could be quite naive
So I finally ordered The Search from Oldies.com late last year along with Waterloo Bridge --- the Vivien Leigh version --- for the Aunt and Leave Her To Heaven to watch with shaula82. And day before yesterday I finally got around to watching it.
Such an interesting little movie. Slightly clunky, yes. Fucking horrible overly sentimental syrupy score that made me want a button to mute the whole damned thing. Because I loved how it was shot almost like a documentary. A very clean black and white cinematography with these unashamedly stark static shots of ruined buildings in post-WW2 Germany. Occupied Germany, as they call it. I found the timing of the film fascinating ... I mean, in that it was made in 1948, only three years after the end of the war.
But no, wait, there was a huge delay in releasing it, wasn't there? Cos Montgomery made it before Red River and Red River came out first, introducing him to cinema goers. Hmm. *goes to google* Hmm. The Wiki entry doesn't say anything about the production. How annoying. And I'm not going to dig out my Bosworth bio cos the state of my bookshelf at the moment is to weep at.
So yeah, I'm kinda suspecting it was shot much closer to the end of the war. And christ, what a perfect decision, to shoot it then at that time. Although yeah, now I'm getting a chill that part of it was shot in Nuremberg and ... well. No, I haven't worked up the nerve yet to watch that. And no, I couldn't bring myself to read all of that post. *whimpers and clings to pre-accident Montgomery*
One thing that completely pisses me off is the cover on my DVD copy of The Search. I mean, it's quite beautiful, that sort of watercolour of a fairly attractive woman fleeing something. Except, you know, there is no damned woman fleeing anything in the film! Gah. Asses.
The only real flaw I found in the film, aside from that treacly score, was the quickness of our little boy's education. Sure, sure, filmic time constraints and all that but the speed of his language acquisition kinda stretched my quite willing suspension of disbelief. I honestly kept thinking "O rly?" and forcing the thought away.
But he was absolutely marvellous, that kid. Ivan Jandl. The fear of him was totally contagious. Pretty much every kid in that film was arrestingly convincing. And I was so impressed when the film refused to pull the one punch I expected it would. Some fabulous use of bitter irony, a pretty heartbreaking depiction of the post-WW2 Jewish condition, and a very refreshingly stoic portrayal of maternal affection. I particularly loved the emotional journey of the mother, how she was rewarded only when she chose to let go of her quest. There's something so beautiful and stark about that I can't even explain. It just makes my brain so happy.
Montgomery's role was quite intriguing, coming as I do from his angsty ouevre. Here, in this film debut, he's as free from angst as I've ever seen him. It was almost disconcerting. But god, it was so clever and I was so grateful for it, that either he or Fred Zinnemann chose to go with the lightness and leave all the heartwrenching angst to the little boy. Knowing what I do from the Bosworth bio about how he totally rewrote all the dialogue in his scenes with the little boy, I watched those particularly close, paying even closer attention to the words. And aw man, the wryness of him, especially with that dig about the English, was such a revelation and delight. I loved the tenderness of him, the casualness and delicacy of his dynamic with the kid when he's clearly barely more than a kid himself.
It occurs to me now what a great sort of meta sequel From Here To Eternity is to this. How Fred Zinnemann uses him there as a quiet rebellious conflicted young man who's been in the army for a while now, in the heat of it as opposed to the almost unreal detachment of Steve here. And that makes me curious now about the apparent joker he plays in The Big Lift although yeah, I know not to expect quality from that. Still gotta have Monty. :p
And Aline MacMahon too. Great performance in how she balanced the sternness with the compassion, never quite overplaying either until she allowed herself to fully soften at the end and then it was totally well-earned.
I had typewriter envy. I totes did. *sadface* It's a thing, I know, I can't help it.
And the start was pretty damned hard going cos so much of it is in German and French, and my cheap arse copy from Oldies.com has no subtitles. Oddly enough, it made me wonder if the original theatrical version did because so much of it was actually translated in the film. I did love the tension that created, the so intriguing frustration and curiosity that had me scrutinising the body language and facial expression so minutely, trying to decipher what the kid said before it was translated, and then eagerly distracted to the guy translating for Aline MacMahon. It was very effective, that sort of delaying tactic, created so much interest and compassion in me as the viewer. Curious device if it was intentional.
Maybe I should watch more Fred Zinnemann films. I mean, I haven't even seen High Noon and only just realised he made that. Call myself a film buff? *snort* I suppose I could put aside my vague Gary Cooper antipathy for that. After all, dear god, that man was a deliciously tall drink of water. Even if he was a weasel. Ugh, Grace Kelly. No, wait, I think I like her only a little better than I loathe Ingrid Bergmann. Fifties versions of Scarlett Johannson. Pfah. *flaps hand*
Gimme Kate any day. :p
Such an interesting little movie. Slightly clunky, yes. Fucking horrible overly sentimental syrupy score that made me want a button to mute the whole damned thing. Because I loved how it was shot almost like a documentary. A very clean black and white cinematography with these unashamedly stark static shots of ruined buildings in post-WW2 Germany. Occupied Germany, as they call it. I found the timing of the film fascinating ... I mean, in that it was made in 1948, only three years after the end of the war.
But no, wait, there was a huge delay in releasing it, wasn't there? Cos Montgomery made it before Red River and Red River came out first, introducing him to cinema goers. Hmm. *goes to google* Hmm. The Wiki entry doesn't say anything about the production. How annoying. And I'm not going to dig out my Bosworth bio cos the state of my bookshelf at the moment is to weep at.
So yeah, I'm kinda suspecting it was shot much closer to the end of the war. And christ, what a perfect decision, to shoot it then at that time. Although yeah, now I'm getting a chill that part of it was shot in Nuremberg and ... well. No, I haven't worked up the nerve yet to watch that. And no, I couldn't bring myself to read all of that post. *whimpers and clings to pre-accident Montgomery*
One thing that completely pisses me off is the cover on my DVD copy of The Search. I mean, it's quite beautiful, that sort of watercolour of a fairly attractive woman fleeing something. Except, you know, there is no damned woman fleeing anything in the film! Gah. Asses.
The only real flaw I found in the film, aside from that treacly score, was the quickness of our little boy's education. Sure, sure, filmic time constraints and all that but the speed of his language acquisition kinda stretched my quite willing suspension of disbelief. I honestly kept thinking "O rly?" and forcing the thought away.
But he was absolutely marvellous, that kid. Ivan Jandl. The fear of him was totally contagious. Pretty much every kid in that film was arrestingly convincing. And I was so impressed when the film refused to pull the one punch I expected it would. Some fabulous use of bitter irony, a pretty heartbreaking depiction of the post-WW2 Jewish condition, and a very refreshingly stoic portrayal of maternal affection. I particularly loved the emotional journey of the mother, how she was rewarded only when she chose to let go of her quest. There's something so beautiful and stark about that I can't even explain. It just makes my brain so happy.
Montgomery's role was quite intriguing, coming as I do from his angsty ouevre. Here, in this film debut, he's as free from angst as I've ever seen him. It was almost disconcerting. But god, it was so clever and I was so grateful for it, that either he or Fred Zinnemann chose to go with the lightness and leave all the heartwrenching angst to the little boy. Knowing what I do from the Bosworth bio about how he totally rewrote all the dialogue in his scenes with the little boy, I watched those particularly close, paying even closer attention to the words. And aw man, the wryness of him, especially with that dig about the English, was such a revelation and delight. I loved the tenderness of him, the casualness and delicacy of his dynamic with the kid when he's clearly barely more than a kid himself.
It occurs to me now what a great sort of meta sequel From Here To Eternity is to this. How Fred Zinnemann uses him there as a quiet rebellious conflicted young man who's been in the army for a while now, in the heat of it as opposed to the almost unreal detachment of Steve here. And that makes me curious now about the apparent joker he plays in The Big Lift although yeah, I know not to expect quality from that. Still gotta have Monty. :p
And Aline MacMahon too. Great performance in how she balanced the sternness with the compassion, never quite overplaying either until she allowed herself to fully soften at the end and then it was totally well-earned.
I had typewriter envy. I totes did. *sadface* It's a thing, I know, I can't help it.
And the start was pretty damned hard going cos so much of it is in German and French, and my cheap arse copy from Oldies.com has no subtitles. Oddly enough, it made me wonder if the original theatrical version did because so much of it was actually translated in the film. I did love the tension that created, the so intriguing frustration and curiosity that had me scrutinising the body language and facial expression so minutely, trying to decipher what the kid said before it was translated, and then eagerly distracted to the guy translating for Aline MacMahon. It was very effective, that sort of delaying tactic, created so much interest and compassion in me as the viewer. Curious device if it was intentional.
Maybe I should watch more Fred Zinnemann films. I mean, I haven't even seen High Noon and only just realised he made that. Call myself a film buff? *snort* I suppose I could put aside my vague Gary Cooper antipathy for that. After all, dear god, that man was a deliciously tall drink of water. Even if he was a weasel. Ugh, Grace Kelly. No, wait, I think I like her only a little better than I loathe Ingrid Bergmann. Fifties versions of Scarlett Johannson. Pfah. *flaps hand*
Gimme Kate any day. :p