GEUELE D'AMOR (and to some degree PETITE LISE, PATTE BLANCHE, & of course MALDONE):
Preliminary offhand comment:
GEUELE: A hand grenade thrown at Josef von Sternberg... saying "O yeah, huh? You wanta celebrate this kind of nasty slut with all the glorious means at your cinematic disposal? We shall do so, forthwith, using the means at my own disposal....."
Gremillion was clearly a man grounded, wedded irrevicably to his idea of Truth... and his truth was sad, gloomy, a melancholia which finds it's equivalent in the American Blues. Yet his improvisational sophistication in the cinema was such that trying to learn from him is almost hopeless. Reptition tracking for the means of instruction almost nonexistent. Consistency nil, pure individuality, unteachable. Which means he is the best of all examples:
"Find your own fucking way. I'm writing about myself. You g'wan and Do You..."
This is the cinema of-- looking at Hollywood and saying:
"Don't you fucking LIE TO ME.."
The cinema of the isolated superior man. Very few can get it all together, with talent-- and with sparkling luminous genius-- and then be in the right place at the right time... and wend their way into the film world.. then find those pole-axing projects which kill. I get the same creeping flesh watching Grem that I get watching Murnau and Jean Epstein. And Dreyer in JEANNE. The feeling of having intruded into a very very very private situation. Which should never have been filmed. Far too personal. I could go on about montage and gleaming and camera moves but no point.
Non fiction filmed with the skills of Murnau & von Stern, to bring out the raging grey truth as he saw it..
Need sleep... sobriety.......
Jean Grémillon
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HerrSchreck
- Joined: Sun Sep 04, 2005 11:46 am
(With towel around head):
zedz is just schnippy because he doesn't know eisensteinian montage from a fried egg on a little n.z. girls chest... as evidenced by all those killing examples in Pabst provided after the weekend. (WINK)
Seriously-- zedz & david... how do you guys position Grem in relation to the convention of Poetic Realism? I for one see him closer to the logical extrapolation out of the 20's impressionist avant garde (more specifically in Kirsanoff's gleaming, dizzying terms.. versus, say, the deliberate self-consicousness of Epstein).
The windy fatalism of Prevertian Poetic Realism, the gleaming surfaces, the deliberate artifice, the breathless "we live! we drink cognac! we eat salami! we smoke tabac! we love passionately! we box with our doom with futility and therefore passion! ah... c'est la vie!", I find it all quite alien to Grem.
Poetic Realism is artful melancholic sigh... whereas Grem is far too powerful, all-enveloping in terms of the strange moody gloom gleaming with utter originality which almost never repeats itself from film to film-- even within a film (thus my allegation that studying him for "technique" via repitions of various consceits of mise en scene to smoke out a style is hopeless)-- it's too far out there, and devoid of a particular artifice resident in PR.
zedz is just schnippy because he doesn't know eisensteinian montage from a fried egg on a little n.z. girls chest... as evidenced by all those killing examples in Pabst provided after the weekend. (WINK)
Seriously-- zedz & david... how do you guys position Grem in relation to the convention of Poetic Realism? I for one see him closer to the logical extrapolation out of the 20's impressionist avant garde (more specifically in Kirsanoff's gleaming, dizzying terms.. versus, say, the deliberate self-consicousness of Epstein).
The windy fatalism of Prevertian Poetic Realism, the gleaming surfaces, the deliberate artifice, the breathless "we live! we drink cognac! we eat salami! we smoke tabac! we love passionately! we box with our doom with futility and therefore passion! ah... c'est la vie!", I find it all quite alien to Grem.
Poetic Realism is artful melancholic sigh... whereas Grem is far too powerful, all-enveloping in terms of the strange moody gloom gleaming with utter originality which almost never repeats itself from film to film-- even within a film (thus my allegation that studying him for "technique" via repitions of various consceits of mise en scene to smoke out a style is hopeless)-- it's too far out there, and devoid of a particular artifice resident in PR.
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zedz
- Joined: Sun Nov 07, 2004 7:24 pm
The more I see from the greats of 30s French cinema, the more I think conventional notions of Poetic Realism only offer a very thin slice of that particular banquet. I've always seen Renoir as somewhat overflowing the constraints of that conception (Rules of the Game for example, seems to swallow it whole, along with just about everything else that was going on at the time), but, from what I've seen, Gremillon is similarly ill-suited to that straitjacket. The centre of PR, for me, really hinges on a handful of films (e.g. Carne, Pepe, Bete Humaine), and maybe the 'genre' sprung up around those well-known films without a strong understanding of the wider filmmaking context from which they arose.
Gotta dash! I'm sure David has much more information to spread.
Gotta dash! I'm sure David has much more information to spread.
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HerrSchreck
- Joined: Sun Sep 04, 2005 11:46 am
I agree with both you guys (and I hope you got the joke buried in there, Sir Z).
There's a certain wispy, aerated, slightly-drunken-while-smiling-thru-a-frown-&-rocking-softly-from-side-to-side-with-eyes-gently-closed (how's that for forced?) inocuous, poppy melancholia to Prevertain poetic realism as captured in say, the majesterial THE PORT OF HAZE (or FOG)/THE MISTY QUAI (I hate PORT OF SHADOWS as a translation almost as much as I hate LADY KILLER.. spoiler title if there ever was one... for LOVER-LIPS/HOT LIPS). Poetic Realism therein is almost the same pose effected by Keruoac a decade later in his works, that slightly drunken, warm-inside, celebration of equanimity-- the acceptance of the sad hard facts of life, and answering the discovery by living in the moment, living for love, sex, comeradeship, bohemianism, art, concepts of beauty publicly proclaimed with passion, etc. It was self-conscious of the fact, in the way the Beats were, that Pink Floyd later on were, etc, that this pose-- especially during reactionary and homogenous, pre-rock and roll times-- registered as very "cool". Hip to combine high art with crime and sadness... something first discovered by Bauer and Walsh in the mid-teens, developed by the Germans and von Sternberg (to a limited degree). Warner & Paramount in the early 30's. The idea just took off, however, in France with their fabulous inherent aesthetic/cultural sensibilities and unique national sense of identity, potentiated as well by the arc of enthusiasm-to-disillusionment of the Popular Front. It was a self-conscious celebration of sadness, coming to terms with difficult life facts, grisaille, chiaroscuro, drinking, smoking, crime, wet cobblestone streets at night in the bad part of town, leaning, half-collapsed old tenements, and the lower class millieu in general as well as all their rituals and shady survival shortcuts.. often in sympathetic terms (see QUAI, LENFANTS DU PARADIS, etc).
In Gremillion there is no celebration of this world. It is all portrayed in stark, disturbing terms-- his characters do not seem to join hands and "celebrate" (for want of a better term for displaying onscreen consciousness of, and sadly happy acceptance of) their misfortunes or difficulties. They do not seem to see themselves as better than the vested classes for their self-conscious awareness of their own contact with certain Basic Facts that the haute monde never have to confront (very Pop Frontish/commie/socioMarxist proletariot sentiment entirely minimized to nonexistence in Grem, Spaakian or not). Thus in films like PETIT LISE or GUEULE the sense of documentary realism, this in spite of all the ballet of drifting camera and pirouhetting editing rhythms. I see in QUAI DE BRUMES characters performing on a world's stage, speaking on behalf of the lost souls of the planetin broad strokes about the condition of being alive in very French terms. These essentially tragic characters are, despite the self-consciousness of the pose and stylization viz the "cool element, nontheless very much of, and from, the world of painting, literature, and the cinema, existing to exemplify and symbolize.
I see in Gremillion pains and sufferings so real, I almost feel like a slimy voyeur for even watching, peering through the keyhole into someone else's very real-- very very personal, symbolizing nobody else owing to the sense of stifling isolation-- agony and misfortune. They speak for nobody but themselves. We are not them, we don't want to be them. That sublime discomfort created in the viewer. Creatures not usually resident in art... though not entirely alien, as in the literature of Dostoyevsky, certain moments in Murnau and Kobayashi.
There's a certain wispy, aerated, slightly-drunken-while-smiling-thru-a-frown-&-rocking-softly-from-side-to-side-with-eyes-gently-closed (how's that for forced?) inocuous, poppy melancholia to Prevertain poetic realism as captured in say, the majesterial THE PORT OF HAZE (or FOG)/THE MISTY QUAI (I hate PORT OF SHADOWS as a translation almost as much as I hate LADY KILLER.. spoiler title if there ever was one... for LOVER-LIPS/HOT LIPS). Poetic Realism therein is almost the same pose effected by Keruoac a decade later in his works, that slightly drunken, warm-inside, celebration of equanimity-- the acceptance of the sad hard facts of life, and answering the discovery by living in the moment, living for love, sex, comeradeship, bohemianism, art, concepts of beauty publicly proclaimed with passion, etc. It was self-conscious of the fact, in the way the Beats were, that Pink Floyd later on were, etc, that this pose-- especially during reactionary and homogenous, pre-rock and roll times-- registered as very "cool". Hip to combine high art with crime and sadness... something first discovered by Bauer and Walsh in the mid-teens, developed by the Germans and von Sternberg (to a limited degree). Warner & Paramount in the early 30's. The idea just took off, however, in France with their fabulous inherent aesthetic/cultural sensibilities and unique national sense of identity, potentiated as well by the arc of enthusiasm-to-disillusionment of the Popular Front. It was a self-conscious celebration of sadness, coming to terms with difficult life facts, grisaille, chiaroscuro, drinking, smoking, crime, wet cobblestone streets at night in the bad part of town, leaning, half-collapsed old tenements, and the lower class millieu in general as well as all their rituals and shady survival shortcuts.. often in sympathetic terms (see QUAI, LENFANTS DU PARADIS, etc).
In Gremillion there is no celebration of this world. It is all portrayed in stark, disturbing terms-- his characters do not seem to join hands and "celebrate" (for want of a better term for displaying onscreen consciousness of, and sadly happy acceptance of) their misfortunes or difficulties. They do not seem to see themselves as better than the vested classes for their self-conscious awareness of their own contact with certain Basic Facts that the haute monde never have to confront (very Pop Frontish/commie/socioMarxist proletariot sentiment entirely minimized to nonexistence in Grem, Spaakian or not). Thus in films like PETIT LISE or GUEULE the sense of documentary realism, this in spite of all the ballet of drifting camera and pirouhetting editing rhythms. I see in QUAI DE BRUMES characters performing on a world's stage, speaking on behalf of the lost souls of the planetin broad strokes about the condition of being alive in very French terms. These essentially tragic characters are, despite the self-consciousness of the pose and stylization viz the "cool element, nontheless very much of, and from, the world of painting, literature, and the cinema, existing to exemplify and symbolize.
I see in Gremillion pains and sufferings so real, I almost feel like a slimy voyeur for even watching, peering through the keyhole into someone else's very real-- very very personal, symbolizing nobody else owing to the sense of stifling isolation-- agony and misfortune. They speak for nobody but themselves. We are not them, we don't want to be them. That sublime discomfort created in the viewer. Creatures not usually resident in art... though not entirely alien, as in the literature of Dostoyevsky, certain moments in Murnau and Kobayashi.
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zedz
- Joined: Sun Nov 07, 2004 7:24 pm
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foggy eyes
- Joined: Fri Sep 01, 2006 9:58 am
- Location: UK
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foggy eyes
- Joined: Fri Sep 01, 2006 9:58 am
- Location: UK
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HerrSchreck
- Joined: Sun Sep 04, 2005 11:46 am
Similar divining of LB's contribution goes on regarding Epstein's masterpiece USHER... on which he served as AD, then promptly walked off, disagreeing with the fragmentation he observing Epstein effecting into the mise en scene. He thought he saw a disastrous, embarassing flop materializing before his eyes-- and walked. Later when seeing the film in the cinema he as much admitted that JE was right and he was wrong, and that the film-- a hit not only domestically but popular in the USA as well (the only such for JE)-- was Epstein's film entirely.davidhare wrote:And who's to say how much Bunuel (or god knows who else) directed in these pictures..
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Knappen
- Joined: Wed Jul 12, 2006 2:14 am
- Location: Oslo/Paris
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HerrSchreck
- Joined: Sun Sep 04, 2005 11:46 am
I'm pretty sure Morand's text is credited in the opening titles... I can hear Jean Amount's grandfatherly recitation of his name off of Rohauer's print "Maw-ont".
What an endlessly satisfying film! A hedgemaze of narrative, one of the greatest single attempts to recreate the nonlinear structure of time (many strings side by side, rather than one strecthing into infinitude in both directions) which so obsesses physicists.
I see Gremillion a spiritual brother (via the almost LSD-tinged gloomy mood and wildly and iconoclastically unpredictable nature of the conceits of his mise en scene) to both Epstein as well as Vsevolod Pudovkin, specifically in DESERTER and END OF ST PETERSBURG.
What an endlessly satisfying film! A hedgemaze of narrative, one of the greatest single attempts to recreate the nonlinear structure of time (many strings side by side, rather than one strecthing into infinitude in both directions) which so obsesses physicists.
I see Gremillion a spiritual brother (via the almost LSD-tinged gloomy mood and wildly and iconoclastically unpredictable nature of the conceits of his mise en scene) to both Epstein as well as Vsevolod Pudovkin, specifically in DESERTER and END OF ST PETERSBURG.
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zedz
- Joined: Sun Nov 07, 2004 7:24 pm
Dainah is simply amazing. Considering it's really just a fragment of Gremillon's film, what we have is stunningly rich and utterly Gremillonian. While the film as it survives is not conventionally satisfying in terms of narrative and development, it's really no more discursive and narratively eccentric than his other films of the period (e.g. Maldone and Lise).
Without a fully developed narrative structure we're left with great mood, the intriguing triangulation of scenes (almost every scene is intercut with another one, even when there's no direct narrative link between them, thus cabin - dancefloor - engine room; cabin - dancefloor - engine room like some mad meta-waltz) and at least half a dozen dazzling self-contained scenes (which is more than you'd expect in most films - even very great ones - three times the length).
The magic show is a stunning piece of cinema - a showcase for Gremillon's gift for translating the visual sophistication of late silent cinema into the new medium. It employs multiple superimpositions, striking optical effects and culminates in a breathtaking shot of a knife spinning around the ballroom. And then Dainah's dance (to a manic, abandoned version of 'Puttin' on the Ritz') almost trumps it.
Her confrontations with Michaux on deck are brilliantly conveyed, particularly the eerie, cryptic second encounter, accompanied by a subdued, mournful musical cue and proceeding at a dream-like pace. The violent climax below decks is portrayed in stark, shadowy geometry.
And the film is shot through with Grem's idiosyncratic touches - the Greek chorus of two women d'un certain age (truly a Greek chorus - they don't play even a secondary role in the film's action), prowling camera movements within enclosed spaces, semi-documentary material. And it's got a simply brilliant jazz score. Time and time again, we cut away from the melodrama of the plot to see the black band swinging away and the white folk twirling on the dancefloor.
Although I found it impossible to make out much of the dialogue (though the more formalised exchanges of the investigation were easy to follow), I can offer couple of plot clarifications (I think) to the very useful summary David offered above.
A key scene comes just after Dainah's tour of the engine room. Back on deck, the captain chats with the other officer about Michaux. Whatever they say about him in passing is devastating for Dainah - she visibly crumples, and I think this sparks the emotional meltdown that follows. In her next scene, she very anxiously asks the porter how long it will be before they reach Noumea and is terribly upset when he replies "vingt jours" (which she repeats, unbelieving, to herself). After this, Smith (her husband, the magician) speaks with the ship's doctor about how his wife has changed - she's agitated and seems to be afraid of something. I think the scene ends with the doctor saying he'll examine her, but we never see this happen. So, for some reason, whatever she overhears makes her deeply spooked about Michaux.
When Dainah goes up on deck for her fateful encounter with Michaux (the scene which opens with the shot through an open porthole - although this evokes Smith's magic act, I don't think he's a witness to the proceedings, as we cut to him in the bar during this scene) she acts like she's in some kind of a trance.
Some more plot points. When questioned, Michaux claims he found the handkerchief when Dainah visited the engine room (though this account is questioned). I couldn't make out what Michaux overhears when he listens at the door towards the end, but I assume it amounts to the captain abandoning the investigation for lack of evidence against Michaux (which thus accounts for Smith taking the law into his own hands at the end).
I also think there's a conscious critique of racism running through the narrative. After Dainah flees the ballroom near the beginning, one of the onlookers makes a boorish comment about her husband being "un noir", and Michaux's identification of Dainah as "une metisse" is probed during the investigation. (And no doubt the two old women have something to say about all this as well.) Michaux's racism is actually what traps him, because he then has to account for how he noticed her complexion when he claims not to have approached her. In addition to this, some of the scenes in the film (such as Smith, in the bar, being served by a white waiter) would probably have seemed rather on-the-nose to some members the contemporary audience. And there are racist undertones to some of the gossip that spreads after Dainah's disappearance (specifically about what a 'terrible man' Smith is - in their scenes together, he's almost pathetically considerate and concerned).
While I'd love to know what Gremillon really had in mind for this film, what we're left with seems superb and entirely his. If this is the quality of what he disowned, what other riches await in his early filmography?
Without a fully developed narrative structure we're left with great mood, the intriguing triangulation of scenes (almost every scene is intercut with another one, even when there's no direct narrative link between them, thus cabin - dancefloor - engine room; cabin - dancefloor - engine room like some mad meta-waltz) and at least half a dozen dazzling self-contained scenes (which is more than you'd expect in most films - even very great ones - three times the length).
The magic show is a stunning piece of cinema - a showcase for Gremillon's gift for translating the visual sophistication of late silent cinema into the new medium. It employs multiple superimpositions, striking optical effects and culminates in a breathtaking shot of a knife spinning around the ballroom. And then Dainah's dance (to a manic, abandoned version of 'Puttin' on the Ritz') almost trumps it.
Her confrontations with Michaux on deck are brilliantly conveyed, particularly the eerie, cryptic second encounter, accompanied by a subdued, mournful musical cue and proceeding at a dream-like pace. The violent climax below decks is portrayed in stark, shadowy geometry.
And the film is shot through with Grem's idiosyncratic touches - the Greek chorus of two women d'un certain age (truly a Greek chorus - they don't play even a secondary role in the film's action), prowling camera movements within enclosed spaces, semi-documentary material. And it's got a simply brilliant jazz score. Time and time again, we cut away from the melodrama of the plot to see the black band swinging away and the white folk twirling on the dancefloor.
Although I found it impossible to make out much of the dialogue (though the more formalised exchanges of the investigation were easy to follow), I can offer couple of plot clarifications (I think) to the very useful summary David offered above.
A key scene comes just after Dainah's tour of the engine room. Back on deck, the captain chats with the other officer about Michaux. Whatever they say about him in passing is devastating for Dainah - she visibly crumples, and I think this sparks the emotional meltdown that follows. In her next scene, she very anxiously asks the porter how long it will be before they reach Noumea and is terribly upset when he replies "vingt jours" (which she repeats, unbelieving, to herself). After this, Smith (her husband, the magician) speaks with the ship's doctor about how his wife has changed - she's agitated and seems to be afraid of something. I think the scene ends with the doctor saying he'll examine her, but we never see this happen. So, for some reason, whatever she overhears makes her deeply spooked about Michaux.
When Dainah goes up on deck for her fateful encounter with Michaux (the scene which opens with the shot through an open porthole - although this evokes Smith's magic act, I don't think he's a witness to the proceedings, as we cut to him in the bar during this scene) she acts like she's in some kind of a trance.
Some more plot points. When questioned, Michaux claims he found the handkerchief when Dainah visited the engine room (though this account is questioned). I couldn't make out what Michaux overhears when he listens at the door towards the end, but I assume it amounts to the captain abandoning the investigation for lack of evidence against Michaux (which thus accounts for Smith taking the law into his own hands at the end).
I also think there's a conscious critique of racism running through the narrative. After Dainah flees the ballroom near the beginning, one of the onlookers makes a boorish comment about her husband being "un noir", and Michaux's identification of Dainah as "une metisse" is probed during the investigation. (And no doubt the two old women have something to say about all this as well.) Michaux's racism is actually what traps him, because he then has to account for how he noticed her complexion when he claims not to have approached her. In addition to this, some of the scenes in the film (such as Smith, in the bar, being served by a white waiter) would probably have seemed rather on-the-nose to some members the contemporary audience. And there are racist undertones to some of the gossip that spreads after Dainah's disappearance (specifically about what a 'terrible man' Smith is - in their scenes together, he's almost pathetically considerate and concerned).
While I'd love to know what Gremillon really had in mind for this film, what we're left with seems superb and entirely his. If this is the quality of what he disowned, what other riches await in his early filmography?
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zedz
- Joined: Sun Nov 07, 2004 7:24 pm
This is an idea that is given visual expression in the beautiful poster image. (Is it just me, or does that look like an MoC cover-in-waiting?)davidhare wrote:Given the early "commentary" by the two women who are reading through the romancier, (with their return to "Chapitre sept, le reveille des Amants") I feel we're given a clear sense that allegory is more germane than straight narrative direction here, as though Benglia's blackness, Dainah's "light skinned" blackness and Michaud's whiteness are emblematic of fluid and merging personalities and character as much as anything.
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Knappen
- Joined: Wed Jul 12, 2006 2:14 am
- Location: Oslo/Paris
Since boots of L'amour d'une femme have started to circulate in certain cinephile circles and since David hasn't written a commentary yet, I thought it approriate to mention the new and lenghty commentary on the film by our Imdb friend Didier Dumonteil. There is also a fresh review of Lumière d'été from the same user.
Let's all make an effort to fill in the holes and spread the word! Maybe some spanish speaking users can write a commentary on the two films made by Grémillon in that country?
Let's all make an effort to fill in the holes and spread the word! Maybe some spanish speaking users can write a commentary on the two films made by Grémillon in that country?
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jdcopp
- Joined: Fri Aug 19, 2005 9:34 pm
- Location: Boston Ma
- Contact:
While doing some research, I came on the curious bit of information that the copyright for "Remorques" is held by François Truffaut's producing company Les Films du Carrosse. This is from the US Copyright office but the closest URL I can give anyone is this and then you will have to complete the search yourself. They don't seem to allow you to post the actual search result page.
Given that that company was formed byTruffaut to produce his own films and a few others that he backed, does anyone know how they hold the copyright for this film which was produced some 18 years before Truffaut set up Les Films du Carosse?
Given that that company was formed byTruffaut to produce his own films and a few others that he backed, does anyone know how they hold the copyright for this film which was produced some 18 years before Truffaut set up Les Films du Carosse?
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Knappen
- Joined: Wed Jul 12, 2006 2:14 am
- Location: Oslo/Paris
Zut! Gardiens de phare was shown at the Cinémathèque française a couple of weeks ago.
Fellow members!
Call your french friends: Ciné classic will be showing Le Ciel est à vous next week in a series beginning sunday 9th of december at 12:15pm.
Make it "programmation haute qualité".
Did anyone get to make a good recording of Le Ciel est à vous last december? The one I got from my friend was incomplete due to technical difficulties, but what was left to see didn't look anything like a restauration anyway...
Now rumors say that L'Amour d'une femme is to be shown soon.
EDIT: Screeningsof L'Amour d'une femme.
Fellow members!
Call your french friends: Ciné classic will be showing Le Ciel est à vous next week in a series beginning sunday 9th of december at 12:15pm.
Make it "programmation haute qualité".
Did anyone get to make a good recording of Le Ciel est à vous last december? The one I got from my friend was incomplete due to technical difficulties, but what was left to see didn't look anything like a restauration anyway...
Now rumors say that L'Amour d'une femme is to be shown soon.
EDIT: Screeningsof L'Amour d'une femme.
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Zazou dans le Metro
- Joined: Wed Jan 02, 2008 10:01 am
- Location: In the middle of an Elyssian Field
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Zazou dans le Metro
- Joined: Wed Jan 02, 2008 10:01 am
- Location: In the middle of an Elyssian Field
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Zazou dans le Metro
- Joined: Wed Jan 02, 2008 10:01 am
- Location: In the middle of an Elyssian Field
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HerrSchreck
- Joined: Sun Sep 04, 2005 11:46 am
Re: Jean Grémillon
Still no streeting of L'Etrange Monsieur Victor?
I found this great attribution to Gremillon, which neatly sums up his aesthetic:
I found this great attribution to Gremillon, which neatly sums up his aesthetic:
Grémillon rejected what he referred to as "mechanical naturalism" in favor of "the discovery of that subtlety which the human eye does not perceive directly but which must be shown by establishing the harmonies, the unknown relations, between objects and beings; it is a vivifying, inexhaustible source of images that strike our imaginations and enchant our hearts."
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Knappen
- Joined: Wed Jul 12, 2006 2:14 am
- Location: Oslo/Paris
Re: Jean Grémillon
No sign of Victor it seems, but given the fact that this is one of the bigger Raimu films it should only be a question of time before they get it out (like the not-so-good transfer of Duvivier's Panique starring Michel Simon that came out last month). Probably a quarrel over money between heirs of the people involved.
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HerrSchreck
- Joined: Sun Sep 04, 2005 11:46 am
Re: Jean Grémillon
The whole Grem situation is maddening, man. It's terrible to be so profoundly whalloped by such films and hafta sit there like a slackjawed retard trying to dope out a word or two for halting fucking gist here & there. Maldone is one thing since there's no staccatto verbiage flying by on the audio track, and you can babelfish the cards for the general idea (and Grem is so atomically gifted the thing hardly needs cards, frankly).
But Dainah, Lise (was watching this last night with eyes welling up... not a common occurrence lemme tell you), Gueule-- so enormously frustrating. It's like somebody is whipping up the most bitching cuisine causing you to salivate all over your dry goods, you got your eyeballs on the pot hanging over the chef's shoulders and the aroma all up your nose driving you into hyperventilation... and the man will only give you a little taste here & there. Pattes Blanche is a rare pleasure in that the vhs dupes floating around are professionally subbed.
I dunno why there's NO Grem with subs in any English speaking market. But I openly plead with CC-- what in fluck's sake are you guy's waiting for? You've obviously picketed the rights down-- USE them. Stop the senseless torment of helpless cineastes! It's got to be about the profoundest, now that Borzage has been released from purgatory, cinematic emergency on deck at present.
Notwithstanding, aside from the raw power of these amazing masterpieces, you have Jean Gabin... instant sell for many. His performance in Gueule D'Amour may be the best of his entire career. Gueule at least, so beautifully restored, a fabulous digibeta collecting dust, s/b a full fledged CC and MoC (collaborate a la Vampyr or overlap, who cares I'll doubledip).
But Dainah, Lise (was watching this last night with eyes welling up... not a common occurrence lemme tell you), Gueule-- so enormously frustrating. It's like somebody is whipping up the most bitching cuisine causing you to salivate all over your dry goods, you got your eyeballs on the pot hanging over the chef's shoulders and the aroma all up your nose driving you into hyperventilation... and the man will only give you a little taste here & there. Pattes Blanche is a rare pleasure in that the vhs dupes floating around are professionally subbed.
I dunno why there's NO Grem with subs in any English speaking market. But I openly plead with CC-- what in fluck's sake are you guy's waiting for? You've obviously picketed the rights down-- USE them. Stop the senseless torment of helpless cineastes! It's got to be about the profoundest, now that Borzage has been released from purgatory, cinematic emergency on deck at present.
Notwithstanding, aside from the raw power of these amazing masterpieces, you have Jean Gabin... instant sell for many. His performance in Gueule D'Amour may be the best of his entire career. Gueule at least, so beautifully restored, a fabulous digibeta collecting dust, s/b a full fledged CC and MoC (collaborate a la Vampyr or overlap, who cares I'll doubledip).
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Knappen
- Joined: Wed Jul 12, 2006 2:14 am
- Location: Oslo/Paris
Re: Jean Grémillon
Haha.
Shreck's unsubbed French film marathons.
Actually in the case of Victor some boots circulating have Spanish subs. And there's an American vhs of Lumière d'été.
Shreck's unsubbed French film marathons.
Actually in the case of Victor some boots circulating have Spanish subs. And there's an American vhs of Lumière d'été.