprising went down the sewers.

One last drink of the Ganges for pops

Ray quickly serves, getting right back into the life of Apu, who now lives with his mother and father in the city, where he runs free like a monkey, according to his mother. His father makes a decent living as a freelance priest and by selling herbal medicine on the side, but his mother still seems unhappy with their lot in life. It doesn’t help that she has to deal with a creepy neighbor man. Soon enough, the father falls ill, and although he initially recovers from his ailment, it becomes apparent that it is only temporary. Now on their own, Apu’s mother decides to leave the city, accepting an offer from a family member to live in the country. Similar to Pather Panchali, Ray chooses to primarily focus on the day-to-day activities of the family during the opening 20 minutes. As with that film, Karuna Bannerjee, as the mother, carries the first part of the film with her solid acting.

A group shot before they are split apart in the sewers

Wajda jumps right into the thick of a battle between what’s left of a group of the Polish Home Army and the Germans. He does a great job introducing the characters as they find shelter in a crumbling apartment building. The primary focus is on Korab (Tadeusz Janczar, who also appeared in Pokolenie and was killed) and Daisy (Teresa Izewska), one of the many women who traversed the sewers to deliver messages. Korab is shot while heroically disabling a remote miniature tank-like device, and is cared for by Daisy, as the group’s leader, Lt. Zadra (Wienczyslaw Glinski), receives orders to retreat to the sewers, an order that is not welcomed by his troops. Since the audience is forewarned of the group’s demise, the relationships between the characters carries a sense of urgency. The point goes to Wajda for more style while maintaining an equally realistic atmosphere in his opening.

Is there light at the end of the Kanal?

Wajda’s next serve is low and fast. As his characters retreat into the sewer, the story breaks into three lines, each following a distinct groups of characters, the primary still being Korab and Daisy. Daisy was the only one who knew the way out, and since her and Korab fall behind due to Korab’s injuring, the other two groups are on their own. The tension between characters, as well as the overall sense of doom, is heightened with every shot. The sense of realism is largely due to the script by Jerzy Stefan Stawinski, who was a soldier who participated in the Warsaw Uprising and retreated to the sewers when it became necessary for survival.

Apu is all growed up

Ray returns his focus on the relationship between Apu and his mother, which goes back and forth as Apu ages and moves away for school. Apu’s mother wants what is best for her son, but at the same time, he is all she has left in the world and doesn’t want to let him go. Apu, meanwhile, struggles primarily with the balance between work and school. Like many college kids, he neglects to write to his mother, never realizing the impact it has on her. The train, an important link between Durga and Apu in the first film, becomes the critical link between Apu and his mother in this film. Point goes to Ray for the singular focus of his story and an excellent sense of longing in the scenes with the mother.

Apu, alone in the world

Ray’s final serve falls short of the line. Apu must find his own way in life but he is going to have to do it alone. The ending is fairly anti-climatic, and it is difficult to feel for Apu as one did in the first film. It has come to the point where it seems that death is the only constant in Apu’s life and is expected. It will be interesting to see how this theme continues in the third film. Other than a brief scene of Apu and other children running through the alleys of the city early in the film (and reminiscent of a similar scene in Slumdog Millionaire), this film lacked the magic of Pather Panchali. I can’t quite explain why I stopped feeling for Apu and his mother as the story wore on. Her death seemed immaterial, which is perhaps the point. As a critique of Indian culture, she was no longer useful for any male and vanished.

Daisy comforts the dying Korab

Wajda finishes with a bigger bang. Members of each group reach their end in different ways: suicide, murder, accidents. The futures of those remaining is left open but is captured metaphorically in the final scene with Daisy and Korab. They arrive at an opening of the sewer at a river but cannot escape due to metal bars. Daisy can see the other side of the river (where in real life the Soviets were waiting to take over after the Germans finished their killing spree) and she softly explains what she sees to Korab, who hasn’t the energy to open his eyes. While neither film offers much hope at the end, they do invite the need to know how the lives of the remaining characters will continue, a difficult task for the second film of a trilogy. Unfortunately, the characters in Wajda’s trilogy do not carry through the films, as they do in Ray’s trilogy.

Point and set go to Wajda for a more in-depth look at people facing certain defeat but who struggle to move ahead in the worst of conditions. The sewer scenes, although suffering from some lighting issues, stick with you long after the film has ended. As I was taking screenshots, I knew that Kanal would prevail because I ended up with twice as many shots for it.

Next up: Set #3, The World of Apu and Ashes and Diamonds

S. Ray v. Wajda, Match #2, Set #1

Britt — Fri, 12 Jun 2009 19:00:55 +0000

Match #2 of Auteur Tennis starts in the year 1955 and features directors from India and Poland. Satyajit Ray wanders onto the court, a bit unsure of the rules but eager to play. He pulls out Pather Panchali (Song of the Little Road), based on a novel by Bibhutibhushan Bandopadhyay.

Andrzej Wajda is escorted onto the court and told where to stand. His “ballboys” linger for a bit and then disappear. He reveals Pokolenie (A Generation), also based on a novel, this one by Bohdan Czeszko.

Going underground, literally and figuratively

Wajda serves an extremely long shot, one of the finest, especially for a young director. It sets a realistic tone for the film as the shot pans across the grim living conditions of working-class Poles living under occupation. The main character, Stach, is a naive, young man who is nearly killed stealing coal from a passing Nazi supply train. He is trying to find work so he won’t be sent to labor in the fields. He finds work making stretchers for the Nazis and also discovers a gun hidden in the supply room. A brief montage, prior to the gun discovery, of Stach stumbling around while orders are barked took away from the initial mood established by the opening shot.

Doting over Apu

Ray opens with a realistic portrayal of rural Indian life early in the 20th century. A family struggling to make ends meet welcomes the addition of a new baby boy (Apu). The father, a priest and aspiring playwright, spends more time daydreaming than worrying about money, while the mother bottles her frustration, which is tested consistently by her richer and ruder nearby in-laws. The daughter Durga steals from their orchard to give fruit to her proud old aunt. Although Wajda’s opening shot was awe-inspiring, the first point goes to Ray for creating a richer experience of the lives of his characters.

Durga and Apu watch the other kids play

Ray continues developing the relationship between Durga and her brother Apu while highlighting the alienation the family feels from their neighbors. This alienation is brought inside as the mother’s emotions erupt and she sends the old aunt away. The aunt is nearing death, but she hobbles to a different family member’s house, where she is told she can stay for only a few days. Durga, meanwhile, shows Apu the world outside their village. Even through their fighting, their bond becomes stronger as they create their own lives independent of the problems and issues inside their home and village. The aunt finds her own peace in the forest, where she is discovered by Durga and Apu.

A final sip before shooting the Nazi

Wajda returns by building up his own relationship story, that of Stach and a woman (Dorota) who leads the student resistance movement. Stach throws himself into the resistance and brings in his friends (including Roman Polanski) and a co-worker to form a cell. Their first action is shooting a Nazi officer, which builds their courage but also brings strife into the cell. They proceed with a plan to help refugees from the ghetto uprising and must steal a truck. The truck-stealing scene has a bit of Keystone Kops feeling to it, which lightens the mood a little before the coming chase and shoot-out sequence. The point goes to Wajda for varying the mood while heightening the action, although I could easily swing the other way with Ray’s excellent building of Durga and Apu’s relationship.

Durga relishes the coming rain

Ray brings out the storm for the finale. The monsoon arrives while the father is away looking for work. Durga, already suffering from ill health, and Apu run out in the chilly rain before heading home. As the storm intensifies, the mother tends to a feverish Durga while trying to keep the house together. The father had promised to get repairs made but has been gone longer than expected. The house barely survives the storm, and, unfortunately, Durga does not. Apu does not understand what has happened. One of the best scenes of the film is when the father returns and the wife does not speak to him. When she finally breaks down and he realizes what has happened, I wanted the movie to end there, but it continues with scenes of the family packing and moving.

Stach waiting to continue the resistance

Wajda finishes with his love story starting to bloom until Dorota is taken away by the Nazis. Stach barely misses being caught himself, having gone out to buy some bread and flowers to give to Dorota after their first night together. Instead, he witnesses her being taken away and is powerless to act. The bittersweet ending is softened a bit by the emergence of a new crop of young people ready to join the resistance under Stach’s leadership.

Both films use different worlds to show the story of a young man or boy who loses someone close and must find a way to continue with their struggle to survive. Although in Pather Panchali, Durga is the main character; however, she becomes just one important character in the life of Apu over the trilogy. In the case of Wajda’s war trilogy, Poland is the continuing focus as no central character carries through his trilogy.

One aspect adding to the difficulty of selecting a winner for this first set is the vast difference in the presentation of the films. A Generation has been restored by The Criterion Collection, while Pather Panchali lacks that quality. I love both of these films but give the point and set to Ray for an overall more compelling film. Some of the variations in A Generation‘s style detract from its ability to completely engage the viewer in the events that unfold, although I much preferred its ending.

Next up: Set #2, Aparajito and Kanal

Auteur Tennis, Match #2, S. Ray v. Wajda

Britt — Wed, 03 Jun 2009 05:35:58 +0000

Welcome to Match #2 of Auteur Tennis, featuring Indian director Satyajit Ray (1921-1992) and Polish director Andrzej Wajda (1926). Both directors established their careers in the 1950s with trilogies: Ray with the Apu trilogy, Wajda with the war trilogy. Ray’s Apu trilogy consists of Pather Panchali, Aparajito, and The World of Apu. Wajda’s war trilogy features A Generation, Kanal, and Ashes and Diamonds, which is available in a boxed set from the Criterion Collection. Ray’s Apu trilogy is difficult to find for purchase.

Both directors were influenced by realism and wanted to show the world what life was like in their respective countries. Unlike the auteurs from our first match, both Ray and Wajda remain rooted in their homelands. Change was a major factor driving their work. For Ray, the modernization of India is a key theme. For Wajda, the destruction of Poland’s identity during and after World War II pervades his films. Wajda worked under heavy censorship, while Ray, once established, did not have that worry. Ray earned an honorary Acadamy Award in 1992, and Wajda took one home in 1999.

The schedule:
Set #1: Pather Panchali and A Generation (1955)
Set #2: Aparajito (1956) and Kanal (1957)
Set #3: The World of Apu (1959) and Ashes and Diamonds (1958)
Set #4: Nayak the Hero (1966) and Everything for Sale (1968)
Set #5: The Chess Player and Man of Marble (1977)

I will post a new set every Tuesday starting on June 9. In the meantime, I will be posting a review of Whale Rider for Film for the Soul‘s series on the best films of the noughties.

Antonioni v. Lumet, Match #1, Set #5

Britt — Wed, 20 May 2009 03:53:20 +0000

The final set between Antonioni and Lumet takes us to 1975. Antonioni is riding high after the success of Blowup and snags Jack Nicholson a court-side seat for this set, adding The Passenger to his international reputation. Lumet goes back to his roots, New York City, to adapt a true story about a bank robbery gone wrong in Dog Day Afternoon.

The main characters in each film share common problems. They are both trying to hide who they really are. In The Passenger, David Locke (Jack Nicholson) takes on a new identity, while Sonny (Al Pacino) has kept hidden aspects of his own life in Dog Day Afternoon. Both directors have turned up the heat in this final set. Let’s see how hot it gets.

A frustrated man looking for a way out

Antonioni serves a blazing shot in the deserts of Algeria as the journalist Locke gets stuck in the sand and has to walk back to his hotel, where he discovers a dead acquaintance. As Locke slowly switches identities with the dead man, flashbacks mixed with an audio recording of their earlier conversation provide a few details to the man’s identity (he was an arms dealer). Later flashbacks add insight to why Locke decided to become someone else.

The robbery quickly turns into a showdown

Lumet fires back with Sonny and his friend Sal (John Cazale) attempting to rob a bank on a sweltering summer day (actually filmed in winter, which shows at times). After a third accomplice decides not to go through with the robbery (and whines about not being able to take the getaway car), the robbers find out the bank’s cash has been picked up for the day. Further mistakes by Sonny bring unwanted attention on the bank, which is quickly surrounded by police. Lumet jumps into the story right away, but the point goes to Antonioni for setting up a more intriguing scenario.

Attempting to put the pieces together

Antonioni’s next serve provides a new relationship for Locke, since his former wife thinks it is he who has died. The Girl (Maria Schneider), who Locke had seen earlier in the film, offers him help concealing his identity from a friend looking for answers to Locke’s death. They quickly bond and become a pair on the run in Spain after police start asking questions. Their relationship is odd, but perhaps that is the way it has to be considering the circumstances. There was nothing compelling, however, to keep it interesting. She seemed merely an add-on.

Lumet strikes back with a touchy subject, especially for the time, but one that remains timely. When Sonny asks to see his wife, everyone expects the annoying female wife shown talking to police in an earlier scene. But in a great twist that is played matter-of-factly, Sonny’s male wife Leon is brought in a police car to the scene, fainting when he gets out and hears Sonny call his name. The police plucked him right out of the mental hospital where he had been placed after attempting suicide. The following short scene is the phone call between Sonny (still holding hostages in the bank) and Leon. Leon is barely visible in most of the scene, highlighting his real life situation. Point goes to Lumet for his handling of complex relationships and not backing down from the subject.

The beginning of the long take, the end of Locke

Antonioni finishes with a heavy dose of his trademark style and technique. After Locke sends the Girl away with a promise to meet up later, Antonioni lets the weight of the moment sink in. Locke has to hide from the police but the Girl manages to find him. Then comes the moment that The Passenger is most recognized for: one of the best long takes in the business. The shot starts with a headless Locke relaxing in the bed and continues out the barred window into the dusty street. By the time the camera returns to the hotel room, Locke’s game is over. Antonioni lets the viewer dwell on Locke’s actions and doesn’t impose any interpretations. Like most of Antonioni’s films, it is a beautiful ending, the kind that Hollywood avoids.

Sal won't be making it to Wyoming

Lumet, on the other hand, offers a bit more interpretation to the consequences of Sonny’s decision. Aided by the tension-producing sounds of an airport, the final scene in Dog Day Afternoon, while not a long take, plays out beautifully. As Sonny, Sal, and the hostages watch their airplane taxi toward them, Sonny worries aloud about food, while Sal remains silent, gun at the ready. John Cazale turns Sal into a major character, one the audience cares about. Especially touching is the scene where the final hostage is freed in exchange for the plane. As she exits the van, she gives Sal a rosary since it will be his first time on an airplane and she knows he is nervous. Point, set, and match go to Lumet for his ability to bring the best out of his actors. Al Pacino gives one of the greatest performances of his career.

Final thoughts: While I am a great admirer of Antonioni films, I had to be honest in my reviews of these specific five films from each director and award the match to Lumet, whom I do think is underrated. It struck me as odd that Antonioni is synonymous with alienation, but I felt a much stronger sense of alienation from the Lumet films. Antonioni is much more a master of technique and nuance but Lumet understands story and character better.

Next match: Satyajit Ray v. Andrzej Wajda (starting June 2)

Antonioni v. Lumet, Match #1, Set #4

Britt — Wed, 13 May 2009 20:25:41 +0000

Set #4 takes us to London in 1966 for this edition of Auteur Tennis as both directors explore a murder mystery. They also enlisted jazz giants to handle the soundtracks: Herbie Hancock (Antonioni) and Quincy Jones (Lumet). And they each cast a Redgrave sister, although Vanessa’s role is much larger than Lynn’s. London. Jazz. Murder. Redgraves. This should be interesting.

Antonioni strolls out quickly, looking hip and stylish. Antonioni pretends to serve as the crowd waits for Lumet, who arrived on a court in a different region. After finally getting Lumet in the right region, Antonioni yanks Blow Up out of his bag, while Lumet introduces The Deadly Affair, adapted from a John Le Carre novel. The DVD for The Deadly Affair is unfortunately not available in a US format.

Think of a caption

Antonioni establishes his characteristic style early while having some fun with the world of fashion photography. The seemingly long setup allows us the chance to experience the photographer Thomas’s (David Hemmings) life before it is changed, but if you’re running late, pop in at about the 25-minute mark and you’ll still be able to follow along. Even after seeing the film a few times, I have trouble remembering anything of importance during those first 25 minutes, while the rest of the film sticks with me.

Their relationship lacks intimacy and interest

Lumet gets off to a quick start, having his murder (or the possibility of it) happen right off the bat. The viewer doesn’t see the death, but hears about it from Charles Dobbs (James Mason), a secret agent who had been interviewing the now-deceased for a high security post. Charles has a strange relationship with his wife Ann. They, or rather he, have intimacy issues. It could have been an interesting element in the film but the way their relationship is introduced is akward rather than intriguing. Point goes to Lumet, however, for jumping right into the action.

Caught him red handed

Lumet’s next serve is a bit too neat. He sets up the affair but then has Charles go off in full pursuit of the mysterious death for the bulk of the film. There is little reason to care about the affair, and to call it deadly is a bit of a stretch. The deadly doesn’t modify the affair, unless you use affair in the broadest way possible, as in the whole affair of these characters in this situation. Fortunately, for the viewer, a new character is introduced that helps carry the film the rest of the way. Harry Andrews as Inspector Mendel adds freshness to this otherwise dull story. He alone made the film worth watching.

He's stuck in the middle of something

Antonioni fires right back by getting in the thick of his mystery. Thomas stumbles upon a romantic walk in the park involving Jane (Vanessa Redgrave) and an older man. After unsuccessfully trying to hide while clicking photos of the couple from behind trees, Jane runs over to Thomas and demands the roll of film. She eventually teases the roll of film out of him, but he was smart enough to swap rolls. He spends a good deal of time developing the photos and looking at them. Enlarging them and looking at them. Romping nude with young, mod women. Looking at the photos again. Point goes to Antonioni for building the suspense and adding variety, all while looking stylish.

Egads, he was right

Antonioni’s final shot takes Thomas back to the park at night, where he finds the dead body of the older man. Upon his return to his hip urban loft, he discovers all the photos have been taken. He hops in his car and spots Jane, who disappears into a crowd. By the time Thomas returns to the park the next day, the body is gone. Like any good Antonioni film, the point isn’t solving the mystery, it is opening the door to a new way of seeing things, such as a pretend tennis match (extra bonus points to Antonioni for including a tennis scene).

Why does it have to end like this?

Lumet attempts to get back in the game with gunfire and rain in the dark but it’s not enough to counter the unsolved mystery that Antonioni put on the line. While the mystery of The Deadly Affair is solved and life goes on, it doesn’t leave much to ponder other than what other films has Harry Andrews appeared in. Point and set go to Antonioni, tying the match at 2-2.

Next up: Set #5, The Passenger and Dog Day Afternoon

Antonioni v. Lumet, Match #1, Set #3

Britt — Tue, 05 May 2009 19:12:16 +0000

Set #3 takes us to the year 1964. Antonioni strides onto the court like a peacock, literally. He has not only moved to color for his next film, Il Deserto Rosso (Red Desert), he’s redefined the term. And wait a minute, we know the grass courts here at Perhapses are a little worn but does Antonioni have to spray paint the court green? That might be taking this color thing a bit too far.

Lumet remains his conservative self in traditional white. He pulls out a rather heavy looking, dark piece called The Pawnbroker. This and his previous film, Fail Safe (1964), represent his personal Nouvelle Lumet movement by incorporating a few flashes of style here and there. Will it be enough to sustain him against the powerhouse Antonioni, who has firmly established his reputation with La Notte (1961) and L’Eclisse (1962) since set #2?

Giuliana feels too much

Antonioni serves with intensity and purpose. His visual flair compels the spectator to watch closely. His foray into color is so exacting and precise that you have to wonder if they painted every item at every location specifically for the film. Yet even the scenes that don’t burst with reds, blues, and yellows seem as lively in their own neutral way. Primary to the bleak industrial landscape is the focus on Giuliana (Monica Vitti), who weaves in and out of neurosis as she wanders the terrain.

Sol Nazerman feels nothing

Lumet’s counter is sluggish at first, starting with a slow motion flashback sequence that is too pat and melodramatic. He picks up the pace as Sol Nazerman (Rod Steiger) performs his daily ritual at his pawnshop. As the flow of customers enter to borrow money against cherished personal items, Sol remains emotionless behind his cage. Even his assistant Jesus (Jaime Sánchez), bursting with energy and idealism, cannot break through Sol’s icy countenance. Point goes to Antonioni for color and landscape, which dive into the world of the characters better than Lumet’s reliance on flashbacks.

Please, stay out of my life.

Lumet returns with a volley of forceful, soul-crushing scenes as Sol destroys each and every person he encounters. This is not an overstatement. Every interesting person who reaches out to talk to Sol is met with nothing but disdain and contempt. One of the most vivid encounters occurs outside where Sol is met by good-natured Marilyn Birchfield (Geraldine Fitzgerald) who talked Sol into a lunch date, which he, of course, never remembered. She finds him in a nearby park and attempts to make conversation. She senses his loneliness and, having lost a husband, empathizes with Sol. He, however, scolds and ridicules her for naively believing that she understands him. He ends the scene by telling her to please stay out of his life.

Giuliana needs someone in her life

Antonioni returns with three couples in a small red room in a shack by the water, the famous orgy-without-sex sequence. Antonioni maintains the tension until it is finally burst by Corrado (Richard Harris), who breaks through the red wall with his foot. He later tears out the same wall with his hands and feeds the wood to the others to place in the fire. Their moment of fun is interrupted by the arrival of a ship and then a medic. Concerns over a possible outbreak force them to flee into the fog, where Giuliana, having forgotten her purse, suffers a breakdown and almost drives into the sea. While Antonioni’s scenes intrigue, the point goes to Lumet for the crushing of souls.

Reaching out

Lumet finishes with the near destruction of Sol. After a verbal beat down of Sol by his boss Rodriguez (Brock Peters in a noteworthy but brief performance), Sol wanders the streets all night, ending at Marilyn’s apartment (the woman he earlier told to stay out of his life) in the morning. He finally spills his story to her but is still unable to let her reach out to him. Sol returns to his pawnshop, telling his concerned assistant that he means nothing to him. Jesus, rightfully angered, returns later with some street toughs he used to run with. Sol’s words come back to haunt him after the action is over. Seeing blood on his own hands is enough to finally allow Sol to feel everything he has kept bottled inside himself.

No connection here either

Antonioni breaks off into a fantasy before coming back with a steamy release of pressure between Giuliana and Corrado. The chemistry between Harris and Vitti was lacking, perhaps purposefully. It was enough to allow Giuliana to move on, still searching for a connection in a world that offers few. It ends as it begins with Giuliana wandering the landscape with her son, the colors washing out before our eyes. The second time I watched Red Desert, I watched it without the subtitles (even though I don’t speak Italian). I wanted to focus on the cinematography but still found I was able to follow the story, which speaks to its simplicity.

Both films end by leaving their main characters to continue with life in their same situations. We can’t be sure how they are changed by what they have just gone through but Giuliana seems to have more hope. While Red Desert carries stronger artistic value, the story in The Pawnbroker is more compelling. It’s a Holocaust survivor’s story that refuses sentimentality. Rod Steiger’s performance rightfully netted him an Oscar nomination. Monica Vitti played the neurotic type a bit too heavily at times, especially with her hands. The match was close but I have to give the point and set to Lumet based on the story being the stronger of the two, even as much as I enjoyed watching Red Desert. (Lumet now leads the match 2-1.)

Next up: Set #3, Blowup and The Deadly Affair

Antonioni v. Lumet: Match #1, Set #2

Britt — Tue, 28 Apr 2009 19:51:08 +0000

Set #2 takes place in 1960. Lumet strides onto the court looking confident. He pulls a Tennessee Williams signature model out of his bag: The Fugitive Kind, an adaptation of his stage play Orpheus Descending. He answers Antonioni’s move from the last set with a bold one of his own. He’s cast an Italian actress as the female lead. But not any actress, Anna Magnani! To play opposite Marlon Brando. Talk about confidence.

Antonioni doesn’t look ruffled. He’s back to his original game and is embracing his Italian roots. He pulls out L’Avventura. The crowd is not too sure what to make of it at this point. Antonioni went through hell to get this one in the can, so he’s not about to give up without a fight. Antonioni has obviously been working on his backhand.

Lumet serves with a heavy dose of poor, conservative southern U.S. atmosphere, and Antonioni comes right back with rich Italians cruising the Tyrrhenian Sea on holiday. Although the setting and characters are vastly different, the stories are quite similar: unlikely love affairs during trying circumstances. Both directors continue to volley at a slow but deliberate pace.

Val cares for but wants separation from Carol

Lumet breaks stride with a rebellious female character, Carol Cutrere (Joanne Woodward), who threatens not only the tranquility of this small Mississippi town but also guitar-toting Val Xavier’s (Brando) quest to shed his past. Carol is closely watched by the locals while simultaneously kept at a distance. She looks to Val for love and understanding, but he merely wants to set her on the right path in order to get her out of his way. She is a nuisance, and often comes off that way in the film, perhaps a bit too much at times. Her performance is geared more toward a stage performance, although the scenes where she is not being loud and obnoxious work well.

The search for Anna begins

Antonioni, meanwhile, hasn’t broken a sweat, letting his rebellious female character, Anna (Lea Massari), jump off a moving boat and then lie about a shark attack. Once the boat arrives at a rocky island, Anna confronts her lover, Sandro (Gabriele Ferzetti), who has kept her at a distance for too long. She is about to give him a heavy dose of his own medicine. Too bad for her that he has a short memory. Point goes to Antonioni.

Man in the middle, Sandro

Antonioni dispatches Anna with ease, letting the other characters try to figure out what happened to her. Blame is focused on her lover Sandro, who instantly gravitates towards Anna’s friend, Claudia (Monica Vitti), who rebuffs his attention while looking for her disappeared friend. Sandro comes on strong early, and Claudia tries her best to get away from him. Sandro stalks her while also looking for Anna back on the mainland.

Man in the middle, Val

Lumet returns with his rebel woman being told to leave by Lady (Magnani) after Carol causes a ruckus which summons her brother to the scene. Once the brother arrives, we learn that Lady was jilted by him and that she had carried his baby. Val, now a respectable salesman at Lady’s store, watches the events unfold. In both films, the men are now in the middle of something that they are not able to control while the women move the action along. The men have become spectators. Brando’s Val is less upfront about his intentions and maintains a more removed demeanor. Point goes to Lumet.

At roughly the same point in both films, the relationships between the main characters become smoochy. Lumet keeps it short and sweet while Antonioni lets the smooching linger for a while.

Smooch at 1:27:33 (The Fugitive Kind)

Smooch at 1:35:34 (L'Avventura)

The confrontation, two men, one woman

Lumet sets his primary confrontation up early and lets it play out gradually through a long ending. It’s not difficult to sense what is coming, only how and when. The scene between Val and Lady before all hell breaks loose is one of the strongest of the film. Lumet lets enough tension build before allowing it to explode. The very end is too neatly wrapped up thanks to dialogue from Carol that seems straight from the stage. The last scene would be better served on the cutting room floor.

The confrontation, two women, one man

Antonioni, on the other hand, lets Claudia and Sandro have some fun and become closer to each other, saving their confrontation until the very end. The ending is open, allowing the viewers to make their own interpretations, rather than having a character impart wisdom to them. While neither ending is upbeat, L’Avventura actually presents some hope, oddly enough, coming from the master of alienation. Both films are beautifully shot and maintain a slow but even pace. The Fugitive Kind suffers from allowing too much of the staginess of the play to creep in. Point and set to Antonioni, tying the match at 1-1.

Next up: Set #3, Red Desert and The Pawnbroker.